Snake (5 page)

C
an you hear me, Major Ying?” Tonglong asked. “Are you all right?”

Ying could hardly make out Tonglong's words. Ying was barely conscious, flat on his back among the trees beside Shaolin's Pagoda Forest. The grooves in his face were caked with dirt and sweat, and his robe was peeled open across his chest. His green tattooed eyelids were half closed.

“Listen closely, if you can,”
Tonglong said, kneeling over Ying.
“General Tsung, the renegade leopard-style master from Shaolin, rendered you unconscious with an unorthodox choke hold. I have since subdued him. The boys now have the dragon scrolls and
…”

Ying felt himself slipping away again. Trying to stay
awake, he focused on the first thing he saw— Tonglong's straight sword. The long, flawless blade glimmered in the late-afternoon light, and Ying's mind began to wander. A forgotten chamber in the back of his mind opened. In it were secrets from his past. Secrets that centered on another sword—Grandmaster's dragon sword.

Grandmaster's straight sword was generations old and responsible for a thousand deaths. It was almost as famous as Grandmaster himself. Grandmaster was now dead, and he would eventually be forgotten. But the sword … it, too, must be destroyed, just like the five pampered children chosen to carry Cangzhen's torch.

His mind still adrift, Ying thought back to the first time he had seen Grandmaster—and the dragon sword.

A three-year-old boy was playing with a long rope in the center of a bustling mountain camp. It was almost lunchtime, and a woman called out, “Saulong,
sic fan!
Time to eat!”

Saulong responded to his mother's call immediately. He was hungry. He raced to his family's elaborate tent, making sure he removed his sandals before stepping onto the thick animal skins that blanketed the ground inside.

“Leave your whip outside, Saulong,” his mother said. “You know the rules—only your father can bring his weapon into our home.”

Saulong smiled. He knew his whip was only a piece of rope, but it pleased him that his mother saw it as equal to his father's metal chain whip.

As Saulong dropped his rope and stepped inside, he heard a pain-filled scream. He spun around and peered out the tent's entrance. A few steps from where he had been playing, Saulong saw a stranger. It was a man old enough to be his grandfather, carrying a straight sword. The blade was decorated with intertwining dragons. Bright red liquid dripped off the tip.

Saulong looked behind the stranger and saw Han, the blacksmith, flopping about on the ground. Han was trying desperately to push his insides back into a large slice across his midsection. Saulong shivered but continued to stare.

“Cholong—
Loud Dragon!”
the old stranger called out in Cantonese. “Come face your destiny!”

Saulong's eyes widened. Cholong was his father's name! What did this stranger want with his father?

“Saulong!” his mother whispered sharply. “Get away from the door!”

“No,” Saulong replied. “I want to watch.”

“Ugh!” his mother said. “There is no doubt you are your father's son. Watch, then, and learn the ways of your ancestors.”

Saulong's mother began to stuff things into a bag while Saulong kept his eyes glued to the stranger. Within moments, it seemed every man in camp had surrounded the old man. Twenty men armed with spears and swords attacked the stranger as one.

It was over almost as soon as it began. From what Saulong saw, the stranger did nothing more than whirl his sword a few times, but nearly every man from the camp had fallen to it. The three men that were still breathing ran off.

Saulong could hardly believe his eyes. He had seen men fight before, but the men would only use their fists, and the fights never ended like this. The men on the ground all seemed to be … dead. Like a rabbit or pig before cooking.

“Nice work, old man,” a deep voice said in the distance. “I assume you're warmed up now.”

Saulong grew nervous. That was his father's voice. His father approached from the edge of camp, leading a horse.

“I found this beast tethered outside my camp,” Cholong said to the stranger. “I recognized it as yours. I'm impressed this old mare is still useful.”

“Some things improve with age,” the old man replied.

Cholong laughed. “We shall see about that.” He pulled his long metal chain whip from his sash and began to swing it. “I'm a bit more of a challenge than my men.”

The stranger didn't respond.

“Any last words?” Cholong asked.

The stranger remained silent.

Cholong hissed like a dragon and spat on the ground. “I've waited most of my life for this, old man. If you don't want to talk, let's just finish it.”

And with that, Cholong attacked. He and the stranger exchanged blows so quickly, Saulong could not follow everything. What he did see clearly, though, was his father's chain whip wrap around the stranger's sword. As his father gripped his chain with both hands and wrenched the sword free of the stranger, the stranger lashed out with a dragon fist.

The fist struck Cholong square in the face, and he crumpled to the ground. His body jerked twice, then fell still.

“NO!” Saulong cried.

The stranger looked at Saulong, expressionless, then turned his attention back to Cholong.

“Saulong!” his mother whispered. “Turn around!”

But Saulong didn't budge. He watched the stranger bend over and remove four scrolls from the folds of Cholong's luxurious red robe.

Saulong's mother grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. She was holding a small pack. She looked him in the eye. “We must RUN!”

Saulong's mother bolted from the tent. Saulong followed as fast as his little legs could carry him. “MaMa!” Saulong cried, racing after her. Tears streamed sideways across his face. He'd made less than a dozen strides when someone grabbed the back of his robe and yanked him to a stop.

Saulong jerked his head around and saw the old stranger.

“You are coming with me, child,” the man said in a firm voice.

“No!” Saulong screamed. He looked into the trees and saw his mother stop. She glanced first at him, then at the old stranger. The stranger raised his dragon sword and shook his head.

“NO!” Saulong said again.

Saulong's mother looked back at him. He saw tears falling from her eyes. “Never forget me,” she said in a shaky voice. “And never forget your name.”

And then she was gone.

Saulong let out a hate-filled cry and tore free of the old man's grip. He ran to his family's tent and grabbed his rope whip, then ran even faster back to face the stranger. Saulong lashed out at the man's legs, arms, and face, and the stranger stood perfectly still, silently accepting the beating. When Saulong's right arm grew tired, he switched the rope to his left. When his left arm grew tired, he began to kick. And when his legs finally gave out, the old man lifted him up and carried him to the horse. The stranger climbed on, and off they went.

As they raced down the mountain, Saulong whispered to himself over and over,
Never forget my mother, never forget my name….

Saulong—
Vengeful Dragon.
The three-year-old didn't know what
vengeful
meant, but he would learn.

S
eh found himself running through the forest again. This time, he wasn't alone.

“Slow down, Seh,” Malao said from the treetops. “Give Fu a chance to catch up.”

Seh slowed to a stop and stared up at Malao, silhouetted in the evening sun. They had been running from Shaolin and the fight between Ying and the Emperor's leopard-style master, General Tsung, for less than an hour.

“Don't tell me Fu has fallen behind already,” Seh said. “Where is he?”

“How should I know?” Malao replied. He grabbed a thick vine and began to climb down. “You're the one with the creepy ability to sense other people. I only
realized Fu wasn't behind us anymore because I haven't heard him complaining in a while.”

Seh frowned. As he waited for Malao, he slipped one hand inside the folds of his robe. The three dragon scrolls he'd swiped from Tsung were still there. The snake on his wrist crawled higher up his sleeve, out of sight.

“Should we go back and look for Pussycat?” Malao asked as he released the vine high in the air. He tucked into a tight somersault and landed in front of Seh, still talking. “Or do you think Fu will sniff us out?”

“He'll sniff us out for sure,” Seh said, wrinkling his nose. “When was the last time you washed your feet? They stink.”

Malao looked down and wiggled his dark-skinned toes. He giggled.

Seh shook his head. “Climb back up there and keep an eye out for Fu. Keep an eye out for Ying, too.”

“Ying?” Malao said. “He won't be bothering us anytime soon. Did you see the way that guy Tsung took him down? I've never seen a hold like that.”

“Yes, Malao, I saw it,” Seh said. “Now please get up there.”

“Oh, no,” Malao said, folding his arms. “I'm not going anywhere until you answer some questions.”

“We don't have time for games,” Seh said.

“This isn't a game,” Malao replied. “I want to know what's going on.”

Seh glanced about. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Come on, Seh,” Malao said. “Tsung talked about Hok being a girl. Fu and I had no idea, but you did. How long have you known?”

“Long enough,” Seh replied.

“How come you never told us?”

Seh shrugged. “It was none of your business.”

“None of our business?” Malao said. “Hok is our brother! I mean … sister. How could you keep that a secret?”

“If Hok wanted you to know that she was a she, she would have told you. I found out by accident.”

“What kind of accident?” Malao asked. “What other secrets are you hiding?”

“None.”

“I don't believe you. What's going on with Tonglong?”

“Tonglong?” Seh said. “Nothing. I don't know anything about him. Do you?”

“I know that he looks just like you,” Malao said. “And that he winked at me back at Shaolin.”

“He
winked
at you?”

“Yes,” Malao said. “Right after he took the fourth dragon scroll from Ying.”

“Tonglong took a dragon scroll from Ying?” Seh asked. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Malao said. “You still have the other three, don't you?”

“Yes,” Seh said. He patted the folds of his robe and his sleeve slid up toward his elbow. The beauty snake's brilliant blue head poked out.

“Hey!” Malao said. “What's that? Another secret?”

“It's just a snake,” Seh said. “It was wounded, and I helped it. It likes hanging around, and I can't seem to get rid of it.”

“Oh,” Malao said. He looked into the trees. “I wish my friend the white monkey was around. I haven't seen it since it led me and Fu to Shaolin.”

“Would that be the same white monkey I saw with the monkey troop?” Seh asked. “The group that attacked the bandits?”

“That's right,” said Malao. He scowled. “Those bandits are mean.”

“You'd better get used to them,” Seh said. “I'm trying to get them to help us. I had hoped to get the Shaolin monks to help us, too, but that's no longer an option, unfortunately.”

Malao suddenly grew quiet and lowered his head. Seh thought he saw tears welling in Malao's eyes. “Seh, do you think what Tsung said about Hok is true? Do you think that she really… you know …
died
during the attack?”

Seh patted Malao's fuzzy head. “I don't know what to think. If anyone can take care of herself, though, it's Hok. You know that.”

Malao sniffled. “I guess you're right. So, you don't know anything about this guy Tonglong?”

“No,” Seh replied. “He is the biggest mystery. I didn't get a clear view of his face back at Shaolin Temple, but his
chi
felt strangely familiar. Still, I'm certain I've never met him before. I don't know what to make of it.”

“Me either,” Malao said. “So, what are we going to do next?”

“I was thinking we should—” The snake on Seh's arm suddenly shivered and retracted its head beneath Seh's sleeve.

Malao looked at Seh. “What's wrong with him?”

“Shhh,” Seh said. “Someone's coming.”

A moment later, Fu burst through a tangle of bushes, panting heavily.

“Pussycat!” Malao said. “It's about time you showed up.”

Fu growled. “I heard you two … talking … about where we're going … next. Tell me.”

“We're going to the bandit stronghold,” Seh announced.

“What!” Malao squeaked. “You never said anything about that! No way! Hung will kill me. And then he'll eat me!”

Malao slid one hand inside the folds of his robe. Seh saw that Malao was carrying his carved monkey stick.

“No one will harm you as long as you're with me, little brother,” Seh said.

“No,” Malao said. “No, no, NO!”

Fu looked at Malao. “Are these the same bandits you told me about?”

Malao nodded.

“I don't know, Seh,” Fu said. “I know some people who might be able to help. The governor of this region—”

Seh raised a hand. “This isn't up for discussion. We're going to the stronghold.”

Fu locked eyes with Seh. “Since when did you become the leader?”