“Holy crap,” deadpanned Young-hee, gaping at the great guardians of the four directions, sent by the King of Heaven. Ordinarily she would have been pleased at recognizing the mythical creatures, but at the moment she was far too frightened.
“Is he a relative?” Samjogo asked, pointing to the hulking white cat flexing its huge claws just a hundred yards away.
“Very distant,” Tiger replied.
“This is really getting out of hand,” said Young-hee, reeling at all the creatures rapidly filling the mountaintop. The bird flapped its wings, sending a plume of flame across the field. “I’m assuming that’s the Phoenix,” she said. “Dragon, Tiger … and some kind of snake-turtle creature.”
“Hyeonmu,” said Samjogo, “the Turtle-snake.”
“This is far too dangerous for all of us, but especially a bear daughter,” said Tiger. “We should get going. Stay close, and I will keep you safe.” Together, Tiger and Samjogo protected Young-hee as they backed away from the battlefield. Luckily, the spirits were intent on each other.
As the Lord of War’s burning baskets crashed to the ground, tiny soldiers streamed from the magic fire. The four guardians snapped and growled themselves into fighting frenzy.
Young-hee wasn’t so sure if either of her friends should put himself in front of her. The creatures squaring off against them looked quite out of their league. “Are they after me or the pullocho?” she asked.
“Does it even matter at this point?” said Samjogo, his blade moving in a tight arc in front of them. “The four direction guardians wouldn’t even notice if they squished us flat.”
“Great …”
The wind howled as Nwaegongdo beat his drum and whipped up the elements. Each bash of his cymbals caused lightning to fly. “Come, lords and ladies of the underworld!” he chanted in time with his deep drum. “Join us in the Sacred City as we, at long last, vanquish the servants of Heaven, the guardians of nothing! Fight with us, demons of the deep, hateful spirits of the first things, creatures of the ancient darkness! Come Chiwoo, come Mother of the West! Come demons of the home and hearth, come spirits of the trees and rocks, of the ash and kettle and grave!”
And they came. As the storm lashed the lonely plateau, beating all with rain and hail and wind, Nwaegongdo summoned demon after demon to join the battle. Some came from storm clouds, others from cracks in the ground. There was a heavily armed ochre warrior—half-man, half-bull. There was a woman wearing jade jewels—her broken teeth were outside of her mouth and she had a leopard’s tail. And more and more strange, disgusting creatures appeared.
The haechi and the four guardians roared and stomped, displaying their ferocity and unwillingness to back down, even though faced with ever-growing opposition.
“They’re not really going to fight, are they?” Young-hee asked.
“I’m afraid it looks that way,” said Samjogo, warily eyeing the gathering hordes.
“And this is because of me? Because I led them here?”
“You were only trying to save your brother,” said Tiger. “Their actions are their own.”
But as Young-hee watched the forces growing she wasn’t so sure. Demons may be demons and guardians, guardians, but she felt her presence had thrown Strange Land horribly out of balance.
Suddenly, on the far side of the ridge, the battle began for real, as the ghosts and their queen circled the Blue Dragon and attacked. The long, snaking dragon swirled and rippled like a ribbon on a stick—beautiful, if not for its violence. When the ghosts had been chasing Young-hee, they were all creep and menace—aggrieved spirits from beyond the grave, starving for vengeance. But here, on an open field, in daytime, squaring off against a dragon, they were almost cat-like, claws out and coiled, as they darted around the great, scaly guardian.
The battlefield quickly filled with the noise and cruelty of fighting. Surrounded by his tiny warriors from the flames, the Lord of War swung a giant sword and a heavy mace as he charged the haechi.
It is an awesome and frightening sight, Young-hee thought, seeing immortals and magical creatures clash. As more demons materialized, the five guardians of the Sacred City fought ever more ferociously, the phoenix breathing fire, the turtle-snake upturning huge mounds of earth and rock and flinging them. Young-hee, Tiger, and Samjogo fled to the edge of the plateau, their backs to a huge stone slope. This was all so much bigger than they were, there were no illusions of heroics or bravery—self-protection was the only real option.
As the Lord of War marshaled his forces and directed the attack, he turned to Young-hee and her friends with an evil laugh. She wished he would quit that sort of thing; it never ended well. He snarled orders at two human-ish and heavily armored demons—one with a goat’s horns, the other, a bull’s. They turned, looked at Young-hee, drew their spears, and charged.
“Great, livestock demons,” said Samjogo. “Get ready, Tiger.”
Tiger growled and extended his claws. As Young-hee scrambled in vain for a rock or something to use as weapon, she heard a hard rattle from her bag. Stones? Then she remembered—the vials from the Fairy King. Opening her bag, she extracted one vial at random—the white one, a rough, vaguely crystalline bottle, totally unassuming. Nature, the fairy king had said, whatever that means. She uncorked it.
“What are you doing?” said Samjogo. “Stay back. Those demons will be upon us in a moment.” He tried to push her back behind him, hoping he could keep her safe.
But Young-hee slipped by him. “Both of you, stay close,” she said, strangely confident. Holding out the vial, she tipped it and let a single clear drop fall to the ground.
The earth heaved, like the mountain itself was vomiting, it writhed and churned. Instantly, green stalks covered in heavy, sharp thorns sprang from the ground. Their vines and branches split and twirled and thickened, rising all round Young-hee, Tiger, and Samjogo. As the stalks grew, their thorns grew, too—except the barbs were not just growing around the charging livestock demons, they were growing through them. Broad and jagged, the spines surrounded the demons, who disappeared into the tangle so that all that was left were the sounds of dying and pain before they finally fell quiet.
“Oh my,” said Samjogo with mixed shock and admiration. “Nice trick.”
Across the thorn-filled field, the Lord of War bellowed furiously, surprised to find two of his soldiers suddenly so well aerated. He barked another order, and a stream of the miniature warriors broke from the main force. Like locusts swarming a field of crops, they streamed toward Young-hee,.
“They’re too small for your thorns, I fear,” said Tiger, the fur on the back of his neck rising. “They can run straight through.”
Young-hee reached again into her bag and withdrew the red one.
“They’re fire demons,” said Samjogo. “If red is fire, it might have no effect on them.”
“Right,” she said grabbing the pretty azure vial, polished so smooth the ceramic glaze looked like glass. The tiny fire warriors rushed like a tsunami of smoke and shouts, weaving between the thorns without even slowing down. Young-hee pulled the stopper from the vial, carefully tipped it, and let a drop fall.
The moment it touched the ground, earth and stone turned into a lake of the clearest, cleanest water. Deep and cold, it swallowed the fiery creatures, so that all that was left was an undignified little hiss.
The Lord of War grew angrier than ever, but before he could shout a new round of orders, the Blue Dragon attacked. With his massive jaws he grabbing the Lord of War and threw him into the newly formed lake with a massive splash. The demon didn’t re-emerge. The dragon, at home in the water, began fighting the evil spirits from there; soon Young-hee’s crystal clear waters darkened with the wreckage of war.
Separated from the worst of the fighting by the lagoon, Samjogo led his friends up the rocky wall, further from the fray. The battle noise was deafening as lightning flashed, fire roared, and each side took turns attacking and defending, rallying, and succumbing. One evil spirit with gre
en, decaying skin—a plague spirit, Samjogo told her—was locked in a brutal fight with the much larger and stronger white tiger guardian. But the more they fought, the more the spirit’s diseased body infected the guardian. The tiger pinned the plague spirit with one great paw, and split it in half with huge jaws. But it was too late; the great guardian crashed to the ground, overcome by a wasting sickness. The shredded plague spirit continued to move, too resilient to die so easily. But then the phoenix flapped its wings, and in a cloud of fire, swept across the body of his fallen comrade, turning both bodies to ash. Young-hee’s Tiger looked on sadly as his distant relation vanished. With just five guardians, the loss of even one, Young-hee feared, could changing the tide of battle.
Just then, a great chorus of horns rang out, echoing across the battlefield. Young-hee saw hordes of soldiers with blue armor and banners, charging up the hill. “River fairies are joining the fight,” said Samjogo matter-of-factly, as the fairies stormed the hill, banners waving and steel menacing.
“Fairies! Now the guardians will win for sure,” said Young-hee.
Samjogo looked unhappily at the swarm. “I don’t know whose side they are on, if anyone’s. They are a wild tribe, untamed and unenlightened. I suspect they only represent more danger.”
Indeed, the fairies joined no side, attacking any and all with equal ferocity. What had been a fight between two sides devolved into a chaotic fight of all against all.
Next, the mountain itself rumbled, this time from above the cloud line. The source of the pounding, hidden in the mists, was coming closer, down the slope.
“Something big’s coming,” said Young-hee.
“Yes,” said Samjogo, scanning the fog. “Ogres.”
Indeed, from out of the clouds and mists, a giant ogre emerged, huge and dumb, swinging a massive club. With a few giant steps—each rattling the whole hill—the ugly brute was out of the clouds and upon Young-hee and her friends. His tree-sized club smashed a great rock beside them, sending a wave of sharp, jagged debris flying everywhere. Young-hee yelped as the stony shrapnel struck her skin, raising red welts.
Before Young-hee could get the last fairy vial from her bag, the huge ogre raised his club a second time, ready to turn her and her friends into a sticky paste. He swung, but Tiger jumped onto the ogre’s ankle, sinking teeth and claws into the giant’s Achilles tendon. The monster roared as he buckled and fell. But the ogre was monstrously large, and even as he fell, he kicked Tiger with his other boulder of a heel, arching the great cat into the air. Tiger landed limply and bounced down the slope and into the water.
“No!” cried Young-hee. She dug into her bag for the red vial. The ogre was pulling himself up with his club. With a stupid, angry look, he faced Young-hee. Samjogo was saying something, trying to hold her back and calm her down, but Young-hee was possessed by a sweeping fury that left her deaf to soothing words. That thing hurt my friend! She pulled out the stopper and poured out the liquid—a lot of it.
The ground was ablaze. The hottest fire Young-hee had ever felt swept across the rocky slope. It swirled orange and yellow, rushing like a blow-torch, billowing thick, black smoke. A wind, created when the sudden flash of heat fought the cool air, whipped the fire into big, rolling waves. Rocks glowed red. From the heart of the flames came the saddest, most brutal cry, as the giant ogre shook and seared. Moments later, he dropped to the inflamed ground, dead.
They had no time to savor the victory, though. Too many arrows flew, too many enraged spirits battled to the death. More ogres, some with multiple heads, marched from the mountaintop. From below, the sound of pounding hooves signaled new combatants.
Understanding their plight, Samjogo reached into Young-hee’s bag, took the white vial, and poured several drops in an arc around them.
“What are you doing? They king said only a drop.”
But even as Young-hee spoke, the ground burst again with life, as the barbed vines towered over and around them, larger and denser than before. Within seconds, Young-hee and Samjogo were completely encircled in a safe nest while the battle raged.
With the realization that she had killed the ogre, Young-hee’s anger was replaced by a sad emptiness. Samjogo sat silently, lightly holding her and stroking her hair, like she used to do to Bum when he was upset.
“How can you enjoy these adventures?” Young-hee asked, as the ground shook. “This isn’t fun at all anymore.”
“This isn’t an adventure,” he said quietly. “This is something else.”
At first, the sounds from beyond the thorn bushes grew louder as the fighting intensified. The whole mountain shook and rattled, but Young-hee and Samjogo could do nothing but wait. Beyond their thorny oasis, the most powerful creatures in the realm tore at each other with the unmatched fury of the ancients. It seemed to last for hours.
After a time, the noise faded. The thunder grew less frequent, the warriors’ cries less fierce. The roar and flash of fire gave way to the hiss and puff of smoke. And, gradually, quiet swallowed the battlefield.
✴ ✴ ✴
Once they were convinced that the fighting was truly finished, Samjogo used his hyeopdo to hack at the hedge. “I think the thorn bush is dying,” he said as he thwacked away. “It’s getting a lot more brittle.”
Finally he cut through enough to see a boulder so big that it nearly cleared the towering vines. Samjogo and Young-hee clambered atop it, surveying the plateau. Nothing moved. Endless bodies—huge, tiny, fairy, monster—lay everywhere. Some were burnt, some bleeding, others had turned to stone or changed by other magicks. From the largest guardians to the tiniest basket soldiers, everything was still.
“What happened?” asked Young-hee.
“I, I think they fought themselves out.”
“Yeah, but … It doesn’t make any sense. There’s no one left at all.” It was the most terrible thing she had ever seen.
A great, coiling, octopus-looking monster lay half-in and half-out of the lake, covered in a thousand gaping wounds. A giant crane was draped across the battlefield, covered in a thousand arrows. After looking across the plain for a while, Young-hee finally saw the haechi, too, or the ruin that was left.
Samjogo hacked his way out of the thorn bushes, leading Young-hee to the smoking remains of the battlefield. She just couldn’t believe there was nothing left. Together, they walked through the carnage, in shock at the spectacle all around them.
“Even the grass is dead, everything,” said Young-hee, running her hand over the burned ground.
“Not everything,” said Samjogo, pointing across the blackened plain. The sandalwood tree was somehow still standing, only a bit scalded about the edges. The clouds were breaking up, and a weak evening sun poked through, illuminating the sweet-smelling tree.
Just then, with a thump and a jostling, the body of large demon rolled not far from them. Samjogo raised his hyeopdo, ready for anything. But the demon wasn’t moving, it was just being shoved aside from underneath. By Tiger, clearly in bad shape.
“Young-hee,” came the wheezing voice, barely loud enough to be heard. Cut, bruised, and horribly hurt, Tiger limped slowly toward them.
“Tiger,” gasped Young-hee.
Samjogo rushed forward to help, pouring cool water from a canteen onto a cloth to soothe him. “Here, friend, let me help,” he said, full of sadness. Tiger was dying.
Tiger shook him off with what little strength he had left and turned. “Come, please,” he said, leading them slowly toward the sandalwood tree.
“Tiger, please stop,” said Young-hee, almost crying. “You need to rest.”
“No time,” said Tiger, coughing weakly.
“Young-hee’s right, Tiger,” said Samjogo, even though he knew she was wrong.
But Tiger would not stop walking. Together, they climbed over burnt wreckage and broken pieces of armor until they came to the tree. Lying in the tree’s shadow was the body of the haechi. All about were dead fairies and demons. Whatever had happened, he must have been in a ter
rible fight, thought Young-hee, as she looked tight-lipped at the remains all across the plateau. Tiger leaned against the guardian’s side and started pushing. The haechi was too big, and Tiger too weak. Samjogo quickly joined him, and finding a good leverage point under the guardian’s front right limb, rolled it over. On the ground, crushed by the haechi’s bulk, were the flattened remains of a small green plant, with a single, red flower.
“Take it,” wheezed Tiger, growing weaker. “It’s your pullocho. The haechi was protecting it until his last breath. He died on top of the pullocho to protect it.”
Young-hee just looked unbelieving at the crumpled flower. Samjogo dropped to one knee, furiously moving dirt and stones with a knife. He quickly uncovered the thick, twisted root of the pullocho.
Just as Samjogo pulled out the magic root, Tiger fell to the ground on his side. Young-hee ran up and cupped the cat’s head. The pullocho didn’t seem so important now. “Poor Tiger,” said Young-hee, rubbing her friend’s head softly. “I should have listened to Samjogo and never let you come with us.”
“You saved me from that tiger trap,” he said weakly. “You were kind to me.”
“But I never wanted my journey to hurt you. Why did you attack that ogre? Why didn’t you stay close to us?”
“Because … You gave me a chance … to be brave. And good. In all my eons as Tiger, I’ve been ferocious and I’ve been … foolish. But you let me be a hero.”
Young-hee felt her eyes growing wet as she stroked the ears and big neck of Tiger. She tasted salt. She wanted to tell Tiger not to go, to order him to stay, but no sound escaped.
“Take it,” panted Tiger, each breath weaker than the last. “It’s why you came so far. It’s what we wanted. Take it. We’ve won.” Tiger closed his eyes and breathed no more.
Young-hee looked at the twisting root Samjogo placed in her hand, underwhelmed. It looked like ginseng—just slightly yellower. Big deal. Dragon head, snake tail, as the saying goes.
Young-hee and the Pullocho Page 25