The Dragon Egg Princess Read online

  Dedication

  To all the kids who wish they could see a real dragon.

  Me too.

  Map

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Map

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Books by Ellen Oh

  Back Ad

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Chapter 1

  KOKO GAZED OUT into the garden, watching the delicate movements of a butterfly flutter by. The sun was setting in a dazzling display of pink and purple radiance, and her parents were tied up in tedious court proceedings. Koko just wanted to run outside and play with the garden gnomes. They came alive only at night and would be ripe for fivestone, their favorite game. Koko would never have guessed that gnomes, with their short arms and stubby hands, would be so good at tossing the stone and snatching up the other four so quickly.

  The little princess grabbed her five colorful stones and put them in her pocket. This must have been the hundredth set of fivestones that she’d had to paint. Gnomes loved to steal them after the games were over, even when she won. And they were notorious cheats; one would yank at her long blue-black locks or pinch her so hard that her golden skin would turn an angry red, while the other would make off with her fivestones. But still, they were a lot more fun than her lessons.

  With a quick glance at her dozing tutor, Koko tiptoed out of the room and into the garden. She knew she wasn’t supposed to stray from her tutor’s side, but history was so boring, and it was so easy to cast a small sleeping spell.

  Outside, she could see the gray outlines of the gnomes standing motionless under the rays of the setting sun. It wasn’t dark enough for them to awaken. Koko sighed and dropped down onto the fragrant grass. She sat staring at the hole in the knee of her favorite black pants. With a twirling finger she chanted the sewing spell that she’d hear the maids use when they were working.

  No needle no thread.

  No needle no thread.

  Bind together with magic instead.

  The hole disappeared without any evidence it ever existed. Koko smiled proudly. She was a lot faster than any of the maids.

  Something fluttered right by her nose, a vision of sparkling silvery light tinted with flecks of green. Koko blinked and rubbed her eyes. It was the most beautiful butterfly she’d ever seen. The wings looked like they were studded with diamonds and emeralds and laced with silver netting. She ran after it, trying to catch it gently with her hands. But the butterfly fluttered just slightly out of reach.

  It flew in a slow but rambling course through the garden and out the palace gates. It took her past a pair of sleeping sentries and deep into the forest, where gradually the lights of the palace disappeared in the darkness of the woods. But Koko was unaware of her surroundings as she followed the brightly glowing butterfly away from her home.

  A sudden loud snapping sound jolted Koko out of her spell, and she gazed around, uncertain as to her whereabouts. The darkness was oppressive, and the little girl felt fear clench at her chest as she looked all around her. Just then, the butterfly flew close and perched carefully on Koko’s shoulder, as if it could sense her fright. Koko crowed with delight to see how close the beautiful creature was. As she raised her hand to capture it, the butterfly flew gently ahead, and Koko was captivated once again.

  She followed the butterfly until it stopped in the middle of a clearing and perched on the large knot of a fallen tree covered in moss. The butterfly’s beautiful wings fluttered ever so slowly. Koko sat next to the butterfly, staring at its delicate wings. Now she could see that they weren’t jewel studded. Instead, small drops of dew seemed to be caught up all along the outline of its wings, which were shot through with silvery veins like cobwebs. It was still the most beautiful thing Koko had ever seen. She wanted to touch it. She wanted to hold it in her hands.

  As she reached for the butterfly, something tapped on her leg.

  Koko looked down and gasped. Hundreds of tiny green creatures surrounded her. For a moment, she thought they were plants, but as she looked closer, she saw they had alien faces and small leaf-shaped hands with which they were now poking her gently. Koko sat absolutely still, too scared to scream or move. The little creatures pressed closer, whispering in a strange little language that sounded like the rustling of leaves.

  “Who are you? What do you want?” Koko asked, trying not to cry.

  One small creature came closer, a tiny humming sound emanating from it, almost like the purr of a kitten. In its little leaf hand, it held a small orange-colored persimmon. It climbed onto Koko’s lap and held out the tiny fruit. With a shaking hand, Koko accepted.

  “Thank you,” she said. Looking down at the fruit, she found it was a perfectly formed persimmon, except that it was no bigger than a grape.

  The creature purred again. It pantomimed lifting its hand to its small mouth. Koko didn’t want to offend it, but she’d been taught to be careful of the unknown. How did she know that the fruit wasn’t poisonous? How did she know that these creatures weren’t dangerous? The princess cautiously observed the tiny green folk surrounding her. Suddenly she knew with absolute certainty that they would never hurt her. She popped the fruit into her mouth and immediately, a sweet explosion of flavor overwhelmed her.

  “Oh my goodness!” Koko smiled. “That was delicious! May I have some more, please?”

  Excited, several of the creatures pressed more fruit into her hands, and Koko felt her fear dissipate as she sat and played with her new friends. Before long, she was chatting with them and learning their strange whispering language. She learned that they were called namushin, spirits of the Kidahara trees, and that they were so happy she was safely back home with them.

  “But this is not my home,” Koko replied in confusion. “I’ve never been here before.”

  The namushin rushed to tell her a wondrous story about a time long, long ago, when dragons soared the skies above them and magical creatures roamed the lands in peace.

  Hours passed but Koko knew nothing of time. She never heard the frantic cries of her parents as they searched for her. She didn’t hear the baying of the search dogs that circled the perimeter but could never quite find her. Secure in the company of her new friends, the princess followed the namushin into the hollow of an ancient tree and disappeared.

  Chapter 2

  Five years later . . .

  “THE KING CANNOT be allowed to stand in the way of progress anymore! The railway must be built and connect us to our neighbors so that we can trade without fear of bandits and monsters. And the ban on mining in Kidahara Wilderness must be removed if the kingdom of Joson is to survive as a nation!”

  Jiho Park sat and listened as the angry man with the northern accent and funny rounded hat yelled at the townspeople. It was market day, so the village was more crowded than usual. The angry man had driven into Hanoe village early that morning in an ornate horseless carriage from the north. The car
riage had been enhanced by magic and included an entourage of red-uniformed soldiers who were not citizens of Joson. He said he was the voice of the people, but he called himself Lord Fairfax and dressed in ostentatious fashion, unusual for their kingdom. Tight jacket, tighter pants, and some silken thing that was elaborately tied around his neck. He stood out against the townspeople’s loose jackets and trousers. The biggest tip-off was his sword. Swinging awkwardly against his hip, it was encrusted in jewels and fancier than any killing weapon had a right to be. Lord Fairfax was no soldier, that’s for sure. He was just a glorified mouthpiece, and there was only one person in the entire kingdom he could be working for.

  “If the king is not willing to do what is right for his people, then I fear the time may have come for him to step down and allow his brother, Prince Roku, to rule in his place.”

  Jiho snorted. Prince Roku was King Suri’s younger half brother, the half being of Orion blood. He’d spent most of his childhood growing up in the kingdom north of Joson. His mother was a niece of the Orion king. Roku returned after her death five years ago to be an adviser in foreign affairs to King Suri. But everyone could see that what he really wanted was the throne.

  “That’s treason,” someone muttered in the crowd. Even with the shocked murmurs, no one made a move against the loudmouthed lord. It was a sign of how bad the times were that such treason could be stated in public with no fear of any reprisals.

  “But what of Princess Koko?” a hesitant voice asked. Jiho couldn’t see who it was but guessed that it was the innkeeper’s wife, who was a staunch royal supporter and still kept a portrait of the missing princess in her foyer. “If the train tracks are built and the Kidahara Wilderness mined, we may never see the princess again.”

  “Don’t be stupid,” Lord Fairfax sneered. “The princess is dead. She’s been dead for five years. The king and queen have been living on a foolish hope that the creatures of the forest might one day return her.”

  He laughed derisively. “And this is exactly why we need a new, modern-thinking king like Prince Roku. Not one who still believes in the old stories, like the namushin.”

  Jiho smirked as he heard the angry response of the crowd. This close to the Kidahara, there was not one villager who didn’t believe in the namushin, the tree spirits of the Kidahara. There were plenty of shrines to the namushin that dotted the entire Joson countryside. They were the most popular of all the magical creatures, because they were known to be peaceful and gentle and to help those who were lost in the Kidahara find their way out. The tree spirits were connected to all the trees of the Kidahara and knew all that was happening in their world. It was considered bad luck to talk ill of the namushin.

  Not recognizing the mood of his audience, the loudmouth continued to spout his propaganda.

  “We must not allow sentiment to stop us from the future potential of our country. Progress is the only way we will survive. The advanced technology of the other kingdoms, like Orion, puts our civilization to shame! The Botan bandits have increased their brazen thievery, and the Kidahara monsters have isolated us from the rest of the world. Now we must fight and take back what is rightfully ours!”

  This time there was an answering murmur of agreement from some of the men, which was louder than the quieter pleas to support the royals. Jiho couldn’t blame them. The last few years had been rough, and people were suffering. Food was scarce and work hard to come by. Something had to change.

  “Starting tomorrow morning, our work crews will clear the Kidahara forest so that we can start to build the railway. We will work from Hanoe all the way to the border between Joson and Orion, where the railway companies are waiting to begin laying down the tracks. But they won’t do it unless they can be assured that the tracks will lead somewhere. Specifically, here to Hanoe. Your village has been chosen to be the most important railroad station. A transport hub for all of Joson. Your economy will be revitalized and Hanoe will become the most influential village in all of Joson. More important than even the capital.”

  The first time the railway tried to put down tracks, they didn’t even make it a day when the entire team of workers vanished without a trace. This time, the Orion men were starting from within the kingdom and working their way out. Jiho didn’t see what difference it made; they would still have to go through Kidahara. And the forest didn’t like humans.

  “We need your help. We need local Hanoe men to go with our rail party and show them the way through the forest.” Lord Loudmouth was finally getting to the heart of his speech. “You will be well compensated for your work. Ten pieces of silver per day.”

  The muttering of the crowd turned into surprise. Ten pieces of silver a day was a lot of money. Even Jiho found himself tempted by the offer. But not enough to venture into the Kidahara.

  “Foolish men. They know not what they will unleash.”

  Jiho turned around to find the old lady monk, Yoon, squatting by his side.

  “Where’d you come from?” he asked. He was always surprised at how stealthy the monk could be. “And what do you mean by that?”

  Yoon straightened up and lowered her straw hat over her forehead, but not before Jiho caught the pitying look she gave him from her sharp green eyes. “Your father is one of the smartest rangers I know,” the monk said. “He taught you to respect the forest.”

  A vision of his father filled Jiho’s mind for a moment. He was a big, burly man with a shock of thick black hair that surrounded his serious face. It was a happier time when his father was still around, before his mother died.

  Jiho looked away in bitter anger. “Don’t talk about my father. He deserted us.”

  The monk shook her head and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “No, he didn’t. The forest took him. For what reason, we don’t know.”

  Furious, Jiho shook off her hand. “You’re wrong. My father packed a bag and walked away. No explanation. The forest didn’t take him. He abandoned us. Plain and simple.”

  “Nothing is ever that simple, my friend. Especially when it comes to this forest.” She gestured to where the border of the Kidahara Wilderness ran past the eastern boundaries of the village.

  Jiho shrugged. “Welcome to the story of my life.”

  “You are a Park,” the monk replied. “You come from a long line of rangers. You know the dangers of the forest. The trees of the Kidahara are not like others. They are special. Your father knew which were safe and which would unleash the dark monsters. These men, with their fancy weapons and silly gadgets, know nothing.”

  Bitterness swelled within him. His father knew the Kidahara better than any person in the kingdom. And he had chosen it over his family. Jiho didn’t want to hear about his father anymore.

  “Perhaps it’s time to burn down the forest and get rid of the monsters once and for all,” he said. “After all, it’s the Kidahara that keeps us from advanced technology. Even our closer neighbors have become modernized and can use small objects to talk over long distances.”

  “Modern witchcraft will never last! No, child, nothing stops the forest,” Yoon replied. “You know that. Don’t listen to these men. We can’t go against the Kidahara. It always wins.”

  Jiho hunched his shoulders. Picking up his knapsack of traded items, he started walking home.

  “Dark times are coming, and the Kidahara knows,” the monk yelled after him. “Remember, you’re a ranger’s son. When you are in the forest, you must think like your father.”

  Jiho snorted. He might be a ranger’s son, but he hated the Kidahara. Jiho didn’t want to learn about the forest and fighting off the more dangerous monsters. He never wanted to be a ranger. Jiho’s talent was not in fighting or tracking, but in making things. Even though he was only fourteen years old, his stone arrowheads were top sellers at the marketplace. And it was his carving skills that kept his family from starving. Today, he’d traded his whole stock of arrowheads for a bag of rice and other badly needed supplies.

  Jiho loved his uncle and aunt Lee and
did everything he could to help around the farm. Not for fear of being kicked out. His uncle and aunt were the kindest and most loving people he knew. Not having any children themselves, they’d always doted on Jiho and his little sisters. Aunt Lee was his mother’s older sister. When Jiho’s mother died after giving birth to his youngest sister, it was Aunt Lee who came and took care of the baby. It was Uncle Lee who’d brought food and took care of them while Jiho’s father wandered the forest alone. And five years ago, when Jiho’s father packed a bag, along with his heavy walking stick, and walked out the door without a word, it was his uncle and aunt who’d come to pick them up and bring them to their new home.

  This was not an easy thing for them to do, Jiho knew. Generations of Parks had lived for centuries on their homestead at the outskirts of the Kidahara. Their estate was long considered a magical void, because the Parks were the only people in Joson that nullified magic. Having Jiho and his sisters on the farm meant that the Lees couldn’t use any of the magic spells to help them manage the work.

  Which was why Jiho worked so hard. The past few years had been especially difficult on all the farms. But it hit theirs the hardest. His uncle’s farm bordered too close to the Kidahara. With several seasons of poor harvests, their supplies were low. Jiho knew it was because of their presence that his uncle couldn’t use growing spells or repelling spells. And in the house, his aunt couldn’t even use a simple washing spell because of his sisters. He could feel how burdensome their presence was, and yet his uncle and aunt never complained.

  To make up for the inconvenience of housing and caring for them, Jiho woke up early every morning to help his uncle around the farm and then carved his treasures into the wee hours of the night to make sure there would always be rice in his little sisters’ bowls. But he worried that it wasn’t enough.

  As he walked out of town, he kept a wary eye on the forest boundary. He hated the forest with a passion. It was still daylight, but one never knew what Kidahara creatures might be lurking in the shadows.