When Digger got to, “Jweheen” (ten), Kenja, the serious giant, turned to Kenza and shook his head, finding it hard to accept what he’d just heard. “So, there it is; the boy speaks an old form of Tenguish, unsavory to the ear, but he can speak it.”
“A horrid accent,” the screwy one said.
“Without question, but water they shall have.” And the screwy giant then plucked from his belt a deerskin flask the size of a jug and squeezed it through the cage roof.
Digger removed the cap and poured water over the Kappa’s head. It splashed and trickled through the creature’s wiry hair, much of it spilling onto the beach and leaving little wet craters in the sand. Some of it, however, remained in a puddle on Slithis’s head. Digger watched as the Kappa’s hair began moving in that puddle, not floating, but wriggling and writhing, as if each hair had a life of its own.
Digger took several swigs from the canteen. The water tasted clean and was cool and gave him instant relief, as though it had doused a fire in his throat. After a minute or so, the giant lifted the canteen out of the cage, at which point Digger noticed that Kenja had become even more displeased. “Wasting our water on that amphibian, are you?” he grumbled, twice pointing his chin at Slithis.
“The water can save the Kappa,” Digger explained. “It needs it to breathe.” Digger’s mouth, no longer dry, could now form the Tenguish words more easily, yet each felt new to him. His lips stretched outward when he said, “pruukyuu,” meaning “save.” His tongue flicked against the roof of his mouth, right behind his teeth, with something like, “chyuh,” meaning “breathe.”
The screwy one sighed. “You are lucky. We give you fresh water, when we have so little left for ourselves.” He looked out at Lake Usori.
“The lake is dead—filled with sulfur and other toxic substances,” the serious giant said.
“Or the sulfur’s dead, surrounded by water,” said the screwy one.
Digger gazed out at the lake and at the vapor hanging in the air like a smoky fog.
The serious one cracked his knuckles and was all set to lift the cage. “Either way,” he said, “the Tengus will suffer more if the poisons keep flowing.”
Digger could hear the Kappa breathing, stronger and deeper than before, and saw its shell lifting and sinking with each breath.
Without speaking, the giants took position on either side of the cage. Digger touched the sand—one last time. He knew what would happen next, but after that, he had no idea.
Chapter 22—Tomarigi Village
The cage lifted like a fish on a hook. Each time it was hoisted, Digger gripped the cage wall tighter, and watched the beach gradually fall away, while above, the deep ceiling of leaves seemed to drop closer. The lake now appeared like a vast, shimmery pool of milk, and the stench of its vapor lost some of its sting the higher up he went.
Both giants were way up in the trees, one guiding the vine rope through the pulley, as well as the cage’s upward path, while the other, keeping a firm eye on the platform, barked out orders whenever a branch was about to block the bamboo box from rising further.
After the cage was pulled into the treetops, Digger caught sight of a spectacle even more impressive than his view of the lake. At a distance, nestled in the foliage and intersecting tree limbs, was a barn-sized building with wicker walls and a pitched roof of halved bamboo stalks. How had he not noticed it from the beach? How did such a huge construction not plunge to the ground?
“Slithis, you have to see this.” But the Kappa was still out cold.
Around that grand structure was a network of yellow bridges. These connected about a hundred smaller buildings—Tengu tree houses and shops and other places. There was also a circular stage, or theater-in-the-round. This massive wooden disc sat flat atop the crown of a slightly shorter tree. No wall or rail encircled the stage, and no bridge linked it with the rest of the village. But suspended between the trees, and surrounding that disc, were forty to fifty footpaths, on which a sizeable audience would be able to stand with a bird’s eye view of whatever entertainment occurred there.
Digger saw lots of giants, too. Busy as bees and beavers, they carried on with tree village life, each with their own duties or chores, or play in the case of the Tengu children, and, as far as Digger could tell from where he watched at the village’s outer edge, none of the giants appeared the least bit concerned about taking a tumble.
A few were replacing bridge planks. Others were mending a tree house chimney and a lopsided walkway. Another was hammering away at a wide stairway which coiled around a cedar. Some carried big baskets on their shoulders and strode across the drooping bridges, while others seemed to be hanging around for no apparent reason at all.
Kenja and Kenza, just as far from the village center as Digger, climbed down to a burly branch above the cage top, with the same nimble, precise motions of chimpanzees. There they heaved the cage up onto the branch, where it teetered for some moments before settling. The Tengus slid two other vine ropes through the pair of bamboo beams fixed to the cage roof. After that, they tied the rope ends to two barky trunks.
“NO,” Digger could hear himself say, suddenly aware of what was going to happen next. His eyes followed the tightly-drawn ropes, starting with where they’d been tied above him, all the way through the trees, and into the village.
Kenja gave a shove . . .
Digger held on as the cage plummeted, bounced, and then, with a WHIZZZZZ, glided in the direction of the disc-shaped stage. It all happened so fast he couldn’t tell if he’d been screaming or if the vine ropes had been shrieking as they ran through the bamboo supports overhead.
When the cage stopped, it lurched every which way, like a kicked swing, and only then did he realize that Kenja and Kenza had hitched a ride. The giants leapt down onto the stage, now right below the cage, and raised their eyes up to the great building Digger had seen before any of the smaller ones. Encircling the colossal tree hut was a terrace, and on that terrace was a splendidly carved chair, which seemed to look down on the stage and over the whole village. The hut’s oak door was closed, but Digger sensed that every Tengu expected it to soon swing open. Many of the tree-dwellers had watched him whizz into the village. At all different elevations, and curious to see what fate was in store for this foreign boy, they’d slowed or put a halt to whatever activity they were up to. A lot of them lumbered out onto the walkways to get a closer look at Digger. A couple even spread their raven-like wings and fluttered past the cage to get a sniff of the boy with the Kappa. The giants were much too heavy to fly with their wings, but they could glide fairly well, even to the ground.
Finally, the oak door did open, and Kenja and Kenza promptly straightened themselves at attention.
A walking stick—crooked with woody knots—poked out. The cane’s end tip met the balcony with a thump. And a giant—much older than all the others—stepped out onto the terrace. His face was grey, his ears flabby, his nose slumped, and his back hunched, and his head jutted forward with each slow, careful step, while his long braids of silver-white hair swayed as he moved, along with the layers of his silk garments.
The Tengu sat in his chair—a wood-carved jumble of forest animals with hooves, tails and antlers. He then rested his cane against the armrest and lifted a colorful paper fan for all to see. There was a hush, and Digger looked around to discover that most, if not all, of the giants were bowing their heads toward the elder, while Kenja and Kenza bowed even deeper and longer than all the others.
Serious Kenja raised his head. “Honorable and Wise King Sōjōbō, we humbly beg your pardon. We have disturbed your meditation to present to you two more otherlings for you to do with as you wish, for the protection of this magnificent kingdom and the peace of these woodlands.”
King Sōjōbō stared down at all four of them with ferocious eyes. Then, in a low, gruff voice, the old Tengu asked, “Do either of them have the mirror?”
“No, King Sōjōbō, they do not.”
“Then pu
t them with the others,” he commanded, fluttering his fan to dismiss them, and reaching for his cane. “They’ll answer for their crimes soon.”
Crimes? As frightened as he was, Digger forced the words out of his mouth, barely loud enough for the crooked-nosed bird-beast to hear. “What crimes? I haven’t done anything wrong.”
Gasps filled the trees all around. The village folk were wide-eyed, and the old Tengu raised his eyebrows and again glared down at Digger, the Kappa, and Kenja and Kenza.
Kenza made a bungling attempt to control the situation. “It’s not me who speaks to you in such a way, King Sōjōbō. I mean, it’s me who speaks to you now in such a way, but not me who spoke before to—”
“Enough, Kenza. I’m old, not hard of hearing.” The King then fixed his eagle-like eyes on Digger. He scratched his chin and, to himself, said, “These are not natural events; they strengthen from strange to stranger.” And then to Digger, Kenja and Kenza: “So, the boy speaks Tenguish, does he? And how has that come to be? Do tell.”
“I don’t know,” Digger said in all seriousness. “I just can. I don’t remember ever being taught your language.”
The old Tengu didn’t trust a single word out of Digger’s mouth. “Bah—this is some sort of trick. No human speaks Tenguish.” The King pressed the tip of a finger into an ear to scratch an itch. “And how about reading, then? Are you capable of reading our language as well? There—above my door.” He pointed with his walking stick at a wooden panel affixed to the roof of his tree house. On the panel, engraved into the wood, was a row of four faded symbols. All four were made up of crisscrossing lines. They looked almost like Chinese characters but with more curves and curls. “Go on,” demanded the King. “What does it say?”
Digger concentrated. And the symbols began to take shape in his mind, along with their meanings . . . Mountain, he read to himself. Fear of . . . Then King. And the last symbol: Honorable.
Mountain Fear of King Honorable . . .
Wait, he told himself. He had read them from left to right, as he would have read English words. He’d read them in the wrong order.
He then read them out loud. “‘Honorable King of Mount Osore.’”
Again, the eyes of the village folk filled with astonishment, which is how Digger knew for sure he’d read the symbols correctly.
The old Tengu, ever so slowly, merely pretending to be impressed, applauded with his bony hands. “Very good . . . A very good trick,” he sneered. “And a trick is a trick is a trick is a trick.” The village folk looked around at each other, searching for some hint as to what would come next. None spoke but the King. “Do you admit you are a trickster?”
“No, sir. I am telling you the truth—I don’t know how I can speak to you, or this Kappa, or read your language.”
The old Tengu eyed Slithis. “A slippery creature. And slippery trickery is its industry, too. No one speaks Kappanese but Kappas. You lie, boy. And for that—on top of your other crimes—you shall be punished, and severely so.”
Digger trembled. This was worse than a nightmare. “But what crimes?” he asked desperately, pushing his fears deep down inside himself. “If you are going to punish me for something, at least tell me what I did.”
Kenja, upon hopping up to the cage, lowered his long-nosed face until it was in front of Digger’s and snarled. “I ought to cane you with sun-dried bamboo. You have no right—no right at all—to question King Sōjōbō. Speak when spoken to. Otherwise keep your trap shut.”
Then Kenza’s silly face was beside Kenja’s. “You came to our forest on a hunt, did you not? You hurled the Sun Goddess’s treasure at the sacred cavern of the river vermin. The Tengus of the Shugenja Tribe witnessed you do that, then brought you to our beach. Why would you throw the mirror if not to crack it? Why destroy a relic of such power? And your noise-blaster . . . Every creature in these woods must flee from the poisonous water. Making matters worse, you come here to blare noise and drive them out faster.”
Kenja jabbed his nose at Digger. “Your screeching machine made the animals run. And Tengus must eat.”
“You see,” said Kenja, “without water to drink, and deer and boar to eat, or water for deer to drink, or water for plants to drink so deer can eat them, or for boar to drink, or water for plants to—”
“Kenza! Kenja!” the King snapped impatiently. “Away from that cage. There’ll be time enough for formal proceedings when—”
“—I haven’t done anything wrong. I came to these woods looking for my father.”
With an added tinge of annoyance, King Sōjōbō considered Digger yet again. “Well, you have indeed come here, but all you have found is trouble. The jewel, the mirror . . . Gone.”
“And he is probably devising a way to steal the sword, too,” Kenza meekly suggested. “So he can have all three sacred treasures—”
“Kenza, you fool!” The King stood up and slammed the terrace floor with the end of his cane. “Don’t speak of that around the boy,” he boomed. His face was fiery red, including his warped nose.
Digger wasn’t sure if he’d heard right. Sword? When Kenza had said it, the Tengu had glanced toward the center of the stage. For the first time, Digger peered straight down between his feet.
There it was, directly below the cage floor—a long, narrow sword, with a sharp and gracefully curving blade pointing straight up. Its brownish-green hilt, far too small for the hands of these giants, had been propped up amid what appeared to be three cushions—one red, one yellow, and one orange. The cushions were hefty enough to hold the sword upright, so they must have been filled with stones or sand. The sword’s tip was out of Digger’s reach—not that he’d dare grab it by the blade, or the hilt, for that matter.
“You have to believe me,” Digger pleaded. “I’m . . . We’re not here for that. I’m looking for my father, who might have disappeared while trying to find Kappas. Really, I don’t know anything about sacred treasures.” The old Tengu appeared only mildly interested as he fanned himself with little effort at all. Digger explained, “We were in the woods. And sort of lost. And the noise . . . We thought it would help us. A fisherman told us he had a jewel. But we didn’t take it from him. And we weren’t searching for the mirror. The Kappas have it now. I guess. Or maybe your sun goddess—”
Fresh gasps burst out of all the Tengus.
“That’s enough. Your way of speaking Tenguish—amusing as it sounds—feels rough in my ears. And rolls about like an off-key melody in my head. As I’ve told you already, you’ll answer for what you’ve done.” The King made his way back to the oak door. “Kenja, Kenza, see that the boy gets food, and water. And throw away that amphibian if it’s dead—someplace its corpse won’t stink up the village.” King Sōjōbō’s door then closed behind him with a bang.
The village folk shuffled off, returning to their chores or shops or homes. And Kenja and Kenza fastened another vine rope to a different pulley system.
Digger thought it odd that the Tengus had been so surprised to hear him utter the words “sun goddess.” Do they worship this god? he wondered. Kenza switched the ropes holding up the cage, and Digger whispered to the Tengu, “Who is your sun goddess?”
Kenza looked around to make sure no one was listening. “Amaterasu,” said the giant. “She is the Sun Goddess. Not ours.”
“Is she here, in your village?”
Kenza placed his hands on top of the cage and glimpsed up at Kenja to see if he was still out of earshot. “She turned our lake into that pool of poisons, or a poisonous pool, or a—”
“Why?”
“She is extremely unhappy with us—so we’ve been told. A stranger came to inform us that we had not been worshiping Amaterasu in a way that pleased her.”
Digger was confused, and looked down at the sword. “So then why did she give you that?”
“She did not. She would not. We received it from the stranger. A man.”
“Did he tell you why? Why he gave it to you?”
“Am
aterasu is powerless without the sacred treasures. Without them, she cannot control these lands. And her strength melts away. Without them, she cannot destroy us. She cannot destroy our woods, you see?”
But the water, Digger thought. It’s destroying the woods anyway.
Kenza yanked a knot to check if it was snug. He then tugged at the rope to make sure it was tight. “The stranger told us to wait, to wait and give the sword to—”
“Kenza, get a move on.”
“No more talk, boy.” The Tengu nodded up at Kenja, who then stretched out his wings and started gliding down toward the cage. “You’ll be chatting with your own kind soon . . . Ready?” But before Digger had a chance to respond, the cage was zipping through the treetops once again.
Chapter 23—Down
Through thin gaps between bushy-leafed branches, Yukiko could barely see about twenty Tengus. She couldn’t hear them talking, as they were too far away. They seemed to be gathering around the center of their tree village. Something or someone was holding their attention. Something or someone Yukiko was unable to see. The giants peered down toward the round stage she’d noticed the day before. She hoped they were looking at her father, and that he’d come to rescue her and Pam. Hopefully, she thought, the giants hadn’t snatched him up and put him in a cage like they’d done to her.
Yukiko peeked over the edge. Far down below were the browns and greens of the forest floor. If she were to drop a coin from that height, she thought, it would take at least a minute to fall all the way to the ground. If her father were to pass by, he wouldn’t have any idea she was up there. She could scream down at him, but with so much distance between them, her voice would be too tiny to catch.
The Tengus had brought her there the night before, plucked her out of a cage, and placed her in a tree hut. She wasn’t alone. Pam, Braden, and Big Bee, too, had been captured. They were prisoners, jailed in two of four huts that had been built apart from each other, around four trees. The shape of these jail huts, not unlike that of a donut, was round with a hole at the center. And through each center was the trunk of each tree.
Digger Doyle's Real Book of Monsters Page 14