Chapter 6: The Elder's Blade
Atukai spoke up.
"There's no need for you to step in. Really."
But Jin-cheol ignored him, fiddling with something in front of the campfire on the ground. Scattered around him were small bows and arrows used by the Kampoeni, along with sticks that could be spears or just rods. The other Kampoeni had scraped together whatever passed for weapons in the village.
"My worry right now is whether the kid's even still alive."
Jin-cheol said it without lifting his head, his hands moving steadily. Atukai let out a sigh.
"...Olrogs love delicacies. Dambha would be a rare treat for them. They're probably planning to cook him up in the best way possible. My guess is they'll put off killing him until the last minute to keep him fresh."
"Even so, he won't make it through the night, right?"
"He should hold out until the moon rises..."
Jin-cheol looked up. Through the dense bamboo houses and swaying bridges, past the thick canopy of leaves, he saw the early evening sky darkening to a deep indigo.
"Gotta hurry, then."
His hands sped up. He sliced arrowheads' strings, sealed them with pine resin—the process flew by. In Atukai's eyes, several flimsy bows under his hands merged into a thick wooden club of a bow.
"You're not planning to draw that, are you?"
"It's crude, but the bowstave turned out sturdier than I thought. My real concern is how many arrows it'll fire before it breaks."
Jin-cheol's hands bent the thick wooden club, stringing the bowstring. He drew the completed bow wide once, and Atukai saw the bow and string humming with a sharp ziiing.
"The bowstave's sturdy...?"
Jin-cheol released the bow to its original shape and eyed the arrows scattered on the ground. Then he picked up a short spear nearby.
"Isn't that a spear?"
"Planning to split the shaft first, then peel feathers from these arrows and attach them. Not sure if it'll fly straight."
His hands moved fast and precise. The spear shaft, too thin for his grip, split lengthwise under the stone arrowheads, becoming slender, long arrow shafts. The original arrow fletchings were quickly dismantled and aligned at the new shafts' ends.
Atukai watched in admiration.
"You've got some incredible handiwork."
"After filling out my active duty and right before demob, I got drafted again. Spend a few years rotting in the field, and your skills improve whether you like it or not. Especially up north—running for your life means supplies run short, so you fix and patch everything by hand."
"Demob? Drafted?"
Atukai tilted his head, not understanding. In moments like this, he didn't seem much different from Tobi. Jin-cheol thought that as he sorted the finished bow and arrows. He had no idea how useful these makeshift weapons would be against the Olrogs, but they beat going in empty-handed.
Atukai stared blankly at Jin-cheol as he stood.
"You're really going to..."
Jin-cheol just grinned silently, adjusting his bow and gear. Once he finished straightening his simple clothes, he'd bolt into the forest. Atukai sighed again, a complex mix of gratitude, fear, helplessness, and old sorrow in that breath. The little elder moved his hand at the end of it.
"...Fine. Then this cowardly, wretched old man has only one thing to give you."
"Pardon?"
Muttering something cryptic, Atukai drew something from his waist. It was a small, furry hand gripping a fairly large, thick object—half ivory white, half black, its surface etched with faint, intricate patterns for grip, rough to the touch. Overall, it looked like some kind of handle.
"What's this?"
Atukai answered by grasping the handle with both hands and holding it upright before him. With a clear ching, a long blade sprang from one end of the black-and-white handle.
"Whoa."
Jin-cheol's eyes widened at the extending blade. Handle length about one-and-a-half fists by his measure, blade about one arm—roughly 70 or 80 cm.
"Take it. It's yours now."
"This? Really?"
Atukai held out the gleaming white blade on both palms.
"It's an artifact we've kept in the village for ages. No handed-down name, so call it whatever you like. It's all we have to give a warrior stepping up for us."
"You sure? I take anything offered without refusing."
"That's why I'm giving it. My arms are getting tired—take it quick."
Jin-cheol took the sword. The black-and-white handle fit perfectly in his palm. His face faintly reflected on the near-pure white blade.
"It's incredibly light."
"And tough. We've butchered big beasts with it—never even chipped a tooth on bone."
"...It was a butchering knife?"
Atukai just shrugged at Jin-cheol's dubious question. Fiddling with the handle, Jin-cheol felt a click where his thumb rested. Pressing it, the blade slid back with a shring, retracting into the handle.
"The lengths don't match... How does it do that?"
"If we knew, it wouldn't be an artifact. Can you see Etemen's Voice and figure out how it works?"
"Got it."
Either goddamn mysterious magic or super-science beyond comprehension. Either way, Jin-cheol couldn't wrap his head around it now. He tucked the mysterious sword handle into his belt. With a ranged weapon and now something for close quarters, he felt more secure. Though a proper rifle would have been ideal.
As Jin-cheol finished arming up and moved to go, an urgent voice called from above.
"Wait! Waaait!"
Jin-cheol and Atukai looked toward the stairs. Tobi and Chakai came rushing down, bows and short spears in hand. Shockingly, they had dagger sheaths at their waists and crude armor pieced from thick leather scraps.
"What are you kids doing?!"
Atukai blocked their path, instantly grasping the situation. But Tobi panted proudly.
"Chakai knows the way! Right?"
"Y-yeah! I-I know it! We can get there quick...!"
"You kids!"
Atukai looked dizzy. But Tobi's face was set, and even frightened Chakai showed no sign of backing down. Neither had eyes that words alone could sway. Jin-cheol watched the three Kampoeni with interest from behind.
After a brief silence, Atukai, lips working soundlessly, suddenly whipped around to Jin-cheol. Jin-cheol met his gaze steadily, offering no words or gestures.
"...All right. Go. Help Jin-cheol rescue Dambha."
Atukai finally closed his eyes tight and said it. Tobi and Chakai beamed and scurried to Jin-cheol's side. He gave a wry smile. Did these furry kids even grasp what they were rushing into?
"At least we've got guides now."
"I'll lead! I still remember the path!"
Chakai darted ahead. Tobi followed. Before trailing them, Jin-cheol looked up. He saw the massive trees the Kampoeni called the Mother Tree, bamboo houses clinging like hives to their trunks. And above, countless eyes gazing down.
The Kampoeni watched him. The forest had darkened, so only the torches' unsteady flames lit their faces—simple faces flickering with shadows. Were those flickers from the torches, or the deep-seated anxiety and fear in their bones? Impossible to tell.
Jin-cheol gazed up a moment, then silently turned and followed the two Kampoeni ahead. From the trees above, countless Kampoeni watched his departing back; from below, Elder Atukai did too.
He ventured into the primeval forest's darkness, while they stayed under bright torches and moonlight. Yet somehow, it felt like Jin-cheol headed toward the light. His silhouette seemed to sharpen the deeper it sank into shadow.
All the Kampoeni there felt it.
*
Jin-cheol spoke.
"You remember the smell?"
Chakai nodded. The kid had been advancing steadily, then paused to sniff the dirt and grass, nose twitching.
"Can't spot tracks by eye in this dark. Can't light torches either."
"True enough..."
Jin-cheol replied, but scanned around anyway. Despite his words, reading the surroundings wasn't hard. Even in the gloom, he distinguished grass, trees, fallen leaves, vines, rotting trunks. Strange. He knew his night vision wasn't this good. The moonlight wasn't strong, and the dense canopy made the forest floor pitch black anyway.
But stranger still: since entering the woods, not just his sight, but all his senses sharpened more and more. Even in daylight, he doubted he'd perceive surroundings this clearly.
"This way."
Chakai, after sniffing, moved again. Jin-cheol followed slowly, noting the oddity of his senses.
"Hold up!"
Tobi whispered low, grabbing them. Jin-cheol instinctively crouched, right hand nocking an arrow. He swept the area quick—no one but them.
"What?"
Tobi didn't answer, closing his eyes and sniffing the air. Leading Chakai did the same.
Tobi opened his eyes and whispered.
"Smells delicious!"
"Delicious?"
Even in the dark, Tobi's eyes sparkled.
"Olrogs' pot. The smell from what they're boiling. But no blood smell! Dambha's still alive!"
Just then, Jin-cheol caught a faint scent teasing his nose. Faint, but mouthwateringly savory for some reason.
"I smell it too. Can we track by this?"
"Jin-cheol smells it too? But you're not Kampoeni, how..."
Chakai muttered in surprise, licking his nose. Jin-cheol figured the dog-like race took pride in their noses. Tobi answered instead.
"Of course! This way!"
The two furries and ex-soldier moved through the dark. As they broke into a run, Tobi and Chakai sometimes went on all fours, dashing through the midnight primeval forest like wild dogs living in the shadows.
And Jin-cheol was their master.
Dense underbrush and hidden obstacles in the dark blocked his path, but running with the two Kampoeni, his speed never slowed. If anything, it accelerated.
Deep into the forest, racing like across a plain. Jin-cheol realized he was climbing a steep hill. Then his view opened—the canopy parted.
"Rock hill."
Trees gave way to moonlit blue rocks. Jin-cheol scanned, then swiftly climbed. The rocks seemed made for it.
Tobi and Chakai, following slower, panted to a halt instead.
"Out... of... breath... Jin-cheol..."
"Hah... haaah... gonna die..."
Leaving the heaving pair, Jin-cheol crested the rock, kneeling on one knee to survey quietly. The height gave a full view. Mostly leaves and branches, but his eyes swept clearly, unblinking.
Then his eyes widened.
"Found them."
A red glow—not moonlight or starlight—lit branches and leaves below. Smoke rose too—obvious campfire. Jin-cheol sprang up, glaring.
The fire burned in a rare clearing amid the forest. Unobstructed, he saw the blaze, pot atop it, three burly brutes, and Dambha bound and slumped in the corner.
"You the Olrogs?"
The brutes looked monstrous. Hulking builds and muscles screamed threat. Bald heads with narrow foreheads, low crowns, bizarre. Brow ridges and protruding mouths made them ape-like more than human. Big-nosed, bald gorillas.
Without pants and leather straps barely covering them, they'd pass for primitives. But their skin color screamed different: deep red like smeared rust, glowing in firelight—no, their natural hue.
Jin-cheol raised his bow, nocking an arrow. But he couldn't draw. The distance to the fire from his rock hill was farther than expected. Doubt it'd reach, or hit true.
Then Tobi and Chakai clambered up, grunting.
"Jin-cheol? Find something?"
"There. Campfire, three Olrogs, Dambha."
"Where, where?"
The two craned necks, squinting the direction he pointed. They saw only reddish glow, vague shapes, rising smoke.
"You see it from there, Jin-cheol?"
"I'm tall."
"Uh, it's not... about height..."
Tobi meant distinguishing the distant fire and figures at night. But instead of explaining his sharpened senses, Jin-cheol grabbed them firmly.
"I need your help."
"Anything. What?"
"Rescue your friend first. Blind rush might hurt Dambha."
"What're we doing?"
Jin-cheol eyed their anxious, excited faces, then grinned.
*
A pot-lid-sized hand lifted the real iron pot lid. It diced greens with a small knife, dropping them in. Plop-plop, bubbling warmly.
The hand drew a ladle from its belt, stirring. Its owner sipped broth amid rising steam.
"Grrooh... Heh heh heh heh!"
The Olrog chuckled low in satisfaction. The other two crowded, peeking. Ladle Olrog shoved them roughly.
"$!#!@! Get lost!"
Bound and slumped in the corner, Dambha shuddered at the beastly growl. He caught some words, but most garbled—vocal difference or bad speech?
"Hing..."
Dambha curled tight, fighting tears, hoping smallness might spare him as uneatable. He never expected village rescue—Olrogs too huge.
But that hope betrayed him. Ladle Olrog turned, firelit face grinning grotesquely.
"Eek!"
"Heh heh heh. !@#!@$. Tasty one."
Tears spilled from Dambha's eyes.
"P-please... don't eat me..."
"Don't eat?"
"Y-yes..."
"Krah hah hah ha!"
Ladle Olrog's roar echoed, others joining. Forest-shaking laughter.
Then abruptly—silence. Ladle Olrog glared coldly.
"No."
"Wh-why...?"
"Hungry."
He yanked his small knife, stepping closer. Dambha froze at the sharp blade.
Then—rustle. Stranger sound in the clearing. Olrogs' eyes snapped to it.
A man strode in, crossing shadow and torchlight boundary without hesitation.
It was Jin-cheol.
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Author's Note: The illustration is of an Olrog.