Monkey (5 page)

M
alao scurried through the treetops to see what the commotion was all about. Long before he actually saw anything, he heard cries from both monkeys and men. When the scene finally came into view, Malao's heart sank. A massacre was unfolding.

The monkeys were swarming down from the trees onto large carts that rested on a wide trail. Thirty or forty men surrounded the carts in small groups. The men waited until a cart was completely covered with monkeys before drawing their weapons and lashing out. Quick and agile, most of the monkeys managed to escape the swinging swords and stabbing spears. However, some of the younger monkeys fell to the weapons.

To Malao's disbelief, monkeys continued to pour out of the trees, back onto the same carts. Malao assumed the monkeys were determined to get their hands on anything edible, regardless of the risk. Oddly, most of the carts didn't seem to contain food. When the monkeys lifted back the heavy blankets covering the carts, Malao saw gold. Huge piles of gold.

Malao shivered. He had seen enough death at Cangzhen to last a lifetime. He needed to stop the slaughter, but it would be no easy task. The men protecting the gold were extremely skilled with their weapons.

“Look what I got!” one man shouted as he hoisted a speared monkey high overhead. “Lunch! For all my friends!”

The men roared with laughter.

“Hey, I got one, too,” another man called out. “Seven or eight more and we'll have a feast!”

The group cheered.

“Watch the gold!” a third man shouted. “I just speared one trying to make off with some. Don't they realize that
we're
the bandits in this region? No one steals from us!”

“Here, here!” the group chanted, and Malao realized the bandits were enjoying this. It was a game to them. A cruel, deadly, horrible game. They didn't have to kill the monkeys. All they had to do was shoo them away. That's what the monks did if they were transporting items and encountered a monkey troop in the forest.

“STOP!” Malao yelled. He burst through the tree-tops and landed on top of one of the gold carts.

The bandits stared at Malao, surprised. The monkeys, however, continued to leap onto the carts.

The monkeys must really be desperate for food,
Malao thought.
Or gold. But what would monkeys do with gold?

Several monkeys began grabbing gold bullion from the cart Malao was standing on. The bandits immediately resumed their assault.

Malao took action. He jumped and waved his arms, and monkeys scattered. He twisted and scurried and swiped, and monkeys leaped off the carts. Determined to continue until every last monkey left the area, Malao flipped and kicked and swayed and swung and leaped from cart to cart, and soon a tremendous shrill filled the forest from high up. The monkeys immediately abandoned the carts and returned to the trees.

Breathing heavily, Malao looked into a tall oak tree and saw the large snow-white monkey scowling down at him with its one good eye.

“What did you do that for?” one of the bandits sneered at Malao. In his hands was a bloody spear.

Malao spun around and glared at the bandit from atop a gold cart. He crouched low, ready to spring. His hands trembled.

A second bandit, holding a broadsword, approached Malao. “A better question for our little friend is,
Just who do you think you are, meddling in our business?
Are
you some kind of animal-loving monk? I notice you're wearing an orange robe. You've got to be the tiniest monk I've ever seen.”

Malao bared his teeth and began to shake violently. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a huge, hairy man approaching empty-handed. The man was one of the largest humans Malao had ever seen. His face was covered by a heavy black beard and his forearms were blanketed with hair as thick as the greasy mass on top of his head. Extremely tall and large-boned, the man cast a shadow over every bandit he passed. His enormous stomach jiggled and sloshed with every step.

The giant spoke with a deep, thunderous growl. “Quiet! I will handle this. Answer the questions, boy.
Why did you do that,
and
who do you think you are?”

Malao pulled himself tight into a ball in an effort to control his shaking. His teeth rattled as he spoke. “I—I did that because it is not necessary to kill the monkeys. All you have to do is shoo them away. As for my name, it is Malao.”

A few of the bandits laughed. The large man questioning Malao remained dead serious. “Why would you call yourself
Monkey?.
And why did you choose a Cantonese word for your name? Are you from Canton?”

“I did not n-name myself,” Malao replied. “The Grandmaster of our temple did. He was Cantonese. Our temple was not in Canton, though. It was in this v-very region.”

“And what temple would that be?” the burly man asked.

“It was called C-Cangzhen Temple,” Malao said. “But you would never have heard of it. It was s-secret.”

“Why do you talk about it in past tense?”

Malao trembled. “It was d-destroyed last night.”

The big man paused and his close-set eyes narrowed. He stared at Malao that way for quite some time, as if waiting for Malao to say something. Malao felt like he was about to burst from the tension of the moment.

“Why did you kill those monkeys?!” Malao shouted suddenly. “What did they ever do to you?”

The large man's nostrils flared. “What business is it of yours?”

“Where I come from people don't kill animals,” Malao said. “Especially monkeys!”

“Well, where I come from, boy, we do kill animals— especially monkeys. We eat them. And we enjoy it very much. Why should that concern you?”

“People get along fine without eating meat,” Malao said. “Just look at me. We were allowed to eat meat at our temple for special occasions, but I've never eaten any. Ever!”

A grin spread across the large man's face. “Oh, I believe you. Perhaps if you ate some meat, you wouldn't be so small.”

Malao frowned and the bandits laughed.

The big man seemed to relax. “Let me see if I understand you. You would like me to stop eating monkeys, even though I've been doing it my entire life. Is that what you're saying?”

“Yes,” Malao replied.

“Well then,” the man asked in a polite tone. “Do you have any more requests, young man?”

Malao stood up, his anxiety slipping away. “Well, since you asked, me and my brothers are supposed to uncover the secrets of our pasts. We are orphans. Maybe you could help.”

The big man smirked. “You mean you want me to help you find your parents? Or maybe a long-lost uncle?”

Malao shrugged. “I guess that's what it means.”

“Isn't that sweet?” the large man said, smiling now. “Your temple was destroyed, and now you want Mommy and Daddy to help you seek revenge.”

Malao stared at the man. He suddenly had a feeling he was being toyed with.

The big man turned to the bandits and bellowed, “Gentlemen! Monkey Boy here says he's searching for his family. It looks to me like he found them. Don't you agree? I believe that is his sister stuck like a pig at the end of that spear!” The large man pointed to a spear held by one of the bandits. The spear-holder raised the spear high and shook it. The bandits roared with laughter.

Malao began to shiver again.

One of the bandits shouted, “Hey, I wonder if his father is the Monkey King? The kid really seems to enjoy hanging out on top of that gold cart!”

The bandits roared again.

Malao felt a powerful jolt behind his eyes as if he'd been blindsided by a roundhouse kick.

“Monkey King?”
he mumbled. That name sounded familiar to him. Of course, he knew about the monkey king of legend—a magical creature that supposedly lived thousands of years ago. However, Malao was almost certain the bandit was referring to a real person. Someone who simply had the nickname Monkey King. Malao shook his head to clear his senses.

“Aw, stop teasing the boy,” another bandit yelled out. “You know there's no Monkey King. The monkeys only steal gold because it's shiny and they like to look at it. They don't deliver it to anyone. Leave the boy be and let's get on our way.”

“This boy isn't going anywhere,” the big man replied, suddenly serious. “He's robbed us of a feast. He belongs to me now. My stomach has been aching for days because I haven't had any fresh meat, but I know a cure. Liver soup. I've made it before with monkey livers, and it worked wonders every time. However, they say it works best with human liver!”

The huge man lunged at Malao. Malao leaped straight into the air. He touched down on top of the man's greasy head and bounded toward the trunk of the nearest tree. Malao latched on to the tree for the briefest of moments, then sprang in a completely different direction an instant before the big man slammed his shoulder into the tree. The tree shook violently and the entire group of bandits erupted with laughter. The large man winced.

Malao looked down from high atop a large maple. He saw the big man pull a small object from one of
several pouches hanging from his sash. It was a throwing dart! The man's eyes seemed to drift apart and Malao focused on the one eye that remained on him, prepared to leap if the man launched the dart in his direction.

The large man's hand suddenly flashed outward in a blur, but not in Malao's direction. It followed the path of the drifting eye. High atop a neighboring tree, the white monkey cried out. It fell to the ground, clutching its head, and the big man pounced on it.

Malao howled and leaped down from the treetop, landing in the center of the large man's back. He grabbed the short, greasy hair on the back of the man's head with his left hand and yanked the decorated stick from his robe with his right. As Malao raised the stick, one of the man's enormous hands flew back and grabbed it. The man swung his huge arm powerfully down. Malao let go of the man's hair and grabbed on to the stick with both hands as his body was flung forward over the man's shoulder.

Still holding on to the stick, Malao landed flat on his back next to the white monkey. He groaned.

Upon seeing the stick, the monkey seemed to lose its mind. With one paw against its bleeding head, it unfurled its other claw and slashed viciously across the top of the large man's hand. The man cried out and let go of the stick. The monkey bared its long, razor-sharp fangs and launched its face at Malao's hands. Malao let go as the monkey clamped its jaws down onto the stick.

The white monkey sprang to its feet, the stick in its teeth, and darted off into the trees. Malao leaped after it but fell heavily to the earth as a large net was cast over him. Several men held the ends of the net down, out of Malao's reach. Malao wriggled and clawed and kicked, but it was no use. He stopped struggling and stared up at his captors through the tightly woven holes in the net.

The burly man walked away, only to return moments later carrying a huge pair of golden melon hammers. The large, round heads of the war hammers glistened at the end of metal handles, each as long as Malao's leg. The big man stared coldly at Malao as he raised his huge arms in preparation for a crushing blow.

“That's very brave of you, Hung—killing a child with the aid of several others and a net,” a voice called out from the crowd. “I speak a little Cantonese myself, you know, and I recognize your name as Cantonese, just like the boy's. How strange. Cantonese names are so rare in this region. Stranger still is the significance of your name.
Hung
means ‘bear’ in Cantonese, and you really do remind me of a bear. A big, lazy panda bear. If you were a
real
man, you would dismiss your helpers and fight the boy alone, hand to hand.”

Malao knew that voice. It belonged to his brother Seh!

O
utside the Cangzhen perimeter wall, Commander Woo squinted in the late-morning sun and ran his fingers through a section of charred earth. He raised one hand to his nose, and his head recoiled from the smell. “Are you certain this mark was left by a ghost?” he asked the soldier beside him.

“Yes, sir,” the soldier replied nervously. “I'm positive. I believe it is the same restless spirit we've felt watching us. It may also be the same one responsible for stealing the Grandmaster's body. Last night, four other soldiers and I saw the spirit soar from the burning rooftop right through the middle of the tree behind us. It touched down on top of the wall and paused before floating down somewhere beyond,
which I believe is right where we're standing now. Flames followed it the whole way down. I think that's what burned the ground here. It must be a very powerful spirit to have fire flowing from it like that. I'm concerned, sir.”

“Concerned about what?” Commander Woo asked.

The soldier lowered his head and shuffled his feet. “The spirit promised to hunt me and the others down and devour our souls if we mentioned what we saw to anyone. It said it would go after our families, too—”

“What's this nonsense about a spirit?” Ying suddenly appeared from around the front corner of the perimeter wall.

Commander Woo jumped. “Sir!”

“Don't you remember our little discussion earlier this morning, Commander?” Ying asked. “I thought I made it clear that I didn't want to hear any more talk of spirits. Now I find you out here,
still
discussing spirits. Why are you indulging the men with this nonsense? Ghosts do not exist.”