Monkey (18 page)

“I might ask you the same question,” Ying replied. “Where are your men?”

“They're off getting some well-deserved rest,” Tsung said. “Have you come to learn how a real man handles an attack on a warrior monk temple?”

Ying sneered and pointed to Malao, Seh, and Fu. “I came for the boys. I had no idea you planned to duplicate my attack on Cangzhen.”

“Duplicate?” Tsung said. “I destroyed
all
of my former brothers. It looks to me like a few of yours not only escaped, they managed to make off with some valuable documents.”

Ying scowled.

Tsung grinned. “Don't fret, young man. I'm here to help. Look.” Tsung removed the open scroll he had stuffed in his robe. He straightened it out and began to roll it up. “I have two more besides this one. You want them?”

“Yes—”

“Then come get them!” Tsung growled. He finished rolling the third scroll and returned it to his robe. He tightened his sash. “I've heard stories about your fighting skills, boy. People are starting to say that you are in the same league as me. Apparently, they need to be reminded that I am in a league of my own.”

Ying laughed. “You don't stand a chance, Spot.”

Tsung paused. He cocked his head to one side and stared off into the forest beyond Ying. “Are those your men I hear coming?”

“Yes,” Ying replied. “Are you going to scamper away?”

“Not at all,” Tsung purred. “I was hoping for an audience.”

THWACK!

Malao turned to see five armed soldiers hacking their way into the clearing with large machetes. They lined up beneath Ying.

“You men are just in time for the main event,” Ying said to the group. “Where are the others?”

“Fanning out over various sections of the Shaolin compound and surrounding area, sir,” one of the soldiers reported. “Commander Woo is determined to seal off all possible escape routes.”

“Excellent,” Ying said. He turned to face Tsung. “Is this a large enough audience for you?”

Tsung smiled and nodded.

Ying spat and spread his arms wide. “Then let the games begin!”

Ying swooped down from the tree and Tsung sprang into the air. They collided with an impact so powerful, Malao felt the percussion several paces away. Within moments, the fight reached a level of ferocity Malao had never imagined possible. Both combatants were out for blood. Malao noticed that Tsung was definitely faster, but Ying was much stronger. Ying never seemed to be able to connect solidly with Tsung, and Tsung's quick jabs had little or no effect on Ying. Malao knew it was going to be a long fight. He dropped to his knees, next to Fu.

Seh leaned over and whispered, “What are you doing?”

“Trying to think of a way to wake Fu up so we can get out of here.”

“Good idea,” Seh said. “Listen, I just thought of a plan, but it doesn't involve you or Fu. If you see me get knocked down, don't try to wake me up. I'll be playing dead. Understand?”

Malao nodded.

“Hey!” one of the soldiers shouted, shaking his spear. “What are you two talking about?”

Seh stood and walked over to the man. “None of your business,” Seh said defiantly. He shoved the soldier hard.

“Why, you little—” The soldier lunged at Seh with his spear. Seh slid backward, easily avoiding the razor-sharp tip.

“You call that an attack?” Seh said with an arrogant laugh. “You fight like an old woman.”

“ARRRGH!” The soldier rushed forward, lunging with the spear again. Seh slid back farther this time, almost to the very center of the clearing. He stuck out his tongue and the soldier swung the spear at Seh's head. Malao knew Seh could have easily gotten out of the way in time, but he hesitated before ducking. The spear shaft glanced off the back of Seh's head and he slithered to the ground.

Malao giggled softly and glanced over at Ying and Tsung. They were still in the heat of battle. As Malao turned his attention back to Fu, he caught a glimpse of Ying swiping at Tsung's legs with his long toenails. That gave Malao an idea.

Fu was lying on his back, so Malao sat down on Fu's chest and placed one of his bare feet on each of Fu's chubby cheeks. Nothing happened. Determined to wake Fu, Malao began to slap Fu's cheeks with his smelly feet. Still nothing. Desperate, Malao brought his feet together and rested them both on top of Fu's
mouth. He wiggled all ten toes directly under Fu's nose. Fu's whole body jerked violently. Fu's mouth slipped open and Malao felt Fu's tongue slide across the bottom of his feet.

Fu's eyes snapped open. He grabbed both of Malao's ankles and yanked Malao off his chest. “What are you doing?!” he shouted. He sat up and spat.

The entire line of soldiers began laughing. Fu stood, red-faced, and looked around. “What's going on?”

“You were knocked unconscious,” Malao said. “You wouldn't wake up and—”

“ARRRGH!”

Malao turned and saw Ying slam Tsung to the ground.

“Ying!” Fu said. “When did he get here?”

“Just now,” Malao said.

“But if he's here already, that means my father is probably …” Fu's voice trailed off.

Malao's eyes widened. “That doesn't mean anything, Fu! It's been ten days since we left the village. A lot could have happened since then. Maybe he's fine.”

“Or maybe he's dead!” Fu roared. He pointed at Ying and tensed every muscle in his body.
“You're mine!”

Malao grabbed Fu's thick arm. “Fu, don't!”

Fu hesitated. He pointed to a pile of blue silk in the center of the clearing next to Ying and Tsung.

“Is that
Seh?”
Fu asked.

“Uhhh … yes,” Malao replied. “But—”

“Nobody does that to
my
family!” Fu roared.

“Fu, wait—”

Fu charged straight at Ying and Tsung. Malao watched with his mouth wide open.

Fu unleashed a mighty tiger-claw swipe at the back of Ying's neck. Ying must have sensed it coming because he leaped off to one side. Fu's powerful fingers slammed into the front of Tsung's shoulder and raked downward on an angle across Tsung's chest. Tsung's robe was torn open and all three dragon scrolls tumbled out.

Before the scrolls even hit the ground, Seh sat up, whipped his body around, and snatched the scrolls with both hands.

Ying shrieked and lunged toward Seh, but Fu spun around and planted a brutal snap kick square in the center of Ying's diaphragm. Ying doubled over and Tsung leaped onto Ying's back, wrapping his legs around Ying's midsection and his arms around Ying's neck. Malao saw Tsung twist his body powerfully to one side, hurling both himself and Ying to the ground.

“GO!” Seh shouted as he stood. He slipped off into a thick tangle of vines. Fu hesitated, then put his head down and barreled into the dense foliage after Seh.

“Get them!” one of the soldiers shouted.

“Wait!” another warned. “Look!”

Malao turned and saw Tsung latched on to Ying's back with an unorthodox choke hold. Malao had never seen anything like it before. Tsung's arms and legs were intertwined with Ying's, and Tsung's forearm was wedged tightly against Ying's throat. It was without a doubt the most effective technique Malao
had ever seen. Ying's face was red as a beet, and it looked like his head was about to explode. No matter how much Ying thrashed around, he couldn't shake Tsung. If Tsung didn't let up soon, Ying would be dead.

The soldiers began to close in and form a circle around Tsung and Ying. Malao made a break for the trees. With one powerful leap, he grabbed hold of a thick vine and swung toward freedom. When he was three trees into the forest, someone shouted, “STOP!”

Malao recognized that voice. It was Tonglong.

Malao stopped and spun around. He knew the shout wasn't meant for him, but he was curious nonetheless. He weaved his head back and forth until he had a clear line of sight into the clearing and waited. A moment later, Tonglong approached the circle of soldiers.

“Nobody touch them!” Tonglong said to the men. “Now back away!”

The soldiers backed away and Malao could clearly see Tsung still latched on to Ying's back. Tsung was panting heavily and his limbs shook from the pressure he was exerting on Ying. Ying's body had gone limp, but Tsung still held fast.

Tonglong drew his straight sword and rested the point against the side of Tsung's neck. “I suggest you let go, General Tsung. Immediately.”

“Go … away,” Tsung grunted. Sweat poured off his bald head like a waterfall.

“You have accomplished your goal, sir,” Tonglong
said. “You challenged Ying, and now he's fallen to your hands. There is no need to kill him. Let go.”

Tsung didn't respond. He held on like an exhausted man desperately clinging to the edge of a cliff.

“I will count to three,” Tonglong said. “Release Major Ying,
or die.
One … two …”

Tsung let go and rolled off Ying. He tried to rise onto his hands and knees but collapsed. He didn't move again. Even from a distance, Malao could tell that Tsung had slipped into unconsciousness.

Tonglong knelt next to Ying, and the circle of soldiers began to close in around them.

“I told you men to back away!” Tonglong shouted. “Form a rank over there.” He pointed behind him.

Malao watched the soldiers scramble to arrange themselves in a straight line. As the men hurried about, Malao noticed Tonglong lean over Ying and discreetly slip his hand into the folds of Ying's robe. Tonglong quickly removed a scroll and slipped it into his own oversized sleeve.

Malao gasped and Tonglong snapped his head up. Tonglong locked eyes with Malao and grinned. Malao twitched. He knew he should run, but he couldn't seem to tear his eyes from Tonglong's face. For the briefest of moments, Tonglong looked just like someone he knew. …

Transfixed, Malao watched Tonglong turn his attention back to Ying. Tonglong ripped Ying's robe wide open, exposing Ying's bare chest. Ying's rib cage rose and fell steadily. Ying was still alive.

Tonglong stood and adjusted his long braid. He pointed down at Ying and addressed the soldiers. “Look! The scroll Major Ying carried is missing. Did any of you see who took it?”

The soldiers all shook their heads.

“No one saw anything?” Tonglong asked. “Nothing?”

The soldiers all lowered their heads and shuffled their feet.

“What are you men ashamed of?” Tonglong said. His voice boomed. “Raise your heads and stand strong! None of you did anything wrong. I've been observing you for months now, and time after time I see the same thing—soldiers who are afraid to act. Men who are paralyzed with indecision. Men who have the right instincts, but are unsure of whether or not they should take action, so they do nothing. This is a problem. But it is not your problem. As your number one, it is my problem. And I intend to fix it.”

The soldiers all looked up at Tonglong. Their eyes widened.

Tonglong sighed. “It is my opinion that you men are afraid to take action because you are afraid of failure. Unfortunately, failure in Major Ying's camp means punishment. We need to change that.”

Tonglong made eye contact with each of the soldiers. “Gentlemen, I promise I'll do whatever I can to make your lives easier. In the meantime, we have some unfinished business. We must find the young monks. Now listen closely and take heed. We are sure to encounter many different creatures in the
not-too-distant future, and each has unique skills. The leopard, for example, is the fastest and most agile animal in the forest, but it lacks stamina. Look—here lies one incapacitated after a few short bursts of energy. I am certain that ahead of us lie a monkey, a tiger, and a snake. The tiger can stay on the move for days and the monkey for weeks, but it is the snake that concerns me most. The snake does not have to run. It is a master of camouflage, and it strikes hardest when you least expect it. You have all seen firsthand how perfectly one played dead here today, only to strike when no one was paying attention. I suggest you keep your eyes and ears open at all times and watch where you step, for the snake now has the scrolls and we must get them back.”

Tonglong raised a fist high. “Are you with me, men?”

The soldiers responded as one. “YES, SIR!”

Tonglong smiled and glanced back at Malao. Malao nearly fell out of the tree. He realized that when Tonglong smiled, he looked just like …

“Come on, little brother,” Seh whispered from behind Malao. “Let's get out of here.”

Malao jumped. He turned and looked at Seh. His eyes widened.

It cant be …,
Malao thought. He glanced over at Tonglong, then back at Seh with his newly grown hair. Malao's mouth dropped open. “W-what on earth is going on?”

“I have no idea,” Seh replied. “Now quit daydreaming. We have to get out of here. Fu is waiting for us.”

“But—”

“Now!” Seh said. He grabbed Malao's arm and yanked him into the forest.

Malao looked back at Tonglong one last time.

Tonglong winked.

I
'd like to thank my editors, Jim Thomas and Schuyler Hooke, for their continued hard work and dedication to this series, not to mention all the weekend hours they put in on
Monkey.
Thanks, guys! I'm also grateful for the fantastic work illustrator Richard Cowdrey and graphic designer Joanne Yates have done on the series covers. Bravo!

Laura Rennert, my agent, deserves a tremendous thank-you for everything she continues to do for me on the business end and beyond, as does Barry Eisler, author, attorney, martial artist, and friend.

A significant portion of
Monkey
was written at Andy and Ruth Ann Anderson's cottage (on the lake!), so I have to thank them. I also need to thank my kung
fu instructor, John Vaughn of Shaolin-Do, for his endless patience with my hectic schedule.

My parents, Roger and Arlene Stone, and my brothers, Joe and Jaysen Stone, never strayed far from my mind as I wrote
Monkey.
They definitely deserve a lot of thanks. I'd also like to say thanks to my “newest” family members for opening the door when I came knocking. That would be my birth mother, Sandra Kijorski, and her adult children, Scott McAlpine and Shannon Rumph.

The biggest thanks of all go to my wife, Jeanie, and our children, Tristen and Owen, who continue to support me in every way, day after day. I couldn't do it without you, Jeanie. Thank you!