She lost all sense of time and direction. She had gotten a little hungry only once, and nibbled on a rice ball. Her feet hurt the way they had at the end of her first day in the forest. She took a break, sitting against a large stone at the path’s edge, intending to rub her feet and then get going again. But she woke some time later—still in the cave, in the dark, unaware of actually falling asleep. Fortunately, the lantern candle was going strong. She didn’t want to waste it, but wouldn’t have wanted to wake to total blackness either. She checked it and found that less than half was used, and silently thanked Grandma Dol. With three more candles in her bag, Young-hee figured she could walk quite a while before worrying about losing the light.
And then, so far away she could barely hear it, was the slightest, softest of noises. She stood in place, straining to tell if it was just her imagination. As she walked on, the noise gradually built into the rippling, dancing sound of water. Not a lot, and still far off, but clearly water. She guessed it was another thirty minutes before she found the underground stream. It emerged from a crack in the rock as a small waterfall, then followed the path as it wound through the tunnel. The water was perfectly clear and cool. She held the light up but couldn’t see fish or insects or anything in it.
After perhaps an hour, the stream disappeared, speeding up as it slid under a rocky wall. There was a dull, distant rumbling, like a plummeting waterfall nearby. After so much silence, she appreciated the sound and felt sad that it would soon drop away again. She filled her water bottle and kept going. Soon, there was only the little wooden lamp and the echo of her footsteps. Tuk-tuk, tuk-tuk.
The unending gloom had induced a kind of trance when, suddenly, she stopped short. She could swear she heard the sound. Perhaps a scuff? Maybe even a cough. She held her lamp higher and saw nothing but rocks that quickly faded to gray and then black.
She thought about following the sound, but there was no way she’d risk leaving the path and having it vanish, not down here. She was lucky in the forest to find the stream after losing the path. In this cave, she could be stuck forever—well, not forever, just until a rather icky end.
Scritch, came the sound again, and she thought she could tell its source. Maybe it was just a bat or some rodent kind of creature? But that didn’t make her feel any better, and she quickly wished she could unthink it. “Hello?” she called out tentatively. “Is anyone there?”
She squinted and peered, and then, there it was—a shadow stepped from behind a large, rocky column. Something human, or at least human-shaped. It stood motionless, just beyond the light of her lantern. “Uh, hello?” Young-hee repeated.
“Greetings, stranger,” rang out a young man’s voice, high-toned and quivering slightly, as if he trying hard to sound cheery. “Welcome to my somewhat unfortunate and dim abode.” With a step forward, he entered the outer limit of her lamp’s glow—a tall, thin young man, wrapped in a ragged, faded hanbok. “I must say, you are the first person I have seen in a very long time.”
“Hi there, I’m Young-hee,” and unsure of what else to say, added, “Is this your home?”
“Home? No. Well, it’s where I live, at least for the moment, that’s true, but not altogether voluntarily.”
“Not altogether voluntarily?” she echoed.
“No. Alas, I was captured by the demon who rules this cave, Yeonggam. Terribly clumsy of me, actually.” The shadowy man raised a foot and gave it a jerk, jangling the chain tethering him to a rock.
“That’s horrible. Have you been here long?”
“Longer than I would have preferred. I quite dislike being a prisoner.”
“Of course,” said Young-hee, thinking of her brother. “No one likes being a captive.”
“I’m so glad you think so,” said the young man eagerly. He slid forward a few more inches, and Young-hee’s flickering lantern set his sharp features in distinct relief and illuminated an explosion of thick black hair, streaked with color. His eyes gleamed with the cool grace of a tiger. “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m the Samjogo.”
“The Samjogo?”
“Yes, the one and only. The truest of the true bone.”
“But is that your name? Or what you are?
“Why, a Samjogo is me. And I am a Samjogo.”
“Yes, but, what I meant was …”
“Oh, I know well what you meant,” he said, his words dancing lightly. “I am Samjogo, the three-legged crow of legend, true of bone and never born.”
Surveying the decidedly two-legged man, Young-hee’s eyebrows arched with more skepticism than she knew possible. “You don’t look like a three-legged crow.”
“Pish, posh,” he said with a dismissive wave. “You should know by now not to be deceived by appearances. ‘All that’s gold doesn’t glitter.’”
“I think that’s backwards.”
“And I assure you, the Samjogo is legendary. More powerful than a dragon. Shining brighter than the phoenix.”
“And yet you’re chained to a rock. In the dark.”
“Yes, that,” he said, momentarily glum, and tugged on his chain.
Young-hee could feel he was going to be irritating. “Well, it’s been nice meeting you. But I really should be going.”
“Please, don’t go,” he called. “Not yet. The thing is, I could use some help.”
“What could I do,” she said, looking warily at the edge of the path.
“Well, would you have something I could use to free myself? Perhaps a releasing spell on you?” the Samjogo asked. “A small vial of dragon tears? A star key? Perhaps a shaman’s lock curse?”
“Uh, no. Sorry.”
“No, no, no, I understand,” he said, disappointed, before taking one more stab: “Floral silver?”
“Floral silver? No. I mean, yes. I mean, not anymore.”
“You lost your floral silver?”
“No, a rabbit gave me some, but it isn’t floral silver anymore. The thing is, when I went through this door, see, the silver turned to dead flowers.”
The Samjogo looked at her steadily, weighing her words. “But do you have those dead flowers?”
“Yes, actually. But I don’t see how they could help.”
“Please,” he said, holding out his hand.
Young-hee puffed out her cheeks as she debated with herself. She wanted to get going, and was reluctant to trust a stranger, especially in a deep, dark cave. Finally, though, she found the handkerchief in a pocket and unfolded it. Despite her forest tumbles and river swim, it had survived, but looked less like a bracelet than ever. “How can I get it to you?” she asked. “It’s too light to throw that far.”
“It’s okay, just walk over and give it to me.”
Young-hee looked at the line where the path met the regular cave floor and the darkness extending around it. “I can’t leave the path.”
“Pardon me?”
“The path, I can’t leave it.”
“Oh, there’s a path. That wasn’t there before.”
“I left it once, and it just disappeared. I was lucky to find it again, but if I lose it here, in this cave, I’ll never find my way out again.”
“Ah, yes, a questing path. They can be frightfully unstable.”
“You know them?”
“Of course. Many people have them.”
“You don’t?”
“On the rare occasions I acquire one, the first thing I always do is step off and get rid of it. Paths are terrible things, always getting in the way of living.”
“Very free-spirited of you. But, in my case, I need my path. I’m on a quest.”
“Oh, really? You seem young to have your own path already.”
“Yeah, lucky me.” She stood, thinking. “So these paths work the same for everyone?”
“What do you mean?”
“They disappear if you step off of them? And they split into all sorts of side-paths when you try to go back?”
“Yes, that is the nature of a journey.”
�
��Aish. Not where I’m from. In my world, a path’s a path. It doesn’t change.” She thought about it a bit. “In my life, the paths are the opposite. When I look ahead, all I see are choices, but looking back, it’s like there’s only ever been one path.”
“Fascinating,” said Samjogo, not sounding at all fascinated. “But do you think you could get me those no-longer-floral-silver leaves? Before the demon returns? Perhaps you could weight it with a stone and throw it to me.”
Young-hee tied the handkerchief to a rock as best she could then tossed it toward the Samjogo. It arched through the air and landed right at his feet. Unfortunately, the handkerchief had opened and the dead flowers fluttered to the ground halfway between them.
“Well, that didn’t go as well as I had hoped,” he said, still straining to sound optimistic.
“Sorry about that,” said Young-hee, embarrassed. “But I think I’ve done all I can. I really do need to be going.”
“No, please. Just stay a moment,” said Samjogo, all flustered. “Just one moment.” He looked at the dead flowers fell, thinking. “You know, I know these caves very well. Even if the path were to disappear—and it might not—I could lead you to Lake Mey?” he said, pointing ahead of her.
“No, I came from there,” she said, raising a thumb in the opposite direction. “Lake Mey’s that way. I was trying to get under the mountains.”
“Oh,” said the Samjogo, trying not to look crestfallen. “And why there, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“I need to get to the Sacred City. Do you know it?”
“It is indeed most famous. But, alas, I have never been there.”
“Yeah, well, you’re not the only one. I was told it was this way. Somewhere near the Great Forest, wherever that is. Perhaps close to the animal ladies, wherever they are. So this path is the only clue I have.”
“The animal ladies?”
“You know them?”
“Yes, they are well known across this realm. And much feared. I have not heard of anyone seeking their company by choice.”
“Well, it’s not really my choice. They are one of my few clues, and I need the path if I hope to find them.”
“I see…,” said Samjogo, thinking. “You said you lost the path before?”
“Yeah, when I stepped off.”
“But you’re on it now.”
“When I got down from the dragon, the path was there again.”
“Off a drag …,” said Samjogo with amazement before cutting himself off. “Anyhow, the important thing is, the path came back. So, it stands to reason, even if the path disappears again, it will reappear further on.”
“I’m not sure I like that thinking at all.”
“Yes, I promise you—I can lead you to the other side of the Cheongyong Mountains. And, if you lose your path, help you find it again.”
“I’m sorry, but that’s just too risky.”
“Please, I’ve been a prisoner for so long. And, Yeonggam, the demon who chained me is quite terrible, even by demon standards.”
“Why did he lock you up, anyway?”
“Demons do terrible things. I suspect he’s aging me a bit before eating me—like a pot of pickled kimchi.”
The thought made Young-hee sad—the being eaten part, not the kimchi. It was what the dokkaebi threatened to do to Bum. I can’t leave someone here in the darkness to get eaten by a demon. Sometimes, you just have to do what you think is right, even if it’s really stupid. She took a step forward and left the path.
It was hard to find the scattered, little pieces of dead flowers on the dusty cave floor, especially by candlelight, but she managed to gather a pile about the same size as what she had thrown.
Young-hee looked behind her. “Oh, crud,” she said. “I knew it, the path’s gone. Jigyeowo!” She scrunched her face in a ball of annoyance. Then she forced herself to breathe. “I really hope you’re not lying to me.”
“The Samjogo is a noble bird and he would never break his word,” he said defiantly, taking the dusty petals into his hand. He held them close and examined them carefully, picking out specks of dirt. With his mouth open, he breathed a warm breath on the flowers, and lowered his hand to the chain. For a second, nothing—but then a warm, blue glow, and the chain fell off his ankle. The flowers faded into nothing. “It worked!” he laughed. “I’m free! For the first time in ages, and I have you to thank, Ms. Young-hee.”
“I thought they were just dead flowers.”
“They were. But floral silver is strong magic, and enough magic remained to break my lock.” The Samjogo stepped boldly, kicking out with his freed foot. “I enjoy my freedom and have long made it a point to know all the unbinding magicks and techniques, should the need arise.”
“Aish, I bet I could have used that to free my brother,” she muttered sadly.
“Your brother?” he said, curious.
“I don’t want to talk about it, not again. Can you please just help me out of this cave?”
“Of course. As easy as eating cold chook, as they say. I made a promise, and intend to keep it.” He marched ahead confidently. “Come, the Samjogo is powerful, but I still need your lamp light.”
“That’s the wrong way.”
“Yes, I was just scouting,” he said, making a smooth about-face. “‘Wherever a bird roosts, its feathers fall.’ ‘A rolling stone gathers no moss.’”
Shooting pains of annoyance jabbed just behind Young-hee’s eyes. “Fine, let’s get going.”
Without the path, the cave was much tougher to navigate. The floor was rockier and more uneven. When a chamber opened wide, it was tough to find where the main route continued. And sometimes there were several options. In the lamplight, Young-hee examined her strange companion, trying to get a sense of him. He wore a casual, not-terribly-clean hanbok, with a gray jeogori jacket, yellow vest, and white-ish leggings. His clothing revealed the odd tension of someone who cares deeply about his appearance, but completely lacks the ability to keep tidy. After so long underground, he could see fairly well in dim light, and scouted the way while keeping up a cheery flow of banter. It was annoying—and probably not a good way to hide their presence from any unfriendly creatures—but after her long solitude, Young-hee appreciated the company and resolved to be positive. At least until they got out.
Young-hee tried to keep quiet about who she was and why she was making this long journey, but in the course of polite conversation she let out more than she intended—including that a problem with a dokkaebi had sparked her quest. “A dokkaebi?” he exclaimed, eagerly. “Silly creatures. Easy to outwit. One time, after a long day’s hike in the hills, night fell as black as any night ever, as dark as this cave. Unable to go on, I rested on a grassy gravesite, and as, I snacked on half a melon, a dokkaebi came by. ‘Is that you, skeleton?’ he asked. It was too dark for him to see me, but I could tell he was a dokkaebi from his ashen smell, like an old fireplace.
“So I told him, ‘Yes, it’s me,’ but I must have sounded different, because he angrily demanded who I was. I dropped my voice, trying to sound all dead and scary. ‘No, my friend, it’s really me. Here, touch my head,’ I said, holding out the melon skin. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘it seems like your hairless head.’ He still didn’t sound convinced, so I held out my walking stick. ‘And here, touch my arm.’
“‘Ah, you have a skinny, bony arm, like you starved to death. You must be my friend skeleton.’
“‘What brings you out tonight?’ I asked, and he told me his plan to steal the soul of the daughter of a rich landlord. I went along and watched him steal her soul, and put it in a little canvas bag. I told him I would keep it safe until the next night. He gave it to me and vanished. A few hours later, I went to the landlord’s home, where everyone was mourning the daughter, who had died mysteriously in the night. I asked to see her privately, and once the door closed, opened the bag and returned her soul. She woke as if nothing had ever been wrong.”
“That was really nice of you,” said Young
-hee, wondering what it would take to stop him from talking. She looked about as they walked into another large cavern. “What did the landlord do?”
“Oh, he was overjoyed, of course. He offered me the girl’s hand in marriage and half his fortune. But the Samjogo is not tied down so easily. I took a modest reward and went on my way. It’s a vast world, with much so see.”
Young-hee tried gauging the vast emptiness of this latest cavern. Black was black, pretty much impossible to estimate, but Young-hee noticed the echo of Samjogo’s voice getting deeper and delaying more, until the echo, too, was swallowed by darkness. This was the largest cave chamber yet, she thought. What was this place? “Didn’t the dokkaebi come back to get you? I bet he was mad.”
“I bet he was angry too. But the Samjogo has more tricks up his sleeve. One time, when walking through the mountains with nothing but a drum, I …” At long last, he went quiet, but the way he just stopped mid-sentence didn’t fill Young-hee with confidence. Then she caught up and saw what silenced him.
Ahead, in the inky-gray distance of her lamp’s light, was a tree. Huge and full of leaves, despite growing in the black of the cave. As they approached, more shapes emerged—something like a barn, a stone house, unkempt hedges, and perhaps a well. A big stone wall surrounded the property, crumbling in places, including where the path cut through.
“What is this?” Young-hee asked.
“This is the home of probably the worst ogre in a hundred realms, Agwi Kwisin, the nine-headed ogre. His is a very exciting story, with a noble warrior and a princess, betrayals, a magical life-giving pullocho, and Agwi the ogre.”
“A pullocho?!” exclaimed Young-hee. “There was one here? In this cave?”
Young-hee and the Pullocho Page 13
