Snake (7 page)

“Of course, sir,” Commander Woo said. “As you wish.”

Ying looked at Captain Yue. Captain Yue was brushing his eyebrows with a tiny jade comb.

Ying shook his head and turned away. “Hopeless!” he muttered, heading across the Cangzhen compound toward Grandmaster's residence. It was time to take care of what had brought him back here. With every step, Ying grew angrier.

“Grandmaster disrespected me,” Ying said to himself. “His family and friends will suffer like I have suffered. I will smash his network and hack off every limb of his family tree. I will erase his entire clan as if they never existed.”

Enraged, Ying reached the broken gate of Grandmaster's residence and found it hanging by one of its massive hinges. Ying slammed his fists into the gate, splintering it into a thousand pieces.

Ying had always hated Grandmaster's personal
compound. He remembered once asking Grandmaster why a second series of walls was necessary around his residence. Grandmaster responded by making Ying scrub every speck of every wall with a small brush. Cleaning the walls was supposed to give Ying time to “cleanse his mind of trivial interests” that didn't concern him. Instead, it raised more questions. It also made Ying's arms ache. It took him two weeks.

Ying spat on one of the compound walls and trudged into Grandmaster's residence. Early-morning light poured in through several charred holes in the roof, illuminating a single large room with a small bed and a medium-sized table. A few of the walls were blackened, but for the most part the flames hadn't damaged much. Not even the straight sword. Ying saw it hanging on the wall in its scabbard, tip down—a sign of respect for the sword.

Though the scabbard was charred, Ying recognized it immediately. He snatched it off the wall and drew the sword. The blade was covered with an ornate pattern of intertwining dragons. It was without question Grandmaster's. Grandmaster apparently hadn't had time to retrieve it during the attack.

Ying hissed and threw the sword against the wall with all his might. He grabbed the wooden scabbard with both hands spread wide and broke it over his knee. Ying threw the halves down and looked at the sword. The handle was worn, but the blade was in pristine condition. It glimmered majestically in a pool of light on the floor.

It was said that all great swords have souls. Grandmaster's sword looked like a great sword. If it were, Ying would have to kill it. He picked up the sword again. This time, it spoke to him.

Ying's mind flooded with images of both Grandmaster and his father. Happy images as well as sad. Images of both men in life and in death. As he held the sword, Ying was reminded that his father had not fallen to it, but had instead fallen to Grandmaster's dragon fist. But to Ying, it didn't matter. His father had fallen to Grandmaster, and this sword was Grandmaster's—therefore, the sword must be erased from memory just like Grandmaster.

The sword continued to call out to Ying, but he closed his mind to it. He knew what was happening. All the finest swords were made with a special, secret ingredient that gave them not only superior strength, but also a soul. They were forged with blood. The sword maker would slice his arm and cool the blade with his very essence, breathing life into his creation by bonding his own elements with the minerals in the metal. If Grandmaster's ancestors had forged this sword, it was as much a part of Grandmaster's family as any of his human relatives. The sword, like the rest of Grandmaster's relatives, must die.

Ying carried the sword outside and hurled it onto a section of roof that had survived the flames. Exposed to the elements and out of sight from the ground, the sword would wither and decay like a forgotten man on a mountaintop.

Ying stared at Grandmaster's former residence and raised a fist to the heavens. “I will erase your past like you tried to erase mine, old man! And once I retrieve the dragon scrolls, all of China will know my name!
Saulong
—Vengeful Dragon!”

Y
our name is
Dog?”
Seh said, staring at the strange man with the big nose and peculiar floppy ears.

Sniff, sniff.
“You bet,” Gao replied. “The one and only dog-style master ever to come out of Cangzhen!” Gao dropped back down onto all fours and pretended to chase his tail.

Malao giggled and scurried down the tree. Fu climbed off the archer and glared at the spearman, who was still standing beside the unconscious swordsman.

Malao ran over to Seh, and Fu joined them. Gao sat up. Gao glanced at the other bandits and shook his head. “What a pathetic bunch.” He leaned his nose toward one of Malao's tiny footprints.
Sniff, sniff, sniff.
“Wow, those are some interesting feet you've got there, my friend. You must be Malao.”

“Yes!” Malao said. “How did you know?”

“You're famous,” Gao said.
Sniff, sniff.
“You defeated Hung. He's Mong's right-hand man, you know. That's no small task, little one, if you'll pardon my pun.” He grinned.

Malao laughed. “You're hilarious!”

Sniff.
“You think that's funny?” Gao said. “Watch this.” He sat back on his haunches and raised one leg all the way up behind one droopy ear. He began to scratch his head with his foot. “Ahhhhh …”

Malao laughed and clapped.

Fu rolled his eyes.

Seh watched as Gao rolled over and bounded toward them on all fours. Fu growled, and Seh saw the newly sprouted hairs on the back of Fu's neck stand straight up.

Gao stopped. “What's wrong, my feline friend?”
Sniff, sniff.

Fu growled again, and Seh placed a hand on Fu's shoulder. “He's just cautious around strangers,” Seh said to Gao. “I am, too.”

Sniff, sniff.
“I can't blame you, especially after what you've been through,” Gao said. “I'm really sorry about what happened to Cangzhen.”

Seh nodded.

“You're safe now,” Gao said. “Mong has been waiting for you. You'll be among friends. Brothers, even. Me, Mong, Hung, and NgGung all grew up at Cangzhen, just like you.”
Sniff, sniff.

Malao's eyes widened, and he punched Seh on the arm. “What do you know about all of this?”

Seh shrugged. “You and Fu chose not to talk to me. What was I supposed to do?”

Sniff, sniff.
“Excuse me,” Gao said. “I suggest you save the arguing for inside the stronghold. Technically, you're not safe yet. From what I understand, Cangzhen and Shaolin have both been destroyed. Shaolin is about a week's travel from here, but Cangzhen is much closer. We have reports of renewed troop activity at Cangzhen.”

“How do you know so much?” Malao asked.

“The bandits have spies,” Seh replied. He looked at Gao. “So, you already know about Shaolin?”

Sniff.
“Yes. NgGung returned yesterday and brought the news. He also brought news concerning your … er … brother Hok.”

“What do you know about Hok?” Seh asked.

Sniff, sniff, sniff.
“I suggest you talk to Mong about that,” Gao replied. “It's really none of my business.”

Seh's jaw tightened, and Fu growled again.

Sniff.
“I'm sorry, but we need to get moving,” Gao said. He turned to the archer. “Gather your things and meet us at the shore. Have a torch ready. Hurry!”

The archer nodded and began to scramble.

Gao turned to the spearman. “What are
you
waiting for? Get back to work! Go guard something!”
Woof! Woof! Woof!

“Y-yes, sir!” the spearman said. He grabbed his spear and ran up the trail.

Gao looked at Seh and smiled. “By the way, nice
job disarming that good-for-nothing excuse for a sentry. I appreciate the fact that you didn't skewer him. Good help—or even mediocre help—is so hard to find these days.”
Sniff, sniff.

Seh shrugged.

Gao walked over to the unconscious swordsman and squatted on his haunches. He cradled the back of the man's head in his hands. Seh could tell that Gao was massaging pressure points in the swordsman's neck. It was something all Cangzhen monks learned. A moment later, the swordsman regained consciousness.

The swordsman rubbed his forehead. “Oh … I have the worst headache.”

Sniff.
“You should be ashamed of yourself,” Gao said. “You were beaten down by a boy. Take your broadsword and your headache and get back to guarding our stronghold from bloodthirsty soldiers, ruthless thieves, and the occasional child. Go!”
Woof! Woof!

The swordsman ran off.

Gao's tongue rolled out of his mouth in a sloppy grin and he turned to Malao. He dropped onto all fours.
Pant. Pant. Pant.
“Follow me!” Gao yelped, and sprang down the trail.

“That guy is crazy!” Malao shrieked. “Come on! This is going to be fun!” He also dropped onto all fours and bounded after Gao, dog-style.

Fu looked at Seh. “This can't be happening.”

Seh shrugged and motioned down the trail. “After you, Pussycat.”

Seh stepped onto a narrow stretch of beach and folded his arms against the crisp morning breeze. The snake around his arm crawled all the way over his shoulder to take shelter among the scrolls in the small of his back.

Seh adjusted his robe and looked west across the wide, circular lake before him. In the center rose a small mountain of jagged rock, sprinkled with patches of evergreen trees. The very top of the mountain was relatively flat and tree-covered. A narrow pathway that Seh took to be stairs ran from the bottom of the small mountain to the plateau at the top.

The stronghold must be up there,
Seh thought. It looked impenetrable. Even if invaders were to cross the lake's muddy waters, they would still have to scale the mountain to reach whatever fortress was undoubtedly hidden at the top. It was the perfect stronghold.
How are we going to get over there?
Seh wondered.

“Fire!” Gao barked.

The archer released a flaming arrow toward the mountain island. Seh watched it arc across the morning sky and splash down in the dark water just short of the island.

Malao looked at Gao. “Now what?”

Sniff.
“Watch.” Gao pointed across the lake.

Seh strained his eyes and saw a long, shallow boat slip into the water from the base of the mountain. A man in gray peasant's clothes climbed aboard and stood at the rear of the boat. He grabbed hold of a
single large oar that stretched straight out behind him. The oar was fixed to the boat, and as the boatman began to push it side to side, the boat slowly picked up speed. Soon it was skimming across the water toward them.

Seh's stomach turned. He didn't like water, and he
really
didn't like boats. The snake seemed to sense that Seh was distraught.

Seh glanced around and noticed a collection of low buildings on the northern shore, halfway around the lake. He pointed to them. “What are those buildings?”

Sniff, sniff.
“That's our shipyard,” Gao replied. “We have several barges that we use to transport goods to and from the stronghold.”

Seh looked back at the small craft heading their way. “Why don't we take one of those larger boats instead? I don't think all of us can fit on that small one.”

“You'll be fine,” Gao said. “We only deploy the bigger boats a few times a year. Besides, most of the boatmen aren't even there right now. They're inside the stronghold helping with a construction project.”
Sniff.

Seh watched the small boat, silent, until the hull scraped against beach sand.

Sniff, sniff.
“Time for you to be on your way,” Gao said. “I have to leave, too. I need to check on our pitiful excuses for sentries. It was nice meeting all of you—especially the famous bear tamer Malao!”

Malao giggled.

“Wait—” Seh said, but Gao leaped over a row of bushes and disappeared.

The pit of Seh's stomach began to tingle, and the snake shivered. Something wasn't quite right. Seh focused on the boatman as he fussed about the boat. Seh realized what was bothering him. Though there was only one person on board, he sensed
chi
from at least two people—possibly three. That didn't make any sense.

“Let's go!” Malao said. He leaped aboard the boat and sat down.