As I lean Peyton against the tree, I think, Onamae-wa? If it was Daruma, why was he asking my name again? For a wise man, he doesn’t seem so wise. I’m going to tell Obāchan to get rid of that ridiculous figure. He’s not even worth the two dollars she probably paid for the souvenir.
Jinx looks around. “Well, now what? This trail ends right there.” She points to where the path disappears into a dense thicket of low branches and bushes.
Now what indeed? I survey our surroundings, too. “You know, I bet we have a better chance of finding Fudō-Myōō if we go off the main path.” I turn until I see an opening in the branches. “We could go through there.”
Peyton holds out a hand for some of Jinx’s trail mix. “I’d eat a talking apple if I had to. Especially if it tasted like an orange.”
“Ew.” Jinx makes a face.
“What? They’re not actually people, are they?” Peyton pops the nuts and raisins into his mouth. “I mean, we have to be practical.”
As I watch them eat, I decide I’m hungry enough to open my monkey netsuke box. I shake out a single grain of rice and put it into my mouth. It expands into an onigiri ball. I quickly bite down, eager to discover the filling. I blanch. This one’s tuna.
Jinx grabs the monkey box. “Ooh, let me have one of those.”
“Manners,” I say, watching some precious rice fall to the ground. Jinx pops a grain into her mouth, then scoops up the ones that dropped and pockets them. I swallow. “What’d you get?”
Jinx wiggles her eyebrows. “Banana.”
“Ew.” That sounds worse than tuna.
“You’re awfully finicky for a Momotaro hero,” Jinx observes.
I shrug. “Some of us have taste buds.” I hold out the box to Peyton, but he shakes his head. That’s not like him. All he’s had since we left the house was a little trail mix. “Are you sure?”
He nods.
Well, maybe later. I put the carved wooden figure back on my belt, the box swinging off its little rope, and I glance up at the sky. The sun is disappearing behind some mountain peak we still can’t see because there are too many trees in the way. “We should get moving. We have to find shelter—or make it—before it gets dark.”
“If only my wings were back.” Peyton sniffles, drawing his hand under his long nose. “I could find us a place.”
It definitely would be handy if we could search for Fudō from the air, but I don’t say anything because I don’t want to make Peyton feel worse.
“There should be a shrine someplace around here,” Jinx says. “You would think.”
“I would think,” I agree.
We each take one of Peyton’s arms and push our way through the bushes, following what might have been a trail once upon a time. The forest gets thicker as we go, and pretty soon it’s as dim as a windowless bathroom with only a nightlight on. The branches grab at our legs. I’m glad we’re all wearing jeans.
Oh wait. It’s not dark because of the trees. “It’s night.” I cast around for somewhere we can camp. Who knows what’s in these woods after sunset?
Jinx stops. “Great. I knew we should’ve gone back to the main path.”
“If you knew, then why didn’t you say anything until now?” I’m not in the mood to listen to Jinx’s shoulda-coulda-woulda complaints. Despair floods me. How exactly are we supposed to find Mr. Angry Lord? He could be anywhere on this huge mountaintop. I shake my head.
Wait. Mountaintop.
“He must live up there!” I point upward, northeast, in the general direction of where I think the peak is. “All we have to do is keep going until we reach the top.”
“Who lives up there?” Peyton sits heavily on the forest floor, unzipping his light backpack and taking out a bag of cheesy popcorn. He rips it open, spilling some neon-orange kernels.
“Angry Lord of Light. He’s some kind of wise man, right? They always live on top of mountains, and people have to, like, pilgrimage up to see them.”
“Maybe.” Jinx helps herself to some of Peyton’s popcorn. “But that doesn’t help us right now. We need to find a safe spot.”
I’m thinking Jinx is correct. I don’t want to keep going deeper into an unfamiliar area in the dark. If worse comes to worst, we could sleep under those hideous apples. At least we know they’re harmless. Still, I shiver a little. “I guess we should go back the way we came.”
I start to turn around, but Jinx’s hand clasps my shirt. “Check those out.”
A ghostly wind whispers in my ears, tickling the small hairs there. Then every goose bump on my body prickles. I try to focus where Jinx is looking. “I don’t see anything.”
Peyton tugs on my pant leg. “Look at the beautiful lights!”
I shrug both of them off. “What?”
I finally see them. Three glowing circles hover in the air about a dozen feet away. They might be sparks—embers from a campfire. No, they’re something else. They somersault and flip like juggling balls. They flit close to us, then fall back, then come close again, blowing a warm breeze on our faces with the scent of honeydew melon.
A memory flashes—me and Peyton sitting in a rope hammock behind my house. An early summer evening, last year, right before the Fourth of July. Dad barbecuing, and the delicious smoke wafting over to us as Peyton and I play a new game on our handhelds. And me thinking, This is the best evening of my life.
Come with us, the lights seem to whisper to me now. Come, we’ll take you back to where you’ll be happy again.
And an overwhelming instinct wells up in me—as natural as breathing—to follow.
“No,” I say out loud. Because my mother once told me about these. A long time ago, before she left. We were walking through the forest at night when I saw the same kind of little lights. “Fairies?” I’d asked her. (I was four at the time.)
She’d picked me up and held my face against her shoulder. “No, mo chroí. They’re will-o’-the-wisps. Never follow them. If you see them, close your eyes, for they will try to call you to them.”
“Will-o’-the-wisps?” I say aloud now, my voice ringing like a cowbell in the forest.
Jinx’s eyes glow in the reflected light. She takes a step in their direction. “They’re trying to lead us to something.”
Peyton reaches out for one. “I want to catch it.” He gets up and lumbers toward it.
“No, Peyton!” I grab for him, but he smacks my hand away. “Stop! You guys, it’s a trap!”
The lights dance and flicker and zoom away, with Peyton in pursuit. It’s the fastest I’ve seen him go all day.
I run after him, and Jinx follows me. Peyton skips like a little boy, giggling in a super-weird, high-pitched way, as if he just sucked in a bunch of helium. “Did they put a spell on him or what?” I huff at Jinx.
“I don’t know. I just know I don’t like this.” Jinx frowns, and we redouble our speed.
Finally, we catch up with him, but only because the will-o’-the-wisps have stopped moving forward. We accidentally run into Peyton’s back.
We’re at the mouth of a cave.
Ever since Peyton, Jinx, and I experienced the snow woman’s cave of ice and doom, I haven’t been eager to enter anything remotely similar. Unlike that cave, though, this one is large enough to drive a Mack truck into. We could get out of here in a hurry if we had to.
At least, that’s what I tell myself because Peyton ducks inside and now I have no option but to go in after him. He pauses and looks back at me, the orbs swirling around his head like Saturn’s rings. “They’re showing us it’s safe in here.”
It is fully nighttime now. We do need someplace to sleep. But this cave gives me the creeps. Plus, I don’t trust the will-o’-the-wisps. “I know I don’t have my powers anymore, guys, but this place is no bueno. For real.”
“Only one way to find out.” Jinx steps into the interior. “Hello?” she shouts.
“Jinx!” I hold up my hands. As if that’ll stop her. “Don’t be a monkey’s uncle.”
“Gosh. I’ve never hea
rd that one before.” She waves a hand dismissively at me. “Don’t worry. I’ll go check it out. You can wait right here, safe and sound. Yup, just let ol’ Jinx do all the dangerous work. Again.”
I sigh. “Did I ask you to do anything? No. We all need to stay right here.”
“Too late!” She scuttles into the cave. “If I’m not back in ten, come find me.”
Gah. “Foiled again,” I mutter. Now we have no choice but to wait. I’m not leaving Peyton alone. That Jinx.
I search through my pack for the headband that has a flashlight on it, fit it over my forehead, and turn it on. I shine it toward Peyton. He’s sitting cross-legged, staring at the orbs with fascination, as entranced as a kitten by a feather on a string.
“Peyton! Earth to Peyton.” I snap my fingers in front of his face. “Focus, buddy!”
Peyton wipes some drool from his chin. “Xander, you gotta watch these. They’re better than TV!”
“Gah.” I glare at the dancing orbs.
One pauses, just for a second, suspended in the darkness.
Just long enough for me to see the image of a skull inside the light.
Fear flashes through my spine, lightning fast. I grab my sword and stand up. “Peyton, run!” I bellow. “Get into the forest and hide! Anywhere!”
“Huh?” he says dumbly.
I slash at the orb with my blade. It dances nimbly away, flies up, the other two following. I chase. They mock me, flying close, then far away, out of the cave, disappearing into the navy-blue sky.
“Peyton, it’s not safe here.” I yank him to his feet. “Jinx!” I screech into the abyss. “Are you all right?”
I hear running footsteps, but there are too many, as though ten Jinxes are approaching. I shine the flashlight in.
Jinx comes barreling out past me, faster than I’ve ever seen her move. The whites of her eyes are huge. “Goooooooooooooo!” she screams.
And then I see what she’s running from.
A spider thing as tall as an elephant scuttles after her, moving swiftly on its eight legs. Its body and head are striped like a tiger, and its face is that of a snarling feline. At least it doesn’t have eight eyes.
I say a few words that I’m not allowed to use at home, then turn and grab Peyton, who’s still staring at the empty space where the orbs were, and I start to run.
But, abruptly, something yanks at my hand, and Peyton’s not in my grasp anymore. I look back. The spider has shot out a crimson web, which is twining around Peyton’s ankles. Peyton falls to the ground and the tiger-spider drags its prey toward its open maw. Orange drool drips off its four great canines, each one as long as my sword. My headlight shines into an inner circle of jagged teeth, like a saw.
I leap backward. That image will be haunting me for, oh, the rest of my natural-born life.
“Don’t stop for me!” Peyton shouts. “I’m dead meat. Go!”
Yeah, right. “Shut up and just keep breathing!” I try to figure out where to stab the creature. I run at it, but it smacks me away with one of its forelegs, sending me skittering across the cave floor.
Oof. The air’s knocked out of me. I stare up at the tiger-spider, my sword clenched in my hands, hoping I can catch my breath before it eats one of us. The monster rocks back and throws its head to the sky, letting out a roar.
A roar that sounds more like a squeaky kitten.
“Really?” I get on my feet and run toward it again. “That’s the best you can do?”
It roars a second time, its breath flattening my hair against my scalp in a wet pile.
Ew.
“I’ve got this, Xander.” Jinx climbs up one of the tree-trunk-size hairy legs and gets on top of its body.
The tiger-spider hisses in the annoyed way a cat hisses at a dog. It shakes, flinging Jinx off its back. She lands with a thud.
I take advantage of the distraction. I leap forward and swing my sword upward, into the soft skin of its neck.
Purple blood squirts out. I dodge the stream, pull my sword back out, and the spider collapses like a boulder, shaking the whole mountain.
My ribs shudder with the effort of my heavy breathing. I lean over and clutch my thighs. Take that, spider.
“Xander!” Jinx screams. “Behind you!”
No time for a victory dance. I turn.
Three more spiders, these smaller than the first, scurry out of the forest.
Peyton lies facedown in a collapsed pile between them and me. His arms flop as though he’s trying to get up and being really unsuccessful about it.
Great.
I race toward the spiders. No defense like a good offense, as my father would say. “If you see a threat coming at you,” he said, “don’t wait to strike! By then, it might be too late.”
Whoosh. The sword sings through the air, chopping off a leg that’s hairier than a kiwi fruit.
It hisses, and two of its other legs swivel about, knock me over, and pin me roughly to the ground, rattling my teeth and quite probably my brain against my skull. Spots swirl in front of my eyes.
“Jinx! Where are you?” I yelp, my face pressed hard against the dirt. “Take my sword!” I toss it blindly, hoping against hope that she’ll get it.
“Xander!” Jinx shouts, and I manage to lift my head up enough to glimpse her, also pinned down by another tiger-spider, a few yards away.
My heart sinks like the Titanic. This is it. We’re doomed for real this time. All the other times were practice. I screw my eyes shut and wait to feel razor-sharp teeth tear through my face. Man, what a sorry way to go. Eaten by a bug. Or possibly a mammal-bug. My parents’ faces flash through my mind and I apologize to them, and to Peyton. I wanted to finish my quest. I really did. I brace myself for the final impact.
Then I hear the pounding of footsteps. Jinx? Did she escape?
“AWRRORRR!” a man’s deep voice roars incomprehensibly, and two large man feet, clad in straw sandals with black straps, kick dust into my face. A light shines from someplace, suddenly illuminating the scene a lot more clearly than I would like.
I cough. Who on earth is that? It’s definitely not Peyton.
More chopping noises, like knives going through watermelon. An arc of purple blood pours down, splashing me, and suddenly the pressure on my back is gone. Whomp. The spider hits the ground with a satisfying thud. I’m free! I roll away gratefully and look up to see who my savior is.
Two silver streaks fly through the air, attached to a man-shaped blur that attacks the other spider with a ferocity and speed I’ve only seen in an action movie.
That tiger-spider falls, too, with a crunch that sounds like a bunch of cereal being stepped on.
Then the man turns, and I see that he’s not quite a man, but a teenager about sixteen or seventeen years old. He wears a short kimono jacket made of a sturdy blue-silver silken material with wide-legged gray samurai pants, the old style my grandfather would have worn. His hair is jet-black, tied in a topknot and shaved back at his forehead—the traditional samurai hairdo. In his right hand he holds a long, curving sword like mine. In his left, he holds a shorter sword, which he now sheathes with a metallic twang.
He bows deeply, folding himself in half, so I can see the shiny top of his head glinting in my flashlight. “Kintaro, at your service.”
I stare at this newcomer dully. He remains bowed. Finally, I remember my manners and bow back. “Um, Xander. Also at your service. I guess.”
Jinx gasps, getting up and coming toward us. She looks okay, except for her ultra-wild hair and the dirt and goop all over her. She smiles and attempts to wipe a smudge off her cheek, but she only succeeds in smearing it down to her chin. “Kintaro? The Kintaro?”
“The Kintaro?” I straighten up, scrolling through my brain data banks. Dad hasn’t mentioned him. Maybe he was in one of those books I didn’t read. “Who’s Kintaro? Never heard of him.”
“Kintaro. The Golden Boy. Surely Obāchan told you his story. He’s a folk hero, like Paul Bunyan or Hercules.” Jin
x grins at him, puts her hands together, and bows. “Honorable Kintaro, I am glad to meet you. I am Jinx. This is Xander.” She goes over to where Peyton is lying in a heap, like a pile of fall leaves, and grasps his wrist. “And Peyton. Come on, Peyton, on your feet.”
“Unnnnh.” Peyton resists Jinx’s pull. She gives up, letting his wrist snap back toward the ground. His skin is the color of bleached socks, but he doesn’t seem to be bleeding anywhere.
I swallow hard. I don’t even want to think about how we can’t move Peyton and how we’re going to have to stay in this place overnight, where who knows how many more tiger-spiders will come out of their nooks and crannies. “Just let him rest for a second.”
Kintaro bows again. “I am truly, deeply honored to make your acquaintances.”
“You, too.” I go over to Jinx and whisper, “Is he a folk hero like Momotaro?”
“Naw.” Jinx smirks at me. “Momotaro was never considered to be that strong.”
Ouch.
Kintaro swivels his head, searching the treetops and peering into the cave. “You need to leave this area. It’s unsafe.”
“My thoughts exactly.” I turn to Peyton. “Come on, buddy, time to get going.” Jinx takes hold of Peyton’s wrist again. I grab the other.
Peyton is as cooperative as a sack of bricks. We can’t budge him. “Too tired. Let me sleep, Mom.”
“He’s still asleep. Or hallucinating.” I shake him. “You need to move.”
“I okay.” His eyelids flutter over the whites of his eyes. “I fine.”
“What, the baku took his grammar, too?” Jinx squats over him, peering into his face.
“Your friend needs assistance.” Kintaro’s face looks like it’s been chiseled out of one of the boulders dotting the mountainside. He’s got that strong superhero jaw that would complement a Batman mask, and dark, deep-set eyes. They sweep over me and Jinx and Peyton like a security camera, and I see that he’s assessing Peyton’s condition and our ages and everything.
“I was out for my evening moonrise stroll when I heard the commotion,” he continues. “Of course, I instantly ascertained that you required my skills.”
Xander and the Dream Thief Page 10