Snake (Five Ancestors #3)(9)
Author: Jeff Stone

“Get out of here!” Seh shouted at the crane.

The crane looked at Seh and flew off. Seh saw a line of red running across its downy thigh.

The snake lay in a loose pile, bright red blood oozing out between green, yellow, and black scales.

Seh cautiously reached down to it. The snake remained limp as he gently stroked its back.

Quickly, Seh removed his hat and tore out the inner silk lining. He bound the snake’s wounds with the silk and placed the snake inside the hat. The snake seemed slightly more alert, which was a good sign. Still, it didn’t try to escape, even after Seh washed his hands, picked up the hat, and headed into the forest toward Shaolin.

For several days, Seh’s routine was the same. He traveled all night, slept all day, and spent the time between searching for food, meditating, and tending the snake. Some of the nights were filled with heavy rain, while others were perfectly clear. It didn’t matter to Seh. He accepted whatever came.

Mong had given him a route that went over numerous small, steep mountains instead of around them. It was exhausting travel, but Seh welcomed the exercise.

As the days passed, Seh noticed two significant changes. First, the snake’s condition improved dramatically. It began spending most of its time on Seh’s left arm. The snake seemed to enjoy resting its head on the warm pulse of Seh’s wrist, the remainder of its body coiled around his arm beneath his long silk sleeve.

Seh tried letting it go several times after he removed its bandages, but every time he set it down, the snake would immediately crawl up his leg, around his slender waist and chest, over his shoulder, and down his arm. Since the snake tended to do this beneath his clothes, Seh soon stopped trying to release it and just let it tag along. He figured when the snake was hungry enough, it would leave.

The second change came within Seh himself. Or rather, without. It was his hair.

Ever since Seh could remember, his hair had grown faster than everyone else’s. Most of the Cangzhen monks shaved their heads every four or five days, but Seh had to shave his every day. If he waited any longer, his hair would grow back quickly and unevenly, making his head look lopsided. Everyone used to make fun of him, except for Hok, who would shave her head as often as he did to make him feel better.

Seh’s black hair was now longer than it had ever been and so thick that his hat wouldn’t fit—even without the lining. Seh was trying to decide where to dispose of his hat one morning when he noticed a peculiar, smoky smell. He glanced up at the low surrounding mountains and realized it was probably Shaolin Temple. Seh followed his nose.

As the sun rose above the trees, Seh stepped to the edge of a strange clearing. More than two hundred stone monuments of various shapes and sizes reached toward the sky. He grinned. He was standing at the edge of Shaolin’s famous Pagoda Forest. The Shaolin Temple compound must be nearby.

Seh began to weave through the pagodas, but after a few steps, he froze. Something was wrong. He reached out around him with all his senses and noticed … nothing. The area felt dead. He didn’t even sense wildlife. He thought it might be the fact that he was standing in the middle of what was essentially a cemetery, but then he lifted his eyes toward the far end of the pagodas. In the hazy morning light, he saw smoke. Too much smoke.

Seh began to run. The wind in his face brought stronger and stronger scents of smoldering wood and rotting flesh. He reached the main gates of the Shaolin compound and stopped in his tracks.

Bloated bodies were stacked five high in neat rows near the temple’s open gates. Orange-robed monks with holes in their chests lay piled alongside armor-clad soldiers with splintered spears and broken swords protruding from their necks and armpits. Half-dry riverbeds of crimson crisscrossed the ground in every direction. Seh fought the urge to retch as the smoky, putrid air circulated through his lungs and swarms of flies buzzed around his head.

Seh didn’t know what to do. These were Shaolin warrior monks—the best fighters in all of China. What had brought about this devastation? Who was responsible? It couldn’t have been Ying. This attack was at least a couple of days old. Ying would never have been able to travel this far that fast with troops.

Seh looked over at the compound walls. Near the gates, large sections were crumbling away. It looked as though an angry dragon had smashed them with its mighty tail. He glanced around and saw a line of what appeared to be gigantic qiangs. The hollow end of each was huge—almost as big as his head. Seh realized they must have caused the damage. Those weapons would make their owner enormously powerful. Whoever owned them certainly wouldn’t leave them here. He would return to collect them. Seh decided he needed to hide.

He took a deep breath, trying not to choke on the stench, and hurried back the way he had come. He quickly located a large oak near the edge of the Pagoda Forest and shimmied up it. High above the ground, the air seemed clearer. Seh breathed deeply, over and over, until he felt life circulating through him once more. He remained there for the better part of the day, occasionally reaching out with his senses for some sign of life other than the snake around his wrist. Once darkness fell, he would head for the bandit stronghold to report the unbelievable news. Until then, he would wait.