Young-hee and the Pullocho

by Mark James Russell

  “Now what?” she asked Samjogo.

  “Now? We bury our friend and honor him with the rites he deserves. Then we go, quickly, before scavengers and other bad things come to pick through the dead. And we get you back to your dokkaebi.”

  The ground was hard and rocky, but Samjogo found a good place close to the sandalwood tree and got to work, digging earth and piling it high for a burial mound. He had changed into black linens, although Young-hee never saw him do it. Young-hee helped as best as she could, wanting to commemorate her friend, but Tiger was large and piling the stones was hard. As Samjogo stacked the stones, he sang the bawijeol hosangnori, or funeral song.

  By the time they finished, the sun was setting. But rather than sleep in such a grim, terrible place, Young-hee and Samjogo walked down hill to a safer, quieter place. By a glowing fire, Samjogo regaled her with stories about Tiger, some familiar, others new to her. He told of a shrine spirit stopping Tiger from eating a tired traveler by fooling him into thinking they were brothers. Of nine generations of men Tiger had eaten before a mudang shaman broke the family curse. Of Frog beating Tiger in a game of riddles. Of why Tiger began to smoke, back when Strange Land was still young.

  The next morning, they readied to return to the beginning. They searched the sky and land for threats, but all was quiet. Every so often Young-hee checked her bag for the pullocho root, still not really believing this was the all-important herb of life.

  “If this pullocho is so powerful, can’t we use it to bring Tiger back?” she asked. But Samjogo only shook his head.

  As they broke camp they heard the clambering of hooves. A horse appeared over a nearby ridge, walking toward them. Not really a horse—but a horse-like animal with eight legs and small, feathery wings around each hoof.

  “It’s a cheollima,” said Young-hee, recognizing it from her time with the fairy king.

  “The king’s great horses can travel a thousand li with a single gallop. Majestic animals.”

  “Yes, the fairy king used to take me to feed him, if it’s the same cheollima.” She scratched the animal behind its head.

  “Ah, then I suspect my adopted father sent it to help you return to the goblin market.”

  “But why now?”

  “You spent a long time with the forest fairies, enjoying the king’s hospitality. That counts for a lot. Even if you were not ready to leave behind this life, the king can sympathize with your connection to your mud world.”

  “I don’t know how to ride a horse. Or a cheollima. It looks dangerous.” Unbridled and unsaddled, its back was six feet high.

  “Nonsense. Any cheollima that would allow you onto its back would never let you fall,” said Samjogo petting its thick neck. “I’ll steer. You just hold on.”

  “You’re coming back with me?” asked Young-hee, not-so-secretly relieved.

  “I promised I would get you out of the cave, and I did. I said I would accompany you all the way to the pullocho, and I did. It is only right that I see you to end your journey.”

  “Well, it is much better traveling with someone than alone.”

  “Besides, I am very curious about this unusual dokkaebi of yours. I would like to meet him for myself.”

  Samjogo led the steed to a large rock. “Sorry, old man rock,” he said as he used the stone to mount the cheollima. The animal shifted with the weight of its rider, but soon settled.

  Young-hee followed, climbing the rock, then with Samjogo’s help, mounted the cheollima. She was surprised at how comfortable and steady she felt.

  “Keep your balance with your knees, and hold fast to me,” said Samjogo.

  “How will you steer without a bridle?”

  “You don’t really control a cheollima. You just tell him where you want to go, and he leads the way.” Samjogo kept petting the animal’s neck, soothing and bonding with it.

  “Wow, he sounds smart. And he really goes that fast? And we can hold on?”

  Samjogo tussled the cheollima’s mane. “To be honest, I don’t really know. I’ve never ridden one before,” he said. Young-hee felt herself about to freak out, but Samjogo just leaned close to the cheollima’s ear. “The goblin market by the Haechi Horn,” he whispered, and before Young-hee could voice her concerns, they were gone.

  ✴ ✴ ✴

  In an instant, the cheollima was moving faster than a sports car. In a few seconds, more like a jet. And once it hit its stride—its impossibly long, eight-legged stride—faster still. They went around the Great Forest in minutes, skipped across the surging Hungry River as if it were a leaky faucet, and onward past green fields to the Cheongyong Mountains. The faster they traveled, the smoother the ride, almost like they were not moving at all. Even the air seemed to part for them, so it felt like a soft spring breeze. It was a cool, gentle exhilaration.

  At one point, a great airplane-sized crane swooped and raced along, a few feet off the ground, matching the magical horse’s pace in what seemed to be a game. Samjogo laughed with amazement. But after a few moments, the cheollima raced ahead.

  “That was really incredible,” said Young-hee, laughing, too.

  “Much better than being chained in a dark cave,” agreed Samjogo. “Awesome.” But then he glanced back at Young-hee, and his smiled dropped.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “It’s just … When we do see that dokkaebi, remember, whatever happens, he cannot really hurt your brother.”

  She didn’t like Samjogo’s words. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m just saying … There’s no need to freak out or go crazy. It’s going to work out.”

  “Uh, okay. Thanks.”

  Just as Young-hee was getting used to racing across Strange Land, they slowed and then stopped—at the clearing on the edge of the jureum forest. The journey that had taken Young-hee so long, the cheollima did in an hour.

  “Is this where you started?” asked Samjogo.

  “Yeah, except …” said Young-hee, seeing two broken stumps of woods. “Except the jangseung are gone.” The cheollima knelt on its front four legs. Young-hee slid off the magic horse and hurried over to where Jiha and Cheonha had been, followed closely by Samjogo. “They definitely were here when I started my journey, and a path ran right past them.”

  “Hmm,” said Samjogo, thinking. “That is a bad sign. Jangseung are strong guardians. It looks like they were snapped off at their base—and the break in the wood is most jagged.”

  Young-hee looked past the jureum forest to where the market once lay. It looked still and deserted. “This isn’t good,” said Young-hee. “What if the market was attacked by ogres or some other terrible monster? What if whatever attacked the jangseung also attacked … Oh, baby brother!”

  She ran to the market with Samjogo just behind. It looked long abandoned, with overturned boxes and papers everywhere. No one shouting or selling. No merchants or customers. No rabbits or other magic animals chained up or caged. No dokkaebi or fairies, and no signs of Bassam or Grandma Dol. Young-hee walked through the silent chaos, bewildered and panicking, certain the worst had happened—she had lost her brother forever.

  Then, as she turned a corner, there, once again, there was the same rickety stall, still full of biscuits, rice cakes, and cookies. And at the entrance, holding a thick wooden cane, stood the thin, brown, all-too-pleased-looking dokkaebi. “Oh my, oh my, so you actually came back,” he said, sounding not at all startled. “I can scarcely believe it.” He played it cool, but there was an eager, even voracious look in his eye.

  “What happened here?” asked Young-hee.

  “New management?” huffed the goblin. “A sharp change in market conditions? It makes no difference to Woo.” Just then the dokkaebi noticed Samjogo. “What’s this? Did you bring a warrior to fight Woo?” he said, pointing with his cane, obviously agitated. Stepping into his stall, the goblin put one hand behind a table, as if he was reaching for something. “You made a vow, sealed with a yeouiju. No tricks, no force.”

  “
He’s a friend, he’s not here to fight,” said Young-hee, pushing Samjogo back lightly with one hand. “I kept my promises.”

  “Is that so?” said Woo, eyeing Samjogo uneasily.

  “I wouldn’t waste my time, fighting an ashen worm like you,” snapped Samjogo.

  “Samjogo!” said Young-hee, appalled. She didn’t need her friend making trouble, not when she was so close to getting her brother back. Assuming he was even here. “My friend isn’t a problem. But how about you? Have you kept your word? Where’s my brother?”

  “Of course your bratling is here,” he said, irritated. He turned to the depths of the messy stall. “Brat! Come here.”

  A moment later, Bum shuffled out, still clutching his doll, still as dirty and snotty as ever. But for once Young-hee didn’t care. She was happier than she could remember being in a long, long time. She dropped to one knee and gave Bum a big hug. “Oh, baby brother, you’re okay,” she said, on the verge of crying, before pushing him back and examining him at arm’s length. “Are you okay? Did you eat? Did that goblin hurt you?” She slid one hand to the thread that still bound him.

  “Your filthy sibling is fine. I made a vow, too.” The dokkaebi narrowed his eyes and wet his lips. “But this cheery moment won’t last long without the pullocho.”

  “I have your pullocho.”

  “So you say. But because you have a straight mouth doesn’t mean your words aren’t bent.”

  “Here, see for yourself,” she said. But before she could hunt through her bag, Samjogo put his hand on hers.

  “Don’t,” he said. “You cannot trust a dokkaebi. Make him free Bum before you give him the pullocho.”

  That riled the goblin. “Trust? The filthy crow talks about trust? We don’t need trust, we made a deal. Now. Give. Me. My. Pullocho!” He brandished the cane.

  “Don’t listen to him, Mr. Woo,” said Young-hee, desperate to placate. “He’s not part of our deal or family. He doesn’t count. Let’s just make the exchange and be done with it.” Samjogo looked angry, angrier than she had ever seen him. He can’t ruin it for me now, not when I’m so close.

  “He’s a nasty creature,” said Samjogo. “You can see in his eyes, he’ll never give the boy back. He knows the pullocho’s power and will use it as soon as he gets it.”

  “You, three-legged chicken, should be more polite. And you, silly bear daughter, should pick your friends with more care,” he growled. “You don’t have Tiger to hide behind any more.” He tapped the cane to the ground three times, shouted, “Tukdak, tukdak!” and Bum flew from Young-hee’s grasp, pulled by an invisible thread back into the stall.

  “Bum!” cried Young-hee.

  The dokkaebi walked between Young-hee and her brother, his wooden stick hovering ominously. “Now, give me the pullocho, or leave.”

  “How do you know about Tiger?” asked Young-hee.

  “Eh?”

  “Tiger. How would you know I was traveling with him?”

  “Oh, uh, spies, of course,” he muttered convincingly. “I never trusted you, so had my trees and squirrels report your little adventures.”

  Samjogo drew his hyeopdo and took a fighting stance. “He’s lying,” Samjogo said. “He’s lying about this like he lied about everything.” He wriggled the blade toward the goblin.

  The threatening gesture outraged the dokkaebi. With his free hand, he bent low, grabbed the gossamer thread, pulled Bum off of his feet, and dangled him upside down from his outstretched arm. Bum yelled with surprise then began to cry, then wailed with ear-shattering howls.

  “Put him down!” Young-hee ordered, digging frantically through her bag. “I have your pullocho here.” And pulled it out.

  “So you have.” he said with a massively evil grin. “Excellent. But I told you, no tricks, no threats.” And with that, he tapped his stick twice and said “Tukdak, tukdak!” Poof—Bum was gone!

  For a moment, the abandoned market turned unearthly quiet, as Young-hee’s crying brother disappeared and everything just stopped. No, this can’t be happening. No, no, no!

  “Now, give me the pullocho,” said the goblin, “or I’ll do something really nasty to you next.”

  “No!” she howled. Samjogo spoke and tried to pull her away, but her emotions overpowered her, and Young-hee couldn’t hear her friend or feel his hand on her shoulder.

  The dokkaebi ignored her shout and grabbed greedily for the pullocho. But Young-hee held on, gripping the magic root with a ferocity the dokkaebi didn’t anticipate. With her other hand she reached into her bag and pulled out the white vial. Recognizing the little bottle, the dokkaebi recoiled with fear. She popped it open with her thumb and poured it onto the ground.

  There was a brief, painful pause, and then the thorny hedge exploded, wrapping the dokkaebi with thick vines and sharp barbs, enveloping him and tearing him away. The giant stalk tore through market stalls and discarded sundries, smashing wood, piercing furniture, and breaking apart pretty much everything around them. The devastation was total.

  Young-hee knelt, clutching the pullocho. This can’t be happening. Bum is gone, and it is the dokkaebi’s fault.

  She was shaking, but it took a moment to realize that it wasn’t from emotion—Samjogo was holding her shoulder, trying to get her attention.

  Finally, his words penetrated. “I said, we have to move. Those thorns won’t stop him.”

  “You,” she said, dripping with scorn. “You did this. I told you not to make trouble. But you had to run your mouth and act all tough, like always. Now my little brother is gone because of you.”

  “That’s not what happened,” he said, hurt and concerned.

  “The thorns stopped two demons by the sandalwood tree, and protected us from that war of the spirits. They should be enough for a little goblin.”

  “You really don’t understand yet,” he said. “I didn’t…” But before he could finish, the sounds of wood breaking and vines snapping filled the air, like something gnawing its way through. “He’s almost here.”

  Young-hee went digging through her bag again. She found the red and blue vials, so dropped the red one and got ready to use the blue.

  “No, we’ll need fire,” he said.

  “No good against a dokkaebi,” said Young-hee. “They’re creatures of the hot coals, practically half-fire.”

  “Trust me,” he said. “That’s no dokkaebi.”

  The thorn bush burst open in front of them, splinters and thorns flying everywhere. The dokkaebi emerged unhurt, eyes blood red with rage. “Silly fairy tricks won’t help you,” he spat. “I want my pullocho.”

  The goblin swung his cane, but Samjogo stepped forward and parried it with his hyeopdo. The two began to duel, each attacking with full force. Young-hee held the blue vial ready. Seeing Samjogo fighting feverishly for her, she put aside her anger and heartache and decided to listen to him; she switched vials. The dokkaebi tapped the ground with his cane, causing the soil to roll like a wave, knocking down Samjogo and half-burying him. Then the goblin turned to Young-hee and raised his cane, ready to strike.

  At that moment, Young-hee tipped the red vial. Even as the fairy water fell, it roared with red and orange fire, pulsing with heat. Fear washed over dokkaebi’s face. Then the liquid touched the ground, and waves of thick, oily fire rolled forward in a great curtain of destruction. Billowing black smoke covered the sky as the inferno consumed all it touched. Shops and thorns shimmered and flickered into ash.

  As Samjogo lightly pulled Young-hee back, urging her to leave, a dark object strained its way through the flames, trying to escape. Covered in smoke and ash, barely recognizable, the dokkaebi tumbled out. “That hurt!” it yelled, its voice breaking with confusion and anger. “You ridiculous humans actually hurt me!” But its voice was higher, less ugly than the dokkaebi’s, almost lady-like. The dokkaebi tugged at its burnt ear, pulling it right off. Then its nose came off, too. And its horn. The goblin’s entire skin sloughed off in big chunks.

  Underneath, a creat
ure obscured by ash and gore, lay breathing heavily. As Young-hee watched, horrified and fascinated, she began to see short, reddish hairs all over the creature’s body. A tail burst out, and then another, and another, until nine tails spilled from the dokkaebi’s burnt remains. The creature stood in her fox form—red-brown fur and a sharp face full of teeth.

  “Gumiho,” said Young-hee, shocked.

  “Hmm, yes,” it answered, a mix of pain and boredom and perhaps a touch of respect. “I was tired of that disguise anyway. Now, bear daughter, I will take my pullocho, that you so thoughtfully brought me.” She walked steely, steady, and without fear toward Young-hee,.

  “But why?” asked Young-hee, as she and Samjogo backed away. “Why the elaborate scheme? Why not just take what you wanted? Or just ask me for help?”

  “Silly bear daughter, that’s not really your concern,” she said.

  Samjogo swung his hyeopdo, trying to keep Gumiho back. “Because the guardians and other creatures of this realm would never let her have a pullocho. The elixir of life is too precious to be trusted with any creature, especially one as evil as Fox.”

  “There’s some truth to that,” Gumiho said. “For regular creatures—a witch or dokkaebi—a pullocho grants long life and great powers. But for me? I could do anything. Rival the lords of Heaven. Became a real person and cross into your world.” As she came closer, her eyes grew redder, her claws longer, she teeth sharper, and she grinned. “And, to be honest, this way was a lot more fun.”

  Young-hee felt a knot of fury choking her. “You … terrible … rotten…”

  The Fox just arched her eyebrows. “Thanks to you two, there’s no one left in this realm with the strength to stop me. Your great war by the sandalwood tree ensured that. Now I’ll take my pullocho, and all I need to become human is to eat a human heart—yours.”

  As the words left her lips, Gumiho pounced, impossibly fast, all teeth and claws. Turning to flee, Young-hee tripped and fell. But before Fox could reach her, Samjogo swung his hyeopdo. “Stay behind me.” Samjogo was without bravado now, focused solely on the evil creature.