by Jeff Stone
“Just let it go,” Hok repeated. “I'm telling you, Ying's reach is too great. He has information, and information is power.”
“What do you mean by that?” Fu asked.
Hok sighed. “I overheard Ying talking to Tonglong. It seems Ying has been very busy this past year. Not only has he joined the Emperor, trained troops, and risen quickly through the ranks, he's also done quite a bit of research into his own past. I heard some of the stories he shared with Tonglong, and they seem believable to me.”
Fu finished freeing Malao. He looked at Hok. “Back at Cangzhen, Ying told me that Grandmaster wasn't the holy man everyone thinks he was. Is that what you're talking about?”
“Possibly,” Hok said. “Ying told Tonglong that Cangzhen Temple was a base for secret activities, and that we warrior monks were nothing but security guards whose main role was to protect Grandmaster and help with his secret operations.”
“That's crazy,” Fu said.
“I thought so, too,” Hok replied. “At first.”
“At first? Ying is just making up stories to justify attacking Cangzhen.”
“That was my first reaction. But now I'm not so sure. Grandmaster kept a lot of things from us, you know.”
“Like what?” Fu asked.
“For instance,” Hok said. “Grandmaster had visitors on occasion. What kind of secret temple has visitors?”
“You're paranoid.”
“Really?” Hok asked. “Why did our temple have to be secret in the first place? Think about it, Fu. Also, we all know that Grandmaster wasn't raised at Cangzhen like us, right? He led a different life before coming to Cangzhen, and like so many other things, his previous life was kept secret from us.”
“I think we need more information before we pass judgment on Grandmaster,” Fu said.
“Look at you, Governor Fu!” Malao said with a laugh. “Since when did you become so diplomatic?”
“Be quiet, Malao,” Fu growled. “Hok and I haven't finished our conversation.”
“You two never finish conversations when you get into this kind of mood,” Malao said. “You're both way too hardheaded. Only you could make a crane talk so much, Fu.”
Fu growled again. Malao giggled.
Hok closed his eyes. “We'll be finished in a few moments, Malao. I only have a few more things to say.” He opened his eyes and looked at Fu. “I agree that we still need more information before we pass judgment. At the same time, I think you should give Ying's story some thought. Ying is many things to many people, but I've never known him to be a liar.”
“He is a liar!” Fu roared. “A liar, a thief, and a murderer! How can you defend Ying like this? He is responsible for the deaths of our brothers and the destruction of our home!”
“I'm not defending Ying's actions,” Hok said. “I'm only sharing information with you. There is something else you should know. Something important. We know that Ying destroyed our temple and killed our brothers because of his hatred toward Grandmaster. I assumed his hatred stemmed from the death of his best friend and our dear brother Luk last year, but it seems that was only part of it. Ying also believes that his own father was killed by Grandmaster.”
“What?” Fu said. “That's nonsense.”
“Fu, listen carefully,” Hok said. “According to Ying, Grandmaster killed his father in order to steal the secret dragon scrolls. All we really know about Grandmaster is that he came to Cangzhen with amazing, never-before-seen dragon kung fu techniques. Those techniques came from those scrolls, and those scrolls are ancient. Grandmaster did not write them himself. They had to come from somewhere. And if Ying's father was a dragon-style master, it would explain why Ying has always yearned to be a dragon himself.”
“This is crazy,” Fu said.
“I know it sounds crazy,” Hok said. “But it could very well be true.”
“I still don't believe it. Not if it came from Ying's forked tongue.”
“Would you believe someone else?” Hok asked.
“Perhaps,” Fu said. “But who is left alive that could tell us more about Cangzhen's history?”
“I've been thinking a lot about that question,” Hok replied, “because I want to believe that Ying's claims are false. I think perhaps the monks at Shaolin could help. After all, Cangzhen was founded by Shaolin monks.”
“That's a great idea!” Malao said. “I've always wanted to go to Shaolin!”
“It seems like a good idea to me, too,” Fu said. “I just met someone who may have trained at Shaolin, and I'd like to find out more about him. But first I need to get the scrolls back. I'm not going anywhere without them. I'm serious.”
“Is it really worth it, Fu?” Hok asked. “Ying is more powerful than you know. You should let it go.”
“We could do it if we worked together,” Fu said, slamming his fist into his open palm. “I know we could.”
“Trust me, Fu,” Hok said. “We can't succeed. If we had Seh and Long with us, we might stand a chance, but Malao has discovered that Seh is off recruiting additional helpers, and Long has disappeared without a trace. I don't think you realize what we're up against. Ying has grown stronger since he left Cangzhen, and Tonglong is unbelievable. Tonglong's hearing and eyesight are amazing, and his kung fu is very powerful—different from anything I've ever seen before. He's the one who caught me.”
“I defeated him once,” Fu said. “I can do it again.”
“I mean you no disrespect, Fu,” said Hok, “but I think perhaps you got lucky.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, I think—”
“Stop it!” Malao shouted. “Stop it right now! You are the two most stubborn people I've ever met in my life! We need to get going!”
“I'm not going anywhere,” Fu said. “Not without the scrolls.”
Malao rolled his eyes. He looked at Hok. “What are you going to do?”
Hok took a deep breath. “I've decided that I'm going to Shaolin. Alone, if I have to.”
Fu looked at Malao. “I guess it's up to you.”
Malao blinked. “Me? Why me? You know I can't make decisions.”
“Just pick one,” Fu said. “I'm staying. He's going. It's that simple.”
Malao shuffled his feet.
“Pick one, Malao,” Fu urged. “Him? Or me?”
“Or you can go off alone,” Hok added.
Malao twitched. “Alone? I don't want to be alone….”
Fu froze. He locked eyes with Malao and something powerful passed between them. Fu realized he and Malao had something in common after all. Just like true brothers.
Malao smiled at Fu. “I think I'll—”
KAA-BOOM!
The three young warrior monks jumped. Fu looked over at the soldier who had been attacked by the cub and saw the man still lying on his stomach. The soldier's smoking qiang lay just within his reach, his limp hand on the trigger. Fu saw a splintered hole at the base of a tree next to the soldier. The soldier had successfully fired a warning shot.
Fu turned back to Malao.
Malao smiled again. “Let's have some fun, Pussycat!”
And for the first time since Ying returned to Cangzhen, Fu smiled.
Lying at the foot of a large bush, his face pressed deep in the dirt, Tonglong also smiled.
First and foremost, I must thank my amazing agent, Laura Rennert, for both her editorial guidance and business acumen, and my remarkable editors, Jim Thomas and Schuyler Hooke—two great guys who changed my writing forever.
It's also important for me to thank Andrea Brown and Magnus Toren for putting together the annual Big Sur Children's Writing Workshop. Without Big Sur, this series wouldn't exist. And without Big Sur, I would never have met Susan Hart Lindquist and Amanda Conran, who've both had a major impact on my writing (though I think only one of them knows it). Nancy Lamb has also made a big difference through our friendship formed at Big Sur and her fantastic book on crafting stories for children.
Another author-friend, Kelly James-Enger, deserves a big tha
nk-you for her huge amounts of maniac support and tarot card readings, and someone at the Carmel Clay Public Library deserves a big thank-you for designing a spectacular building with numerous nooks and study rooms where an aspiring author can write.
I can't forget to thank my kung fu instructor, John Vaughn of Shaolin-Do, for being a phenomenal teacher and all-around nice guy.
Family is important to me, and I have to thank my parents, Roger and Arlene, as well as my brothers, Joe and Jaysen, for giving me their all when I was young and for always being there whenever I stop to make time for them now that I've more or less grown up.
Finally, my wife Jeanie, daughter Tristen, and son Owen get the biggest thank-you of all for their love and support as I continue to chase the Five Ancestors, along with my dreams. You guys are the best!
Excerpt copyright © 2005 by Jeffrey S. Stone
Published by Random House Children's Books
Prologue
For the first time in a thousand years, there was thunder in the temple.
Hidden inside the heavy terracotta barrel at the back of the practice hall, eleven-year-old Malao flinched with every BOOM, every CRACK! Thunder inside their compound could only come from one source. A dragon. A very angry dragon.
Malao shivered. According to legend, dragons controlled the wind and the rain, the lightning and the thunder. Stay in a dragons good graces, and your crops would receive enough rain for a bountiful harvest; anger a dragon, and your crops would be washed away—along with you, your house, and your entire family. Push a dragon too far, and it would deliver a special kind of storm, smashing everything it could with its powerful tail, igniting everything that remained with its fiery breath.
A dragon must be the reason Grandmaster had made Malao and his four “temple” brothers—Fu, Seh, Hok, and Long—squeeze into the barrel. Grandmaster had told them they were under attack by soldiers, but Malao knew men alone could never defeat the warrior monks of Cangzhen Temple. The attackers must have formed an alliance with a dragon. What could those thunderclaps be but the crack of a dragon snapping its enormous tail?
A dragon lashing its tail reminded Malao of his older brother Ying and his chain whip. Ying had left Cangzhen in a rage the year before, upset because he had been trained his entire life as an eagle but had always wanted to be an all-powerful dragon. Swinging his chain whip was the closest Ying had ever come to having a dragon tail of his own.
Malao shivered again. Ying had vowed to return to Cangzhen to punish Grandmaster for training him as an eagle, but Ying was no fool. He would never attack Cangzhen and its one hundred warrior monks unless he was guaranteed victory. And for that to happen, he would have to have had acquired power beyond that of mortal men—
“Oh, no!” Malao thought. “Maybe Ying has figured out a way to transform himself into a real dragon! Maybe he has grown scales and a tail and—”
KA-BOOM!
Jeff Stone lives in the Midwest with his wife and two children and practices the martial arts daily. He has worked as a photographer, an editor, a maintenance man, a technical writer, a ballroom dance instructor, a concert promoter, and a marketing director for companies that design schools, libraries, and skateboard parks. Like the Five Ancestors, Mr. Stone was adopted as an infant. He began searching for his birth mother when he was eighteen and found her fifteen years later. Tiger is his first novel.
Text copyright © 2005 by Jeffrey S. Stone
Cover illustration copyright © 2005 by Richard Cowdrey
All rights reserved.
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eISBN: 978-0-375-89179-3
v3.0
Table of Contents
Cover
Other Books By This Author
Title Page
Dedication
The Legend …
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
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Acknowledgment
Prologue
About the Author
Copyright