Young-hee and the Pullocho

by Mark James Russell

  They were halfway to the distant river when a distant rattle wail swept the plain. Tiger guessed it was a ghost spotting them from the cliff top.

  “At least Nwaegongdo won’t be flying soon with his messed up wing,” said Samjogo.

  They talked little as they hurried to the river. Debilitated by the fight, no one relished another showdown. A good couple of miles away, the river roared with the ugly sound of flooded water moving hard, tearing up anything in its way. But Young-hee welcomed it as one landmark closer to getting her brother back.

  Then it was Tiger’s turn to slow and look around as he picked up a scent. “Up the hill, there,” he said, nodding toward two large figures on horseback, still a ways off, but closing in.

  “The Storm Lord appears to have gotten a horse,” said Samjogo. “And he’s pulling a cart.”

  “And his friend?” asked Young-hee.

  “Another evil spirit, I assume.”

  As they broke into a run, Young-hee saw the sky darken and fill with clouds; the Storm Lord at work again, she thought. The rough and rocky ground made running tough for them—and their pursuers.

  “I’ll go head them off, buy you some time,” said Tiger.

  “No, we should stick together,” said Young-hee, between breaths.

  “She’s right, stay with us,” said Samjogo. Tiger obeyed, but moved between the riders and Young-hee.

  Her lungs burning from the run, Young-hee reached the river—but it was completely impassable. Swollen from the Storm Lord’s rains, it churned brown and bellowed with fury, licking at its banks and, in places, spilling greedily over. She understood why it was called the Hungry River. “What now?” asked Young-hee breathlessly.

  Samjogo scanned up and down the river, for a passable place, a ferry, anything. But there was only the great and terrible water, at least a hundred meters across. They were stuck.

  Nwaegongdo and the other man on huge workhorses stopped about fifty meters away. The second man was gigantic, too—eight feet tall, with a face as red and rough as lychee rind. Dressed in dark green, with golden script embroidered on his sleeves, he carried a wide, heavy sword. The fierce, blood-red horse pulled a cart carrying a large wooden box full of baskets.

  “This time, I brought help,” Nwaegongdo laughed. “Meet the Lord of War.”

  The red-faced man dismounted silently, walked to the cart, picked up the box, and placed it on the ground. He touched the small flame that rose from his open hand to the box of baskets. Flames quickly flared into a massive bonfire. Young-hee shielded her eyes from the brilliance, wondering what was going on.

  “That fire is how the Lord of War carries his army,” said Samjogo. “We cannot fight his hordes. We need to get out of here.” Hordes? Young-hee wondered.

  “There’s nowhere to go,” taunted the Storm Lord. “And the Lord of War has a present for you. It is rude to just run off.”

  As fire consumed the box and baskets, they tumbled to the ground, releasing something bumpy and busy. Smoke and fire obscured whatever was pouring out, but it didn’t move like a regular liquid. Dark and jumbled, like a dense swarm of black ants, it moved toward them.

  And that’s when Young-hee realized what was pouring out of the flaming baskets—swarms of tiny soldiers, just an inch or two tall. By the thousands. Tiny soldiers clanking tiny swords off tiny shields, pounding the earth with tiny boots, and charging with tiny battle cries joined in a sickening, high-pitched cacophony. Closing fast.

  Tiger crouched, ready to fight. Samjogo readied his hyeopdo. Young-hee just gulped. How do you fight against thousands of tiny soldiers, she wondered.

  Just then, she heard a noise over the roar of the river. Searching about, she heard it again, clearer. “Excuse me?” it said. Young-hee looked behind her at the river’s edge. There was the head of a large turtle sticking out of the water. “Are you Miss Young-hee?”

  “Uh, yes?”

  “Please, the Water Dragon King sent us to help.”

  Mansoo? How did the Water Dragon King know they needed help? But how didn’t matter, they just needed help. The thousands of tiny warriors screamed as they rushed forward. “Can you help us fight Nwaegongdo’s warriors?”

  “Fight? Oh, Turtles don’t fight.” Twenty feet and closing fast. “Please, climb on. We’ll get you to the other side.”

  “We?” asked Young-hee. But even as she spoke, dozens of turtles rose out of the water, locking together to form a bridge with their shells.

  “Hurry, please. The current is very strong, and it is hard to hold on.”

  Young-hee grabbed at Samjogo and Tiger. “Come on! Run!”

  “Where?” said Tiger, too busy preparing to fight to notice their new allies. The tiny soldiers were almost on top of them when he looked and grasped what was happening.

  “Come on, come on!” Young-hee shouted as she tugged on Samjogo. He saw the turtles, too, and in an instant they were all rushing over the turtle-back bridge, just inches above the gushing water.

  As soon as the three crossed one turtle, it would sink back into the river and swim away, so that the bridge disappeared as quickly as they ran. The stampeding warriors, running too hard to stop, poured into the fierce river, which quickly swept them away. With only her feet wet, Young-hee stumbled to the far shore of the river, along with Tiger and Samjogo.

  “There are entirely too many creatures trying to capture you,” said Samjogo.

  “I’m not exactly enjoying this either,” she said, plunking down in the wet grass. She turned to the turtles in the water. “Thank you so much. And thanks to Mansoo. We never could have gotten away without you.”

  “We are always happy to serve the Water Dragon King and help his friends,” said the lead turtle.

  “The Dragon King sends servants to help you?” said Samjogo, dazzled.

  “I told you before he was my friend,” said Young-hee.

  “Yes, but, I didn’t … I mean … wow! A good friend to have.”

  “Oh, Miss Young-hee, one more thing,” said the turtle. “A message from the Dragon King—our lord says you shouldn’t be scared to give up what you most want.”

  “What? Why would he say that?” Did he mean my brother?

  “I do not know. That was the message. But now, my siblings and I need to go, before the evil spirits return.” And without so much as a blup, the turtles sank beneath the brown, churning waters.

  Tiger kept an eye on the far side of the river, while Samjogo unhappily surveyed the forest a few dozen meters ahead, as dense as a wall.

  Young-hee looked at the path, which split into two, following the edge of the forest upstream and downstream. “Which way are we supposed to go?” she asked.

  “We might not have any options,” interjected Tiger, meekly. “Oh, dear.”

  Young-hee and Samjogo looked across the river. Nwaegongdo’s tiny warriors were still streaming from the burning baskets into the rushing river in such numbers that they were starting to create a barrier. At first it was a small outcropping, but as more and more ran into the water, they began to form a living dam. There was no end to the soldiers under Nwaegongdo’s command. In just a few moments, the dam extended about ten meters into the water.

  The Storm Lord first, followed by the Lord of War, rode to the barrier. Nwaegongdo’s horse placed a tentative hoof onto the barrier and, convinced it would hold, strode forward, its rider laughing and sneering.

  “Oh, jeez, you’ve got to be kidding,” said Young-hee. “Are they actually going to cross like that?”

  “I’m afraid so,” said Samjogo.

  The living dam was now a quarter of the way across the river.

  “We cannot fight them,” said Samjogo.

  Young-hee had a terrible feeling she knew the alternative. No one even had to say it. They just turned and walked off the path, toward the Great Forest. Where they had been warned not to go. Where there was no path.

  As they approached the forest, the evil spirits urged the tiny soldiers into the rive
r even faster. The Storm Lord shouted something at Young-hee, but the pounding water snatched his words away.

  Young-hee went first, pushing through the dense, fence-like wall of the Great Forest’s edge. Just what she had been warned not to do.

  The Great Forest was absolutely still and silent. Despite the onslaught of evil that had been rushing toward them, the moment they crossed the threshold of the woods, the sounds of the spirits, their horses, the charging tiny warriors, and even the roaring river dropped away. Here, it was as cozy and comforting as a warm bath. Young-hee thought she had never before been enveloped by so much utter nothingness, even in the depths of Darang Cave.

  The wall of trees guarding the perimeter had made entering the forest a tight squeeze. But once inside, white and lonely trees like young birches were spaced out, with little brush on the ground. So it was easy to walk wherever they wanted. There just was no path, or sign to guide them. Just sameness and stillness, a pleasant emptiness stretching as far as they could see.

  They had entered in a panicked rush to escape the spirits chasing them, but after a few meters they slowed to a walk, their sense of the danger melting away. “Shouldn’t we be running?” said Young-hee.

  “Yes, yes, the Great Forest is not safe for us,” said Samjogo, sounding more bored than hurried. “Let’s catch our breath, and speed up in a few moments.”

  And so they walked. There were no sounds of animals, no birds, no wind rustling through the leaves. Just a beautiful, vacant forest. Peaceful, like the beginning of a good nap.

  The sameness made it impossible to know the right direction. Samjogo and Young-hee tried climbing the trees, but the upper branches were too weak to let them get high enough to see over the forest canopy.

  At one point the trees parted, giving way to a small, shallow pond. Young-hee felt as if she had read about the scene in a book. “Do you think I could get back home if I jumped into the pond?” she asked. “Or maybe into yet another world?”

  “It’s just a pond,” said Tiger, with a yawn.

  In fact, they were all yawning, more and more. The soft, grassy ground looked ever more comfortable, and Young-hee contemplated a nap—just a short one, of course.

  “Young-hee!”

  Samjogo’s sharp call snapped her to attention. Did I nod off while walking? she wondered, happy to have avoided a tree. “Sorry, just a little sleepy,” she said sheepishly.

  “Yes, we all seem strangely tired,” said Samjogo, blinking hard to force himself awake.

  “I don’t see the problem,” said Tiger, yawning again. “The forest is perfectly safe and peaceful. We could sleep until we’re feeling refreshed.”

  “No, Tiger, we need to keep going. We can sleep in a proper camp once it gets dark. Or did you forget who was following us?”

  Tiger grunted a reluctant acknowledgement and kept walking. “I don’t hear anyone following us,” he said. But they were all slowing down, finding it harder to continue.

  Finally, Tiger plopped to the ground and curled up, his eyes closed, his mouth smiling. “Tiger, no!” said Young-hee. “Don’t sleep. This isn’t natural.”

  “Just a short nap,” he said, without opening his eyes. “Then we’ll walk more.”

  “No, we need to keep going.”

  “You keep going and I’ll catch up in a bit.”

  There was no moving him. Tiger was out cold. Young-hee envied him. “I wish I could sleep, too. Just for five minutes?”

  “No, Young-hee,” said Samjogo. “Something or someone is trying to stop us from moving forward. We have to keep going.”

  “But what about Tiger?”

  Samjogo shouted into Tiger’s ear, but got no reaction. He pushed hard on the big cat’s hindquarters. He even tugged Tiger’s whiskers, earning a reflexive paw-swat in the chest. Still Tiger would not wake.

  “I fear we have to leave him behind,” said Samjogo. “Whatever magic is operating here has him firmly in its grasp. We need to get away”—Samjogo yawned big, too—“We can come back for him once we are safe.”

  Young-hee agreed, so they set off without their friend. She steeled her senses, determined not to succumb to the magic. But the deeper they moved into the forest, the worse the sleepiness. Soon it began to rain—not Nwaegongdo’s cold, nasty rain, but warm, relaxing drops that turned the air sultry and thick. She put on her jacket to stay dry, but the sound of raindrops on its hood was ever more hypnotic.

  They kept walking, drifting in and out of strange sleep. One would catch the other nodding off and shout a warning. Each drift grew deeper and harder to wake from.

  At one point, as dreams were sneaking up, Young-hee snapped awake. At first she couldn’t see Samjogo—sleepwalking had separated them by a good twenty meters—as good as a mile in a forest. Young-hee considered herself lucky to spot her friend.

  She and Samjogo kept going, forcing each step.

  When she woke again, she was leaning against a tree and, judging by the trail of spittle running down the rain-soaked trunk, she had stopped walking for some time. Beginning to cross back into sleep and dreams, her thoughts floated to Bum, and that shot her awake.

  She stood up, wiped her mouth, and shook her head to clear her thoughts. “Samjogo!” she shouted. “Where are you?” No answer. Just stillness and silence, punctuated by the pulse of rain.

  Young-hee felt panic rising up again. Where was he? He couldn’t be far away. She ran about, trying to retrace her steps, calling out. Still no sign. At least panic would help keep her awake, she noted wryly. “Samjogo?” she cried again. Nothing.

  There was nothing to do but keep walking. Perhaps he was ahead and she’d run into him.

  So Young-hee continued, fighting off overpowering drowsiness. How large is the Great Forest, anyhow? She realized she had no idea how long it would take to the other side—or what awaited her there. But without options, she kept walking.

  After what seemed ages—although she had lost all sense of time—she saw something moving ahead. There he is, she thought. But relief quickly dissipated. That’s not Samjogo. It was a man, walking slowly toward her. He clearly had seen her. It was too late to hide.

  The stranger stepped through the trees, right up to her. Tall and elegant, broad-shouldered with a back ramrod-straight, his face was obscured by a large hat, his body by a flowing durumagi overcoat. Who was he? What was he doing in the woods?

  “Greetings, stranger,” said the man. “Not many outsiders try passing through our forest.”

  He looked oddly familiar, but it was hard to see him clearly. “Uh, hello. Yes, my friends and I seem to have gotten lost,” she said.

  “Your friends?”

  “Yeah. First we got lost together. Now I’ve lost them, too.”

  “Few outsiders try passing through our forest, and even fewer succeed.”

  Well, that sounds ominous. “Oh. I hope I’m not … trespassing or anything like that. I didn’t mean to be rude or break your rules.” Where have I seen him before?, she kept wondering. “Uh, do you think you could help me out? Maybe point me in the right direction?”

  “Why are you here?”

  “We were trying to get to the Sacred City. Some … bad people chased us across the Hungry River, and we entered the Great Forest to hide. We were told that the Sacred City lies on the other side of this forest.” Young-hee wasn’t sure why she was so honest. “I was on a quest, to help my little brother. But there are no paths in your woods, and it is so hard to know where to go.”

  “Yes, it is easy to get lost here. But the Sacred City is in that direction.” He pointed behind him, just to Young-hee’s left.

  “Thank you. Thank you so much.” She got ready to resume walking.

  “However, I would not advise it.”

  “Oh?” There’s always a hitch, she grumbled silently.

  “Trying to leave the forest seldom works well. I recommend going that way”—he pointed to her right—“deeper, into its heart.”

  “Deeper into the for
est?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Sometimes you need to get more lost before you can find your way out.”

  Young-hee recalled similar advice before. If she had learned anything in Strange Land, it was that the direct, most logical route was rarely the best.

  “Into the heart…”

  The man nodded. “If you go straight that way, you will come to a stream. Follow it to a house. There you should find the help you need.”

  “Oh, thanks,” said Young-hee, straining to see where the man had been pointing. It looked the same as any other part of the forest. “Could you tell me who you are? So I can tell the people in the house who sent me?”

  But when she turned back, he was gone. The forest was deathly quiet again. She nearly called out “Jigyeowo,” but caught herself. Strange Land had thrown her another odd obstacle. She could handle it.

  She considered choosing the most direct way out, but took the stranger’s advice, turned right and resumed walking.

  After a while, Young-hee began to worry that she had not followed the man’s directions properly. Or perhaps he had lied. But too sleepy to think, she pushed forward.

  And, then, there it was—a small brook, winding lazily through the forest. It didn’t look very deep, and despite the rain was perfectly clear and gentle. Plus there seemed something strange about the riverbed—it looked … smooth.

  Young-hee walked right into the water. A few inches deep, it reached just above her shoes. The bottom was smooth, white, and hard, like marble, although luckily not as slippery. This is very odd. Walking in the middle of the brook, she followed its twists and turns downstream.

  Right around then, the rain stopped. On the other side of the river were countless bamboo trees, their long, thin trunks reaching high into the air. The soft murmur of the water was the only sound. Maybe having wet feet is waking me up a bit because I don’t feel so sleepy any more, she thought. In perhaps a mile, she saw the house—a simple hanok, good for a small family.