Eagle (9 page)

Ying looked up in time to see HaMo leap into the air, then jolt suddenly to one side as the all-too-familiar sounds of
click … fizz … BANG!
filled the room.

The
qiang
ball hit HaMo in the left eye. His lifeless body crashed down, missing Ying by a hairsbreadth.

Ying sat up and took a deep breath. He wiped his carved brow and looked over at Charles. The round eye still held the smoking
qiang
in his hands.

Ying stood and bowed to Charles, low and deep. “Thank you. You saved my life.”

Kneeling, Charles bowed back from inside the
cage. “And you've saved mine with this rescue.” He smiled a ghostly white smile. “Any chance you could find a way to get me out of here?”

Ying glanced at HaMo and saw a small ring of keys tied to his enormous sash. Ying used the sharp tip of his chain whip to cut the keys free and hurried over to Charles’ cage. The lock opened with the third key Ying tried.

Charles crawled out of the cage and stood on wobbly legs. He took the key ring from Ying and hobbled quickly over to a row of drawers beneath the long counter. Charles fumbled through keys until one fit, then opened a drawer and pulled out three large pouches, each bigger than a man's fist. Charles tossed one pouch to Hok and another to Ying. He kept the third pouch for himself.

Ying heard a distinct series of metallic
clinks
when he caught his pouch. Coins. He grinned.

Charles nodded. “There is something even more valuable in
here,”
he said, reaching into a different drawer. “Look.”

Charles pulled out a pair of matching short
qiangs.

“Those are yours, aren't they?” Hok asked.

Charles smiled. “Yes. I saw HaMo put them in here. I watched him all day while I pretended to sleep. This boat holds more than a few surprises. Take a look at this.”

Charles walked over to a window and grabbed a large cloth resting beneath it. He yanked the cloth aside, unveiling a cannon that would take loads as large as a man's head.

Ying nodded, impressed.

“There's more, too,” Charles said.

Hok shook her head. “We don't have time for this. I think HaMo might have signaled someone for help.”

“That's right,” Ying said. “I noticed that, too. We should leave.”

Charles reached into a drawer and pulled out a spyglass. He looked through it, out the window, and Ying saw his body go rigid.

“Men, prepare your
qiangs!”
someone shouted in the distance.

Charles continued to stare. “Who is that?”

Ying scowled. He didn't have to look outside to identify the person rushing toward them in the darkness. He would recognize that cold, metallic voice anywhere.

“I
onglong!” Ying spat. What is he doing here?”

“Who knows,” Hok replied. She grabbed a small lantern and hurried outside.

Ying rushed out onto the deck behind Hok and saw Tonglong approaching in a dragon boat with twenty soldiers. The men were paddling furiously.

“You two go on,” Charles said, hurrying out of the living quarters into the darkness. “I'll stay here and distract them.” He shoved his
qiangs
and the spyglass into his sash and ran over to Hok's skiff. He began untying the ropes that connected it to the barge.

“Can't we just cut the anchor rope and take this barge downstream?” Ying asked.

“It's too slow,” Charles said. “We would only be able to travel as fast as the current. Besides, it is better if we split up. You and Hok take the skiff. I'll see what I can do from here.”

“Let us help you—” Hok began to say.

“FIRE!” Tonglong commanded, and four
qiangs
rang out.

Ying and Hok hit the deck, flattening themselves against the damp wooden floorboards. Charles remained standing, untying the last of the skiff's lines as
qiang
balls whistled past his head.

“Please, go!” Charles pleaded.

Hok looked at Ying, and Ying nodded. The two of them scrambled for the skiff.

“Charles, if you happen to see my brothers, please remind them to go to PawPaw's house,” Hok said. “They will know what I am talking about.” She climbed over the barge's low railing and into the skiff. The small lantern she carried provided just enough light to show the way.

“Aye, aye,” Charles said. “I hope to see you both soon.” He gave Hok and Ying a quick nod, then hurried back into the living quarters.

Ying leaped over the railing, landing softly in the lantern's tiny pool of light, and they shoved off. Hok stood at the stern and began to row vigorously with the skiff's single large oar.

“Do you want me to do that?” Ying asked.

“No,” Hok said. “You watch for trouble ahead and behind.”

“FIRE!” Tonglong commanded again, and four more shots rang out. Ying realized that the soldiers were firing in rotation. Two
qiangballs
burrowed into the side of HaMo's barge. Two more splashed into the river next to the skiff. Tonglong was getting close.

Ying looked over at the barge and saw Charles through one of the living quarters’ illuminated windows. He was preparing the cannon. Tonglong must have seen Charles, too.

“New target, men!” Tonglong ordered. “Aim for the round eye on the barge! FIRE!”

Four shots cut through the night air, and Ying saw Charles duck. A moment later, Charles stood again, cool as a winter breeze. He continued preparing the cannon.

Ying looked back at Tonglong and saw the dragon boat barreling forward at terrific speed. It rammed into the side of the ancient wooden barge, and the dragon's ornate ironclad head crashed deep into the hull. The barge lilted heavily to one side as water began to rush into the gaping hole.

“Push away, men!” Tonglong ordered. “Take aim at the round eye again!”

“No!” Hok shouted. She turned to Ying. “We have to do something! They won't miss from that distance.”

“I have an idea,” Ying said. “Give me the dragon scroll map.”

Hok hesitated, then reached into her dress and pulled out the map.

Ying snatched it away and held it high over his head with one hand, lifting the lantern with his other hand.

“Hey, Horse Hair!” Ying shouted to Tonglong. “Yeah, you, Ponytail! Is this what you want?” Ying pinched one corner of the scroll between his fingertips and let the scroll fall open. It flapped in the breeze beside the lantern.

Tonglong scoffed loudly and shouted back, “Don't worry, Dragon Boy, I'll catch up with you soon enough!”

Ying frowned. His plan to distract Tonglong wasn't working. He needed to do something more.

“Hey, Tonglong!” Ying shouted. “Watch this!”

Ying smashed the side of the lantern with the back of his hand and dangled the end of the scroll into the flames. The scroll ignited, illuminating his carved face with a flickering orange glow.

Tonglong roared, “New orders, men! Take out Ying! Whoever puts a hole in his head becomes my new number one soldier!”

Qiangs
erupted in the night, and Ying was thrown backward as a ball of lead buried itself in his shoulder. The lantern splashed into the river and the scroll drifted into the air, consumed by fire. The map disintegrated into a hundred thousand bits of black ash that rained down around Ying's head.

At the same time, an enormous
BOOM!
rang out from the barge, followed by the thunderous crash of
splintering wood and screaming men. Ying rolled over on the floor of the skiff to see Tonglong's dragon boat sinking fast. Charles had hit it at point-blank range with the cannon.

Ying scanned the tilting barge and saw an injured soldier pull himself out of the water. The man scrambled across the shifting deck into the living quarters.

A single shot rang out, and Charles emerged from the small house with a smoking
qiang
in his hands. The barge tilted further to one side, and Charles shoved the
qiang
into his sash. He scrambled onto the roof of the house and looked downstream at Ying and Hok. He waved, signaling that all was well, then dove over the side.

Ying raised his arm to acknowledge Charles’ signal, but the world suddenly swooned around him. He closed his eyes for a few moments, and when he opened them again, he saw Hok leaning over him. Her lips were moving, but he couldn't hear a word.

Ying glanced at his left shoulder and was surprised to see that Hok was digging her fingers into it. She pulled out a
qiang
ball and tossed it overboard. There was blood everywhere. He didn't feel a thing.

The skiff and everything around Ying began to spin as though they were being sucked into a gigantic whirlpool. He felt light-headed, and he realized that his limbs were shaking. He was suddenly very cold.

Ying nodded weakly to Hok and saw her eyes widen. Her lips screamed—
Stay awake, Ying!
—but he heard nothing. He was so very tired.

Ying closed his eyes and slipped into uncon sciousness.

C
harles pulled himself through the mighty Yellow River with smooth, powerful strokes. The
qiangs
in his sash and his heavy boots slowed him down, but he was still far ahead of Tonglong and the wounded soldiers bobbing among the wreckage of their dragon boat.

Charles estimated he would reach the shore at least a quarter of an hour ahead of any survivors. Plenty of time to make it to the safe house and update the others. He would honor Hok's request and remind Fu, Malao, and Seh to go to PawPaw's house. However, there was no way they were going without him. He had saved Hok's life once before, and he would gladly risk his own life again and again for her.

Charles would take the lead in her rescue. Malao
was only eleven years old, and Fu and Seh were just twelve and thirteen. They weren't old enough.

Charles was fifteen. He was strong and he was clever, and most importantly, he had a boat. The fastest boat in all China. It was small, but it could accommodate the four of them, plus limited supplies. And if any of the others complained about him being in charge, the overall weight would quickly be reduced. The mutineers would be left in whatever port happened to be next.

Charles knew how to keep a crew of seasoned sail ors in line. He could certainly handle three children.

“W
ake up, Ying,” a soft voice urged. “Breathe through your nose.”

Ying opened his eyes to find he was on his back inside the skiff with Hok hovering over his head. It was daylight, and she was holding a small twig beneath his nostrils. The fresh twig had been twisted upon itself many times, and a pungent liquid was oozing forth. It smelled so acrid, Ying's eyes watered. He coughed.

“Sorry,” Hok said, casting the twig aside.
“Xiang mu
tree branch. Smelling the evergreen's sap can bring unconscious people like you back to the waking world.”

Ying groaned. He glanced up to see where they were and was temporarily blinded by the sun high overhead. He squinted and moaned, “What time is it?”

“Nearly midday. You've been unconscious since last night. I was beginning to question whether you were ever going to come out of it. I was lucky to have found the
xiang mu
tree nearby. I found a few other things, too.” She nodded toward Ying's left shoulder. “How does it feel?”