Balsa smiled. “Go ahead. We’ll take turns sleeping. Tiredness can cost you your life.” She took the first watch, and the others lay down on the ground, wrapped up in sheets of oiled paper. They were instantly asleep.
Although they had not been talking loudly, everything suddenly seemed very still. A breeze passed by, rustling the branches overhead. Through them, Balsa glimpsed the moon shining brightly in the indigo sky. Somewhere, its light must be shining on Chagum too.
She wondered if he was lonely. She sighed and moved over to lean her back against a tree trunk. It was hard to believe that only eight months had passed since she met him last fall. Gently, she rubbed her face. Her hand felt cold.
Once, a long time ago, she had loved her mother and her father, and she had loved Jiguro. Now those whom she had loved so deeply were gone. She looked over at Tanda’s sleeping form and recalled Chagum’s face — never tanned by the sun and still a little childlike. She heaved another deep sigh.
Chagum had long since left the Aoyumi River, walking beside it through the dark woods. And yet he kept to the water, in the water, for in Nayugu, the place where he walked was still a river; one so broad that he could not see the opposite bank and so deep that he could not see the bottom. He moved in a dream, seeing the worlds of Sagu and Nayugu simultaneously, his feet automatically evading the stones and roots in Sagu while he watched the fish of Nayugu swim among the trees. The ground beneath his feet was transparent, and the water — a breathtaking clear blue — dropped down into a darkness no light could penetrate.
He continued walking through this clear, silent landscape. Far to the right, the riverbank in Nayugu gradually came into view. Crystal waters lapped against the white shore, and blue-green waterweeds waved between the tree roots of Sagu. Suddenly, he noticed something floating toward him, weaving like a snake as it rose from the abyss at his feet. Its hair was like seaweed, its skin smooth and slippery, its eyes and mouth those of a fish … A voice poured from its mouth and, carried by the water, resounded in his mind.
“Nyunga Ro Chaga,
O Guardian of the Spirit.
Not long now, not long.
When the sun sets and rises again,
then will it be time for the birthing.”
The creature swam and swirled around him joyfully. Many more Yona Ro Gai gathered, rising from deep beneath him in all directions. They beat their webbed hands on the water’s surface, spraying drops that shimmered against the transparent ground of Sagu.
“O egg embraced by Nyunga Ro Chaga!
Become Nyunga Ro Im.
Breathe clouds and make the sweet rain fall
on this land and that other land.”
They continued to circle around Chagum until the sun set and the river was wrapped in darkness. When the night deepened, he lay down on the thick ferns beneath a great tree. Lights rose like fireflies from the depths, drifting to the water’s surface, clustering together and suddenly scattering. He watched them dance, and before he knew it, he had fallen asleep.
That night, his dreams merged with those of Nyunga Ro Im as the egg dozed, waiting to be born. This was Nyunga Ro Im’s only gift for the one in whom its egg resided: the dream of the cloud spirit, which none but its Guardian could ever hope to see. In the dream, Chagum was an enormous shellfish, larger than the palace in the capital, lying on his belly at the bottom of the great river. He watched the world from a hard shell that radiated seven colors of light. The earth’s energy seeped inside him, circulated warmly through his stomach, and filled his entire being.
Myriad lives — all life on the peninsula — flowed like a shining, swirling river in and out of his dream. Strong lives, weak lives, from both Sagu and Nayugu: Some were fortunate, protected by many others, while some wandered into blind creeks, petered out, and vanished soon after they were born. His body nestled into this great flowing river. Ahhh. Like a great sigh, he exhaled the energy flowing inside him and let his mind ride that breath as it rushed to the surface, burst from the water, and climbed up, up to the heavens….
In the blue sky, his breath became a cloud, and he gazed from a dazzling height upon the clear blue river and the world through which it wound. The wind pushed against him, passing out the other side, and birds glided gently through him. He merged with clouds that drifted toward him from far away, smelled the scents of different lands, whirled and swelled…. Light was born within him, and with a flash of lightning and a clap of thunder, he became a drop of rain and fell once again to the bottom of the river.
Sensing the pale blue dawn, Chagum awoke and knew that all was ready. The egg within his breast ached. It was time to be born.
The morning sun shone through the green canopy covering the sky and cast a dappled light on the ferns and bamboo grass beneath.
“Wait.”
Balsa, who had been rushing ahead, stopped at the sound of Jin’s voice behind her. He was crouching down, staring at the ferns at the foot of a huge tree. “What is it?”
Jin raised his head. “It looks like Tanda was right. Someone seems to have slept here. From the state of these ferns, whoever it was left about dawn.”
Zen was standing beside him. He pointed to the ground and said quietly, “It was the prince. There’s no mistake. Look — a footprint.”
Balsa pushed her way back through the underbrush and looked at the ground where he was pointing. The imprint of a small straw sandal was faintly visible, and the marks of two thin ropes across the sole stood out particularly clearly. She felt her heart constrict. “Yes, that’s Chagum’s footprint all right. I can see the marks from the straw ropes I added to keep him from slipping.” She stood up and looked at Tanda. “How far is it to the spring?”
“About two hours at our pace.”
“If he left at dawn, he’ll reach the spring at least half an hour ahead of us. If we add how long it will take to make torches, we don’t have a moment to spare.” Balsa looked at Jin and Zen and smiled challengingly. “Now’s your chance to prove what you’re worth.”
The Hunters just grinned back.
As if the egg were pulling him, Chagum headed straight for the spring. He moved out of the forest down to the river beach and kept on walking as fast as his body would allow. The sun rose and its strong rays beat steadily on the back of his neck, but he did not even feel the summer heat. When the river had dwindled to little more than a stream and he was almost in sight of the spring, he stopped abruptly.
The world around him, which had been nothing more than a vague dream, came sharply into focus; his body, sensing mortal danger, yanked him out of the dream of Nyunga Ro Im, and he broke into a sweat, the cold slimy sweat of fear. Through the pleasant scene of the river beach in Sagu, he saw before him in Nayugu a huge sea of mud, as if all the water in an enormous lake had dried up, leaving the muddy bottom exposed in all directions. One small patch of grass perched like a floating island in the middle — the river’s source in the land of Sagu. At its center, he could see a large black hole, with the invisible energy of the earth rising out of it. Chagum knew instinctively that this energy was the very thing the egg needed to complete its growth.
But he could smell only death — the stench of Rarunga, the Egg Eater — and he began to tremble with fear. His stomach tightened and his heart pounded wildly in his chest. His foot jerked. He shuddered and froze, trying to stop it from moving. The egg was urging his body forward, pushing him on, but he reeked of shigu salua. If he set one foot out of the water on that sea of mud, Rarunga was sure to smell it and come after him — to rive his body with its enormous claws and eat the egg!
NO! I don’t want to die! But his foot inched forward. Shaking, he fought with all his might to pull it back, but like a baby about to be born, bathed in its mother’s blood, the egg was already straining toward life, desperate to outstrip death in its race against time. Chagum could not hope to suppress that primal urge. The egg seemed to burn within him, and again, he felt his foot dragged slowly forward.
Res
ponding to the terror that gripped the cloud spirit and Chagum, a white mist began to rise slowly above the surface of the river. The water became thick as syrup and gave off a faint metallic odor — the scent of their fear. Chagum’s foot began to move again, and this time he could not stop it. Like a fish seeking air, he raised his head and screamed: “Balsa!”
“It’s just a little farther to Sahnan,” Tanda muttered, then stopped abruptly.
Balsa looked back at him. “What’s wrong?” she demanded.
“Shh!” Tanda crouched down beside the Aoyumi River, putting his face so close to the water he almost touched it. He had heard the call of the Yona Ro Gai, the Water Dwellers of Nayugu. Chanting a spell, he opened his eyes to that other world —
— and gasped in surprise. He was floating on the surface of a great winding river. The riverbank rose in the direction of Sahnan, but beyond that, he realized with shock, there was only a great sea of mud ringed by mountains — the Egg Eater’s nest! And Chagum must pass through it for the egg to be born….
Tanda saw several strange creatures swimming toward him — the Yona Ro Gai. “Young To Ro Gai, Land Dweller of Sagu.” Tanda struggled to breathe as he listened. “To Ro Gai the Elder sends you this message. ‘Do not just make torches. Drench them in oil to make a fire that cannot be quenched by water, and fight Rarunga. Take the egg and thro —’ ”
But Tanda could stand it no more. He drew in a deep, whistling breath and collapsed face up on the ground in Sagu.
“Tanda! What’s going on?” Balsa cried. She helped him to a sitting position.
Through a fit of coughing, he said, “Torogai sent us a message through the Yona Ro Gai. She said, don’t just make torches. Drench them in oil so they can’t be quenched by water … We don’t have time! We’ve got to hurry and pour oil inside the torches.” Tanda fixed his eyes on Balsa. “In Nayugu, Sahnan is a sea of mud.”
At that moment, they heard a faint scream. Balsa jumped to her feet and set off at a run.
“Balsa! Wait! Are you planning to fight Rarunga without a torch?” Tanda shouted, but she had already vaulted over the rocks and disappeared toward the spring. He frantically stopped the Hunters who had started after her. “Wait! Don’t go yet! We’ve got to ready the torches first. I’m sure Balsa will buy us enough time for that.”
Balsa raced into the river mist — the same mist she had seen before. The dense white fog limited her vision, but she could still make out a small shape running ahead of her: Chagum. She had almost caught up with him at last.
But suddenly she felt a deadly malice course through her body, oozing through the ground under her feet just as it had before. Right as Chagum neared the spring, huge claws ripped their way through the earth, surrounding him on every side.
I’ll never make it in time! Balsa clenched her teeth.
And yet the claws moved ever so slowly, as if they were cutting through rock. The egg … It changed the water from the spring! When she realized this, Balsa jumped onto the river; it was firmer than ice, a road glowing with a pale blue light, and she raced forward as fast as she could. But the claws could still break through it, and with loud cracking noises, they closed slowly, inexorably, upon the frozen Chagum.
But Chagum was no longer scared. Although he could see the terrible Rarunga, he was looking at Nayugu, at the floating island beneath his feet. While his calm was partly due to the egg’s desire to be born, it mostly came from Chagum himself, his deep internal will to survive.
He felt the egg inside him begin to move, rising from his chest to his throat, his throat to his mouth. Before him lay the hole, a deep, deep pit from which the earth’s breath rose. Instinctively, Chagum crouched down on all fours, looking down into Sahnan, urged by the egg into the position that would allow it to be born in Nayugu.
Whoosh! A warm, moist gust of energy wafted upward. This was where the sacred life force of Sagu and Nayugu merged together and rose to the heavens. Exposed to such concentrated energy, the egg completed its final stage of growth, its shell hardening to protect it in both worlds. Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! Chagum thought, and as if it were responding to his urgency, the egg slipped into his mouth.
At that very moment Balsa reached his side. Rarunga’s claws cast their long, sharp shadows over them; there was no time to think. She bent over Chagum, wrapped her left arm around his body, and tried to pick him up. He kicked out and twisted frantically in her arms, fighting to stay near Sahnan. While they struggled, Rarunga’s claws closed tighter, until Balsa realized their opening was gone. Filled with a premonition of death, she hugged Chagum tightly, feeling the warmth of his body against her.
Chagum opened his mouth — and as he did so, the invisible egg dropped from his mouth into the world of Nayugu. Instantly, Rarunga vanished from Sagu to find the egg in that other world. Down the egg fell, deep into the hole of Nayugu. Then, as if the earth had exhaled suddenly, a blast of energy rushed up from the bottom, caught the egg, and carried it, revolving and dancing, up into the sky. Rarunga’s tentacles reached out to grab it, but just before they touched it, the egg left Nayugu.
Balsa had no idea what was going on, but she did not waste the precious time afforded by the monster’s disappearance. She tightened her hold on Chagum and picked him up. A blue light appeared in front of her at the very instant she sensed Rarunga’s return. As Chagum grasped the egg, which danced in the light of the energy from the hole, Balsa leapt into the air and Rarunga erupted from the ground beneath her. Still carrying Chagum, who now clutched the egg, Balsa shot between the claws that surrounded them like a cage. Tentacles whipped after them, chasing the elusive egg.
Balsa flipped in midair and swung her spear with lightning speed, pinning the end of a tentacle to the ground. A voiceless shriek resounded, shaking the earth. She stepped on the tentacle and pulled out her spear before the next one could reach her. But in that brief moment, claws ripped up through the ground beneath, aiming straight for them. There was no time to escape. Balsa jumped onto a claw, clamping its hard shell sides between her feet, and used its upward momentum to propel herself into the air. Somersaulting, she whirled Chagum by his belt and let him go just before she landed, throwing him clear of Rarunga’s claws. All of this she did without thinking, her body reacting instinctively.
The instant she let go, she regretted it: If he hit a rock, it would kill him. But the training that Balsa had given him saved Chagum’s life. As he landed on the roots of a tree, he rolled his body into a ball, protecting his head and absorbing the shock of impact with his shoulder and hips. Balsa ran toward him, dodging the tentacles that came snaking through the air like whips and knocking them aside with her spear.
Suddenly, a tentacle snagged her foot and slammed her hard against the ground, then with a vicelike grip, it raised her dangling into the air. A shining claw, keen as a sword, raced toward her. The tentacle swung her high, clearly intending to smash her against the claw, and she could do nothing to stop it.
She gritted her teeth, waiting for the blow, when suddenly the tentacle jerked violently. The point of the claw passed beneath her shoulder, and she felt a burning pain cross her back. Twisting around, she caught sight of someone wielding a torch — Jin! He pressed the blazing brand against the tentacle, billowing dense black smoke in every direction. Tanda and Zen stood behind him, guarding his back.
A horrible stench enveloped Balsa, and with a shriek that rent the air, Rarunga threw her into space. She tucked her knees up and curled herself into a ball, somersaulting twice in the air. Hitting the ground in a spray of gravel, she rolled sideways and flipped herself upright immediately. Her clothes had been slashed open and a deep gash ran down her back, yet the wound barely bled, and she felt no pain. Battle fever seized her, stronger than anything she had ever experienced before.
Behind her, Tanda and the others swung their torches, pressing the flames against Rarunga’s claws and tentacles. But they knew it was next to impossible to destroy the monster with torches alone; whenever it felt
the sizzling heat, it vanished into Nayugu, only to reappear in Sagu and attack from a different direction. Still Tanda and Jin and Zen fought on. Drenched in sweat, the three torchbearers looked like they were dancing, but it was a dance on which their very lives depended; one slip, and they would die.
And all the while, the tentacles, which were highly sensitive to smell, kept searching for the egg of Nyunga Ro Im. Dodging the flames, they groped along the ground, sniffing out the scent that drove Rarunga, whetting its appetite. At last, they found Chagum, curled up at the base of a tree.
Although Chagum had not hit his head when he slammed into the tree, the shock had left him stunned. His mind only cleared when Balsa reached his side, slipped her arm around him, and picked him up. He had been afraid that he had squashed the egg, but it was unharmed, glowing with a bluish light in his right palm. It was as hard and smooth as a stone, and he could feel its faint warmth: It felt alive.
Balsa saw the egg. “Chagum! Get rid of that thing! Throw it away! Hurry!”
He looked up at her wide-eyed. If I throw it away, I’ll be saved, he thought. So will Tanda and the others. What’s the point in protecting it if we give up our lives? But many other thoughts flashed through his mind as well: the egg’s warmth, its helplessness. It no longer had any power over him; it could not even communicate its urgent desire to live. It could only sit there silently, gently warming his palm. Yet, to him, that desire was still painfully clear. It had chosen him, believed in him, entrusted its life to him, just because it so desperately wanted to live.
His thoughts were interrupted by rage — a murderous rage that came from outside him, spilling from the ground and numbing his entire being. As Balsa made to escape with him in her arms, Chagum pushed his feet against the tree roots and slipped from her grasp. “Chagum!” she screamed. The ground split open like a ripe pomegranate, and Rarunga’s claws appeared.
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