She kept on running, the footsteps of the two others pounding behind her. Something thudded into her left shoulder as if she had been punched. She stumbled, but while she knew that she had been struck by a shuriken, she did not stop. The footsteps behind her grew louder; the trees of the forest drew nearer.
Finally she was upon it. To the Hunters, it looked as if she had run right into the forest, but instead she grasped the trunk of a tree and swung herself around it to face them. Taken off guard, Yun raised his sword a fraction too late: The point of her spear sliced across his face and headed straight for Mon beside him. Mon, however, had not earned his place as leader for nothing. He ducked beneath the spear tip, and as Balsa spun the shaft to ready another blow, his blade whistled through the air, slashing across her midriff.
Heat seared through her stomach, but thanks to the strip of hide she wore, the wound was not as deep as Mon had intended. She did not allow the blow to check her momentum. Sliding the spear shaft through her hands, she gripped it just above the hilt and swung it out sideways. Mon sensed it coming and instinctively twisted his head away, but the hilt landed just beneath his temple, with a stunning blow that knocked him senseless. Balsa did not even pause to see him fall, but turned on her heel and ran into the forest. Yun started after her, ignoring the throbbing pain from the gash in his face, but Jin caught up with him and pulled him back.
“I’ll go. You help Mon and get the prince.”
They had made a disastrous mistake. It had never occurred to them that Balsa would be able to withstand the assault of three Hunters. No matter how great her reputation, she was, after all, only a woman; no one had imagined she could be so strong.
The forest was dark, dense leaves covering the sky. Jin stopped, stilled his breathing, and listened for noises. In the darkness, ears were more useful than eyes. The sound of Balsa’s footsteps would give her away. But the forest had fallen silent. Startled by the invasion of such sudden and brutal violence, even the birds and wild creatures held their breath. All he could hear was the rustling of the leaves.
Where can she be? Where is she hiding? Jin was impressed. The woman had rightly judged that her best hope for escape was to remain still and silent. Even knowing that to be true, most people would find it impossible to resist the urge to run. Jin had seen the shuriken sink into her back, and Mon’s sword must have done considerable damage as well. Despite this, there was no sign of movement. She was obviously used to laying her life on the line.
What should he do? Should he wait for her to move, or help the three others, who were wounded, to take the prince back? He could not make up his mind, and this uncertainty disturbed his concentration. He heard a body being dragged out of the forest behind him; Mon must still be unconscious.
Jin began to lose his nerve. We’ve got the prince, he reasoned. We’ve completed the most important part of our mission. Even if Balsa escapes, what can she do? She’s just a lowly commoner. He made his decision. The others were so badly wounded they would draw attention; he would have to deliver the prince to the Master Star Reader himself. He left the forest, his ears still pricked for any noise. Yun was hoisting the inert Mon onto his back.
“I’ll take the prince,” Jin said. “I can go straight from here to the Torinaki River without passing through town and enter the Star Palace from the bank. You and Zen bring Mon and follow us at an easier pace. Don’t go through the city, though — you’ll be too obvious.”
Yun nodded, gritting his teeth against the pain. Although the cut was shallow, the spear tip had sliced his face from one ear to the other, just below the eyes, and injuries close to the brain always hurt more. Zen walked toward them, carrying the prince. He must have drugged him, for the boy was unconscious, arms and legs splayed awkwardly. Jin took the boy from him and told him his plan. Zen shifted Mon off Yun’s back and onto his own. “Damn that woman!” he spat.
His words expressed how they all felt. If it had been one on one, they might have succeeded in killing her. But it had been three against one, and overconfidence had made them careless, something they could not afford to be.
Once she was sure Jin had left the forest, Balsa yanked the shuriken from her back. She would lose more blood this way, but leaving it in would slow her movements when she needed speed. She placed a folded cloth against the wound and bound it tightly in place to stem the bleeding. She did not bother with the gash across her stomach; it throbbed with a searing pain, and blood dripped down her leg, but there was no time to take care of it. She had an important job to do.
When she saw one of the men leave the other three behind and head off toward the river with the prince, she knew that luck was on her side. She began to jog slowly toward the river, skillfully threading her way through the brush underfoot.
Jin trotted along with the unconscious prince on his back, unaware that he was being followed. The sound of flowing water grew louder until he emerged onto the bank of the river. The water’s surface gleamed faintly in the dark. He turned north. If he followed the river northeast until it bent to the west, he would come to a secret passage leading to the Star Palace. He slowed down to a walk so as not to miss the marker, which was hard to find. The smell of the river was strangely overpowering — it seemed to cling to him — and the sound of the rushing water was so loud he could hardly stand it. What’s wrong with me? Is it just nerves? What an amateur!
He clicked his tongue in disgust. But at that moment, a different sound sliced above the noise of the water, and he leapt aside. Sparks flew from the rock at his feet, and the air rang with the sound of metal hitting stone. A second shuriken shot through the air as Balsa burst out of the forest, rushing straight at him. He dodged the shuriken, dropped the prince on the bank, and whipped out his sword. A spear struck at him with dizzying speed, but he parried each thrust with ease. Rather than meet the spear straight on, which could shatter his sword, he angled the blade slightly to turn each blow aside, waiting for a chance to slip under her guard.
Balsa could usually strike five blows with each breath, but with her injury, she was not fast enough to get past his sword. Watching her face twist in pain, Jin thought smugly, Fool! You might have stepped out and asked to be slaughtered. As she pulled back her spear, he thrust forward under her guard, aiming for her neck. She twisted aside and parried his blow. Ordinarily, she would have followed through with a kick to his stomach, but pain shot through her midriff and she could only reel away. His sword arced through the air in a flash of white, and she barely managed to turn it aside with her spear. Fighting the pain, she moved around to his left and thrust her spear at him again. As he stepped back to avoid it, he tripped and fell over Chagum where the boy lay on the ground.
Balsa did not miss her chance. She struck, and when Jin twisted away, she slipped the shaft of her spear under his left armpit and wrenched it in a circle, wrapping his arm around it as firmly as if it were glued. He cried out as she flipped his body over with a twist of her spear and slammed him face down onto the ground. His left arm broke with a sickening crack.
To Balsa’s disbelief, however, he immediately pulled his legs beneath him and sprang back to his feet, without regard for the pain it must have caused him. Not fast enough to avoid the one-handed blow he aimed at her from below, Balsa saw blood spurt from her left arm. Now they both stood with one arm useless, gasping for breath, poised to strike and watching their opponent for a chance. Neither had any intention of giving up.
But then a silent darkness surrounded them, and a strange, choking smell filled the air. They froze in amazement. The prince, who had been lying unconscious on the bank, rose and walked into the river. Both he and the water were enveloped in a pulsating blue light, and the river appeared to climb his body, clinging to it.
Balsa was the first to move. She threw her spear down on the bank and ran into the river as fast as she could with her injuries. Once in the water, she recoiled in shock: It clung to her legs like thick glue, making it difficult to move forward. Jin, who had r
aced after her, raised his sword and brought it down toward her head. The blow would have split her skull in two, but at that moment, the water pulled her legs from under her, and she fell into the river. In the next instant, the water caught Jin’s legs and dragged him into the river as well.
In a space filled with blue light, so silent it hurt her ears, Balsa saw Chagum curled up in a ball, like a baby asleep in its mother’s womb. She clawed her way over to him and grabbed his arm tightly.
As if an invisible membrane had been broken, the sound of the water returned instantly. Balsa felt its coldness rush against her body, and shaking her head to clear it, she stood up, still clutching Chagum’s arm. Chagum shook his head as well; he seemed to have regained consciousness. Balsa climbed out onto the bank, supporting the stumbling prince, and turned to look at Jin. He was back on his feet but had lost his sword and was feeling desperately about in the water for it.
She picked her spear up off the ground and hurled it with her good hand. It sunk into his right shoulder and flung him backward by its force, so he lay face up in the shallows. She walked back into the river, put one foot on his chest, and yanked the spear from his body. This was too much even for Jin: He managed to drag himself out onto the bank, but there he rolled his eyes and lost consciousness.
Balsa decided against dealing him a final blow in front of Chagum and chose instead to leave as quickly as possible. If she wasted any more time here, the other three might catch up, and she was in no condition to fight.
“Balsa,” Chagum said, his speech slurred. “Are — you — all — right?” he asked anxiously. Her wet hair was plastered to her face, and she was covered in blood.
“Yes. How about you?”
“I am all right,” he said. He was still dizzy from the drug and his head ached, but at least he could move.
“Can you walk?” she asked, and he nodded. “Then we’ll cross over to the other bank. But be careful to pay attention, and don’t let the river call you. If that happens again, I don’t know if I’ll be able to save you or not.”
He was not sure what she was talking about, but he nodded anyway. Leaning on each other, they picked their way across, seeking out the shallow spots until they reached the other side. She pushed him onto the bank, but she continued walking in the water for some time, to avoid leaving a trail of blood for their pursuers to follow.
Then they entered the forest and struggled to keep going. Though Chagum did his best to support the staggering Balsa, he was not used to walking in the dark and stumbled frequently. We’ll never make it like this, Balsa thought. She was fading in and out of consciousness; her body did not seem to belong to her anymore. She must do something before she collapsed.
“Chagum, listen,” she whispered in his ear. “Can you still walk?” He nodded. He was afraid of the dark, but his strength was returning, perhaps because the drug was wearing off. “Then you must help me…. Follow the river through the forest until you come to a big rock that looks like a bear. Take the path behind it until you come to a little cottage. Tanda lives there. You must tell him … what has happened and ask him for help.”
Everything was growing dark before her eyes. “Listen carefully. Never leave the forest … and always keep the river in sight. When you come to the path … behind the rock, walk along it slowly, looking up at the sky. Even if it’s too dark to see your feet … you’ll know where the path is … because the trees are thinner, and you’ll be able to see …” She crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
Chagum, close to tears, shook her gently where she lay on the forest floor. Then he rose shakily, fighting back his sobs. He did not want her to die and leave him all alone. Repeating to himself what she had told him, he stumbled off in search of the cottage.
For a long time, Balsa remained in darkness. She was vaguely aware of her body, which at times shook violently, riven by freezing cold, and at times burned with a heat that made her pant for breath; and always it ached with a dull pain. Through snatches of consciousness she felt herself being lifted, and later glimpsed the flickering flame of a candle in the dark. She remembered a searing agony that shot across her stomach and arm, making her cry out.
When she finally came to, she did not know where she was, what year it was, or even why she was wounded. Her eyes fell on a man dozing by her bedside, his arms folded across his chest and his face lit by the pale afternoon sun.
“Tanda?” she whispered hoarsely, and he opened his eyes with a start. He was a kind-looking man of about twenty-seven or twenty-eight. His dark, almost black skin contrasted with his brown, unruly hair, and his eyes were filled with a soft light, with fine lines at their corners.
“So you’re awake, are you?”
“Did Jiguro beat me again?”
Tanda’s eyes widened a little. The pain must have jolted Balsa back to childhood, when her foster father, Jiguro, trained her so mercilessly he often knocked her out. “You’ve been badly hurt. Your injuries must have confused your mind. Jiguro died a long time ago, remember? We watched him breathe his last.”
Tears welled in Balsa’s eyes. “Jiguro … died? Ah, now I remember …” She closed her eyes for a moment and saw him in her mind: so fearsomely strong and strict, yet kind and gentle too, for he had saved her from being murdered and raised her with affection.
She took the bowl of water Tanda held out for her and gulped it down. A boy edged himself in beside Tanda and peered into her face with a look of deep concern. “Chagum?” Balsa said tentatively. Memory came flooding back. “Oh no! How long was I out for? Tanda, there’s something I have to tell you. Some men are after him and —”
Tanda gestured for her to be quiet. “It’s all right. I know. Chagum’s a brave kid, and smart too — though I admit I was surprised when he staggered in here all scratched up and out of breath! That was the first thing he told me, that he was being pursued. So I was very careful not to leave any traces when I went to get you. There was no sign of anyone around, and I erased the trail of blood you left so they couldn’t follow it. You can relax.”
Balsa frowned. “How can you be so sure? You were always hopeless at martial arts. Maybe you missed the signs.”
“Stupid! You know I’m better than any warrior at tracking. And before you start criticizing, you could show a little gratitude. After all, I gave you those seventeen stitches in your stomach, plus the eight in your left arm, not to mention tidying up that wound on your shoulder…. Just how many times are you going to make me sew you back together again?”
He was smiling, and Balsa laughed weakly. “I don’t know,” she said. Relieved, she closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep.
The next time she woke it was already dark. The room was filled with a delicious scent and the comforting sound of food simmering over a fire. She turned her head slightly and saw a pot hanging over the hearth in the center of the wooden floor. Tanda raised the lid and nodded as he looked inside, then took some mushrooms from a sieve beside him.
Chagum leaned over to peer at what was in his hands. “Tell me what those are,” he said.
“Kankui. They’re a type of mushroom. They give the broth a rich flavor but turn bitter if cooked too long. The trick is to add them just before you take the pot from the fire.”
“They smell delicious!” Chagum exclaimed.
Balsa smiled. It looked like Chagum was learning how to make Tanda’s specialty, a stew made from wild mountain vegetables. He looked as excited and happy as any other boy, and she realized how tense he must have been until now. Thank God those men didn’t catch him, she thought fervently.
“See? What did I tell you? Your Auntie Tomboy has woken up. I said she’d wake up as soon as she smelled food. She hasn’t changed a bit.”
Chagum looked over at her. She saw the relief in his eyes, and it warmed her heart.
“Balsa, are you all right? Do your wounds hurt?”
“Of course they hurt! But I’ll be fine. They’ll heal quickly.”
Tanda took a wooden
spoon and stirred the stew, then removed the pot from the hearth. He stood up with a grunt and came over to Balsa, deftly raising her to a sitting position, then slipped a rolled bearskin between her back and the wall so she could lean against it. Balsa looked up at him. “How long was I out?”
“Not that long. Two nights. I finished treating your wounds at dawn on the first night. I should be able to remove the stitches in about five days. Knowing you, it could be even sooner.” He passed Chagum a steaming bowl of stew poured over hot rice and barley, then brought one to Balsa. “Would you like me to feed you?”
“No, I think I can manage.” Her left arm hurt, as was only to be expected, but for Balsa, it was not a bad injury. She had had more than enough injuries in her life to accurately judge how long a wound would take to heal.
The savory mushroom-flavored soup was hot and delicious. Tanda seemed to have a knack for making people feel comfortable, and Chagum was chattering away, much more vocal than she had ever seen him before.
“You know, it is strange, but the food commoners eat seems to taste far better than the food we ate in the palace. I wonder why.”
“I wonder. Must be because it’s hot and fresh. I’ve never lived in a palace, mind you, but I would guess that you have food tasters and other rituals, so by the time the meal gets to you it’s probably cold.”
“Of course! You are correct. I have never eaten food like this, served to me straight from the pot.”
As she listened to them, Balsa made a mental note to train Chagum to speak less formally. Nothing ever fazed Tanda, but any ordinary person who heard him talk would stare at him in surprise and wonder what noble family he came from.
After dinner, while sipping tea brewed from ramon leaves, Balsa told Tanda everything that had happened. He listened without interrupting, nodding occasionally, but his intent expression grew grimmer as the tale continued. When she had finished, he said bluntly, “Balsa. That’s Nyunga Ro Im.”
Guardian of the Spirit Page 6
