by Eagle
Table of Contents
Title Page
Other Books By This Author
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Copyright
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The Five Ancestors
Book 1: Tiger
Book 2: Monkey
Book 3: Snake
Book 4: Crane
Book 5: Eagle
For my father, Roger
The dark side of the Legend …
Born a Dragon but raised an Eagle, a young rogue monk has exacted a terrible revenge on Cangzhen Temple. He is furious that five younger monks survived the devastation and went into hiding. But unknown to him, the plot reaches all the way to the Emperor's golden throne and is more sinister than anyone realizes. Surrounded by betrayal and corruption, the reluctant Eagle begins to recognize that the future may depend upon …
the Five Ancestors.
There is a legend told in warrior circles. One as old as history itself. It concerns the affairs of the four mystical dragons who held the world upon their backs—the Wind Dragon, the Sea Dragon, the Celestial Dragon, and the Treasure Dragon. They had a problem.
Humans.
Mankind was spreading quickly across the vast landscape that was China, and the humans were not doing so in a peaceful manner. They were doing so with warfare. This was upsetting to the dragons. They called a meeting.
“Let me bring a great gale and blow these troublesome human creatures off the face of the earth,” the Wind Dragon offered.
The Celestial Dragon, their leader, frowned and shook his mighty head. “No, too violent.”
“I could unleash a torrent of waves to wash the humans into oblivion,” the Sea Dragon suggested.
The Celestial Dragon's brow furrowed. “How is that better? Destruction only begets destruction. No.”
The Treasure Dragon, the cleverest of the bunch, rubbed his long whiskers. “It seems to me the humans are slow learners. I have witnessed short bursts of peace, which they seem to enjoy, but then they go back to war. They need to be constantly reminded of the simplest things. I will create gifts for them that their leaders will proudly carry wherever they go. Gifts with the power and significance to unite them. Gifts they understand.”
The Celestial Dragon's brow rose up. “Tell me more.”
“I will give them weapons,” the Treasure Dragon said. “Matching tools of war that will be a constant reminder of their need for peace. Only the mighty can speak convincingly of peace, so I will make the gifts strong. Unbeatable, yet unable to beat any of the others. I will retreat to my underground lair and cut identical swords from the finest jade. Then I will assemble a magnificent suit of armor consisting of nine hundred ninety-nine jade plates. I will pour my very essence into these gifts until the green jade turns as white as the pearl of wisdom we dragons carry beneath our chins.”
“That is very noble of you,” the Celestial Dragon said. “How many swords will you make?”
“As many as I need to,” the Treasure Dragon replied. “How have the humans divided themselves?”
“They've separated into the Four Winds,” the Wind Dragon replied. “There is the Eastern Warlord, the Western Warlord, the Southern Warlord, and the Emperor in the North. The Emperor is supposed to be their leader, but he is not strong enough.”
“I will make four swords, then,” the Treasure Dragon said. “One each for the three warlords, and one for the Emperor, who will also receive the armor. The Emperor will be the leader of leaders. With the armor, his word will be final. These enchanted gifts will bring them together. There will be peace.”
“There might be peace,” the Sea Dragon said, “but worse problems than war will arise if the Emperor's heart is tainted. The current Emperor suffers from this affliction. You cannot bestow such a powerful gift upon him. It would be disastrous.”
“Then we shall wait,” the Treasure Dragon replied. “I will hide the gifts in one of my treasure hoards and devise a test for those that might be worthy.”
“How will the humans learn of this test?” the Celestial Dragon asked.
“I will spread rumors among individuals with the most potential. Strong, brave people who are not afraid to fight. If any among them are also intelligent and compassionate, not to mention clever, they might find my clues. If they can locate the hoard, they can keep my jewels, as well as the swords and armor.”
“You cannot spend all your time watching and waiting for a human who might never exist,” the Sea Dragon said. “Your responsibilities are great.”
“I will appoint a keeper,” the Treasure Dragon said. “A watcher, of sorts. There must be one human out there who is worthy of knowing my secret. Someone with a keen eye and a good heart. Someone who might not be a great leader but can see greatness in others. I will make this individual swear to keep the hoard's location secret within his or her family, for it may be many generations before someone worthy surfaces. As long as the family remains untainted, the treasure should never fall into the wrong hands.”
The Celestial Dragon nodded. “Jade is like a mirror. It reflects and amplifies whatever is near. In the right hands, your swords will bring peace and unity as you intended, and over the right shoulders, the armor will ensure that the peace lasts. However, in the wrong hands, ill intentions will be magnified. There is risk, but your idea is sound. Make it so.”
The Treasure Dragon bowed. He flexed his eagle talons and stood. “I had better get to work. I fear it will take me longer to find a keeper than it will to carve the swords. It seems the fate of mankind may rest in the character of a single individual. I had better choose wisely.”
Henan Province, China
4348-Year of the Tiger
(1650 AD)
BANG!
Sixteen-year-old Ying shoved his former sister, Hok, to the ground with all his might. He saw her eyes widen as a qiang ball whistled over her head. Ying's carved face twisted into an angry scowl. How many times was he going to have to save her life tonight? He turned and slammed the door closed on the burning arena of the Jinan Fight Club.
Inside the club's main tunnel, Ying's eyes quickly adjusted to the orange-yellow glow of torches lining the stone-walled corridor. He glanced down at Hok and, next to her, Seh. Through the smoke drifting in from under the door, Ying saw that Hok held a tiny jade crane in one hand and Malao's ornate monkey stick in the other. Both were trophies from her time in the pit arena.
In his own hands, Ying held his long ch
ain whip and a ring of keys he'd just taken from LaoShu, the qiang-wielding fight club owner.
LaoShu screamed suddenly on the other side of the door, and Ying heard roof timbers crash down. The ground and walls shook, and Ying knew that LaoShu—the Rat—would give them no more trouble.
Ying spat and pivoted away from the door, ignoring the pain of cracked ribs and weeks-old bone bruises. The nagging injuries were his trophies, presented to him in prison by General Tsung almost a month before.
Ying wrapped his chain whip around his waist and groaned. He grabbed the collar of Hok's dress, yanking her to her feet.
“Move!” Ying hissed, pointing down the corridor. He looked at his former brother Seh. “You too.”
Hok took a step forward, but Seh didn't react. He just stared at Ying, blank-faced.
What is wrong with Seh? Ying wondered. He reached out to slap some sense into him, but Hok grabbed his arm.
“Seh is blind,” Hok said. “Not deaf. He had an accident.”
“Blind?” Ying said. “Leave him, then.”
Hok shook her head. “No.”
Ying shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He spun around and walked quickly down the tunnel corridor, the rough cotton robe of his Pit Cleaner disguise chafing his beaten flesh.
“Ying, wait,” Hok said. She took Seh by the arm and hurried after Ying.
Ying slowed for a moment, scanning the corridor. He saw no sign of guards ahead. They must have cleared out after the fire began.
Ying glanced back and saw Hok and Seh catching up. They looked like a pair of children whose dress-up tea party had ended in a fistfight. Hok's elegant silk dress was torn in several places and bloodstained from her fierce battle with General Tsung in the pit arena. Seh's simple gray robe was covered in dirt and splotches of who knows what else from rolling along the pit-arena floor en route to this tunnel.
Ying began to walk again. Hok and Seh remained on his tail.
“Why are you helping us?” Hok soon asked in a low voice.
“You got me out of that prison back in Kaifeng,” Ying replied. “I am returning the favor.”
“You already met your end of our bargain,” Hok said. “You gave me information that helped me find Malao.”
Ying scoffed. “Maybe you would consider information an equal trade for someone's life, but I do not. My injuries were too great for me to have survived much longer there. You saved my life, and I am honor-bound to return the favor.”
“But how did you know we would be here in Jinan, at the fight club?” Hok asked.
“I didn't come to Jinan looking for you,” Ying replied. “I came looking for Tonglong. I have a score to settle with him, and he frequents the fight clubs. I saw you and Seh standing in line outside with the round eye. I assumed you were up to something, and also assumed you would fail. I saw this as an opportunity to repay my debt.”
Ying rounded a corner. Ahead of him were rows of holding cells for prisoners who were scheduled to fight that night. All of the cells were empty save two. Inside one sat Fu. Malao was in the other.
Fu roared when he saw Ying, but Malao began to shriek, “Ying! Ying!”
One of Malao's shoulders was bloodstained, and he had a huge lump on the side of his head.
Ying ignored him.
“What are you doing here?” Malao asked. “Are those keys in your hand?”
Ying hurried past without acknowledging him. He picked up his pace.
“Ying, wait!” Malao wailed. “Come back!”
Ying glanced over his shoulder and saw Hok heading toward the cells with Seh.
“Hok! Hok!” Malao shrieked. “Help us!”
Fu roared again.
“Ying!” Hok said. “Please come back. Malao is hurt. We need those keys.”
“Sorry,” Ying said, turning away. “I need the keys for the exit door.”
“Let them out first,” Hok said.
“No,” Ying said. “There are too many keys on this ring. By the time I figure out which ones will open their cells, we could be dead from smoke or something else. I won't risk it.”
“I am not leaving here without Fu and Malao,” Hok said.
“Then my debt has been repaid,” Ying said. “Goodbye.”
Ying rounded another corner and began to run. Foolish children, he thought. Don't know when to cut their losses.
Ying reached the end of the next passageway and came to a halt. The tunnel split in two directions. One way led to a set of stairs that went up to the fight club, while the other corridor sloped gently upward toward a ground-level exit door. If he were to encounter any guards or others fleeing the burning fight club, this would be the place.
Ying squeezed the key ring tight so it wouldn't jingle and peered around the corner. Smoke was streaming toward the exit. That meant the exit door was open, sucking the smoke toward it.
Ying listened closely.
Down the corridor in the direction of the exit, he heard footsteps. Someone coughed. “I can't believe we're being sent back in here,” a man said. “We should just wait by the exit door. It's the only way out for those kids.”
“I don't make the orders,” another man replied. “I only follow them. The captain said to make a quick sweep of the tunnels, then get out of here. The sooner we finish, the sooner we can get some fresh air. Men, prepare your qiangs.”
Ying noted the unmistakable click of a qiang mechanism being engaged, then another, and another. He might be able to get past a single soldier with a qiang, but not three. Especially in his weakened state. Unfortunately, he needed help.
Ying silently ran back toward the others, cursing his terrible luck. As he neared the cells, he could hear Malao sobbing. He also heard Fu pounding furiously against the bars.
Hok saw Ying first. She opened her mouth to speak, but Ying cut her off. “There are at least three men coming this way with qiangs,” he said. “They intend to finish us. If I release Fu and Malao, will you follow my orders?”
Fu growled, but Malao said, “I'll do it, Ying! I'll do whatever you say! I'm a little dizzy and my shoulder is sore, but I can still fight. Get me out of here!”
“Hush!” Ying said. “Keep your voice down.” He stared hard at Fu. “What about you, Pussycat?”
Fu didn't reply.
Hok gave Fu an icy stare. “Be logical, Fu,” she said. “There isn't much time.”
“Fine,” Fu grumbled, locking eyes with Ying.
Ying fought back a smirk. Fu was irritating and immature, but at least he was always ready for a fight. Fu would go first.
Ying flipped through the ring of keys, selected one, and stuck it into Malao's cell door. The door swung open.
“Hey!” Malao whined. “You said you didn't know which key would open this door.”
“Lucky guess,” Ying snapped. He walked over to Fu's cell and unlocked it. As the door swung open, Fu snarled in Ying's face and muscled past.
“After you, Pussycat,” Ying said. “Put those feline instincts to use.”
Fu rushed forward.
Ying started after Fu, and Hok handed the monkey stick to Malao. Malao grinned excitedly. “Where did you get this?”
“From HaMo while I was inside the fight club,” Hok replied. “I'll tell you about it later. Are you sure you're okay?”
“I'm fine,” Malao said. He and Hok followed, with Seh in between them.
Fu soon stopped, and Ying watched Fu's head tilt to one side. Fu's low-light eyesight was excellent, but his ears were even better. Fu sank to his haunches and held up four fingers.
Four guards, Ying thought. That's five against four. No problem. He looked back at Hok, Seh, and Malao and held up four fingers. Hok and Malao nodded back. Hok whispered the information into Seh's ear.
Ying sank to the ground and slipped the chain whip from around his waist. He gathered it up in one hand, shoving the key ring behind his sash. He slid over to Fu's side and mouthed five words: Angry Tiger Moves the Mountain.
Fu nodded once and compresse
d his body into a large ball. A heavy boot scraped the floor just ahead of them, and Fu sprang with a tremendous roar.
“Oooof!” the lead guard groaned as Fu slammed into his midsection. The guard's long qiang fired on impact with a characteristic click … fizz … BANG!, the lead ball burying itself harmlessly in the wall of the tunnel. Fu hammered a tiger-claw fist into the man's jaw, silencing him.
“What's going on up there?” a guard called out.
No one offered a reply.
Ying eased his back against the tunnel's stone wall and saw the outline of a second guard creeping forward with his long qiang leveled at Fu's head.
“Crazy Monkey Swats the Fly!” Ying shouted, and Malao responded by racing forward, swinging his monkey stick wildly. The guard saw Malao coming and shifted his arms to protect himself, but he was too slow. Malao leaped high into the air and brought the monkey stick down on the crown of the man's skull with a tremendous crack. The guard slumped to the ground, out cold, his finger still on the qiang's trigger.
Click … fizz … BANG!
The qiang fired, its fire stone-tipped hammer igniting black powder. The lead ball shot forward, and the unsupported weapon flew backward out of the unconscious man's hands. The qiang crashed against one wall of the tunnel, while the lead ball thudded into the opposite tunnel wall in a shower of debris.
Two down, two to go, Ying thought.
A third guard stepped up through thickening smoke and froze at the sight of his unconscious comrades being stood over by two children. Ying took advantage of the man's hesitation and lashed out with his chain whip. The whip's weighted end wrapped itself around the end of the guard's qiang several times. Ying yanked the barrel of the qiang down and sideways, and shouted, “Monkey Takes the High Road, Tiger Takes the Low!”
Fu and Malao attacked as one. Fu threw his shoulders into the man's knees at the same moment Malao sprang into the air and slammed his heels into the man's cheekbones. The guard sailed backward, releasing his grip on the qiang in order to use his hands to break his fall. That proved to be unnecessary, as the fourth guard ended up breaking the third guard's fall for him.