by Snake
The other bandits did their fair share, too. Hung swung his mighty war hammers while Sanfu swung his huge tiger-claw fists. Gao barked and kicked, and NgGung taunted his attackers by daring them to punch him in the stomach before following through with vicious spinning back fists. Mong simply waited for an attacker to step within his reach, then squeezed the life out of them.
“Let me fight!” Fu roared.
“NO!” Sanfu said.
Seh turned and saw Fu attempt to rush out of the ring of bandits, between Hung and Sanfu. Fu's eyes were fixed on Sanfu, and it appeared as though Fu never saw Hung's huge, hairy elbow coming. The elbow slammed into the side of Fu's head, and Fu dropped to the ground, out cold. Seh cringed. That was going to leave a mark.
As the bandits fought off wave after wave of attackers, Seh began to worry. The soldiers with the qiangs would finish reloading soon. And there was still no sign of Malao. Seh turned to Hok. “I need to know what's going on. Snake Slithers Up the Tree!”
Hok bobbed her head once and dropped into a shallow horse stance. Seh stepped onto one of her legs and shimmied up her narrow back until his knees rested on her shoulders. Hok straightened her legs and stood—on her tiptoes.
“Hey!” Charles said. “You're going to hurt her!”
“I doubt it,” Seh said. He felt Hok fumbling with something and looked down. Hok's turban had come unraveled. She pulled the entire wrap off her head, and Seh nearly tumbled off her shoulders. Hok's hair was brown! Just like her little sister's!
Seh felt the pit of his stomach begin to tingle, and he looked over at Tonglong's boat. His eyes widened. “Malao!” he shouted. “Look out!”
Shouting proved to be useless. Malao was in the boat with Tonglong and the soldiers, jumping around like crazy, throwing qiangs into the water and swinging his monkey stick. Malao's upper lip was curled back. He was out of control. Seh watched helplessly as a brown arm rose up out of the water next to Malao.
Except the arm never came in contact with Malao. Instead, it wrapped around the neck of the man next to Malao and yanked the man over the side.
The eel twins! Seh thought.
But his excitement was short-lived. Malao leaped to the front of the boat, where the drummer usually sat, and froze as he locked eyes with a man sitting in one of the frontmost seats. It was the fat man from the bridge.
Malao's back was to the very front of the boat, and Seh saw a tiny person in a black hood slowly rise up behind Malao from beneath the drummer's seat.
“MALAO!” Seh shouted, and this time Malao heard him. Malao looked to the shore and was hit in the back of the neck with the fastest snake-head fist Seh had ever seen.
Malao went limp.
And the boat began to move.
Seh's heart leaped into his throat. “My mother!” he shouted. “She's with Tonglong! They have Malao and—”
Tonglong raised one arm and let it fall. “FIRE!”
The BOOM! of the qiangs was followed by shouts from the bandits.
Hung stumbled backward, gripping his shoulder. Blood seeped between his hairy fingers.
Sanfu roared, clutching his cheek with one hand.
“RETREAT!” Mong shouted.
Hok tilted her head down and dropped her shoulders, sending Seh sliding forward off the slippery white silk of her dress. Seh landed hard on his knees.
Hok grabbed her little sister, and Sanfu scooped up Fu.
“But—” Seh began to say.
“MOVE!” Mong hissed. He grabbed the back of Seh's collar and heaved him forward. Seh stumbled, but someone grabbed his arm and held him steady until he regained his stride. Grateful, Seh looked over and saw that it was Hok's mother.
“Run,” she said in an eerily peaceful tone. “You must run.”
“I know,” Seh said as he picked up his pace. “But they have Malao—”
Hok's mother nodded.
Seh knew Hok's mother was right. There was nothing they could do right now. Seh thought about his own mother and ground his teeth. He adjusted the scroll at his back and felt the snake on his arm tighten its grip.
“Thank you,” Seh said to Hok's mother. “I really mean it. My brothers and I have so many enemies, it's difficult to know who to trust. Thank you … ah … ah … I don't even know your name.”
As they ran, Hok's mother folded her hands like a Cangzhen monk. She spoke with an icy calm.
“My name is Bing.”
Excerpt copyright © 2006 by Jeffrey S. Stone
Published by Random House Children's Books
Henan Province, China
4348—Year of the Tiger
(1650 AD)
Twelve-year-old Hok sat perched high in a tree in a dreamlike state. All around her, Cangzhen was burning. Thick black smoke rushed over her on currents of air formed by the intense heat below. Her brothers, Fu, Malao, Seh, and Long, had already taken flight. It was time for her to do the same. Grandmaster had told them to scatter into the four winds, so into the wind she would go.
Hok spread her arms wide and let the warm, rising air lift her into the night sky. She welcomed the familiar feeling and soon found herself soaring through the darkness, circling higher and higher. Yet no matter how high she flew, she couldn't escape the smoke. It burned her eyes and obscured her vision. She had no choice but to descend once more. Maybe she could somehow fly around the trouble.
Below her, the Cangzhen compound came into view again. Through the smoky haze, Hok saw the outlines of a hundred fallen monks. She was as powerless to help them now as she had been during the attack. She frowned, and continued on.
Hok headed for Cangzhen's main gates and saw her former brother Ying just beyond them, his carved dragon face contorted into an angry scowl. Grandmaster was with Ying, and so was her brother Fu. Hok watched as Ying cut Fu's cheek with his chain whip, then blasted a large hole clear through Grandmaster's upper body with a qiang.
Hok shuddered and blinked, and Ying disappeared like mythical dragons were rumored to do. Fu ran away, and Grandmaster slumped to the ground.
Behind her, Hok heard her youngest brother, Malao, giggle. She glanced back, but saw no sign of him. Instead, she caught a glimpse of a monkey demon dancing across a burning rooftop—
What is going on? Hok wondered. She had had strange, vivid dreams before, but never one quite like this. Everything was so clear and so. … violent.
The images got worse.
Hok saw Grandmaster suddenly stand, streams of smoke drifting in and out of the bloody hole in his chest. He glanced up at Hok soaring overhead, and his wrinkled bald head tumbled off his shoulders.
Hok shuddered again. She had had enough. She wanted to wake up. She pinched herself—and felt it—but nothing changed. She was still gliding on smoky currents of air. She felt as if she were asleep and awake at the same time.
Perhaps the smoke had something to do with it. If she could just get away from the smoke, maybe she could find a way to wake up. Hok glided beyond the tree line, skimming the treetops. She flew as low as possible, hoping that the drifting smoke would rise above her.
She hadn't gotten very far into the forest when she passed over a large hollow tree and caught a glimpse of herself burying Grandmaster's headless body inside it. Curious, Hok landed on a nearby limb and watched herself finish the job, then drift off to sleep inside the tree.
As Hok stared through the smoky darkness, she saw a soldier with the head of a mantis sneak into the tree hollow and sprinkle something over her sleeping face.
She had been drugged. That was why she was having trouble waking up.
With this realization came a dizzying sensation. Part of Hok's mind raced back to her lessons with Grandmaster concerning certain types of mushroom spores and different plant matter that, if inhaled, could put a person into a dreamlike fog for days on end. Hok grew certain that she was now only half-asleep, which meant that she was half-awake. She made a conscious effort to pull herself into the waking world, and the smoke around her began to thi
n.
At the same time, Hok watched the soldier's impossible insect head in her dream. It transformed from that of a mantis into that of a man, and she recognized him. His name was Tonglong. He was Ying's number one soldier. Hok watched Tonglong lift her unconscious body and carry it out of the tree hollow.
Hok spread her arms in her dream and leaped into the air, following Tonglong. She glanced down and saw that two soldiers were now carrying her unconscious body along a trail. She was bound and hanging from a pole like a trophy animal.
Hok blinked and the scene below changed. She was now unbound, having a conversation in the forest with Fu, Malao, and a. … tiger cub?
Hok blinked again, and a stiff breeze rose out of nowhere. It whisked the remaining smoke away, and the images went with it.
When the breeze stopped, Hok felt herself begin to tumble from the sky. She pinched herself again.
This time, she opened her eyes.
Hok found herself facedown on the muddy bank of a narrow stream. The earth was cool and moist, but the midday sun overhead warmed her bare feet and the back of her aching head. She raised her long, bony fingers to the top of her pounding temples and felt something she hadn't felt in years: hair. It was little more than stubble, and caked with mud, but it was undeniable.
How long have I been asleep? Hok wondered. Where am I?
She lifted her head and her vision slowly gained focus. So did her other senses.
Hok twitched. She wasn't alone.
“You've been drugged,” a voice purred from overhead. “Let me help you.”
Hok looked into a nearby tree and her eyes widened. Lounging on a large limb was a lean bald man in an orange monk's robe. The man raised his bushy eyebrows and leaped to the ground with all the grace and nimbleness of a leopard. He approached Hok with smooth, confident strides.
“Dream Dust, I'm guessing,” the man said. “If so, you'll be feeling the effects on and off for days. It's powerful stuff. It blurs the line between dreams and reality.”
Hok stared, unblinking, at the man. If she remembered her training correctly, Dream Dust was derived from the pods of poppy flowers. Powerful stuff indeed.
“My name is Tsung,” the man offered. “It's Mandarin for ‘monk.’ A simple name for a simple man. I am from Shaolin Temple originally, but I live outside the temple now among regular folk. Hence, my name.”
Hok continued to stare.
“You don't say much, do you?” Tsung said. He stopped several paces from her, keeping a respectful distance. “That's just as well. I'll tell you what I know. I spied on your captors, Major Ying and Tonglong, for quite some time. I make a habit of keeping an eye on things in this region. I had a feeling you were something special, even before I realized you were from Cangzhen. And once I overheard them discussing the fact that you were a girl, well, let's just say that I was doubly impressed. For fighters as skilled as Ying and Tonglong to go to such lengths to bind and drug such a young captive, that's extraordinary.”
Hok glanced at her wrists and ankles. They were raw and coated with dried blood, but she didn't feel a thing. The Dream Dust must be numbing the pain.
Tsung nodded at her. “Interesting outfit you're wearing. It appears large enough to fit a grown man.”
Hok looked at her oversized robe and ill-fitting orange pants. She'd always worn clothes that were too large in preparation for the days when loose clothes would better hide her gender. It seemed that didn't matter anymore. She shrugged. She didn't know what to say.
“You really aren't doing so well, are you?” Tsung asked.
Hok shook her head. The movement made her dizzy, and her vision began to tunnel.
“I'm taking you to Shaolin,” Tsung said. “I have a horse nearby, and we will be there in no time. I'll take care of you.” He flashed a toothy grin, and Hok sensed something beneath the surface. Something sinister. He took a step toward her.
Hok formed a crane-beak fist with her right hand, bunching the tips of all four fingers together and pressing them tightly against the tip of her thumb.
Tsung's smile faded. “A crane stylist?” he said. “I should have guessed.”
Hok didn't offer a response.
“They say Dream Dust allows the user to see into the hearts of others,” Tsung said. “Do you think this is true?”
Hok didn't respond. The world around her was growing hazy, as if smoke was drifting over her eyes. She felt her crane-beak fist loosen, her fingers relaxing into a limp open hand.
“Very interesting,” Tsung purred, his feline grin returning. “Since it appears as though you're about to drift away again, I'll let you in on a little secret. My brothers at Shaolin no longer trust me, either. In fact, they haven't let me into the compound in years. However, that is all about to change. You shall be my ticket in. The ticket for me, and a few thousand of my closest friends.”
lives in the Midwest with his wife, their two children, and a python named Yokwan (Cantonese for “Jade Bangle”). Mr. Stone holds a black belt in Shaolin-Do kung fu. He had the honor of traveling to China with the Shaolin-Do grand master to test for his black belt at Shaolin Temple. Like the Five Ancestors, Mr. Stone was adopted as an infant. He began searching for his birth parents when he was eighteen and found them fifteen years later.
Copyright © 2006 by Jeffrey S. Stone
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The Five Ancestors is a trademark of Jeffrey S. Stone.
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eISBN: 978-0-375-89180-9
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