Snake (Five Ancestors #3)(11)
Author: Jeff Stone

It was over almost as soon as it began. From what Saulong saw, the stranger did nothing more than whirl his sword a few times, but nearly every man from the camp had fallen to it. The three men that were still breathing ran off.

Saulong could hardly believe his eyes. He had seen men fight before, but the men would only use their fists, and the fights never ended like this. The men on the ground all seemed to be … dead. Like a rabbit or pig before cooking.

“Nice work, old man,” a deep voice said in the distance. “I assume you’re warmed up now.”

Saulong grew nervous. That was his father’s voice. His father approached from the edge of camp, leading a horse.

“I found this beast tethered outside my camp,” Cholong said to the stranger. “I recognized it as yours. I’m impressed this old mare is still useful.”

“Some things improve with age,” the old man replied.

Cholong laughed. “We shall see about that.” He pulled his long metal chain whip from his sash and began to swing it. “I’m a bit more of a challenge than my men.”

The stranger didn’t respond.

“Any last words?” Cholong asked.

The stranger remained silent.

Cholong hissed like a dragon and spat on the ground. “I’ve waited most of my life for this, old man. If you don’t want to talk, let’s just finish it.”

And with that, Cholong attacked. He and the stranger exchanged blows so quickly, Saulong could not follow everything. What he did see clearly, though, was his father’s chain whip wrap around the stranger’s sword. As his father gripped his chain with both hands and wrenched the sword free of the stranger, the stranger lashed out with a dragon fist.

The fist struck Cholong square in the face, and he crumpled to the ground. His body jerked twice, then fell still.

“NO!” Saulong cried.

The stranger looked at Saulong, expressionless, then turned his attention back to Cholong.

“Saulong!” his mother whispered. “Turn around!”

But Saulong didn’t budge. He watched the stranger bend over and remove four scrolls from the folds of Cholong’s luxurious red robe.

Saulong’s mother grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. She was holding a small pack. She looked him in the eye. “We must RUN!”

Saulong’s mother bolted from the tent. Saulong followed as fast as his little legs could carry him. “MaMa!” Saulong cried, racing after her. Tears streamed sideways across his face. He’d made less than a dozen strides when someone grabbed the back of his robe and yanked him to a stop.

Saulong jerked his head around and saw the old stranger.

“You are coming with me, child,” the man said in a firm voice.

“No!” Saulong screamed. He looked into the trees and saw his mother stop. She glanced first at him, then at the old stranger. The stranger raised his dragon sword and shook his head.

“NO!” Saulong said again.

Saulong’s mother looked back at him. He saw tears falling from her eyes. “Never forget me,” she said in a shaky voice. “And never forget your name.”

And then she was gone.

Saulong let out a hate-filled cry and tore free of the old man’s grip. He ran to his family’s tent and grabbed his rope whip, then ran even faster back to face the stranger. Saulong lashed out at the man’s legs, arms, and face, and the stranger stood perfectly still, silently accepting the beating. When Saulong’s right arm grew tired, he switched the rope to his left. When his left arm grew tired, he began to kick. And when his legs finally gave out, the old man lifted him up and carried him to the horse. The stranger climbed on, and off they went.

As they raced down the mountain, Saulong whispered to himself over and over, Never forget my mother, never forget my name….

Saulong—Vengeful Dragon. The three-year-old didn’t know what vengeful meant, but he would learn.

Seh found himself running through the forest again. This time, he wasn’t alone.

“Slow down, Seh,” Malao said from the treetops. “Give Fu a chance to catch up.”

Seh slowed to a stop and stared up at Malao, silhouetted in the evening sun. They had been running from Shaolin and the fight between Ying and the Emperor’s leopard-style master, General Tsung, for less than an hour.

“Don’t tell me Fu has fallen behind already,” Seh said. “Where is he?”

“How should I know?” Malao replied. He grabbed a thick vine and began to climb down. “You’re the one with the creepy ability to sense other people. I only realized Fu wasn’t behind us anymore because I haven’t heard him complaining in a while.”

Seh frowned. As he waited for Malao, he slipped one hand inside the folds of his robe. The three dragon scrolls he’d swiped from Tsung were still there. The snake on his wrist crawled higher up his sleeve, out of sight.