Crane (23 page)

Hok felt the walls, floor, and even the air around her vibrate from the crowd's chanting. Tsung jumped onto the top of the narrow metal railing in front of the Emperor's table and balanced there for several moments. Hok watched him tense every muscle in his body until he, too, began to vibrate.

With a vicious snarl, Tsung hurled himself into the pit, somersaulting twice before landing on the pit's brick floor in a flawless single roll. The cheers of the crowd were deafening as General Tsung popped onto his feet and turned to face Hok.

“So, we meet again?” Tsung purred. “Welcome to my home away from home. I missed you after our little encounter at the prison.”

Hok's eyes narrowed. She took a step back, and the crowd began to boo.

“Tell me, what do you think of the present Tonglong just gave me?” Tsung asked. He reached into the collar of his robe and pulled out a tiny green object on a silk thread. It was her jade crane!

Hok took a step toward him, then stopped. What was she thinking?

After her step forward, the crowd began to cheer again.

“Make the crowd happy,” Tsung said. “Give the people what they want. Come and get your trinket.”

Hok didn't know what to do. She started to glance up at Seh, then thought better of it.

Tsung must have been following her eyes. He looked up at Seh, then back at her.

“We've been watching you and the other two since
you first stepped into the fight club entrance line hours ago,” Tsung said. “What do you take us for, fools?”

Hok's heart sank. She should have known better.

“We already have the round eye,” Tsung purred. “It was stupid of him to go to the bettors’ table alone.”

Hok's mouth dropped open.

“The boy up there with the silly hat is your brother Seh, isn't he?” Tsung asked. “I remember him from an encounter outside the walls of the destroyed Shaolin Temple. I suggest you say goodbye to him now. Like you and the round eye, he will not be leaving here alive.”

Hok twitched. She risked a glance up at Seh, and Tsung lunged at her throat.

Hok was ready. She had a feeling Tsung was trying to distract her. She hopped to one side, flattening herself against the pit's circular wall. Tsung leaped straight past, narrowly missing her. Hok knew he wouldn't miss again. She needed a plan to fight a leopard on the ground.

With her back still to the wall, Hok felt the coarse, irregular bricks digging into her shoulder blades. She got an idea.

Hok glanced across the pit and ran as fast as she could toward the two guards watching the action from the tunnel entrance. The guards scrambled to close the door. Hok had no intention of attempting to run into the tunnel; she simply wanted Tsung to think that was her intention and follow her.

Tsung did follow her, with amazing speed.

As Hok reached the tunnel door, it closed completely. Still running full speed, she veered to the right and jumped into the air, straight at the rough bricks surrounding the doorway. Hok stuck her right foot out in front of her, curled back her toes, and hit the irregular wall at full speed with that single foot. She bent her right knee to absorb the energy of the impact, then released the energy back toward the wall by straightening her leg like a tightly coiled spring. Hok sailed backward high into the air with her arms spread wide, while Tsung was still coming toward her, low to the ground.

Hok twisted around in mid-air and lashed out with a bony elbow. It connected with Tsung's forehead, directly over his left eyebrow. This was the exact spot Hok was aiming for. She knew that a person's face is rich with numerous blood vessels that pass between thick-boned skull and parchment-thin skin. Her powerful blow split the skin wide open. Blood poured into Tsung's eye, making it impossible to see out of.

One eye down, one to go. Hok floated to the ground beyond Tsung and turned to face him.

Tsung wiped his brow with his sleeve, but it made no difference. Before he could blink twice, his eye was flooded with crimson again.

Tsung roared. So did the crowd. Some of them cheered, while others booed.

Hok chanced a glance in Seh's direction and saw that he was hunched over, facing the lowest rung on the railing. The bulge around his midsection had disappeared.
Seh was securing the rope to the bottom of the railing!

Hok glanced back at Tsung, and Tsung sprang.

Hok scuttled sideways, narrowly avoiding Tsung's grasp. She zigged and zagged her way to the opposite side of the circular pit, and when she reached the far wall she went airborne again. This time, she hit the irregular bricks with her left foot and attempted the same maneuver, twisting in mid-air.

Tsung didn't fall for it again. As Hok swung her elbow at his other eye, Tsung reached up and took hold of Hok's arm, pulling her from the sky.

Hok maintained her balance and managed to hit the ground feetfirst. She threw herself powerfully to the ground and her arm slipped free of Tsung's grasp.

Before Tsung could pounce on her, Hok hopped back to her feet and scurried across the pit once again. She realized that Tsung hadn't managed to lock on to her arm, which meant that he might be having trouble with his depth perception. She knew that poor depth perception often came with seeing with only one eye. That gave her another idea.

When Hok reached the pit wall, Tsung was on her heels. She leaped at the wall as she had twice already, except this time she hit the bricks with two feet and redirected her energy into a powerful backflip high over Tsung's head. Hok formed crane-beak fists with both hands and thrust them at Tsung's right eyebrow.

Tsung managed to block Hok's right arm with a lightning-quick swing of his leopard fists. He swung
at Hok's left arm and hit it, too, but it was a glancing blow.

Hok's crane-beak fist continued toward Tsung's face. Instead of striking Tsung's eyebrow as Hok had planned, though, the bunched-up tips of her four fingers and thumb sank into Tsung's right eye.

Tsung screamed.

Hok completed her flip, landing hard on her knees. She stood and wiped her hand across her dress, and realized that the entire fight club had grown silent.

Tsung was clawing at his face, trying to wipe the blood out of his one good eye. He shouted to LaoShu, “I need to cage this bird! I can't see a thing. Bring on the Ring of Fire!”

LaoShu clapped his hands excitedly. “My pleasure!” he said. He looked toward the pit entrance door. “Tunnel guards, you know what to do!”

The crowd cheered wildly and began to chant, “FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!”

Hok had no idea what was going on. She watched Tsung walk to the very center of the pit and stand perfectly still. Waiting.

H
ok scanned the pit, looking for signs of what was about to come. She saw none. She adjusted the strap of the silk bag still dangling across her torso and glanced up at Seh. He was scowling, his ear cocked in the direction of the Emperor's table.

Hok looked over at the Emperor's table and saw Tonglong staring at Seh. Several of the soldiers surrounding the Emperor and Xie were now standing and had their
qiangs
raised in Seh's direction.

Hok glanced at AnGangseh. AnGangseh puckered her full lips and blew Hok a long kiss, waving goodbye.

Hok heard the pit entrance door open, and she turned to see a young man holding a large bronze
cauldron. Applause filled the fight club. Hok barely heard him yell at her, “Move away from the wall!”

Hok glanced beyond the young man, into the tunnel, and saw the two guards. Their
qiangs
were aimed straight at her. She decided to do as she was told. She walked toward Tsung, cautiously.

“I won't attack you yet,” Tsung said to her, trying to keep the blood pouring down his brow from running into his good eye. “It will be much more fun once the heat gets turned up.”

The young man with the cauldron entered the pit, and the crowd's applause grew. Hok realized that they were cheering as much for the man as for what he was about to do.

The crowd began to chant, “GOLDEN DRAGON! GOLDEN DRAGON! GOLDEN DRAGON!”

Hok locked eyes with the young man and realized immediately that it was indeed her brother Long. He didn't acknowledge her, though. His face was expressionless.

Hok watched as Long began to ceremoniously pour what appeared to be lamp oil in a tight circle around her and Tsung. When Long had finished, he handed the empty cauldron to one of the guards just inside the tunnel, then turned and ran full-speed across the pit. When he reached the far wall, Long did as Hok had done and used the irregular bricks and his momentum to send himself high into the air. Instead of twisting around and throwing an elbow, though, Long reached up and grabbed one of the burning pit
torches. He snapped it free and returned to the ground, landing softly on his feet with the torch in one hand.

The crowd burst into thunderous applause.

Long raised the torch high, and the crowd quickly quieted down. He approached the ring of oil and spoke softly to Hok. “The oil burns fast and furious, just like your opponent. You would be wise to avoid the flames. Better to fly into the jaws of the leopard than retreat and roast like a banquet pheasant.”

“Those words are most insightful, Golden Dragon,” Tsung growled as he whisked fistfuls of blood from his face. “How generous of you.”

Long didn't reply. Still expressionless, he lowered the torch over the oil.

“Not so fast!” Tsung said. “You've given me an idea.”

Long lifted the torch, and Tsung raised his one good eye toward the crowd, “Who wants to see me clip this criminal's wings?”

The crowd roared with applause and began to chant, “CLAW! CLAW! CLAW!”

Hok saw a large flash of silver from the direction of the Emperor's table and heard a loud
CLANG!
as something metallic hit the pit floor. Tsung bent down and picked the object up. Hok had no idea what it was.

“Hey, LaoShu!” someone shouted. “Unfair! I bet good money on this bout, and you're changing the
tables by allowing a weapon after the gong. I demand equalization!”

Hok glanced up and saw that the speaker was HaMo. He had come down to the pit's edge, near the Emperor's table.

“What do you have in mind as an equalizer?” LaoShu asked.

HaMo reached into his robe and pulled something out. “This!” he said.

The crowd members closest to HaMo roared with laugher.

LaoShu chuckled and said, “Sure, HaMo. If you insist.”

HaMo leaned over the railing and yelled down to Hok, “Catch!” He threw something that looked like the wooden handle of a short weapon. Hok reached up and caught the spinning object. It was Malao's carved Monkey Stick.

Hok gripped one end of the Monkey Stick and looked at Tsung. He was adjusting the strange object over his right hand. She could now see that it was a fingerless glove that had four long daggers attached to the back. The daggers began at the glove's sleeve and ran across the back of the hand, over the knuckles, and well beyond the length of the fingers.

The crowd continued to chant, “CLAW! CLAW! CLAW!”

Hok glanced up at Seh. He was on the edge of his seat, one ear now cocked in her direction.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hok saw Long lower
the torch. The oil ignited with a tremendous
WHOOSH!

Hok closed her eyes against the intense heat and glare generated by a wall of flames that roared to her waist. She squinted in Tsung's direction and saw that he was still fumbling with his clawed glove.

HaMo yelled from above, “What are you waiting for, girl? Hit him!”

Hok took the hint. She swung the Monkey Stick as hard as she could at Tsung's right hand, but Tsung was too fast. He pulled his hand back, lashing out with the claw.

Hok hopped backward, out of harm's way. However, she landed dangerously close to the circular wall of fire. It lapped at her, waist high, and she was forced to step forward. The silk bag bounced off her stomach and she shoved it around behind her.

Tsung raised the claw up again, and Hok dropped to the ground, rolling to the opposite side of the burning circle of fire. She stayed on her knees and slipped one end of the Monkey Stick into her cupped palm, turning the stick downward so that the length of it was positioned along the inside of her forearm. She found that it stretched from the center of her hand to just beyond her elbow. Perfect.

Tsung rushed toward her, swinging the claw straight down at her head. Hok raised her forearm up and rotated it so that the claw connected with the wooden Monkey Stick. The daggers sank deep into the wood, but her arm was fine.

Still on her knees, Hok swung her free hand toward Tsung's lead leg and connected with a crane-beak fist. It sunk deep into a pressure point located on the outside of Tsung's leg, just above his knee. It was the same spot the Siamese Assassin had attacked with kicks.

Tsung snarled and his leg buckled, but he didn't go down. Hok tried to yank the Monkey Stick free of the daggers, but Tsung wrenched his arm back and Hok felt the Monkey Stick slip out of her hand. Tsung yanked the Monkey Stick off his claw and hurled it across the pit.

Hok took a step back, and the crowd gasped. Hok felt heat and glanced down to see that her silk bag had caught fire.