The Rabbit and the Water Dragon King
One day, Rabbit was taking a pleasant walk by a lake near his home, when Turtle appeared from the depths and crawled up on shore.
“Gracious Rabbit,” intoned Turtle, “my master, the Water Dragon King, asks that you join him in his underwater castle. He has serious need of your unique talents. If you come with me, he promises you great rewards.”
Rabbit was surprised to receive an invitation from such a noble creature, but still he thought about the request carefully. Being a small, weak creature, he always had to be wary of danger, but the potential for great wealth was most tempting. “All right,” he said, full of rabbit chipper, “let’s go.”
Rabbit climbed on to Turtle’s large, green shell and Turtle carried him into the lake’s dark depths. Down and down they dove, to the deep bottom, until at last they came to the Dragon King’s home. Turtle swam right up to the throne room, where he presented Rabbit.
“Ah, so you’ve accepted my invitation,” exclaimed the Dragon King. “That is wonderful news.”
“I’m pleased to be invited by a creature as regal and powerful as yourself, my lord Dragon. Please, tell me how I may be of service?”
“The truth is, Rabbit, that I have grown sickly recently. Very sick. And my greatest doctors tell me that the only thing that might save me is the liver of a rabbit. Which is why I’ve asked for you to come. My guards will remove your liver, which I will consume and return to health.”
Now, it was immediately clear to Rabbit, even though he was not a doctor himself, that having his liver removed would be at least as bad for his health as it would be good for the Dragon King’s. But the King and his guards were all mighty and Rabbit was no fighter. But Rabbit was a rabbit, so he knew how to think quickly.
“Why thank you, your majesty,” he said with as much bravado as he could muster. “I can think of nothing more noble for a lowly rabbit like myself than to give such a precious gift to the mighty King.”
“Is that a fact?” asked the King skeptically. He had been expecting more of a struggle.
“That is a fact. And it is also a fact that I would love to give you my liver right here and now.”
“You would?”
“Yes, I would. But, alas, I cannot. Because when your emissary, Turtle, came to get me, he never told me that you needed my liver. And, as luck would have it, I did not have my liver with me then.”
“You didn’t?”
“No, I was, in fact, drying it on the rocks at the edge of the lake. However, if Turtle takes me back, I can pick up my liver and bring it right back to you.”
The King grew angry. “What are you saying?” he roared. Rabbit grew afraid, but then the King turned to Turtle. “How could you bring Rabbit here without first checking for his liver? Go, now, with Rabbit, so he can bring back his liver to me.”
Frightened and obedient, Turtle put Rabbit on his back again and swam to the surface of the lake. Once at the edge, Rabbit hopped off and ran up the rocks at the embankment.
“Okay, Rabbit, get your liver and let’s go back to my lord’s castle,” said Turtle.
“Oh, I don’t think I’ll be doing that,” said Rabbit as he hopped away as fast as he could. “Mrs. Rabbit probably thinks I’ve been gone too long as it is.”
“Well, at least tell me where you left your liver, so I can bring it to the Water Dragon King myself,” shouted Turtle toward Rabbit.
But Rabbit only laughed. “Foolish Turtle. What kind of creature can live without its liver? Tell your Dragon King that he is even dumber than you are. My liver is in my body, as with all creatures, and in my body I intend on keeping it.”
Young-hee fled full speed as the rattling calls—this time two of them—filled the air. By cutting straight through the woods and avoiding the road’s twists, her pursuers were gaining ground. She was in trouble.
Her lungs burned, but at least the pain distracted her from full-out panic. Ghost stories, comics, TV shows, and movies told about ghosts, but what did she really know? But even in the dark, from afar, in gloomy woods, she knew what they were from the long black hair, white skin and clothes, the deathly glare.
Bae-the-skull said they lived in these woods, that they were resentful and wanted vengeance. But why were they after her? She pumped her arms a bit harder and raised her knees a bit higher and struggled to think.
As she powered over a ridge, another rattle descended from high on the hill ahead. Another ghost? They were like a pack of undead wolves. No, no, no! a frightened voice inside her head screamed, but she willed herself to ignore it.
Young-hee kept running as the road dipped across a small stream before heading up again. She got an idea—a gamble, but if she couldn’t outpace them she had to try something. She ran ahead, stopped, turned, and ran back toward the ghosts. They were close and would be on her at any moment. She was almost out of time.
Just as she neared the dip by the river again, she ran into a four-way intersection, like the mysterious path splits from the day before. Young-hee jumped off the path, dove into a dense bed of brambles, and covered herself with the linen cloak, leaving a small crack to peer through.
After what felt like hours, but was really a brief moment, the two ghosts came over the ridge toward the stream. They moved like cold wind on a wet November evening, freezing and miserable, and stopped short at the intersection. Fighting her racing heart, burning muscles and wheezing lungs, Young-hee was perfectly silent and still. She could just make out their dark, dead eyes and blue, cold lips. They look hungry, but not for food.
Soon, a third ghost joined them from another path, and as if they had an undead language, they issued their empty, rattling calls. This last horrifying ghost had no face at all—just a featureless surface, like an egg. With the path branching out in four different directions, they did not know where to go.
As Young-hee watched, she heard… clopping. The sound grew louder until she saw a huge, black horse, with a woman riding. Her rasping orders sounded more like talking than the others’ sickly rattles. Young-hee shifted for a better look, but the blank-faced ghost turned in her direction. She froze—mid-shift—so that her weight rested on one side. Her leg began to hurt and cramp, but she dared not move.
The horse whinnied and twirled as the rider spoke. Young-hee bit her lip as her leg throbbed more and more. How much longer can I last? And, then, the ghosts were gone. The horse and rider, too. All just vanished. Was it a trap? she wondered. Where did they go?
She waited, but the dark forest was silent except for the soft rustle of leaves and the distant rush of the stream. Carefully, quietly, Young-hee unfolded her aching leg, massaging the cramps. It was darker in the woods than on the path, and spookier, but she waited, not sure how long.
And then she woke with a start. How long did she sleep? It was still dark, so it couldn’t have been long, she hoped, and cautiously stood. The path was just ahead to the left. In the distance she heard the now familiar burble of the stream. The first gray streaks of morning comforted her. Dawn was coming. Careful to be quiet and not twist an ankle, she stepped tentative step-by-step, closer to the road. Any moment now she would rejoin the path and her journey to Lake Mey.
But the thing was, the path never returned, even after she had walked a good way. It must have gone back to being a simple, straight path, without the strange intersection, she thought, and I’m probably just walking parallel to it. It was easy to get turned around in the woods—she remembered hearing that once. She found a tree for reference—a bent, old thing with only a few desperate leaves hanging on. She turned ninety degrees, but after a few minutes, still nothing. She reversed, found the bent tree, and tried the other direction. Again nothing. That must be why people say don’t leave the path. Once you do, does it just disappear? It was a terrible thought, but having run into so many terrible things lately, she almost felt comfortable being uncomfortable. After vengeful ghosts and scheming goblins, she could handle being lost.
&nbs
p; She relaxed, listening for the sound of the stream. The cool gray of dawn showed flecks of orange. Cresting a ridge, she found the stream, and felt that finally something was going right. But a walk upstream revealed no path. She wondered what happened to people on a path when it disappeared or branched, but shrugged and thought, First things first, get out of the forest. Maybe follow the stream to the hill top and look around. But with mountains overshadowing the hill, a far view was unlikely. Then she realized that the stream had to go somewhere—to a larger river, perhaps even to Lake Mey. She could make the stream her path. Pleased, Young-hee set out again.
Downstream, the valley grew steeper, and the water sped up. Young-hee lunged from tree to tree, grabbing branches trying not to make noise or fall into the water. It was slow going, but at least she was going somewhere. And as the rising sun shone its warm, dull rays down on Strange Land, the light restored her spirits and blunted the awful memory of the ghosts. Feeder creeks joined the steam, which, after a few hours, was more like a river. It surged and churned, growing white with rapids and power.
She followed the river around a tight bend, and there she could see it—Lake Mey, or so she hoped, in the distance below. She still had a ways to go, but was happy to find a clear target and be one step closer to her goal.
Just as Youngee let herself feel a hopeful, a familiar, sickly rattling filled the air above and behind her. Oh no, the ghosts have found me again. As she spotted a ghost on a hill overlooking the river valley, a second rattling, louder, reverberated around the valley. Young-hee took off running.
The white, frothy river surged through the steep valley toward the distant lake. The ground sloped steeply, too, making running fast but treacherous. Then another rattle, this time in the woods on her side of the river, boosted her fear and her pace.
As the forest thinned, she could run faster, but was also more exposed. With nothing else to do, she ran even harder.
Then another noise rose over her fatigue and the river’s roar—galloping hoof beats. The ghost on horseback, too, had found her. Young-hee looked back quickly, careful not to hit any trees, and there, on a ridge, descending toward her, was the mounted ghost. Young-hee felt her confidence flag. How can I outrun a horse? As a rattle rose up over the water, a ghost on the other side of the river—the faceless one—drew even with her. They were all closing in. There was nowhere to go. Except one place. Young-hee gathered her energy and launched herself as hard as she could into the river.
The first thing she felt was cold. Deep, sharp cold. The strong current grabbed her, but a couple of strong strokes pulled her to the surface. She was trying to right herself, when she realized that the canvas bag from Bassam was acting like a life vest, helping keep her head above the violent water. She floated feet-first downstream, ready to use her shoes to protect against rocks. Fortunately, the river seemed deep and fairly safe. As she rushed downstream, she silently thanked her mom for forcing her to take swimming lessons back in Canada. The ghosts, deterred by the water, followed, two on the right riverbank and two on the left, including the rider. As the speeding river left the others behind, only the ghost on horseback kept up.
With her head bobbing in the rough river, she managed to make out that the flow would slow and broaden as the river approached the lake. But first there was one last, big set of rapids—more like a series of mini-waterfalls. Four times she felt the freezing embrace of the water lift her into weightlessness and release her with a violent thump into the grasp of bubbly, churning waters. But once she passed the rapids, the river turned flat and peaceful. Under the stare of the ghostly rider perched on the left bank, Young-hee swam until she pulled herself onto the right shore. She knew little about ghosts, but this one seemed bitterly angry at the water separating them.
This was Young-hee’s first chance to take a good look at the horse-riding ghost. The black horse was sturdy, more like a workhorse than a racehorse, but with steady, angry fire in its eyes. As for the rider, she wore a long, black veil that covered her face and hung nearly to the ground. Through it, Young-hee could just see pale, ghostly skin and dead eyes—but there was something different about her—she had curly hair, and instead of the white robes the other ghosts wore, was garbed in dark leather. Thin and severe, the rider seemed designed to command. She looked almost dignified. And definitely cruel.
She rode back and forth along the bank, as if trying to make up her mind. Then she made a noise and tugged the reins. Tentatively, the horse took one step into the water, then another. She was going to try to swim across. Young-hee’s heart sank. The other ghosts couldn’t be that far behind, either. She had to put some distance between them.
The lake was not far now. But it was huge. Mountains loomed ominously on the far side, just as the jangseung said. It would take forever to walk around, and then another forever to traverse the mountains. She had to find the cave, but how? She looked for a house or castle where the skull’s friend Mansoo might live. But this land looked as uninhabited as everywhere else she’d been in the past couple of days.
Another round of rattling sounded behind her. The ghosts were still after her. She looked for somewhere to hide, but the shore was too exposed, the lake too big to swim across. Young-hee was running out of options. She ran along the shore of the lake until she was ready to burst, but the ghosts bore down. When she looked right at them they scarcely seemed to move, just hovered and stared with empty, terrible eyes. The black horse and its rider, her dark, curly hair and long veil flying behind, had emerging onto the shore.
Finally, at the edge of the immense lake, Young-hee stopped running and faced her pursuers. “What do you want!?” she shouted in a hoarse scream. “What did I do?”
But the ghosts kept coming. The rider pulled up, perhaps a dozen meters away, straight-backed, her face empty save for distain. “We want to be free,” she croaked flatly. “We’ve been promised peace in exchange for you, bear-child.” The horse snorted heavily through its immense nostrils, as if it, too, was proclaiming victory. Young-hee backed toward the water and, out of room, tripped over a rock and fell, one hand splashing as she instinctively tried to break her fall.
“Leave me alone!” she shouted in one last protest.
Young-hee heard rushing water and felt a cold spray on her head. Someone’s dripping water on me, she thought as a huge gush of water surrounded her. She realized that something very, very large was surging out of the lake. An immense, scaly shape. There was a roar, not from churning water, but from a huge animal that suddenly loomed over her, all teeth and claws and scales—a dragon. A blue dragon, its eyes sparkling cold like black ice, its mouth bigger than Young-hee, and its great, serpentine body coiling out of the lake, right behind her. It opened its huge mouth, brandishing its great teeth, and roared once more.
Young-hee lay in the wet rocks and sand, feeling very, very small. The blue dragon, rumbling ferociously, was the biggest and scariest thing she had ever seen. It was so overwhelming that it took Young-hee several seconds to realize that the ghosts had all fled. Smart ghosts, she thought. Alone against a dragon, she knew there were no strategies or tricks to try.
The serpentine beast coiled and twisted, bringing his huge mouth right up the Young-hee. Two long, whisker-like tendrils hung menacingly from either side of its gaping, snorting snout. With a mouth full of razor-like teeth including fangs the size of her forearm, the monster could have easily swallowed her whole. It opened its mouth full and roared.
But as she felt its breath sweep her body, the dragon’s eyes snapped to her hand, and shutting its mouth made a rumbling that sounded a lot like a deep “Huh?”
Then it spoke. “That ring, it summoned me, and I came. But where did a small bear daughter find a ring like that?”
“Er, a friend of mine gave it to me.”
The dragon snorted, not liking her answer. “The bear daughter is a liar. I know that ring, and its owner is a good friend. You and I, however, have never met.”
The monster’s br
eath smelled like the spiced cider her mom gave to warm her up during winter in Canada. “Mansoo?”
The dragon looked surprised. “That is my true name, but it has been an age since I heard anyone use it. How did you know?”
“Bae gave me the ring and said I should look for you.”
The dragon’s fierce expression quickly turned soft and almost comical, the two tendrils along his nose bouncing lightly. “You know Bae? He has been a great friend for a long time.”
“Yes, well, we met yesterday in the woods,” said Young-hee, tactfully avoiding the part about Bae being a skeleton and dead. “I helped him, and in exchange he gave me this ring and said I should ask your help.”
“Why, of course,” said the gigantic serpent, its long neck and body coiling about her effortlessly, despite its bulk. One clawed foot slipped from the water, slicing the shore. “I owe him much. I would be happy to help a friend of his.” His head bowed respectfully, so Young-hee bowed back, feeling somewhat ridiculous.
“I’m Young-hee. Would you happen to know of a cave around here called Darang?”
“Hello, Young-hee. Of course I do, on Mey’s far side, between those mountains,” he said, raising a giant claw from the water and casually pointing.
Young-hee scanned the faraway coasts. “And you wouldn’t happen to know how far it is?” Shivering in her wet clothes, Young-hee blasted two sharp sneezes.
The dragon eyed her small, human legs and wet frame. “For you, quite far, I suspect,” he said. “A thousand li if it’s a po. But I could take you.”
“Truly?” asked Young-hee, feeling torn. On one hand she really could use help, not to mention someone to talk to. On the other hand she also remembered the famous story of the Water Dragon King who tried to eat Rabbit’s liver. He sounded so proud and dangerous in that tale—and he might even be the same dragon. But on the third hand (if she had more hands), the ghosts might re-appear if she tried walking around the immense lake. She’d take a chance. “A ride would be wonderful. Thank you, sir.”
Young-hee and the Pullocho Page 11