Archer's Quest (3 page)

"Archer—" Kevin stopped and tugged on the bill of his cap in frustration. "Wait, I'll be right back."

He raced down the stairs again and fetched the big globe from its place on the living room side table. Back in his room, he put it on his desk and turned it until he found Asia.

"China," he said, tapping the right spot on the globe. He moved his finger. "The ocean. You know the ocean, right?" Then he spun the globe halfway round. "On the other side of the ocean—this is America. And this"—another small turn—"is Dorchester. Here, near this lake."

Archie was looking at the globe so hard he was almost cross-eyed. He started to speak, stopped, shook his head. Hesitantly, he reached out and touched the globe, as if it might bite him. Then he turned it back to Asia and examined the markings closely.

"A map," he said at last. "A round map."

"That's right," Kevin said, nodding.
At last, we're getting somewhere.

"I cannot fathom the mapmaker's reason for making it round," Archie said, "but it is clear he possesses some knowledge. He has drawn China, the land of my birth, as well as the kingdom where I now live, in its proper place." He touched a spot on the globe.

Kevin leaned closer.

Korea. So that was it—Archie lived in Korea.

"And then," Archie continued, touching North America, "a dream world beyond the Great Sea."

Kevin groaned. He seemed to be doing a lot of groaning, but he couldn't help it. Archie was so—so
dense.

"Archer, please," he said. "You know you're not in your own country anymore, right? Everything's different—the glass, the bed—it's a different place. I know this place better than you do, and you're just gonna have to trust me when I tell you that you
can't
walk home."

Archie peered at him closely for a few moments. "I do not know you well enough to trust you fully, but I shall indeed trust you in this instance. Tell me, then: How will I return home? I must go. My people need me."

Kevin shook his head slowly. A plane ticket to Korea probably cost hundreds of dollars, maybe even thousands. He knew without asking that Archie didn't have that kind of money with him. And Kevin's own savings weren't nearly enough—not that he'd give Archie the money anyway. After all, he hardly knew the guy.

Still, it was clear that Archie didn't belong here.

Especially not
here,
in Kevin's bedroom.

Both Kevin and Archie were silent for a long time. Kevin's brain felt like an overheated engine, he was thinking so hard.

This can't be happening. But Archie's real, and so is that broken window.

"Look," Kevin said at last. "There's something going on, and I don't get it. It has to be some kind of—of magic. You're from Korea, but you just ...
appeared
here, out of nowhere. And you're speaking perfect English." He paused, then added slowly, "I'm not sure I believe in magic. But if I did, I'd say that you came here by magic, so you have to go home that way, too."

"There is no doubt that magic is at work," Archie agreed. "I do not fall when I am riding a tiger. This could only be the work of magical spirits. Likewise my ability to speak another tongue—nothing is beyond their power. But what is this 'Korea' you speak of?"

Kevin frowned. "Your kingdom." He pointed to Korea on the globe. "Didn't you say you lived there?"

Archie shook his head. "My kingdom is called Koguryo. I do not know any 'Korea.'"

Koguryo? Maybe it was another way of saying Korea. But Kevin had never heard it before. "Whatever it's called, we have to get you back there somehow," he said.

Magic. What did he know about magic? Almost nothing. He'd seen a live magic show once, at somebody's birthday party. And there were magicians on TV sometimes, and magic stuff happened in books and movies and video games. But none of that seemed real—not the way Archie was real.

"Well," Kevin said at last, "there are magic words, like 'abracadabra' and—and 'Open Sesame.' Maybe if you said one of them, you would end up back in Korea." He couldn't help rolling his eyes—it sounded so stupid, like something a little kid would believe.

"Abba-dabba?" Archie said, raising his eyebrows. "I do not think this is a spirit word. And sesame is a flavoring for food.... Good food may seem like magic, but in reality it is the work of a skilled cook. I do not know much about magic. It is best left in the hands of the spirits, and the few who are trained in such arts."

Kevin held his breath for a second so he wouldn't groan yet again. "So you weren't saying anything special
or—or chanting anything—when you were riding on the tiger."

Archie shook his head. "No. I was up in the mountains, alone. I often go there, to clear my head of troublesome thoughts. It is peaceful, with only the animals for company. There are times when an animal can be a man's best friend. Since my youngest days, as I told you, I have always had a special fondness for animals, and they for me."

Kevin was half listening, but he was also still thinking about magic. An idea hit him—funny, it really did feel like a light bulb had lit up inside his head, just like the comics. "I should look up some stuff about Korean magic," he said. "Maybe there's something that could give us a clue about what we should do."

Archie wrinkled his brow. "You wish to study magic? This is not a desirable occupation for a child. Especially a male child. It is best left to the sorceresses."

"I'm not going to study it for a career," Kevin explained patiently. "Just enough so maybe I can help you get back home."

"Very well then," Archie said with a nod.

Kevin led the way downstairs. At the bottom of the stairwell he flicked on the light switch for the living room.

"
Ai!
" Archie gasped and put his hands over his eyes.
Then he whirled, fled back up the stairs, and turned the corner at the top. The next thing Kevin saw was the tip of an arrow pointing at him from beyond the stairwell wall.

"Yikes!" he squeaked, and instinctively he put his hands up over his head.

"You have one chance," Archie said, his voice cold as an icicle. "I had thought you a friend, but a friend would know that an archer's eyes are precious beyond gold to him. Why did you attempt to blind me?"

"To
blind
you? I didn't, Archer. I only turned on the light. I wasn't trying to blind you—honest," Kevin babbled. "I'll show you again, okay? Don't shoot, please. I'm just going to turn the lights off and on again."

Without taking his eyes from the deadly arrow, Kevin inched toward the light switch, his hands still raised. When he reached the wall with one hand, he started babbling again. "See? Off, on, off, on. This little switch controls the lights. There are wires in the wall, and they go up to the ceiling and connect with those lights over the sofa."

To his great relief, he saw the arrow lowered, followed by the reappearance of Archie at the top of the stairs.
I was right,
Kevin thought as his heart left his throat and returned to his chest.
Wherever he comes from, there's no electricity.

With Archie at his side, he walked through the living
room. There were tons of things Archie could have asked about—the stereo, the TV set, even the wall clock. He was looking around wildly, but then he seemed to go into shock. His face went completely blank, and he pressed his lips together.
It's all too much for him—he doesn't even know where to start asking.

In the den, Kevin dragged an armchair next to the desk so Archie could sit and watch. Then he booted up the computer. While he waited, it came to him all at once—how he could explain the computer.

"I know you don't think magic is suitable for ... for kids like me," he said. "But here in America, lots of kids get a little training in magic." He touched the monitor. "This is sort of a magic box. It lets me talk to people who aren't here."

Archie was listening with an expression of great interest. "People who are not with you—like the spirits. You talk to the spirits through this box."

Kevin couldn't help grinning. "That's right. The spirits of the Internet." The computer beeped its readiness. "I'll show you."

He clicked on the Internet connection and typed
Korean magic
into the search-engine box. "I'm asking if the—the spirits know anything about Korean magic," he explained.

The screen flashed and three listings came up. All three were for stores selling magicians' equipment in
Korea. Kevin shook his head. "No good. This isn't what we need."

Archie frowned. "I think these are not very powerful spirits, if they know nothing of magic."

"That's not it," Kevin said. "They're really powerful. It's just that I might have to ask them in a different way."

"You asked without proper respect?"

"Er, sort of. Not exactly."

Archie looked stern. "You must apologize. It is very bad luck to anger the spirits."

It was easier just to agree with him. "Okay, I'm apologizing now," Kevin said hastily. He connected to the local library and typed in
Korean magic
again. A lot of listings for
Korean
came up, but nothing about magic.

"Have they accepted your apology?" Archie asked, sounding worried.

Kevin scrolled quickly down the list. "Yes, it's fine," he said absently. Book after book about Korean history—there had to be something about magic somewhere.

History.

Kevin frowned and stopped scrolling. Could it be possible...? No, there was no way.... Then again, a strange man had suddenly appeared in his bedroom. Anything was possible.

He turned to look at Archie. "What did you say your name was? Your real name. Um, what I mean is, I
would like permission to talk to the spirits using your real name."

Archie nodded once and sat up straighten 'Among my people I am known as Chu-mong," he said proudly.

Kevin went back to the search engine. His fingers tingled with anticipation as he typed in
Chu-mong.

Don't get your hopes up—there probably won't be anything.

Eleven hits.

They're probably just phone-book listings or something like that.

Kevin clicked on the first listing. It was an entry on ancient Korean history. He skimmed the page until he saw the name
Chu-mong.

The paragraph said that Chu-mong was a prince whose father had tried to kill him.

"Wow," Kevin said. "That's you—you're right there."

Archie frowned and leaned forward. "I am there? Do not be foolish. I am
here,
not
there.
"

Kevin gritted his teeth and counted to five before he spoke. "I didn't mean
you
—I meant your
name.
The—um, the spirits know you."

"Of course." Archie glared, looking almost insulted.

Kevin resisted the urge to shake his head and kept reading. "...
born in 55
B.C.
...founded the Koguryo kingdom in 37
B.C....
"

"
B.C
?" Kevin whispered. He looked back and forth between the screen and Archie, his eyes wide.

Archie wasn't just from Korea.

He was from the past.

Kevin was surprised that he wasn't more surprised. Well, not exactly—of course it was incredible. Unbelievable, even. But it wasn't any more unbelievable than Archie showing up in the first place.

"Well?" Archie said after a few moments. "Do the spirits tell you anything more?"

Kevin read the rest of the paragraph. "It says here that you became king and changed your name to Tongmyong, and founded a kingdom—Koguryo." He glanced at Archie's simple white clothes. Not very kinglike. He shrugged. Maybe that was what kings wore in those days.

Archie sucked in his breath with a hissing sound and looked stern again. "The spirits have revealed what I did not wish to tell you," he said. "Yes. I took the name Tongmyong when I became king. But when I am out among the people, I prefer to use the name Chu-mong. Just as I wear simple dress when I am not in court ceremony. If you disclose my royal identity to anyone who is not a friend, I will put an arrow through his heart—and yours."

Kevin gulped. Archie was serious about this arrow stuff. "I won't tell anyone, honest," he said.

Archie thrust his chin out toward the computer. "Are these spirits good or evil?"

Kevin hesitated. "It's a university website. They're usually pretty reliable."

Archie's face cleared. "All is well, then. A good spirit would not have told you my royal name without some greater purpose."

The article went on to say that Koguryo was one of the ancient kingdoms that eventually became Korea hundreds of years after Archie's time. That explained why Archie had never heard of Korea.

Clicking on the other websites one by one, Kevin discovered that four were for different Chu-mongs, but six were about Archie. They all said pretty much the same thing—just a sentence or two about how he had founded Koguryo.

Kevin sighed. He remembered what Mrs. Morris said at least once a week in technology class. "The Internet is nothing but a tool," she'd say. "It won't do your thinking for you."

He needed to know more. He needed to talk to somebody. Somebody who knew a lot about Korea—and would let him ask questions.

Not his parents. They'd been born here in America,
and they hardly ever talked about Korea. If they did, it was modern stuff, things in the news—not what he needed to know.

Maybe Ah-jee and Ah-mee could help him. Ah-jee and Ah-mee were his grandparents—his dad's parents. When Kevin was a baby, he hadn't been able to say "Har-abuji," the Korean word for "grandfather." He'd said "Ah-jee" instead, and it had stuck. Same with his grandma; instead of "Halmoni," Kevin called her "Ah-mee."

Ah-jee and Ah-mee lived in Manley, about an hour and a half away by car. They'd lived there for years, but they were from Korea. They ate Korean food almost every day, and had some Korean art in their house. Maybe they knew something about olden times.