by Monkey
Malao closed his fist tightly around the spores and stood, brushing the mushroom caps and stems to the ground. They bounced noisily off the large, crunchy leaves that littered the forest floor beneath the oak.
Fu stuck his head around the tree trunk and glared at Malao. “Shhh! I think—” Fu stopped in mid-sentence and snapped his head back around to his side of the tree.
Malao peeked around the tree and squinted into the setting sun. He saw a stocky soldier hobbling in their direction. The soldier had a splint on one leg and carried a large leather bag over one shoulder. He also carried a long forked stick. Malao recognized the soldier as Commander Woo, the man who had held the goblet for Ying when he'd seen Ying bleed a snake.
Malao nodded to Fu. Fu returned the nod and hunched over, preparing to pounce.
But Commander Woo never looked up. He took a quick look around the base of the tree, then limped off into the forest.
Fu looked at Malao. Malao shrugged.
“It's better that he didn't see us,” Malao whispered as he folded the bundle of grass down over his face. “Trust me. Now, you follow him from the ground and I'll follow him from the trees. Don't attack unless it's absolutely necessary. Stick to the plan.”
“We'll see,” Fu replied. He leaped silently out of the tree and took cover in a thick bush.
Malao tightened his fist around the spores and jumped into a nearby tree. He paused a few moments before springing into a third. Malao looked down. Commander Woo was directly below him, opening the leather bag.
Malao watched as Commander Woo set the forked stick aside and eased himself onto the ground. He rummaged through the leather bag and removed the pouch of dragon bone, a small spoon, and the goblet. The Commander steadied the goblet on the ground and opened the silk pouch clumsily. He dumped a spoonful of the powder into the goblet and retied the pouch. As Commander Woo put the pouch and the spoon back into the leather bag, Malao dropped out of the tree and wiggled from head to toe in the half-light, his grassy outline shimmering.
“What do you think you are going to do with that powder?” Malao asked in the same ghastly voice he had used back at Cangzhen.
Commander Woo looked up and his entire body jolted. His mouth moved like he was talking, but no words came out.
Malao choked back a giggle. “I see you've heard of me, Commander. Your men knew I would return if they mentioned me to anyone.”
“W-what does that have to do with me?” Commander Woo asked. “I didn't tell anyone about you.”
“Liar!” Malao said. “I know you told that witchcraft amateur Ying about me. Say goodbye to this life, Commander Woo. I have come to swallow your soul!”
“No!” Commander Woo said. “P-please, I'll do anything you ask.”
“Anything?”
“Yes!”
“Give me the dragon bone.”
Commander Woo paused. “B-but it doesn't belong to me. It's Major Ying's.”
“Would you like me to summon the spirit of the dragon that once called those bones his own?” Malao asked. “I'm sure he'd be happy to meet the man who is making a drink with his remains.”
“No!” Commander Woo said. “What if—”
A low growl erupted from a large bush behind Commander Woo. The Commander spun around.
Malao quickly brushed the mushroom spores from his hand into the goblet.
Commander Woo looked back at Malao. “W-what was that noise?”
“The dragon, you fool,” Malao said, trying desperately not to giggle. Fu was supposed to have hissed, not growled.
Commander Woo's eyes widened.
A voice suddenly rang out from the direction of the camp. “Commander Woo? Is that you?”
Malao recognized that voice. It was Tonglong.
Commander Woo turned toward the voice, and Malao disappeared into the undergrowth.
“What's going on here?” Tonglong asked.
Commander Woo stood awkwardly, favoring his injured leg. He held the goblet in one hand and the forked stick in the other.
“You're up and walking around already, sir?” Commander Woo said. “Shouldn't you be recuperating from that blow you took to the head? I heard that the young monk called Fu used his Iron Head kung fu to—”
“I'm fine, Commander,” Tonglong said. “Thank you for your concern. Now answer my question, please.”
“I was about to prepare a special drink for Major Ying,” Commander Woo said. “But I was, aahhh, sidetracked. I still need to catch a snake, so I'd better get going.”
Tonglong looked in the goblet. “Snake blood and dragon bone?”
“Yes, sir,” Commander Woo replied.
“Foolish witchcraft mumbo jumbo,” Tonglong muttered.
“I beg your pardon, sir?”
“Never mind. Who were you talking to?”
“No one, sir,” Commander Woo said. “I was, aahhh, talking to myself. I feel foolish that you heard me.”
Tonglong looked Commander Woo in the eye. “Commander, have I ever lied to you?”
“No, sir. W-why do you ask?”
“Because I hold truth above all things,” Tonglong said. “And I would be greatly disappointed if I ever learned that one of my peers lied to me.”
“Your peers, sir?” Commander Woo said.
Tonglong smiled and put his hand on Commander Woo's shoulder. “Look, Commander. I know that I'm technically Major Ying's number one man and you're technically his number two. But the way I see it, we're equals. We have the same responsibilities and we do the same things. We're peers in my eyes. I would never lie to a peer for any reason. Peers need to stick together.”
Commander Woo looked at the ground and shuffled his feet. “You're absolutely right. Now I feel even more foolish. I have a confession to make—I was talking to a spirit.”
Tonglong's eyebrows raised. “You were? Well, that's interesting. It didn't happen to be the same spirit the men saw on the roof at Cangzhen, did it?”
Commander Woo snapped his head up. “Yes! How did you know?”
“I'm assuming it came after you because you talked to Major Ying about it. Spirits don't like that.”
“I know!” Commander Woo said. “It's a good thing you came along when you did. You scared it off. It was very unhappy.”
“I'm glad I could be of service,” Tonglong said. “Now, you'd better get going. Major is expecting his drink. He sent me to check up on you, you know.” Tonglong patted Commander Woo on the back. “But don't worry, my friend. Your secret is safe with me. I won't tell a soul what just happened.”
“Thank you, sir,” Commander Woo said. “Thank you very much.”
“Don't mention it,” Tonglong replied. “Good luck finding a snake.”
Commander Woo nodded and hobbled into the forest.
Tonglong watched him go, then tucked his long braid into his sash and squatted down. He lowered his face a hair's width above a small footprint in the dirt and inhaled. His nose recoiled, but the corners of his mouth turned up.
“Where's my drink?” Ying shouted.
“Coming!” Commander Woo replied. He limped through the darkness toward Ying, who was sitting next to Tonglong in front of a roaring campfire.
Commander Woo stopped in front of Ying and cleared his throat. “If you don't mind my saying, sir, you still have a little time. It's not yet been one hour since the sun set. I'm sure of it.”
“I believe you are correct,” Ying said. “But unlike some people around here, I'd rather not wait until the last moment for everything.”
“I am sorry, sir,” Commander Woo said as he handed the goblet to Ying. “It is my first time preparing the drink. It took me longer than I thought. It will not happen again. I promise.”
Ying smirked. “You weren't delayed by spirits, were you?”
Commander Woo stiffened. He glanced at Tonglong. Tonglong shook his head very slowly.
Ying laughed. “That was a joke, Commander. Relax! It seems reading the scrolls has put me in a fine moo
d. You have nothing to be concerned about. For once, you did your job. Not like our big failure Tonglong here.”
Tonglong lowered his head.
Ying raised the goblet and flicked his forked tongue across his lips. “Here's to me.” He drank the elixir in one gulp and ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth. “What kind of snake did you use?”
Commander Woo paused. “I'm not sure, sir. It was a brown ground dweller and had a triangular head like all vipers. I am certain it was a poisonous variety. Why do you ask?”
“The drink tastes a little different today. It must be the snake. I usually use green tree snakes. I don't know why, but I've always found them easy to get my hands on.” Ying held up a perfectly formed eagle-claw fist and flexed his fingers. He laughed at his own joke.
Commander Woo laughed, too.
Tonglong smirked and rubbed the lump on his head. “You certainly are a clever one, Major Ying.” He turned away from the campfire and stared off into the trees.
“How long do you think it's been?” Malao whispered.
“I don't know,” Fu replied. “Several hours, I guess. They should all be asleep by now.”
“I think so, too. Let's go.”
Malao leaped down from their hiding place high in a large elm and landed silently on the dark forest floor. Fu landed next to him.
“You take the lead, Cat Eyes,” Malao whispered. “I can hardly see a thing tonight. There are too many clouds covering the moon.”
Fu grunted and began to stalk silently through the heavy brush. Malao followed close behind. As soon as Malao saw campfire flames in the distance, he took to the trees. The plan was for him to approach from above while Fu approached from below. Once one of them found the scrolls, that person would grab the scrolls and run. Hopefully, the other would be able to follow.
Malao located a suitable limb near the edge of Ying's camp and scooted out as far as his weight would allow. He lay down on his stomach and hugged the branch tight, glad that he had abandoned his itchy “spirit” costume in order to move more freely through the trees.
Almost immediately, Malao heard soft footfalls. He glanced down and saw a single soldier with a spear patrolling the camp perimeter. The soldier was walking slowly in Malao's direction.
Malao looked over at the campfire and was surprised to see Ying lying near it, fast asleep on the ground. No one else was around. Ying's men apparently had built the large campfire away from the main sleeping area. Malao had heard that travelers often did this in case animals were attracted to the lingering smells of cooking over the campfire.
Ying must have fallen asleep there and his men were afraid to move him, Malao thought. He seems to be out cold. This is going to be easy.
Malao let go of the tree branch with one arm and slowly removed the decorated stick from the folds of his robe. As he raised it up, rustling leaves caught his attention. He turned to see Fu burst out of the underbrush.
Malao looked back down at the soldier. The soldier assumed a defensive posture with his spear held out before him. Malao decided to give Fu a little assistance. He cleared his throat, making the soldier glance up.
At that same instant, Fu slammed his left shoulder into the soldier's chest. Malao watched Fu clamp his right hand over the soldier's mouth and kick the soldier's legs out from under him. It wasn't the most graceful technique Malao had ever seen, but it was effective. The soldier went down in a heap and Fu landed on top of him. Fu grabbed the man's spear with his free hand, wrenched it from the soldier's grasp, and tossed it aside.
As soon as Malao saw Fu clamp a tiger-claw fist around the soldier's throat, he leaped down from the tree and headed for Ying. Malao gripped his stick tight. He knew that Ying hated to be woken and would lash out violently at anyone who dared disturb him.
When he was two paces from Ying, Malao stopped. Ying's chest rose and fell steadily and his eyeballs raced around beneath closed eyelids. Malao wondered if Ying was dreaming about all the horrible things he had done at Cangzhen.
Malao shivered. He forced himself to take several deep breaths, then took another step toward Ying and lowered himself into a solid Horse Stance. Prepared to run—or fight, if necessary—Malao lifted one leg and stuck his bare foot beneath Ying's nose. He wiggled his toes. Ying didn't flinch.
Malao grinned. He leaned forward and reached into Ying's robe. Inside, he found the scrolls. Malao removed them and placed them in the folds of his own robe.
Someone cleared his throat and Malao flinched, nearly stumbling into Ying. It was Fu. He stood at the opposite end of the clearing, pointing off into the forest.
Malao nodded. He was about to join Fu when something shiny on the other side of the clearing caught his eye. Malao strained his vision and took several steps in that direction. He saw a soldier asleep in the shadows. The shiny object was the hilt of the man's straight sword reflecting the firelight.
Malao took a few more steps and the soldier groaned, rolling over. Malao held his breath.
A moment later, the soldier began to snore. Malao released a huge sigh of relief. He turned away from the sleeping soldier and ran off to join Fu, never noticing the man's extraordinarily long ponytail.
“That was way too easy,” Fu said, panting heavily. He stopped ahead of Malao on the dark forest trail.
Malao nearly crashed into Fu. “Careful, Pussycat. What are you doing?”
“Something strange is going on,” Fu said. “I want to stop and think for a moment.”
“Don't hurt yourself,” Malao replied. He giggled.
Fu ignored the comment. He bent over and examined the ground. Malao leaned over next to him.
“Are you sure this is the right trail?” Malao asked.
“No,” Fu said. “The cage was covered with blankets the whole time the soldiers carried me. However, the boot prints on this trail are fairly fresh. I think this is the trail that will lead us back to the village.”
“Do you really think the Governor knows the way to Shaolin Temple?” Malao asked.
“I hope so. Otherwise, I don't know how we'll ever find it.”
“Do you think—”
Fu stood and stared at Malao in the darkness. “Please stop with the questions, Malao. I'm trying to figure out what's going on with Ying.”
“Ying?” Malao said. “Ying was out cold. Believe me.”
“I believe he was out cold. Otherwise, he would have ripped your leg to shreds for sticking your nasty foot in his face. Still, something just doesn't feel right.”
“What do you mean?” Malao asked.
“Think about it,” Fu said. “The only thing between us and the scrolls was one lousy soldier. And why did they leave Ying by the fire like that?”
“Ying probably fell asleep there after drinking the mushroom spores and everyone was afraid to touch him. You know how much he hates to be woken.”
“But why was there only one soldier on patrol?”
“I think there were supposed to be two,” Malao said. “I saw another one sleeping in the shadows.”
“What?” Fu said. “What did he look like?”
“I don't know,” Malao replied. “It was dark.”
“Did you notice anything about him? Was he short and stocky? Tall and skinny? Did he wear armor? Or an elegant robe?”
Malao shrugged his shoulders. “I don't know. All I saw was a straight sword. What does it matter?”
Fu slammed his fist into his palm. “Tonglong! I knew something was going on!”
“Tonglong?” Malao said. “Ying's number one man? Oh, yeah! He carries a straight sword.”
“That's right,” Fu said. “I bet Tonglong knew Ying was unconscious and that we would return. He was probably awake the whole time, making sure we got the scrolls.”
“Making sure we got the scrolls?” Malao said. “You think Tonglong is on our side?”
“Maybe. Remember when he helped us escape in the forest by loosening my bindings and letting me head-butt him? Well, he really didn't ha
ve to. I never told you this, but Tonglong had already repaid his debt to me for sparing his life back at Cangzhen. After Ying killed Grandmaster, Ying was about to attack me again. However, Tonglong distracted him and I escaped. He saved my life and repaid the debt.”
Malao scratched his head. “Maybe Tonglong didn't realize what he'd done at Cangzhen.”
“I doubt it,” Fu replied.
“Hey! Maybe Tonglong was a secret friend of Grandmaster's!”
“Don't start with that secret-operation nonsense, Malao. I heard enough of it from Hok.”
“No, it may be true,” Malao said. “I didn't get a chance to tell you, but I recognized the leader of the bandit gang Seh is now traveling with. I'm positive I saw him at Cangzhen four or five times with Grandmaster. You would remember him, too. He's a giant of a man.” Malao paused. “I never saw Tonglong at Cangzhen, but he does remind me of someone. I just wish I could remember who. …”
Fu cocked his head to one side. “Now that you mention it, Tonglong reminds me of someone, too. Do you think Tonglong is some kind of spy working against Ying?”
“I don't know,” Malao said. “You're the one who thinks more is going on. If you ask me, I think I had a great plan to steal the scrolls and it worked. You're just jealous.” He giggled.
Fu shook his head and looked around. He yawned. “I'm getting tired, Malao. You want to take a break?”
Malao stretched. “I guess. Do you think it's safe?”
“I think so. If Tonglong wanted to get us, he would have come after us already. Ying didn't even flinch beneath your disgusting toes and the man I knocked out will probably stay unconscious until morning. As long as we don't sleep too long, we should be fine.”
“All right, then,” Malao said. “I am pretty tired.”
“Me too,” Fu replied. “I'm going to sleep on the ground. I don't think I can handle sleeping in a tree.”
“Suit yourself,” Malao said. “I'm going to find me a nice big oak.”
“Hang on,” Fu said. “Before you go, let me take a look at the scrolls.”
Malao sprang backward on the trail. “I don't think so, Pussycat. It was my plan that got them back, so I'm going to be the one to deliver them to the monks at Shaolin. You're not going to take all the credit.” He grinned.