Eagle (5 page)

“Yes, sir,” the fight club employee replied. “After he was apprehended at the bettors’ table, we placed the round eye in one of the cells there. We should have him out momentarily.”

“Nice work, men,” Tonglong said. He turned back to Golden Dragon, who was staring up out of the pit, into the distance.

Tonglong raised his eyes to the numerous three-and
four-story buildings surrounding them. Most were apartment buildings with shops on the ground floor. There was also the city's main temple, immediately to the west. This was the direction in which Golden Dragon was looking.

Tonglong turned toward the temple and stared into the setting sun. At first, he saw nothing but glare, but then three figures stepped out of the temple, into the street. One person was quite small, one was of average size, and one was gigantic. Golden Dragon had sensed them somehow.

Tonglong gripped the hilt of his straight sword, then relaxed as the figures came nearer. The giant was Xie, or
Scorpion,
the Emperor's personal bodyguard, while the medium-sized figure was the Emperor himself.

Tonglong had to stifle a grin when he saw the small person. It was a beautiful middle-aged woman with long, luxurious hair. One of her arms was coiled around the Emperor's arm in an affectionate embrace. It was Tonglong's mother, AnGangseh.

Tonglong bowed low when the trio approached. “Greetings, Your Highness,” he said.

The Emperor sniffed. “What do you have to report?”

Tonglong straightened. “We've found LaoShu's remains,” he replied proudly.

“Are you certain it is him?” the Emperor asked.

“Positive.”

The Emperor scratched his nose. “I see.” He glanced into the pit at Golden Dragon, who was kneeling, his forehead poised just above the muck.

“You look familiar, boy,” the Emperor said. “Have we met?”

Golden Dragon shook his head. “No, Your Highness. I have not had the honor.”

“I am sure I've seen you before …,” the Emperor muttered. He turned and ran his fingers through An-Gangseh's thick black hair.

“His name is Golden Dragon,” AnGangseh purred.

“Of course!” the Emperor said. “I am pleased to see that you survived the fire, young man. I've seen your handiwork in the ring. Most impressive. If you keep this up, you'll be in my ranks before you know it.”

“That is my dream,” Golden Dragon said, still looking down. “Thank you for the kind words, Your Highness.”

“You are most welcome,” the Emperor replied. “Now, stand up. I don't like seeing one of my most promising young men kneeling in filth.”

Golden Dragon stood and raised his head. Tong-long noticed that the boy looked slightly nervous. Strangely, the nervousness did not appear to come from the Emperor's presence. Golden Dragon seemed to be looking right through the Emperor, in the direction of the temple.

Xie, the
Scorpion,
cleared his throat and looked at Tonglong. Tonglong met his critical gaze.

“If LaoShu is dead,” Xie said, “then our only remaining lead is the foreign boy. Do you have any news of him?”

“We expect an update momentarily,” Tonglong replied.

Xie nodded, folding his enormous arms. “Then we will wait here with you.”

Tonglong grated his teeth and turned away. Fortunately they didn't have to wait long. A moment later, Tonglong heard muffled shouts from the pit entrance tunnel. All eyes turned to the large doorway in the pit.

A breathless young guard appeared, waving his arms frantically. “He's gone! He's gone!”

“Who is gone?” Tonglong asked.

“The round eye,” the guard said. “His cell door is open and the soldiers who were guarding him are dead.”

“Dead?” Tonglong said. “Were you able to identify them?”

“Yes, sir,” the guard replied. “The fire never made it that far. Their bodies are in perfect condition.”

“How were they killed?” Tonglong asked. “The foreigner was known to carry two short
qiangs
beneath his robe—”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Xie interrupted. “LaoShu's men took his
qiangs
when they arrested him. He was unarmed.”

“That's right,” the guard said from the pit. “I disarmed the foreign boy myself before we locked him up. Besides, they were not shot.”

“How did they die, then?” Tonglong asked. “Smoke?”

“They appeared to have been crushed to death, sir,” the guard said. “The strange thing is, there is no evidence of what they were crushed with.”

Tonglong paused. There was only one person he
knew of who could accomplish such a feat. He looked over at his mother, and she mouthed the same name that had come to his mind—
HaMo.

Tonglong turned to say something to the Emperor, and a glint of sunlight flickered in the distance. Tonglong glanced back at Golden Dragon and saw that he was still staring at the temple.

Tonglong squinted into the setting sun and scanned the temple's ornate roof. A pair of angry dragons scowled back at him from the roof's steep, upturned corners. Behind one of the statues, something flickered again, like wet, polished metal reflecting the day's final rays.

“Take cover, Your Highness!” Tonglong shouted. He grabbed the Emperor by the arm and began to run toward a line of nearby buildings. As he ran, Tonglong glanced back into the pit.

Golden Dragon was gone.

Y
ing sat hunkered down behind an ornate stone dragon on a corner of the temple rooftop. He had a clear line of sight, three loaded
qiangs,
and a burning desire to exact revenge.

Standing in the open before him were Tonglong, AnGangseh, Xie, the Emperor, and his former brother, Long, now called Golden Dragon.

Who should fall first?
Ying mused.

He raised a
qiang
to his shoulder, resting the long metal barrel on the head of the stone dragon. He'd only had limited training with these foreign weapons, and the current conditions were far from ideal. He had the sun to his back, which was a good thing, but the wind was blowing hard from left to right.
Qiang
ball
accuracy was questionable enough at close distances. At this range, it was almost complete guesswork, especially with a strong crosswind. He knew the chances of hitting three or even two targets were remarkably slim.

Ying lowered his head and stared along the length of the
qiang's
barrel, considering his options. All five targets were appealing, but there really was no question about who deserved to fall first.

Ying lined up the end of the
qiang
barrel with the center of Tonglong's chest, then carefully adjusted it up and left to account for the projectile's inevitable drift and drop. He took a deep breath, exhaled evenly, and began to squeeze the trigger.

And then Tonglong grabbed the Emperor and began to run.

Ying cursed as Tonglong, AnGangseh, the Emperor, and Xie headed for cover.

Ying knew he would never be able to hit a moving target at this distance. He let them go.

This was all Long's fault. Long had been staring at him for quite some time, and Tonglong had glanced back at Long before breaking into a run. Ying wished he knew how to mask his
chi.

Dragons like Long possessed unusually large amounts of
chi,
or life energy, and they had an uncanny ability to sense other dragons’
chi
over great distances. Ying had always guessed that his own
chi
was strong. Now he was sure of it.

Ying turned his
qiang
toward the pit to take a shot at Long, but Long was no longer there. He was
probably hiding behind one of the huge roof timbers inside the pit. Ying leaned over the edge of the rooftop to get a better angle of sight into the pit arena, and Tonglong suddenly shouted from the distance, “Straight over your heads, men!”

Two armed soldiers sprang to life below Ying from inside the temple's front door. Ying jumped to his feet and shoved the
qiang
in his hands into the tattered blanket alongside the other two weapons. The
qiangs
would be useless while he was on the move.

“There he is!” one of the soldiers shouted from below.

Click … fizz … BANG!

A
qiang
ball smashed into a clay roof tile between Ying's feet. He hoisted the
qiangs
over his shoulder and began to run due west along the steep rooftop.

Click … fizz … BANG!

A second
qiang
ball whizzed past Ying's ear. He glanced down and saw the soldiers drop their smoking
qiangs.
Rather than reload, they began to chase after him from the ground.

Ying slowed, allowing the two soldiers to catch up. As they neared, he threw his bundle of
qiangs
to the ground in front of them.

Click … fizz … BANG!

One of the
qiangs
triggered on impact, the lead ball lodging itself in the ankle of the first soldier. “Owwwww!” the man howled, and bent over, grabbing his injured leg.

Ying leaped off the rooftop with his arms spread
wide, coming down hard on the center of the wounded soldier's back.

“Ooofff,” the man exclaimed as he hit the earth.

Ying stepped off the soldier, and the man twisted his head up to look at Ying. Ying planted a boot heel into the side of the soldier's head. The man went limp.

Ying turned to face the second soldier and scowled, curling his lips back over his sharpened teeth. He flicked out his forked tongue.

The soldier closed his eyes.

“Look at me!” Ying shrieked.

Quivering, the soldier opened one eye.

Ying cocked his right arm back and thrust an eagle-claw fist forward, his fingertips curled in tight against his palm. The soldier had enough sense to jump sideways and turn his head, but he was still too slow. Ying clipped the man behind the ear, and the soldier collapsed in a heap, out cold.

Ying heard Tonglong shout from the direction of the former fight club, “Surround the temple, men!”

A war cry erupted from several dozen soldiers, and Ying's carved eyebrows rose up. The men in the pit arena must have come up to ground level. He picked up the bundle of
qiangs
and began to run again. Ying reached the rear corner of the temple and rounded it at top speed.

He should have known better.

Ying felt something like a tree trunk slam into his shins, and his legs were suddenly swept out from
under him. He twisted sideways as he fell and saw his former brother Long catch him by the collar.

Ying's legs and hip slammed to the ground hard enough to rattle his teeth. However, the rest of his body remained upright, held firm in Long's powerful grasp.

Ying hadn't run into a tree. Long had kicked his feet out from under him.

Ying snarled.

Long cocked his left arm back and formed a fist. He raised the oversized knuckle of his middle finger up, supported the finger with his thumb, and poised it to slam into Ying's face. A dragon fist.

“Don't make me use this,” Long whispered. “Grab your bundle and follow me. Hurry, if you value your life.”

Long released Ying's collar and headed toward an open doorway at the rear of the temple.

Tonglong began to shout from the front of the temple, “Spread out, men! We have him right where we want him!”

Ying heard boots coming his way. He grabbed the
qiangs
and slipped inside the doorway after Long.

L
ong silently closed the door behind Ying and bolted it shut. They were in a large room, dimly lit by the setting sun peeking in through gaps where the building's outer walls met the roofline. Long signaled for Ying to follow him through the shadows.

“Why are you helping me?” Ying whispered.

Long didn't reply. He just turned and walked away.

Ying scowled. He wanted to smash Long for his quiet arrogance. However, Ying knew that he had to keep his temper in check. At least, for now. He followed patiently behind Long, carefully scanning the room.

Ying had been inside the Jinan City Temple before, but never this particular area. All around them were
stacks of dusty mismatched items—a statue arm here, a broken incense urn there. When they were well clear of the door, Ying tried another question. He kept his tone as even as possible and his voice low.