Pam picked up a pinecone and chucked it up at Kenza. It hit and bounced off his thigh, startling him.
“Give me that sword!” Digger shouted for all to hear.
The surrounding Tengus blinked at each other in utter disbelief. Even King Sōjōbō appeared bewildered. “What is this word you sputter at us? An old word from forgotten legends? From our forefathers’ folklore? Hmm?” The King’s fan was motionless.
“You heard me. The sword,” Digger cried out again, knowing there were many Tenguish words for “sword” and that he’d chosen the most majestic of all. “I will take the sword to Amaterasu, and prove that only she can save the forest. And you will let my friends go free.”
Laughter filled the trees.
Digger peered up at the Tengu faces. “Or stay here and wait for the trees to die, along with all your food.”
The laughter fizzled out.
“You are a curious one, aren’t you?” The King rubbed his head in exasperation.
“Digger, tell us what’s going on,” Yukiko demanded.
“We need to get the sword and take it to the mountain—with the jewel. I told them they have to let us go. If they don’t, then they’ll leave us in the trees, and the poisons will keep flowing.”
Yukiko gulped and Pam instantly started gathering more pinecones for ammunition.
“And why you?” asked the King.
“Because that is why I am here—in your forest.” Digger now believed this to be true, though he didn’t know why the man with the dog wanted him there.
“You must be very strong, very brave, to take that sword to the goddess atop Osore.” The King paused to consider the situation. “What is your name, boy?”
Digger held his tongue at first, fearful that revealing his name could ruin their chances of being freed. “My name . . . is . . .”
“Tell them,” Slithis insisted.
“. . . Digger Doyle.”
“Well, well . . . Digger Doyle. The boy to whom we’re expected to just hand over the sword! Ah, poor boy. Poor, poor Digger Doyle. That man with the Barghest—we do not trust him any more than we trust Amaterasu these days. We reject his senseless demands. Digger Doyle, won’t be leaving here with the sacred blade.”
“King, I don’t know that man. I have never met him. And I don’t know why he took the treasures from the goddess. But what I do know is these lands started dying after she lost them. Please, King, there has to be some way I can prove myself to you.”
“Very well,” the King agreed with a sigh, scratching his chin with the fringe of his fan. “If you are as strong as you must think you are, then we will suspend your punishment—so you can prove yourself, as you say.”
“You mean you’re letting us go, with the sword?”
“I did not say that,” grumbled the King. “But I will give you a chance . . . To find out if fate—and the tree spirits—are on your side. It is the way we have resolved disputes for centuries. And if you prevail, then two of you will be free to go, with the sword. The other two shall stay here until these lands return to normal.”
“Prevail? What do I have to do?” Digger sensed the excitement growing among the Tengus.
“Tengu sumo,” Kenza whispered down to him. “You will fight.”
The King’s herald abruptly lifted a gleaming ram’s horn from behind the pulpit, then ordered, “Prepare the ring!”
A cheer erupted, and within seconds Digger was plucked out of the cage like a puppy and plunked down on the stage.
The herald filled his chest with air, put the ram’s horn to his lips, and blew hard and long. Out came a mighty whine, like the screech of some tormented animal. The cheers of the Tengus became a frightening chant, which grew louder and fiercer . . . “Temblod,” they called out. “Temblod.” “Temblod!” “TEMBLOD!” Until even the trees shook with fear.
Chapter 28—A Crossing of Paths
Corliss had walked for so long that his legs now felt wobbly, whereas Inari-san was literally making leaps and bounds. From his waist to head, the fisherman appeared human, except for some patches of red fur around the neck and ears. But his legs and arms were those of his other self—the fox. And with those furry, nimble limbs, he cut through the forest terrain with surprising ease.
“For an old man, you’re fast.” Corliss had been trailing behind the spry sprite for quite some time. “Inari-san, I need to rest a minute.”
The fisherman stretched his hind legs. “Speed is survival in these woods. There are hungry creatures about. Any of them would be happy to come across a meal with slow feet.”
“You mean the Kappas, don’t you? Or those goblins who stole my sister?”
“Kappas are a menace—that’s all. They eat my fish, the pests. The goblins, as you call them, are Tengus, and they do not eat us. There is one, though—not a Tengu but a Daitengu. It wanders the deep valleys. Temblod. A hulking, heinous fiend. It would snap both of us in two—for nothing more than wicked amusement.”
“Oh, great. Another beast to watch out for.” Corliss plucked a three-leaf clover and twirled its stem between his thumb and forefinger. “Hey, did the Tengus take my sister to that Temblod thing?”
“The Daitengu and the Tengus dwell apart. Only when the Tengu king summons the fowl monster does it come to do his bidding. Temblod has killed men, other Inaris, even children in these woods and along the mountain range. It has been said that hateful spirits possess Temblod. Evil, after all, clings to evil.”
Corliss let out his tongue and ran it over his lips, which were chapped and cracked. Seeing that, Inari-san disappeared into the leafy undergrowth of blue-green ferns. When he popped back out, his mouth was clutching a bunch of long stems, many dripping at their ends. “Take these.” Inari-san raised his chin. “Squeeze them together.”
Corliss reached out and took the lime-colored stems from the mouth of the fisherman-fox. He then pressed them together with the palms of his hands, holding the ends over his tongue. Each produced droplets of water, which he let drip and trickle down the back of his throat. The water was refreshing, in spite of its bitter celery flavor, but Corliss wasn’t ready to continue on with their trek just yet.
Inari-san straightened out his legs and arms, unbending his knees and elbow joints as the fur pulled back into his wrinkly skin. In seconds he’d turned himself back into a complete man.
“You must go on, Corliss. Your cousin must take the—”
“—mirror,” Corliss said. “You knew I had it all along, didn’t you?”
The fisherman wiggled his nose. “The mirror is made of rare minerals and metals, some from islands far away. They give it a distinctive odor.”
“Then why didn’t you take it to Digger yourself? You’re way faster than I’ll ever be.”
“In fox form, I am indeed fast. But not as a man. These legs are too old. Too creaky. They can’t climb anything higher than a stump. As a fox, I can climb, and climb high. But not with a heavy mirror between my teeth.”
“Climb? What are you talking about? Climb what?”
Inari-san glanced at the treetops.
“My sister’s the climber, not me.”
“That’s a good thing for her, Corliss.”
“So, she’s up in the trees?”
“That’s where the Tengus must have taken her. Along with the others.”
“Sheesh! What’s next? Are you sure you know where we’re going?”
The fisherman sniffed the air. “That way.” He pointed with a bony-knuckled finger. All Corliss could see were more trees.
Inari-san suddenly dropped into a crouch among the ferns. “Get down.”
“What is it?” Corliss could swear he saw the fisherman’s ears twitching.
“Down, I said. Now.”
Corliss squatted next to Inari-san. He couldn’t hear anything at first. But then came the faint murmur of voices, which grew by the second. And soon he saw them. The same brute and boys he’d seen at the port. “Grudgings,” he said under his breath, sea
rching for someplace lower to hide. At that instant he caught sight of the sprite’s tail darting into a jumble of ferns. Inari-san was gone.
Corliss lay flat against the cool ground, his rucksack at his side. Although his whole body was beneath the fern fronds, the Grudgings would see him lying there if they didn’t change direction. Or was he doomed? They were skillful hunters. As he watched them trudge through the leafy knee-high undergrowth, it seemed as though all three had sensed they weren’t alone.
Big Bee stopped and held out his snake-tattooed arm. His hand—flat, palm down—slowed the boys. His other hand motioned for them to spread out. Bruno was wearing a thick leather belt, on which he’d fastened ten or more knives. A bow was slung over his shoulder and the quiver across his back was loaded with arrows. The other boy, Braden, loomed toward Corliss with the stealth of a ghost, scouring every inch around him. Corliss didn’t breathe, didn’t blink. Braden came to a standstill—so close that if Corliss had a fishing rod, he’d be able to scratch some grime off the Grudgings boy’s boot.
Corliss shifted only his eyes, while Braden scanned the sea of ferns. Big Bee was coming their way with a butcher’s knife in his tattooed hand, the blade raised and ready to chop at whatever might lunge at him. The hunter then broke the silence. “Spot anything, Braden?”
Braden looked straight down at Corliss. Their eyes locked.
Corliss didn’t know if he should run away or fight.
“Hey! What d’yuh see, Braden?”
Big Bee’s voice was louder; he was getting closer.
Corliss could feel his heart beating against the earth.
Then Braden looked away, up at the trees. “All clear. Nothing over this way.”
Corliss finally exhaled. Not out of the woods yet, he thought. Big Bee was near enough to catch a whiff of, and the hunter smelled like a sweaty pair of old shoes. Soon Corliss would have to make a run for it.
But Bruno was now holding his bow and reaching over his shoulder for an arrow.
“What is it, boy?” Big Bee called to him. “See something over there?”
“Not sure,” Bruno replied between clenched teeth, and with two fingers he brought the arrow to the bowstring.
“Then we move,” Big Bee commanded. “Tengus will be coming. You can bet your bottom dollar they’re combing the woods for us right now. Keep your pace. And an eye out for the river. We’ll be back on the ship by nightfall.”
Bruno was still.
“Move on now, Bruno. You hear me?”
Bruno slowly pulled back the bowstring. And again Big Bee and Braden stopped dead in their tracks.
With a sudden swoosh, the arrow streaked directly over the ferns.
Corliss heard a yelp, and a whimper. Bruno reached back for another arrow, but stopped short of the quiver. A second arrow would not be necessary.
All three Grudgings went to inspect the area where the arrow had landed. Corliss lifted his head slightly, then cringed when he heard Big Bee’s outburst—a big barrel of a laugh that froze his blood.
“At least we won’t be going home empty-handed.” Big Bee gave Bruno a pat on the back, immensely pleased with his son’s shot. He reached down and picked Inari-san up by the scruff of the neck. The arrow had gone through his now half-human, half-fox leg. Big Bee unfolded a burlap sack, then dropped the injured sprite into the bag, closed it with a yank of two strings, and let it hang over his shoulder.
There was nothing Corliss could do but listen to his new friend whimper, and watch as the Grudgings strode off.
The Grudgings boy looked right at me but didn’t say a thing, he thought. Maybe there’s a shred of good in that family. And that meant Inari-san might be okay.
He waited until he was certain he was alone, then stood and faced the direction in which Inari-san had pointed. The same direction Corliss would now have to go on his own.
Chapter 29—When the Great Horn Sounds
Alone on the stage, Digger felt the weight of every eye in the village bearing down on him. The Tengus were growing impatient for Temblod to show itself, but still chanting the monster’s name over and over again.
At Digger’s side, and within reach, was the sword, held firmly upright by the three cushions. Kenja warned Digger not to touch it unless he was declared the victor. The giant then frowned apologetically, as if able to foresee who the winner would be, and glided off to a branch to sit with Kenja beneath the King’s hut.
Pam, Yukiko and Slithis were gripping the cage bars, between which Digger could see their frightened faces. He hated seeing them like that, and blamed himself for their capture.
Up in the cage, Yukiko turned to Pam. “How can your cousin talk to these creatures?”
But Pam didn’t know. And even if she had, she wasn’t able to speak right then, as her throat had tightened. For at that very moment she witnessed the great big beast appear at the edge of the village. Yukiko then saw it too, as well as the Kappa, which immediately ducked under its shell.
The chanting dwindled and then petered out completely, replaced by a heavy silence, like the tense stillness in the drawn-out seconds before a thunderstorm. The whole village—except for Digger—was now focused on that giant among giants.
Digger couldn’t bring himself to turn and face Temblod. His legs wouldn’t move; his bones seemed stuck. He was scared stiff. If he turned to look now, he was sure he’d stop breathing. The Tengu sumo bout would be over before it had even begun.
And so he had yet to set his eyes on Temblod’s steel-hard muscles, scratched and scarred arms, weedy hair, blazing eyes, and blistery nose. A tattered animal hide covered its heaving chest, thick torso, and battle-ready legs. Temblod’s horrific teeth, each jutting out in directions of their own, had been carved into points for a more menacing mouth and more horrid face.
The herald sounded the horn again, and having been summoned for the second time, Temblod climbed ape-like out of a tree, then bounded from branch to branch toward the stage.
A thumping started with a single Tengu foot. This became a stomp, with other feet joining in, giving rise to a pounding rhythm that rattled the tall trees all the way down to their shuddering roots.
Digger’s eyes were glued to the weapon standing by him so proudly. That sword is the only thing that can help me. But a mere touch would disqualify him.
When the Daitengu leapt from the nearest tree and onto the stage, the floor all but gave way under Digger’s feet. Like a trampoline, the disc bounced on the branch supporting it from below. And from the jolt, Digger lost his balance and dropped to a kneeling position.
A thunderous applause made the leafy sky shiver, and the stomping ceased. The King raised a hand to silence the Tengus.
Digger could smell the Daitengu’s swampy breath, but still would not turn and face the giant.
“The rules,” announced the herald. “Only one shall remain on the stage—the victor. And the victor will either return the sword to the Sun Goddess or take it deep into the darkest, remotest valleys, where Amaterasu will never find it. Pushing, shoving, pulling, kicking, stomping, grabbing, punching, pinching, crushing, crunching are, of course, all allowed.” The audience roared again. “But, but, buuut . . . If either touches the sword before the bout has ended, he will instantly lose the match. The victor shall be remembered for his strength, and for his bravery. The defeated shall soon be forgotten.”
Again, the audience was silent.
“To this boy, who has come to our land, speaking the old Tengu tongue, spitting out words about the Sun Goddess . . . We wish you good fortune, in this life or the next. May the tree spirits always be by your side.” Respectfully, every Tengu repeated, “May the tree spirits always be by your side.”
“Now, to the great Daitengu, who, in his solitary wanderings, has heeded our call, we wish you good fortune, in this life or the next. May the tree spirits always be by your side.”
Again the Tengus—each and every one—called out, “May the tree spirits always be by your side.” And
at that Temblod the Daitengu let out a tremendous belch. The beast then grinned as the evil stink sat heavily in the already foul air.
This show of disrespect split the Tengu audience. Half were disgusted by the Daitengu’s rude outburst, while the other half exploded with the loudest cheers yet, as if a starting pistol had been fired for a race.
As for Digger, the belch and stench broke his concentration. He took his eyes off the sword. It’s time, he told himself. It’s up to me now.
He slowly turned toward the monster that had come to crush him.
With its warped eyes and scarred mouth, Temblod grinned wickedly. The beast would enjoy watching Digger, dead or alive, fall off the stage. But why hasn’t Temblod spoken? he wondered. It was quite apparent this was a different breed of Tengu, or another kind of creature altogether. Does Temblod understand Tenguish?
The Daitengu shifted about on the other side of the stage, paying no attention to the disc’s rim. It knew precisely where that edge was. It has done Tengu sumo before, Digger realized.
He slid his feet over the floor carefully, so as not to lose his footing.
King Sōjōbō lifted his cane. The bout was about to begin with the stomp of that gnarled royal stick.
Those words from the Tengus . . . This beast must have understood them, Digger thought. That roar of a belch . . . Temblod was responding to those words . . . What was it they said? May the tree spirits always be by your side? The words echoed inside Digger as his chest pounded. But then, as his eyes met the giant’s, he suddenly got an idea. And if that idea worked, he might have a slim chance of winning.
CRACK! The King’s cane came down like a lightning strike. Temblod approached in no rush at all, and Digger circled the rim, as fearful of bumping into the sword as he was of being clobbered by Temblod. The stage shook with each of Temblod’s steps and the branch beneath them strained under the weight. The Tengu audience eagerly awaited the moment the giant would toss Digger.
He looked up at Pam, Yukiko and Slithis. Be strong, for them, he told himself. The Kappa nodded at him, as though the little creature had read his thoughts. Or was Slithis saying farewell?
Digger Doyle's Real Book of Monsters Page 18