The First Kill
Shock slowly flooded Bushuku's eyes.
Carried forward by the momentum of his charge, he took a few stumbling steps before he could finally stop, his trembling hand pressing against the torn flesh of his flank. His body needed a moment to register the fact that he had been cut down in the heat of his fury.
Then his face twisted into open disbelief, and both horses began to paw and snort at the air. With a metallic clatter, his sword tumbled to the ground. His knees buckled, and he crashed over like a rotten tree trunk felled at last.
Hoo, hoo, hoo⋯⋯.
Hong-wi gasped for breath, unable to tear his eyes from Bushuku's body. The sensation of the blade biting through—of the edge parting that thick layer of fat and cleaving muscle and organ beneath—still clung vividly to both his hands. The mad gleam in Bushuku's eyes and the ragged sound of his breathing in the instant they had passed each other were seared into his memory. Even the heavy thud of him collapsing.
His head felt dull and hollow, and everything seemed to drift past in slow motion. His whole body had been shivering with cold, and the ground beneath his feet felt as though it might give way into a bottomless abyss.
Ah. I've killed a man now.
Hong-wi drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out.
"Your Highness!"
Ho-in rushed to his side, but Hong-wi waved him off. The hand gripping his sword trembled faintly, yet his stiffened fingers refused to unclench. Only now did the reality of what he had just done—cut a man down with his own blade—strike him with genuine terror.
Clap, clap, clap⋯⋯.
Measured applause rang out across the field. Tung Jugang lowered his hands and spoke briefly.
"You've got more backbone than most merchants."
The next moment, he vaulted down from his horse. Paying no mind to the bandits, who stood frozen in stunned silence, he strode straight up to Hong-wi. Hong-wi brushed off Ho-in's supporting arm, squared his shoulders, straightened his back, and met him face to face. Not a single word was spoken; a heavy stillness settled over them all. Their eyes locked.
Tung Jugang narrowed his brow.
"By the way—who might you be?"
"We have come to pay our respects to Grand Chieftain Onyan Isiha today."
It was Cha Gyeong-yeon who broke the silence.
"Is that so?"
Tung Jugang's bearing remained gruff and unsoftened. His gaze, studying the strangers carefully, was fierce. After a moment, he spoke slowly.
"I hadn't heard anything about that."
The language spilling from his mouth was a bit stiff, but it was unmistakably Korean. Hong-wi answered him at once in Jurchen.
"You speak Korean?"
"A little."
Tung Jugang gave the short reply, then squinted at him.
"And you⋯⋯ speak our tongue remarkably well. If I hadn't known better, I might never have taken you for a Joseon man. How did you come to learn it?"
"I've come to your land. Is it not only natural to learn your language and speak it?"
That answer seemed to please him, and a thin smile touched Tung Jugang's lips.
"A rare attitude to find in a Joseon man. That's good."
Keeping his eyes fixed on Hong-wi, his face falling into thought, he went on at his own unhurried pace.
"When the Elder rose this morning, he saw in a dream the sight of a bright sun rising. The diviner called it an omen that he would meet a man of great destiny."
The cryptic remark left Hong-wi and his companions exchanging uncertain glances, fidgeting without knowing how to respond. Tung Jugang spoke again.
"I came up on the Elder's orders myself, but I got caught up watching the fight and was delayed. You said you've come to see Elder Onyan Isiha, didn't you?"
"But—you said you didn't know about it⋯⋯."
Hong-wi said slowly. He glanced around, and his gaze found Utai. In the next instant, the thought flickered through his mind that it hardly mattered anymore.
"The Elder is waiting, so we'd best hurry. Come on, let's go."
"⋯⋯And what of these men?"
Until that moment, the bandits had stood rooted to the spot as if nails had been driven through their feet. Only Utai remained calm, arms crossed, watching them without a word. Tung Jugang hitched up his shoulders and answered as if it were nothing.
"They're yours—you caught them. Dispose of them however you like."
At those words, the bandits seemed to wake from a dream. Without any signal or order between them, they threw down their weapons and dropped to their knees, prostrate on the ground.
"We didn't know who we were dealing with—we lashed out in ignorance. Spare us, please!"
At their desperate, tangled pleas for their lives, Hong-wi frowned slightly.
"Why is it that you cannot earn your bread with your own hands, and must instead covet what belongs to others and spill blood for it?"
"It wasn't as if we wanted to live this way."
the squat little Baduri protested. Hong-wi did not answer him, but turned to Utai instead.
"What happened to Iharachi, the friend you spoke of?"
Utai said nothing, only pointed toward Iharachi, who stood bound, his eyes bulging with fury.
"Untie him."
At Hong-wi's word, Baduri and Giahuchuyi scrambled up and hurried over to cut Iharachi's bonds. Perhaps still addled from the blow to his head, Iharachi staggered for a moment—then flew at Utai like an arrow.
"You bastard!"
With a sharp crack, Utai's head snapped back and he toppled sideways into the grass. Sitting there in the brush, he wiped the blood streaming from his nose with his sleeve.
"I feel better already."
"Anyone else would've had his skull caved in for that."
Iharachi looked down at his one-time friend with a tangle of emotions. Hong-wi came closer.
"You wretch! After all my searching, is this the master you ended up serving?"
he shouted, jabbing a finger at Bushuku's fallen corpse. Utai, pinching his nose shut, answered in a low voice.
"If I denied now that he was my master, I couldn't call myself a man."
"How in the world did you come to crawl under the thumb of someone like that?"
"It just⋯⋯ happened. I was working as a porter for a trading caravan when the Kunuma brothers caught us. The caravan master was killed, and the survivors, myself included, turned bandit. As you can see."
"If that's how it was, why didn't you say so?"
"No offense to that young caravan master."
Utai shot Hong-wi a sidelong glance.
"But a Joseon man playing caravan master? It rubbed me the wrong way. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine you were under him."
Utai shrugged his shoulders.
"I've got nothing more to say for myself. I dragged you into that pit—I've got no shame left to beg for my life as your friend."
"You miserable wretch!"
Iharachi spat out a curse.
"How dare you say such a thing? I owe you my life from just now, so⋯⋯."
"Did the knock on the head scramble your brains?"
Utai gave a dry laugh.
"My head's been spinning, but I know this much: you tried to save my neck."
Utai fell silent. Iharachi picked up where he left off.
"So I can't do anything but try to save yours in return. Hey, Utai."
Utai made no answer, only lowered his eyes. Iharachi turned to Hong-wi.
"Take him into your service."
"⋯⋯What nonsense is this?"
Caught completely off guard, Utai flinched. Iharachi nodded firmly.
"Like you said, he may be a Joseon man, but he's a fine one. Haven't I told you that again and again?"
"⋯⋯The man I tried to kill. You've lost your mind⋯⋯."
Utai muttered as if to himself. At those words, Iharachi looked back at Hong-wi and his party, then threw himself flat on the ground.
"My lord. I, Iharachi, stake my life on it: this man's heart led him astray this once, but at his core he is good. I beg you to take him in."
"Rise, Iharachi."
Hong-wi said. He studied Utai for a long moment.
"Have you nothing to say to me?"
"All I can offer is an apology. A man doesn't grovel with excuses."
Utai answered. Hong-wi smiled.
"A man, is it. Does it not trouble you that I'm a Joseon man?"
"If you are a man of such magnanimity that you can set the past aside and take in your enemy, what does a man's birth matter? And I, too, as a man, will never say two different things with one mouth."
Utai bowed his head deeply in respect. Hong-wi found that plainspoken resolve quietly pleasing.
"I see. Then what shall we do with those old comrades of yours?"
"I don't know how you'll take this, but⋯⋯."
Utai turned his gaze toward Bushuku's men.
"⋯⋯Given the chance, these men would not have spent their whole lives as bandits. It was only their master who was rotten. There are some among them who'd prove useful, if you'd take them in, my lord."
"Hmm."
Hong-wi considered for a moment, then nodded.
"I did say I wouldn't ask about the past—so there's no reason I can't. But what if they take thieving notions back into their heads later on?"
"Then take this Utai's head in exchange."
Utai answered without a moment's hesitation. The bandits on their knees could only bow their heads to the ground again and again. Hong-wi accepted it.
"Then it's settled."
Granted Hong-wi's approval, Utai turned around.
"Hey, Giahuchuyi, and Baduri. Up on your feet. You there—yes, you, Artai. Abutai, you too, get up⋯⋯."
The men Utai called rose unsteadily to their feet, still wearing dazed, bewildered expressions.
"These men will be of use. The rest can work as porters if they wish, but let the ones who won't go their own way."
"So be it. Whoever wants to leave may go. Only—no more living off banditry from this day forward."
The bandits simply stared at Hong-wi, gaping like fools. Only after he called out to them a second time did they suddenly come to their senses and scatter in headlong flight.
Tung Jugang, meanwhile, watched the whole affair with evident amusement.
"I'd have thought you'd have no qualms about putting those wretches down."
"If that's the kind of men they are, why must blood be spilled needlessly?"
Hong-wi replied shortly. Tung Jugang grinned.
"Fair enough, I suppose⋯⋯. But tell me—are you all right?"
"I'm fine."
Hong-wi answered the question, breathing slowly and deliberately. In truth, a faint dizziness was creeping over him, and his legs trembled almost imperceptibly. This was the first time he had ever killed a man with his own hands. Ho-in, looking worried, took a step closer, but Hong-wi raised a hand to stop him. He had no wish to show weakness before a stranger.
"Tung Jugang⋯⋯ was it?"
At Hong-wi's words, Tung Jugang answered only with a nod. He studied Hong-wi at leisure, eyes bright with curiosity.
"A moment ago—thank you for the help."
"Ah⋯⋯ it was nothing."
At Hong-wi's gratitude, he gave an indifferent shrug.
"You hardly seemed to need it, anyway. By the way, your name is⋯⋯?"
"They call me Temushi-i."
At Hong-wi's answer, Tung Jugang smiled wryly.
"Joseon men who enter the wilds rarely give their true names."
"Once we've grown close, perhaps we can make proper introductions."
"Maybe so⋯⋯. In any case, let's be off. I'll guide you to the village myself."
Tung Jugang swung up onto his horse. With practiced ease, he led the way down the narrow, treacherous mountain path at an easy pace. It was truly breathtaking horsemanship. Hong-wi turned to his company.
"We follow him."
The party quickened their pace behind Tung Jugang. Before they knew it, the sun was sinking toward the west. Along the way they passed through several secluded, shadowed places. Tung Jugang showed no sign of it, but Cha Gyeong-yeon could feel the gaze of watchers upon them. Probably only one or two.
I don't know what kind of place Anchuuunbugu really is, but it's clearly no settlement that could be overrun easily.
They had gone some way when Tung Jugang, riding ahead, pointed and called out.
"There—that's Anchuuunbugu."
Set atop low, rolling hills, Anchuuunbugu looked to be a settlement of considerable size. In terms of households alone, it could not compare with the Tumut village of Sahalcha or Ban Village that they had seen before—if anything, it was smaller. But the village was protected by walls of packed mud raised atop a stone foundation, laced together with wooden palisades. Compared with the villages they had passed, which could boast nothing more than low wooden fences and bramble thickets—or sometimes not even that—this much could rightly be called a fortress wall.
Hong-wi studied his surroundings carefully. It was truly a fortress gifted by nature itself. The village was sheltered all around by hills and mountains—not so very tall, but rugged in their aspect—the very terrain his party had already fought their way through. And yet within that ring lay broad stretches of tilled fields, and even pastures, narrow though they were. This was ground enough to hold a small town of a thousand souls or more. Above all, unlike the rough, wild villages of the frontier, the peaceful, pastoral air of the place put the whole company at ease.
For a moment, something tightened in a corner of Hong-wi's chest. The peaceful scene before him reminded him, achingly, of the villages of Joseon. Ho-in's expression, too, had drifted somewhere far away.
Tung Jugang spoke again.
"Come, let's go in. But the weapons—you'll have to leave them over there."
He pointed toward the village entrance. There was nothing unusual in the custom, so Hong-wi and his companions consented. As they drew near the gate, two guards armed with spears stepped forward.