Jeff Stone_Five Ancestors 03

by Snake

  Fu didn't flinch.

  Seh glanced around and saw a fist-sized rock behind him. He grabbed it and lobbed it at Fu. It bounced off Fu's sizable stomach.

  Fu groaned and scratched his belly.

  “Wake up, Pussycat,” Seh said.

  Fu sniffed the air, and his eyes snapped open. He sat up and turned toward the white monkey. The white monkey stared at Fu but showed no signs of aggression.

  Fu waved one hand in front of his nose. “That monkey needs a bath more than Malao does. When did it show up?”

  “Just now,” Seh said. He pointed to the mushrooms. “It brought those, then tried to wake up Malao. It looked like it was trying to massage the base of Malao's skull.”

  “Good idea,” Fu said. “Did it work?”

  “It's a monkey, Fu,” Seh replied. “Of course it didn't work. I want to try, but I don't think the monkey will let me get near Malao. You're going to have to do it.”

  Fu looked at the large, one-eyed monkey and hesitated, then grunted and leaned over Malao. The white monkey watched intently but didn't interfere as Fu cradled Malao's head in his hands and began to massage the pressure point.

  “Mmmpf,” Malao mumbled.

  “Hey!” Fu said. “It's working!” He continued rubbing Malao's head, but nothing more happened.

  “That's enough,” Seh said finally. “We need to find someone who can help keep him awake.”

  Fu laid Malao's head down. “I wish Hok was here. He … I mean, she would know what to do.”

  Seh nodded. “She does know a lot more about these things than we do.” He rubbed his long chin. “Too bad we can't go back to the stronghold. I have a feeling AnGangseh might be able to help.”

  “You mean your mother?” Fu said.

  Seh blinked. That sounded strange for some reason. “Yes,” he said.

  “Why do you think she could help?” Fu asked.

  “When the soldiers attacked, she fought off a couple of them with poison hidden under her fingernails. Usually people who handle poisons know antidotes and potions for many things.”

  “You mean those two dead soldiers in the bandits’ shed—” Fu said. “She killed them?”

  Seh nodded.

  “Whoa. What did she want with you?”

  “She just wanted to talk.”

  “Why would she have poison under her nails if she just wanted to talk?” Fu asked.

  Seh paused. That was a good question. “I guess because she lives with bandits. She has to be ready for anything.”

  Fu seemed satisfied with this answer. He nodded and looked at Seh's lower back. “Is that lump under your robe the dragon scrolls?”

  “One of them,” Seh said. “I gave two to AnGangseh—I mean, my mother—for safekeeping.”

  “You did what?” Fu said. “I risked my life to get those scrolls! When are we going to get them back?”

  “The next time we see her, I suppose,” Seh said.

  Fu growled and slammed a fist into his open palm.

  The monkey looked at Fu and bared its teeth.

  “Take it easy, Fu,” Seh said. “You're upsetting the monkey.”

  Fu snorted and turned away.

  “I'm sorry you're angry,” Seh said. “But there's nothing we can do about it now. Our number one priority is to get Malao some help. That's what we need to focus on. We need to figure out where to take him.”

  Fu glared at Seh. “We? How am I supposed to help with that? You led us here. I don't have any idea where we are. What we need is a—” Fu stopped and looked at the white monkey. He slapped his forehead. “A tour guide! Of course!”

  “What are you talking about?” Seh asked.

  “The white monkey was like a tour guide for me and Malao,” Fu said. “It led us to Shaolin Temple. It also led us to the village where the Governor lives.”

  “How far was the village from Cangzhen?” Seh asked.

  “About half a day's travel.”

  “Was it east of Cangzhen or west?”

  “Sort of southwest,” Fu said. “Why?”

  Seh pointed east toward a small mountain. “The more I look at that, the more I think it's ShiShan Mountain. If I'm right, Cangzhen is on the other side. That means if the village was half a day southwest of Cangzhen, it's probably half a day southeast of where we are now. Do you think the monkey could lead us there?”

  “Let's find out,” Fu said. He looked the white monkey in the eye. “Can you take us to the village?”

  The white monkey tilted its head to one side inquisitively.

  “What's the name of the village?” Seh asked.

  “I don't know,” Fu confessed. He scratched behind one ear and looked at the white monkey again. “Can you take us to the … ummm … Governor?”

  The white monkey seemed to grin. It reached out and grabbed Fu's hand. Seh saw it squeeze three times before letting go and leaping into the trees.

  Late that evening, Seh couldn't stop thinking about the mushroom skewers the monkey had brought them earlier. He wished they'd eaten them. He and Fu had been following the white monkey through the forest all day and he was famished. He was also exhausted. Seh and Fu had taken turns carrying Malao, and it had worn them both out.

  Oddly enough, Fu's mind still seemed sharp. He was rambling nonstop about his adventures with Malao. Seh was glad to get the information, but he was finding it harder and harder to absorb the details.

  Seh realized he was beginning to feel the effects of too much activity and not enough sleep. His head felt cloudy, and he found it difficult to concentrate. His senses were dull, and he felt increasingly out of touch with the world around him. He longed for something to help him snap out of it.

  He soon got his wish.

  Fu stopped and shifted Malao in his arms. He raised his nose to the air and inhaled deeply, then smiled. “We're almost there. Come on!”

  Fu picked up his pace, and Seh followed. Seh rounded a bend, and a rotten stench hit his nose like a hammer fist. He choked. “What is that smell?”

  “The village garbage dump!” Fu said excitedly over his shoulder.

  Seh looked into the trees and noticed the white monkey had stopped. “Hey, Fu. It doesn't look like the monkey wants to go any farther.”

  “That's fine,” Fu replied. “I know the way.”

  Seh nodded goodbye to the monkey, followed Fu around another bend, and came face to face with the biggest pile of trash he could ever have imagined. It was as big around as Cangzhen's largest building and nearly as tall. Tendrils of rank steam drifted skyward in the evening light. He felt nauseous.

  “This way,” Fu said. He skirted the pile and headed down a narrow trail. The stench of the dump was soon behind them, and Seh's head began to clear.

  In no time, they came upon a tall hedge. Fu re-positioned Malao and stepped through a section of the hedge that had been trampled to the ground. Seh followed Fu through the gap, and they both stopped in their tracks. Images of the destruction at Cangzhen and Shaolin flooded Seh's mind. The village had been ravaged.

  They were standing in the village square, which Seh could tell had once been almost completely surrounded by the tall hedge. The far side of the hedge had been reduced to ash, and Seh had a clear view of the damage beyond. Roofless stone houses and storefronts stood soot-stained and crumbling. Doors and shutters had been burned from their hinges. Not a single building had been left intact.

  The pit of Seh's stomach began to tingle as he noticed a group of men step around from behind a structure that stood alone at the head of the courtyard. A blackened sign leaning against the building read Bun Vendor.

  The largest of the men froze and stared at Fu. The big man had long, matted hair that was tangled in a scraggly beard. One of his calves was heavily bandaged, as was one of his forearms. He also had bandages wrapped around both thighs. He limped toward them.

  “I'll be right back,” Fu said. He handed Malao to Seh, and the snake on Seh's wrist slithered up his arm.

  Seh laid Ma
lao on the ground as Fu ran toward the large man. Seh focused on the man and noticed the chi he emitted was very similar to Fu's. Seh realized that it must be Fu's father, Sanfu.

  Sanfu patted Fu roughly on the back, and Fu returned the greeting. Both were grinning from ear to ear. The two of them continued toward Seh and Malao, and their smiles quickly faded.

  “Hello, Seh,” Sanfu said in a deep, gravelly voice. “It's nice to finally meet you. I wish it were on better terms.”

  Seh nodded. “Nice to meet you, too, sir.”

  “No need for formalities,” Sanfu said. “I was once a Cangzhen monk, you know. We are brothers.” He folded his hands like a Cangzhen monk and looked down at Malao. “What happened?”

  “Seh took us to a bandit stronghold, and Ying attacked it,” Fu said. “Ying cut Malao with his chain-whip.”

  “I see,” Sanfu said. “Did Ying capture the stronghold?”

  “It's possible,” Seh said. “His men seemed to have the upper hand. They brought qiangs. Many bandits were killed.”

  Sanfu nodded. “Ying is responsible for the destruction here, too. Amazingly, only a few people were hurt.” He looked at Fu. “After Fu and Malao escaped, I stunned Ying with a tiger-claw fist to the head. The villagers and I scattered and hid in the forest. Fortunately, Ying didn't bother to have his men chase us down. But as you can see, he did torch the village.”

  Seh pointed to the group of men still standing near the bun vendor's shop. “Is that everyone? I don't sense anyone else around.”

  “The women and children have left,” Sanfu said. “They went to stay in other places, but some will likely come back after their homes have been made livable again.”

  “What about the Governor?” Fu asked.

  “He has gone to Kaifeng,” Sanfu said. “Alone. His son, Ho, is with your friend Ma. Ma's mother took both of them to her sister's house in a neighboring village. I have been staying at her home here, doing what I can to repair it. You boys may stay there with me.”

  “I'll help you fix it up,” Fu said. “I learned a few things about construction at the bandit stronghold.”

  “Me too,” Seh said.

  “Thank you,” Sanfu said. He looked at Malao again. “Speaking of help, let's see if I can do anything for poor Malao.”

  Sanfu untied one of several small pouches from his sash and waved the pouch beneath Malao's nose. Malao twitched, and his eyes flew open. He began to mumble incoherently.

  “Excellent,” Sanfu said. “Malao's sleep is not so deep that we cannot reach him.” Sanfu untied a second pouch and withdrew a small decanter. He pulled the plug and dribbled some liquid into Malao's open, babbling mouth.

  Malao choked twice and his parched lips closed, followed by his eyes. He stopped mumbling and drifted into unconsciousness.

  “I suspect Malao is going to be just fine,” Sanfu said.

  “What was that drink?” Seh asked.

  “Blood tonic,” Sanfu replied. “I made a batch for myself after my leg was punctured by a qiang ball weeks ago. It's a combination of herbs boiled in water that helps revitalize your blood. It also helps fight off dehydration.” Sanfu pointed to Malao's dry lips. “He would not have survived much longer without fluid. You boys should be proud of yourselves for getting him here before it was too late.”

  “Proud?” Fu growled. “I'm angry. I am going to get Ying for this and everything else he's done!”

  Sanfu sighed. “Ying is very powerful, Fu.”

  “Then we'll get help,” Seh said. “I think Mong will help us.” He lowered his head. “If he survived the attack.”

  “Mong will be fine,” Sanfu said. He rested a huge hand on Seh's shoulder. “Did Mong happen to give you any emergency rendezvous plans?”

  Seh nodded. “We're supposed to meet him in Kaifeng in a month on the first day of the Dragon Boat Festival.”

  “Good,” Sanfu said. “I'll come with you. Where are you supposed to meet him?”

  “An inn called the Jade Phoenix.”

  “I'm familiar with it,” Sanfu said. He looked at Fu. “They make the best soy sauce chicken.”

  Fu's eyes widened, and he licked his lips.

  Seh glanced down at Malao. He thought about how he would hopefully see his father again and how Fu was already with his. Seh looked at Sanfu. “Do you happen to know anything about Malao's father?”

  Sanfu paused and scratched his scraggly beard. “I do. This isn't common knowledge, so I'll ask that you keep it among yourselves. Malao's father used to live in this region and was known by most people as the Monkey King. He kept to himself, and very few people ever saw him. He ran off recently. He's not coming back.”

  “Is he still alive?” Fu asked.

  “No one knows,” Sanfu replied.

  “What was he running from?” Seh asked.

  “Not what,” Sanfu said. “Who. Someone called Bing.”

  “Ice?” Seh said. “That's Cantonese.”

  “Yes, it is,” Sanfu said.

  “Then we'll add Bing's name to the list right after Ying's!” Fu said. He slammed his fist into his palm.

  Sanfu shook his head. “You are no match for Bing. If you feel you must take action, Fu, focus on Ying. He is too powerful to attack head-on, so you'll have to chip away at him slowly. Start by undoing the evil things he's done.

  “I vowed long ago to no longer be part of anyone else's business,” Sanfu continued, “but it appears as though I must break that vow. I will help you. We will start with patching up Malao, then we'll do what we can to help the villagers before leaving for Kaifeng and your meeting with Mong. Together, we won't accomplish much, but if you can convince Mong to help us, we might just have a chance.”

  Two days after he'd captured the stronghold, Ying sat alone at the head of the huge table in the center of the bandits’ banquet hall, drafting a report he would submit to the Emperor. Things were going better than he had expected.

  Ying had gone into the battle with roughly one hundred soldiers against an estimated one hundred bandits. The bandit body count was seventy. The soldiers, fifty. His men were getting better with the qiangs. Next time, he would have his men hunt their enemy down instead of letting them escape.

  Ying was about to dip his brush into the bottle of black ink for the finishing touches on his report when someone knocked on the front door. He scowled and set the brush aside. “Enter.”

  Tonglong walked through the door with one hand behind his back. “Greetings, Major Ying. I have something of great significance for you.”

  Ying's carved brow rose. “Three young heads with short black hair?”

  “No, sir,” Tonglong said. “The boys are headed to Kaifeng.”

  Ying scowled. “All three of them?”

  “As far as I know, sir, yes. The small one was unconscious when I last saw him, but he was still alive. The young warrior monks intend to rendezvous with Mong in a month. Assuming Mong is still alive.”

  “Mong's body is not among the dead,” Ying said. “I checked myself.” He looked at Tonglong's arm. “What is behind your back?”

  Tonglong held out a sheet of fine parchment, rolled up. The paper was of even higher quality than the material Ying was using for his report. Ying noticed immediately that the document carried the Emperor's seal.

  “For you,” Tonglong said. He bowed.

  Ying snatched it out of Tonglong's hand. “Where did you get this?”

  “I happened upon the Emperor in the forest and—”

  “Again?” Ying interrupted. “You also ‘happened upon’ the Emperor when I sent you to deliver the Cangzhen Grandmaster's head.”

  “I know,” Tonglong replied, his narrow eyes fixed on Ying's. “I could hardly believe it myself.”

  Ying could not read Tonglong's expression. “What is this?”

  “I don't know, sir,” Tonglong said, his eyes still glued to Ying's. “However, if I were to guess, I would say the Emperor wishes to congratulate you on all your recent accomplishments. He a
lready knows about Cangzhen, and I told him about everything that happened here. He seemed most interested in hearing about the events in your words.”

  Ying fought back a grin and broke the seal on the rolled-up document with one of his long fingernails. It was indeed an invitation. The Emperor wanted to see him in twenty-one days. Something big was being planned. The Emperor rarely invited anyone to his summer palace—Ying had never been there before.

  “It looks like I will be busy,” Ying said. “You will be, too. Make arrangements for Commander Woo to take a group to Kaifeng to search for the boys. You will stay here and devise a defense strategy for retaining the stronghold in case the bandits return. Train the remaining men in the strategies you feel would be most helpful.”

  “I have no intention of letting anyone take this fortress,” Tonglong said in a matter-of-fact tone. “And I already know how I will lead the men.”

  “It sounds like you have given this some thought,” Ying said as he picked up his brush.

  “You have no idea, sir.”

  “Then get out of my sight and show me what you are made of!” Ying snapped.

  “I intend to,” Tonglong said with a bow. As he turned and headed for the door, a thin smirk played upon his lips. “I fully intend to.”

  For three weeks, Seh and Fu put their new construction skills to good use. Seh helped shape and install replacement rafters for numerous roofs while Fu single-handedly cut, stripped, and delivered support timbers to nearly every work site.

  When they weren't working, Seh split his time between solitary meditation sessions and trying to cheer up Malao. Malao had regained consciousness after one day in Sanfu's care and he was making a speedy recovery, but he was sad. Sanfu had confirmed that the Monkey King was Malao's father, and Malao now knew that the Monkey King was missing thanks to someone called Bing—or “ice.” Malao barely spoke with anyone.

  Today, however, things were beginning to turn around. Malao had gone into the forest early in the morning and found the white monkey. This had made a noticeable difference in Malao's mood. By early afternoon, he was up on the roof of Ma's mother's house with Fu, giggling as he speculated about the size of the hole that would be left in the front yard if Fu happened to slip.