Young-hee and the Pullocho (38 page)

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.

“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.