by Darren Shan
Koyasan had no time to wonder how a beast made of snow functioned, if it had a heart, lungs, a brain. What she knew for sure was that it had teeth, and if it got its snowy hands on her, it would bite into her with great relish and make short work of her small, fleshy form.
Koyasan could have raced back over the bridge. Escape was still an option. Flee to safety now and her life would be assured. The spirit couldn’t cross the stream.
But she had come too far. She was even more terrified than she had been crossing the bridge, but her fear no longer had control over her. She could fight it now, having overcome the obstacle of the bridge. So, instead of retreating, she raced left, into the graveyard, pursued by the hissing snow beast.
She shimmied around headstones and scurried over tombs, the spirit close behind. Her feet were soon scratched and bruised from collisions with hidden chunks of fallen stones and briars that couldn’t be seen in the dark. But Koyasan took no notice of such minor injuries. She knew she had a lot worse to fear if the snow spirit caught her.
She had no plan. Survival was the only thought in her mind. If she kept running, the spirit couldn’t catch her.
“Unless it doesn’t tire,” said the cynical voice which had tried to stop her coming here in the first place. “It’s not human. It doesn’t have muscles. Maybe it can maintain this speed all night. But you can’t. You’ll tire soon and slow down, and when you do...”
The voice was hoping to dismay Koyasan, to teach her a brutal lesson, to drive home the point that she should have paid attention to it earlier. But it had the opposite effect. Rather than feed Koyasan’s fears, the voice let her think about the situation rationally.
“That’s right,” Koyasan calmly said to herself. “I can’t outpace it. If I keep running, it will catch me. I have to face it and try to defeat it.”
Now that she was thinking clearly, she recalled what Itako had told her.
“Spirits have no bodies of their own. They’re naturally insubstantial. They can only assume a physical body when a human confronts them. They take their shapes from the thoughts of the humans they face. Because we provide them with their bodies, we always have the power to defeat them.”
Itako had gripped Koyasan’s hands hard, to make sure she understood how important this information was.
“Every spirit can be outwitted because their physical existence depends on the human they’re facing. If I went into the graveyard tonight, the spirits I’d encounter would look vastly different to those you will meet. They’d have to build their bodies from the thoughts inside my head.
“You can get the better of all the spirits you face because they will be physically dependent on you. Your manners, patterns and weaknesses are theirs. Without you, they are nothing but shadows. Conquering a spirit is the same as overcoming a bad habit, like chewing your nails or spitting. It can be done by studying the problem, thinking about it, then acting to solve it.
“You will panic in the graveyard. That’s unavoidable. But you must not surrender to fear. Keep a level head. Think of the spirits who attack as twisted images of yourself. Study them as you would study your reflection in a mirror. Look hard for their weak points. You do have the power to destroy or deflect them. You just need to use your brain and have courage.”
Koyasan was annoyed that she’d forgotten such key advice. Itako had repeated herself several times, to make sure Koyasan knew how vital this was. But at least she’d remembered before it was too late. Now all she had to do was figure out a way to stop the pursuing spirit behind her.
Koyasan glanced over her shoulder to examine the spirit again. It looked even more fearful than before, its arms spread wide, its mouth seeming to stretch off its face. And had it grown by a head or two?
Wrestling the spirit was out of the question. In a physical fight, it would beat her easily. But then Itako had told her that most spirits could defeat humans in hand-to-hand combat. You had to use your mind to trick them and bring them low.
Koyasan dodged round an especially wide tomb, then studied the spirit for a third time. She noticed a trail of water behind it. The snow beast was dripping as it ran. Although the night air was cool, it wasn’t cold enough to sustain snow. The spirit was using magic to keep its snowy body together, but the natural world was threatening to unravel it with nothing more than average, normal warmth.
Suddenly, Koyasan knew what she must do. Coming to a halt, she dug a clove of garlic out of her pocket, bit into it and chewed rapidly, keeping her mouth closed. The snow spirit saw her stop, and grinned. It thought it had her where it wanted her. Slowing, it moved upon her menacingly, growing a bit more, sprouting a fresh row of teeth behind its upper layer.
Koyasan waited, afraid but confident. Her knees knocked together, true, but her feet remained planted where she’d set them. If she was wrong, she’d die. But she couldn’t think about that.
When the spirit came within touching distance, blocking out the moon, trees and most of the graveyard, Koyasan leant towards it, as though to cuddle up to its snowy white chest. Opening her mouth less than a nose length’s away from the spirit, she breathed out at it.
The hot, garlic-laced breath from her mouth struck the spirit’s chest... and it started to melt! The snow beast hissed with surprise and fear, and stumbled away from the small human girl. Its hands clutched at the melting snow of its chest and it tried to fill the holes in, splashing the running water back to where it had come from.
Of course, that only made the situation worse and more snow melted. Now the hole in the thing’s chest was the size of Koyasan’s head and getting bigger every second.
Calmly, feeling a bit sorry for the spirit, but knowing it would have done far worse to her if it had had the chance, Koyasan breathed out again. And again. Hot bursts of garlic-tinged breath. Each struck the spirit like a hammer. Soon, only a few thin columns of snow were left of its chest. Its head began to slide down, ending up in the spirit’s stomach, then melting along with the rest of it.
The spirit managed one last angry hiss. Then it collapsed in on itself completely and fell to the ground as a puddle of dirty water. It splashed out of existence, forcing Koyasan to step sharply sideways to avoid getting wet. And then it was no more, and Koyasan was standing there by herself — victorious!
DRESSED TO KILL
KOYASAN EXPECTED A second spirit to attack immediately, but as she stood, heart now racing with excitement instead of fear, nothing disturbed the shadowy serenity of the graveyard.
Stepping round the puddly remains of the first spirit, Koyasan climbed on to the lid of a tomb and turned slowly, studying the lay of the land. No spirits... and no sign of Maiko’s soul either. Itako had told her it would resemble a ball of multicoloured light. But the only ball-like light here was the reflection of the moon in the snow spirit’s watery waste.
Koyasan faced the hill of trees and sighed. She’d hoped to fight her battles here, in the open, but hadn’t truly expected it. There had never been any real doubt in her mind that the spirits would tempt her into their forest where it was darker, the paths lined with hidden dangers and secret burial places.
Koyasan stepped down off the tomb and started up the hill, breathing as softly as she could. That had been another of Itako’s warnings — make no noise. The spirits demanded silence. No screams or happy shouts. Not even a whisper. If Koyasan defeated the three spirits sent to do battle with her and didn’t make a sound, the rest of the spirits would leave her alone and she could take Maiko’s soul home [assuming she found it]. But if she made a noise at any stage, the other spirits could attack her as a group.
Up the hill she trudged, to the point where the first trees sprouted, like bony hands sticking out of the earth. She paused there, regarding the trees warily. A spirit could be lurking behind any of them, waiting to pounce. Out here, she could see an attack coming. But in there, it might all be over before she knew it had even begun.
“Oh well,” she said, but only inside her head. “Maybe it�
�s better to be taken by surprise — no time to worry about it.”
Koyasan raised a foot to step forward... then left it hovering in the air.
Something was moving on the floor to her right. A tiny white creature. She guessed it was the next spirit, but was confused by its small shape. Surely a spirit wouldn’t operate in so fragile a form. Lowering her foot, she bent and studied the thing on the ground. It was hard to focus because the light didn’t penetrate here. But after a while the creature moved into an area where a lone ray of light made it all the way through the branches and leaves, and Koyasan got a good look at it. What she saw brought a rare smile to her face.
It was a mouse. But not a real, living mouse. As Koyasan already knew, no animals of the natural world lived in the graveyard — or, if they did, they kept well-hidden at night. This was a skeletal mouse. No skin, whiskers or guts, only the pale white skeleton of a rodent which might have been dead a month or a hundred years. It moved like a real mouse, even pausing regularly to sniff at the air, although it couldn’t actually smell anything.
The spirits must have given life to the skeleton, Koyasan figured, though she didn’t know why they’d bother. Perhaps they were bored and wanted a ghostly pet to play with. Whatever the reason, the bony mouse wasn’t a threat. Raising her foot again, she stepped over the quivering skeleton and entered the forest.
The temperature instantly seemed to drop by ten degrees. Koyasan shivered and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. She was lucky the snow spirit hadn’t attacked her here — maybe it would have been able to survive in the cooler environment.
Up the hill and through the trees she crept, head twitching left and right, glancing over her shoulder every few seconds. Her eyes adjusted to the gloominess after a while and she was able to follow the paths through the trees. But it was a land of mostly impenetrable darkness, fine if you were one of the dead, with no need for eyes, but unsuitable for anyone living.
The desire to call Maiko’s name was strong, and Koyasan had to constantly remind herself of the need for silence. Besides, there was no point calling. Maiko’s body was sitting by the fire in their hut in the village, her ears and mouth intact on her head. She couldn’t have heard Koyasan’s cries or replied even if she had.
After an hour, when Koyasan was starting to worry that no more spirits might attack, leaving her to fail when the sun rose, she entered a small clearing and saw a figure sitting on a fallen log, examining its nails in the light of the moon. Her first impression was that this was a living man because the figure was clad in some of the finest clothes she’d ever seen — lush, green, velvet trousers and jacket, sparkling red shoes, and a golden silk shirt inlaid with shiny, oversized buttons, each stitched on with a different coloured thread. The figure was also wearing a long brown hat, ringed by a band of yellow silk, with a feather rising out of the left side of the band.
Then the figure lowered its hand and raised its head, and Koyasan saw that it was no man of this world. Its face seemed to have been carved out of hardened pus and blood, a horrible mess of red, green and yellow. In a strange way the face matched the clothes the creature was wearing, but this only drew more attention to its horrific features.
The spirit had no eyes or mouth, but it knew Koyasan was there because it somehow smiled. Koyasan wasn’t sure how she knew the spirit was smiling — it’s difficult to smile without a mouth — but it was. There was a low noise, which might have been a chuckle or just the wind rustling the trees. Then the spirit stood and advanced elegantly, walking towards her like an elder marching in a procession, dignified and graceful, its movements in complete contrast to its chaotic mess of a face.
Koyasan backed away. She wanted to turn and run, but not before she’d had a good long look at her foe. She’d learnt from her previous lesson and was eager to get the measure of this spirit, so that she could find its weak spot and defeat it. But whatever this creature was made of, it wasn’t snow. The garlic- breath trick wouldn’t work a second time.
While Koyasan was backing away and studying the spirit, it picked up a branch and held it out in both hands, letting the light of the moon shine directly upon it. As Koyasan watched, moss grew along the length of the stick. Then it turned black and began to crumble away, rotting at an impossibly fast rate. Seconds later, only a few mouldy shreds of the stick remained, and the spirit coolly brushed these away, stooping to wipe its hands clean on the grassy forest floor.
When it stood again, Koyasan no longer had the sense that it was smiling. The contours of its face now seemed to be trying to crinkle themselves into a vicious sneer. It pointed at her with a long, yellowish finger, and Koyasan knew it was vowing to rot her down to the bone, as it had rotted the stick.
The spirit started towards her, taking longer steps now, picking up speed. It was time to fight or flee. And since she hadn’t yet spotted any weakness which she might be able to exploit, Koyasan spun away from the spirit, chose a random path and ran for her life through the forest. The sharply dressed, nightmarishly featured spirit followed in close, fetid pursuit.
A STITCH IN TIME
Koyasan KNEW she had the power to destroy this spirit of decay, but how? She kept thinking about its face and suit, and what it had done to the stick. How could a girl like her defeat a creature as powerful as this? She didn’t dare touch it. Perhaps she could lead it into a trap or push it off a cliff — except she had set no traps and there were no cliffs here.
Was the stream the answer? Lead it to the water’s edge and shove it in? That might work, but she had no idea how to find her way back to the stream. She’d been lost in the forest after five minutes. She guessed she could keep running and hope to find her way out, but that wasn’t much of a plan.
Also, it wasn’t using her brain. Itako had been very specific. Koyasan would have the means to defeat all three spirits, but only if she was brave and used her intelligence. Running blindly, hoping for the best, wasn’t the answer.
She risked a look over her shoulder. The spirit was lolloping after her, moving as gracefully as before, ducking to avoid low-hanging branches, neatly swerving around the outstretched fingers of thorny bushes. Koyasan was stabbed and sliced all over, but the spirit appeared as immaculate as it had in the clearing.
Looking forward again, Koyasan noticed a large muddy puddle several paces ahead. Not slowing, she leapt over it. Her heels caught the far end of the puddle and she slipped, coming to a crashing halt against a nearby tree.
It took Koyasan a few seconds to regain her feet and she was sure they would be her final seconds. All the spirit had to do was jump over the puddle — easy with its long legs — and it would have her. But, as she shook her head clear and looked up, she saw the spirit pause at the edge of the mud. Its head bobbed downwards, as if it was studying its trousers. Then it edged round the puddle, giving Koyasan the extra time she needed to spring to her feet and flee.
But Koyasan didn’t move. She was staring hard at the spirit, brain whirring. She fixed on its beautiful clean clothes, remembering the way it had ducked and swerved to avoid any snags or stains. She was also thinking of her own fixation with looking neat, and how she would always stop playing and go home if her clothes suffered a rip or stain.
“I created this spirit,” she whispered inside her head. “In a way, it’s part of me. It acts the same way I do.”
The spirit slid round the edge of the muddy puddle and came straight at Koyasan. It gave the impression that it was smiling again. It thought it had her trapped, unaware that it was the other way round — Koyasan was the one pulling the strings.
As the spirit reached for her with its misshapen, miscoloured hands, Koyasan pushed herself forward and snatched at one of the large fancy buttons on the creature’s silk shirt. With a quick motion, she ripped the button loose and dropped it. Then she tore off another, and another.
The spirit couldn’t scream, since it didn’t have a mouth, but nevertheless it made a sort of squealing noise when Koyasan tore off three o
f its beautiful buttons. Losing all interest in the girl, the spirit bent and picked up the buttons with trembling hands.
It stared at them mournfully, as though they were three of its fingers. Then, not even glancing at Koyasan, it swept away through the forest, heading for whatever nook or cranny it thought of as home, to look for fresh lengths of thread to stitch the buttons back on.
Koyasan watched the spirit depart, grinning broadly. Inside her head, she sang softly, “Two down — one to go! This girl’s on a roll!”
PYRAMID
FOR THREE OR four hours Koyasan wound her way through the graveyard forest, following one path after another, looking for spirits and Maiko’s soul. But apart from the skeletal mouse, which she caught sight of every now and then, she saw nothing except trees, old headstones and urns.
She was gradually working her way higher up the hill, to the point at the top where none of the children ever went to play, not even the braver and more reckless sorts like Yamadasan. The trees grew at their thickest here, meaning it was always dark. Stronger spirits could roam freely on the hilltop even on the brightest day.
Koyasan was cold and tired, weary of having to force her way through wiry bushes that seemed intent on not letting her pass. She filled with nerves every time she thought about Maiko and the dawn. How much longer was left of the night? Maybe an hour, not much more, possibly less. She’d felt invincible after overcoming the second spirit, eager to face the third and get this over with, certain she’d beat it as easily as the first two. But now she’d started to think she was on a doomed quest. The spirit would never show itself, Maiko’s soul would elude her and the sun would rise in a matter of minutes.
“Admit defeat,” said the voice inside her head. “You’ve proved you’re not a coward. You can go home proudly. You did your best. Nobody will blame you.”