Jeff Stone_Five Ancestors 07 Page 6

  Hok and the others had told him about NgGung. They had said that he was a very nice man, but warned that he loved to play a game called “One new thing you’ll know for every blow.” Apparently, NgGung would encourage people he had just met to fight him as a means of exchanging information.

  Fortunately, PawPaw was familiar with NgGung’s ways. She hurried outside to greet him alone, while Long continued to peer through the shutters, sizing up the other two bandits. One was a thick but pleasant-looking man with a clean-shaven head and face. He looked a surprising amount like Fu, and was surely Fu’s father, Sanfu—Mountain Tiger.

  The other man was gargantuan, with short, greasy hair and the heaviest beard Long had ever seen. He had to be Hung, or Bear. Malao had told Long about a fight he’d had with Hung many months ago, and Long made a mental note to not get on Hung’s bad side.

  PawPaw called Long outside to meet the group, and, thankfully, NgGung made no mention of his crazy game. After a few formalities, they got right to loading PawPaw’s things into the carts.

  Hung made it clear from the beginning that he was in charge, and that they were in a hurry. It was midmorning, and he hoped to be on the way by mid-afternoon. PawPaw encouraged him and the others to spend a restful night at her home instead and head out first thing the following morning, but Hung would not hear of it. He said that he was eager to return to their camp as soon as possible, because they had received reports that Tonglong and his army were heading in their direction. They had a lot of work to do to prepare for what he felt would be an unavoidable battle.

  Long worked quickly and silently alongside the bandits, and they finished faster than Long would have believed possible. The men were careful and efficient. He was impressed.

  Hung’s plan was to travel until dark unless there was a bright moon, in which case they would march for as long as possible by its light, too. It had taken the bandits six days to get there, and even though the carts were now fully weighted down, Hung wanted to return in five. He allowed them to quickly eat a hot meal Paw-Paw had prepared, and they left.

  Long fell into stride beside NgGung at the head of the caravan, leading the first horse with its cart. Sanfu took up a position at the center of the group, leading the second horse and cart with PawPaw riding atop it. Hung guarded their flank, his gigantic war hammers at his side.

  Long and NgGung talked for hours as they walked. Despite NgGung’s rough outward appearance, Long found him to be very interesting and intelligent. As one of the bandits’ main spies, NgGung knew a great deal about the politics of the region. He and Long discussed everything from Tonglong to the Emperor to Cangzhen Temple.

  Long learned that many of the bandits were once monks who lived at Cangzhen. They had left over a disagreement with Grandmaster years ago, but they still held a great respect for him and his memory. In their opinion, Grandmaster had gotten overly involved in politics, especially where the current Emperor was concerned. The bandits disliked the Emperor, but they believed that things would be much worse if Tonglong took control of the throne. They vowed to stop him at any cost.

  It was dusk before Long and NgGung’s conversation started to dwindle. At this time, Long began to pay more attention to the forest sounds around him, and he could have sworn the noise level was diminishing. He soon felt his dan tien begin to warm, and he turned to NgGung. “Something is not right.”

  NgGung nodded and raised a hand to stop the caravan. A skinny middle-aged man wearing a threadbare robe jumped out of the undergrowth in front of them. Two more men in equally shabby clothing leaped onto the trail behind Long and NgGung’s cart. All three men carried makeshift kwandos—long wooden shafts tipped with a large wide blade on one end and a heavy metal spike on the other.

  These men could not have chosen a more inappropriate weapon to wield in the narrow confines of this forest trail. A kwando was designed for use in an open battlefield. They would never be able to swing their weapons properly without hitting the close-packed tree trunks and endless overhanging branches.

  It was apparent that these men had planned to rob them, but they were obviously amateurs. They had chosen their weapons for shock value instead of practicality. And judging from the imbalanced manner in which the lead man was holding his weapon, it was equally clear that he would not know how to use it even if he did have the room.

  NgGung seemed to have noticed these things, too. He smiled and took a step forward.

  “Stop!” the lead man commanded in a surprisingly strong voice. “Move away from your cart and there won’t be any trouble. We do not want to hurt you.”

  NgGung patted the horse’s nape and handed its reins over to Long. “We do not want any trouble, either, my good man,” NgGung said, taking another step forward. “Why don’t you find someone else to pester?”

  “Don’t take another step,” the lead man warned. He pointed the kwando’s blade at NgGung’s head and shook it powerfully. It was an impressive display for such a skinny man.

  NgGung’s smile widened. He continued toward the man, and the man seemed unsure what he should do.

  NgGung stopped within reach of the man’s weapon and said, “I applaud your determination, but someone is about to get hurt with that thing and it isn’t going to be me.” He pointed to his smashed nose and ran a finger along his battered forehead, highlighting a lifetime of combat wounds. “Do us all a favor and lower your weapon. Walk back into the forest, and pretend you never saw us. Better yet, join us. We could use men as brave as you. I could even show you how to hold that properly.”

  The man hesitated, and Long heard a faint scuffle behind them. He turned to see Hung and Sanfu pin the other two men to the ground with their own kwandos.

  Long looked back at the lead man and saw that his hands were beginning to shake.

  “You appear to be a reasonable individual,” Ng-Gung said. “You gave us fair warning before attacking. This tells me that you are in the wrong line of business. A real thief needs to be ruthless—attack first and talk second. What is it you normally do for a living?”

  The man lowered his head. “I am a baker.”

  “Why, that is an admirable trade!” NgGung said enthusiastically. “Much better than a thief. Do you know how to make stuffed pork buns?”

  The baker lifted his head. “I make the best buns in the region. Why?”

  “Excellent!” NgGung replied. “We have several hundred people in our camp, but not one of them can make a decent pork bun. You’ll be a hero!”

  The baker’s eyes widened. “Several hundred people in your camp? Why, you must be members of the Resistance! It is an honor to meet you.” He bowed. “If I may ask, what are you doing here? Rumor has it that your camp is to the south.”

  NgGung gestured to Long and to PawPaw, who was now walking toward them up the trail, leading the second horse and its cart. “We are gathering recruits. Your timing could not be better. Would you like to join us?”

  “Certainly,” the baker said. “I believe I can speak for my friends, too.”

  The two men on the ground mumbled something that sounded like they agreed, and Hung and Sanfu released them.

  “Do you know of any others in the area who might be interested in joining our cause?” NgGung asked.

  “I believe I can bring many compatriots,” the baker replied. “More than a hundred. Army enlisters sent by a new warlord called Tonglong have been overrunning nearby villages, and the only way we can avoid being forced into the army is to hide in the forest. This Tonglong’s mandatory recruiting is destroying our families and our livelihoods, and his soldiers are eating up all of our winter stores. He must be dealt with.”

  NgGung slapped the baker on the shoulder. “Very good. Round up every man and woman you can, and gather at this spot in exactly fifteen days. Bring as much food, weapons, and other supplies as you can carry. Horses would be particularly helpful. I understand that Tonglong has been hoarding them even more than he has been hoarding recruits.”

  “He h
as,” the baker said. “I will spread the word and meet you back here in fifteen days.”

  NgGung bowed. “It was very nice meeting you, my friend. I look forward to sampling your wares and to meeting our new recruits.” He motioned to Hung. “Shall we be on our way?”

  Hung grunted, and they continued up the trail.

  The next several days were relatively uneventful for Long. He spent his daylight hours chatting with Ng-Gung as they walked, and his nights learning as much as he could about horses from Sanfu. Sanfu was responsible for choosing their campsites and making sure the horses had plenty to drink and graze on. While Sanfu modestly said that he was not a horse expert, he was able to give Long a good idea of how to care for and handle one.

  Long would help Sanfu unhook the horses from their carts every evening, removing their collars and harnesses. He would then lash each horse’s halter to the base of a stout tree, allowing enough distance between the animals for them to be able to eat and rest without harassing one another, or becoming entangled. He would also check their hooves, dislodging small stones and the like.

  Before dawn, while the others were still asleep, Long would ride one of the horses bareback for a time before hooking it back to the cart. The horses were old and gentle, and he found them to be forgiving of any mistake he made. He quickly learned to steer by holding the reins and lightly moving the leather straps either right or left across their necks. The horses were far more sensitive than he had imagined, and he was soon able to turn them with little more than a flick of his wrist.

  Riding atop a horse without a saddle was not the most comfortable thing in the world, but it would be better than walking a great distance, especially since his leg and arm were still on the mend. He was eager to try galloping, but there was never enough open ground to attempt it. Besides, as Sanfu had pointed out, these were stubby old Mongolian workhorses. If their cumbersome gait was uncomfortable at a walking speed, at a full gallop it would rattle his skeleton and bruise his bottom worse than anything he had ever encountered in the fight clubs.

  After five days on the trail, Long was growing confident in his basic riding skills, and he could not have been more pleased, especially after they passed through a particularly dense stand of bamboo and he saw a collection of tents in a clearing ahead.

  It was the bandit camp.

  ShaoShu sat atop his secondhand pony, staring through rays of fading afternoon light at the fast-moving caravan of riders ahead of him. All he had seen for the past several weeks were horses’ butts, and he was sick of it. He hoped the group pitching tents ahead meant a long-term change of scenery.

  As part of Tonglong’s official caravan, ShaoShu and ninety-nine of Tonglong’s elite soldiers were racing ahead of the main troops to the former bandit stronghold so that Tonglong could make plans with Commander Woo, the man Tonglong had left in charge. They were in such a hurry, Tonglong forbade them to set up formal camps at night. They slept beneath the stars, or in the homes of villagers they came across.

  ShaoShu felt terrible about the treatment of those poor villagers. The soldiers would throw people out of their own homes and eat everything in sight, then steal whatever they chose when they left the following morning. If the villagers complained, the soldiers would burn their homes to the ground.

  ShaoShu wanted it to be over soon, but he knew that it would not. Tonglong was only getting started. His network of recruiters had grown amazingly quickly because of the bounties he offered, and men and boys were being dragged into his army at a frightening pace. The recruiters’ reach grew longer and faster than even Tonglong’s elite caravan could travel.

  As ShaoShu continued down the trail, his thoughts were interrupted by the sight of soldiers pitching tents in a large clearing. One side of the clearing was a thick line of trees. The other side was a tall stone wall that had been damaged in a few places, and beyond the wall was a series of ruined buildings. The buildings had been made of stone and were covered with burn marks. The tile roofs had gaping holes where flames had licked their way through, and all of the doors and windows had been burned away. He wondered why this location had been selected.

  “Cangzhen Temple?” a nearby soldier said. “Really? No wonder Warlord Tonglong chose this spot to set up our first real camp. It represents one of his first victories, and I understand that Cangzhen is quite close to the stronghold. Maybe we will finally get a break from this insane pace.”

  Cangzhen Temple! ShaoShu thought. So this was where Hok and the others had lived! He gave his pony a slap on its rump and steered it toward a crumbled section of the wall. He wanted to take a look around before someone put him to work.

  ShaoShu made it through the gap without attracting any attention and jumped off his pony. What a horrible attack this must have been. Besides the burn marks, there were huge dark stains along the sides of many of the buildings that could only have been blood. He could not imagine two thousand soldiers armed with cannons and muskets attacking one hundred monks who had little more than sticks and swords.

  Soldiers began to call out for ShaoShu, but he was eager to see more. He tied his pony to a piece of rubble and headed deeper into the destruction.

  When he had heard about his friends growing up at Cangzhen Temple, ShaoShu had imagined one building. However, it was actually a collection of many buildings, with the high wall surrounding everything. He kept close to the wall, scurrying in its shadow, and soon reached one of the compound’s back corners. Here he found a small building with something shiny on the roof. Of course, he could not resist finding out what it was. He looked around and saw a thin clay drainpipe running straight up one corner of the building. It stopped at an ornate stone dragon overhanging the roofline.

  ShaoShu shinnied up the pipe, climbed over the dragon, and stopped dead in his tracks. There was another dragon on the roof, hidden behind the stone one—only this second dragon was real! It bared its pointed teeth at him, stuck out its forked tongue, and growled, “Get out!”

  ShaoShu let out a small shriek and leaped back, tripping over the stone dragon. He was beginning to tumble off the roof when the real dragon stabbed its sharp claws into his collar and jerked him to safety.

  The dragon clamped another claw over ShaoShu’s mouth and hissed in his ear, “Hush, ShaoShu! It’s me, Ying.”

  ShaoShu felt the pressure released from his mouth and collar, and he stared. It was indeed Ying.

  “I apologize,” Ying said. “I did not recognize you at first.”

  ShaoShu shrugged. He was not sure if he should be frightened or ecstatic. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “I might ask you the same thing. However, I think I can guess what is happening. Tonglong is stopping here on the way to the Forbidden City.”

  “Actually, he is stopping here on his way to the bandits’ former stronghold. We are going to wait there with a man named Commander Woo until the troops arrive from the south and east.”

  “Nice work,” Ying said. “What else do you know?”

  “Lots of things,” ShaoShu replied. “For one, Tonglong is a very bad man. Sometimes, when he wants information from someone and they won’t give it to him, he tortures them by—”

  “I can imagine,” Ying interrupted. “Look, we do not have much time to talk. Can you give me any specific troop information? How many men does Tonglong have?”

  “Ninety-nine. He calls them his ‘elite force.’ They are nasty, and they love to use pistols. They wear red uniforms like the one I am wearing, and like the Southern army wears.”

  “How many men is he expecting to arrive later?”

  “No one knows for sure. He has tens of thousands already, and he gets more every day. It is unbelievable.”

  Ying spat. “This is far more serious than I thought. The Forbidden City has its own sizable force, but I believe it is only a few thousand men. Tonglong might be able to overrun it with sheer numbers. I need to get to him before he reaches the Forbidden City. You said that he is going to see Commander
Woo now?”

  “I believe so,” ShaoShu said.

  “Do you know anything about their short-term plans?”

  “One man Tonglong tortured told him that the bandits are training a rebel army. Tonglong wants to hunt them down and exterminate them before he gets to the Forbidden City.”

  “Thank you, ShaoShu. This helps a lot. You are very brave for staying with Tonglong all this time. Do you have any news about the Emperor?”

  “Tonglong has captured him and is keeping him alive at least until we get to the Forbidden City. Everyone knows that the Emperor is traveling with Tonglong, but they think the Emperor is traveling in style with the main army. We are actually transporting him secretly, against his will, in a crate built to carry pigs. It stinks so bad no one goes near it. He is all alone inside. I sneak him extra food and water every once in a while, even though I have been punished once for doing it.”

  “That is very kind of you,” Ying said. “What about Hok and the others?”

  “Seh is supposed to be with the bandits, and Hok, Malao, and Fu were going to try to find him. I bet Long went with them, plus a man called Xie, who was the Emperor’s personal bodyguard. Tonglong killed Xie’s father—the Western Warlord. Tonglong even killed his own mother, AnGangseh. He is heartless.”

  Ying scowled. “This is unbelievable. I have been alone in the mountains and knew almost none of this. I need to find the bandits and give them an update as soon as possible. Do you know where they might be?”

  “No. Tonglong plans to ask Commander Woo the same question when we get to the stronghold. What were you doing in the mountains?”

  “Practicing.”

  “Practicing what?”