Tiger (5 page)

“What does everyone else think?” Long asked the group.

“We should run for the trees,” Hok said softly. “And then separate as Grandmaster wished.”

“Brother Fu?” Long said.

“I think we should stay and fight!” Fu replied. “If we—”

“Sorry, Fu,” Long interrupted. “Fighting is not an option.”

“Fighting
back
is an option!” Fu roared.

“Keep your voice down, Fu!” Seh said. He turned toward Long. “Malao, Hok, and I say we should run for the trees. Three is a majority vote. That means we run.”

“And then separate,” Hok added quietly.

“Then it is decided,” Long said, nodding his head. “We must make haste. Goodbye, brothers. We shall meet again.”

Without another word, Long turned and ran like the wind across the open expanse. The others raced after him. Pumped full of adrenaline, they reached the tree line at more or less the same time. There were no soldiers there.

Without looking back, Malao, the “monkey,” let out a soft, high-pitched screech and took to the treetops. He was gone in the blink of an eye. Seh, the “snake,” slipped away through a patch of ferns, low to the ground. Hok, the “crane,” glided off into the wind, while Long, the “dragon,” seemed to disappear, like the mythical creatures were rumored to do.

Fu, the “tiger,” turned to run headlong into the forest, but his feet would not listen. It seemed they were connected to his heart, which was determined to stay and do something.

Fu spotted an enormous tree at the edge of the grassy expanse and clawed his way up as high as his weight would allow. Then he went out on a limb to evaluate the situation.

Back inside the smoke-filled practice hall, student and master stood toe to toe in a fight to the death. Though Ying was covered with battle stains, he had actually fought very little that night. He was young, rested, and extremely quick and strong. Grandmaster was
unbelievably quick as well and normally had the strength of ten men. Tonight he alone had fought and defeated more than one hundred soldiers before sneaking back into the practice hall. But the fighting had taken its toll. Grandmaster was weak. He had no secret potions or ancient methods to regain his strength in the blink of an eye. Those things did not exist. He was just a man who had worked very hard and learned many skills in his lifetime.

Ying popped his knuckles one at a time.

“You know the real reason I've returned, don't you, old man?” Ying spat.

“From the look in your eyes, I can tell,” Grandmaster replied.

“I hate you!”

“I know.”

F
u lay on his stomach, his arms and legs wrapped tightly around a thick tree limb. He stared down at the Cangzhen compound. Every single building was burning. Fu strained his keen eyes, searching for movement in the smoky moonlight.

Way back in the far-left corner of the compound, small groups of soldiers walked from the weapons shed to the sleeping quarters.
That's where they are,
Fu thought.
But what are they up to?
There were weapons to steal in the shed, but there certainly wasn't anything worth taking in the sleeping quarters.

Then Fu remembered the secret escape tunnel. It stretched underground from the sleeping quarters to beyond the back wall of the compound. It was rigged
with numerous traps to stop an enemy from trying to sneak through it. Ying must have disabled the devices. He was one of the few people who knew how. Fu could picture Ying disarming the crossbows armed with poison arrows and unhooking the swinging pendulum blades as his men followed.

Fu growled. He decided that if he couldn't defeat Ying directly, he would hurt him indirectly. Since the soldiers appeared to be leaving through the tunnel, they probably already had the dragon scrolls. Fu decided to retrieve them, no matter what the cost.

Fu leaped down from the tree limb and landed in a silent roll at the forest's edge. Then he ran low to the ground across the grassy expanse back toward Cangzhen's main gate. He made it through the gate without seeing anyone and headed for the bathhouse, which was on the left side of the compound, not too far from the weapons shed. He had seen something there that gave him an idea.

Fu reached the bathhouse undetected and cautiously approached a fallen soldier he'd noticed when he'd run by with his brothers earlier. The soldier was heavyset and about the same size he was. Fu's hand quivered as he reached down to take the man's helmet. He had never been this close to a dead person before. Fu looked away as he laid his hands on the helmet and caught a glimpse of his fallen brother Sing. Sing was an older brother and had taught Fu how to use edged weapons. He was the kindest teacher Fu had ever had.

The dead soldier would have to wait. Fu stood up and headed for Sing.

Sing lay with his favorite pair of tiger hook swords still in his hands. Fu felt tears of hatred and grief well up in his eyes, but he did not let them fall. Instead of crying, he would do something. In life, those tiger hook swords had meant everything to Sing. They were an extension of his body as well as his soul. Fu would honor Sing's spirit by keeping the spirit of his weapons alive. He took the paired swords from his brother's cold hands.

Fu inspected the weapons quickly as he walked back to the dead soldier. Except for some fresh bloodstains on the silk handle wraps, the tiger hook swords were in perfect shape. Both sides of the long, straight, double-edged swords were razor-sharp, and the large hook on the end of each sword resembling a tiger's claw showed no signs of fatigue. The crescent-shaped hand-guard daggers were also still sharp, as were the single daggers that protruded from the bottom of each sword's handle. Sing's tiger hook swords were perfectly weighted and felt powerful in Fu's hands. Fu laid the swords next to the soldier and got to work.

Fu removed the soldier's helmet, then his heavy, flexible armor. Fu was slipping off the man's boots when someone suddenly spoke behind him.

“What are you doing?”

Fu spun around and saw an average-size man. The man looked to be nearly thirty years old and had
an extraordinarily long ponytail tied in a thick braid. He appeared to be wearing the uniform of the new Emperor, but Fu couldn't be sure in the smoky blackness. The soldier, however, saw that Fu was wearing an orange robe.

“Where have you been hiding, young monk?” the soldier asked in a calm, deep voice.

Fu responded by picking up the tiger hook swords.

“Put the weapons down, boy,” the soldier said. “I have no interest in killing a child. I'll only take you prisoner. I'll ask you again, where were you hiding?”

Fu snarled and leaped at the soldier.

The soldier jumped backward gracefully and pulled a straight sword from a sheath slung at his side. Fu stopped and took notice. That jump was impressive, and only the most elite fighters carried a straight sword.

“Stand down, young monk,” said the soldier as he draped his long braid forward over his shoulder and tucked it into his wide red sash. “You are no match for me.”

Fu's mind began to race. Swordplay was his strong suit, but he knew nothing about this stranger's skill. And what he knew about the stranger's weapon worried him. While broadswords took one thousand hours to master, straight swords, like this soldier's, took more than ten thousand. The soldier had unsheathed it perfectly and held it in one hand instead of two—one hand to swing the long, rigid
double-edged blade, and the other to counterbalance and fight. This man knew what he was doing.

Despite the night's coolness, Fu began to sweat. The tiger hooks he held were specifically designed to counter weapons like the straight sword, but he had never fought with Sing's pair. He had only fought with his own tiger hook swords, and every weapon had a spirit of its own. Fu put his faith in the spirits within Sing's hook swords and rushed forward.

The soldier took a defensive posture as Fu swung one hook sword high and one low, attempting to confuse his opponent—but the soldier expertly jumped over the low swing and blocked the high swing with his straight sword. On his way back to earth, the soldier let loose a terrific kick straight into Fu's exposed chest. Fu stumbled backward and groaned from the impact of the soldier's hard-soled boot. Fu was quite sure he had never been kicked that hard in his entire life.

A smile rose from the soldier's thin lips. “I will give you one more chance, monk. Lay down your weapons.”

Fu took a deep breath and attacked again. This time, he slashed low with both swords. The soldier jumped high over Fu's sweeping weapons, but Fu twisted both wrists up powerfully and continued his swing toward the airborne soldier. The soldier swung his sword down to protect himself.

As the soldier's straight sword met the hook swords, Fu twisted both wrists outward and pulled
his arms apart, locking the hooks around the soldier's straight blade. Fu dropped to the ground and rolled 360 degrees on his side, ripping the straight sword from the soldier's grasp. As Fu flipped up onto his feet, he arched his back and released the pressure on the hooks slightly. The soldier's sword sailed onto the roof of the burning bathhouse.

The soldier stood before Fu, weaponless. He smiled again and adjusted his long braid.

“I've never seen that particular maneuver, monk. Very dangerous for you, yet most effective.”

“It's an original,” Fu growled.

“Excellent. Though you appear to be very young, you're already quite skilled. I'm impressed. It's a good thing I've come prepared.”

The soldier pulled a dagger from his sash and something fell to the ground. Fu realized that it was one of the dragon scrolls. The soldier saw the spark of recognition in Fu's eyes and nodded his head.

“If this document were not of the utmost importance, I might have considered giving it to you in exchange for an education in your unorthodox hook sword attacks. As it is, I cannot. My apologies.”

When the soldier bent over to retrieve the scroll, Fu attacked for the third time. The soldier leaped back with the scroll in one hand, his dagger in the other. Fu took a basic swing with one hook sword to test the man's reaction with the short knife. The soldier leaped backward again, this time landing awkwardly on the helmet Fu had removed from the dead soldier.
Fu sprang forward, hitting his off-balance opponent square in the chest with a flying side kick. The soldier hit the ground flat on his back and Fu pounced, landing heavily on the man's chest. Fu's knees pinned the soldier's arms to the ground.

The soldier's dark eyes widened.

Fu swung both hook swords straight down in front of himself. The hooked ends of each blade dug deep into the earth on either side of the soldier's head, the hand-guard daggers stopping a hair's width above the soldier's throat. The soldier swallowed hard and his Adam's apple brushed against the very tip of one of the crescent-shaped daggers. A tiny stream of blood trickled down his neck.

The soldier looked Fu in the eye and said, “I admit defeat. Please, warrior monk—take the scrolls and leave me with my life. I will then owe you a life. On my honor, I will never forget the debt.”

Fu growled and thought how easy it would be to lean down upon the handles and release the man's spirit. But taking a life was far more difficult than he had imagined. The soldier offered not only what Fu sought but also a favor for the future. It seemed Fu would gain more by letting this man live than by destroying him.

“Close your eyes!” Fu snarled.

The soldier did as he was told.

As soon as the man's eyelids met, Fu gripped both hook-sword handles with his left hand and released his right. He bent his right arm sharply and leaned
forward, swinging his elbow across his body, over the crisscrossed swords. The point of his elbow struck the soldier in the left temple, knocking the man out cold.

Fu took a deep breath and stood. He leaned the handles of the hook swords onto the man's chest, leaving the crescent daggers dangerously close to the man's neck. Then he yanked the man's thick braid out of his sash and removed three dragon scrolls. Fu took the fourth scroll from the soldier's limp hand.

Fu concealed the scrolls securely within the folds of his own robe and looked down at Sing's tiger hook swords still lying over the soldier's throat. Those hook swords were fine weapons, but they were very difficult to transport. Fu decided to leave them in their current position to help remind the soldier of his promise.

His mission accomplished, Fu ran for the main gate—and into the worst surprise of the entire night.