“Hey, Tonglong!” Ying shouted. “Watch this!”
Ying smashed the side of the lantern with the back of his hand and dangled the end of the scroll into the flames. The scroll ignited, illuminating his carved face with a flickering orange glow.
Tonglong roared, “New orders, men! Take out Ying! Whoever puts a hole in his head becomes my new number one soldier!”
Qiangs erupted in the night, and Ying was thrown backward as a ball of lead buried itself in his shoulder. The lantern splashed into the river and the scroll drifted into the air, consumed by fire. The map disintegrated into a hundred thousand bits of black ash that rained down around Ying's head.
At the same time, an enormous BOOM! rang out from the barge, followed by the thunderous crash of splintering wood and screaming men. Ying rolled over on the floor of the skiff to see Tonglong's dragon boat sinking fast. Charles had hit it at point-blank range with the cannon.
Ying scanned the tilting barge and saw an injured soldier pull himself out of the water. The man scrambled across the shifting deck into the living quarters.
A single shot rang out, and Charles emerged from the small house with a smoking qiang in his hands. The barge tilted further to one side, and Charles shoved the qiang into his sash. He scrambled onto the roof of the house and looked downstream at Ying and Hok. He waved, signaling that all was well, then dove over the side.
Ying raised his arm to acknowledge Charles’ signal, but the world suddenly swooned around him. He closed his eyes for a few moments, and when he opened them again, he saw Hok leaning over him. Her lips were moving, but he couldn't hear a word.
Ying glanced at his left shoulder and was surprised to see that Hok was digging her fingers into it. She pulled out a qiang ball and tossed it overboard. There was blood everywhere. He didn't feel a thing.
The skiff and everything around Ying began to spin as though they were being sucked into a gigantic whirlpool. He felt light-headed, and he realized that his limbs were shaking. He was suddenly very cold.
Ying nodded weakly to Hok and saw her eyes widen. Her lips screamed—Stay awake, Ying!—but he heard nothing. He was so very tired.
Ying closed his eyes and slipped into uncon sciousness.
Charles pulled himself through the mighty Yellow River with smooth, powerful strokes. The qiangs in his sash and his heavy boots slowed him down, but he was still far ahead of Tonglong and the wounded soldiers bobbing among the wreckage of their dragon boat.
Charles estimated he would reach the shore at least a quarter of an hour ahead of any survivors. Plenty of time to make it to the safe house and update the others. He would honor Hok's request and remind Fu, Malao, and Seh to go to PawPaw's house. However, there was no way they were going without him. He had saved Hok's life once before, and he would gladly risk his own life again and again for her.
Charles would take the lead in her rescue. Malao was only eleven years old, and Fu and Seh were just twelve and thirteen. They weren't old enough.
Charles was fifteen. He was strong and he was clever, and most importantly, he had a boat. The fastest boat in all China. It was small, but it could accommodate the four of them, plus limited supplies. And if any of the others complained about him being in charge, the overall weight would quickly be reduced. The mutineers would be left in whatever port happened to be next.
Charles knew how to keep a crew of seasoned sail ors in line. He could certainly handle three children.
“Wake up, Ying,” a soft voice urged. “Breathe through your nose.”
Ying opened his eyes to find he was on his back inside the skiff with Hok hovering over his head. It was daylight, and she was holding a small twig beneath his nostrils. The fresh twig had been twisted upon itself many times, and a pungent liquid was oozing forth. It smelled so acrid, Ying's eyes watered. He coughed.
“Sorry,” Hok said, casting the twig aside. “Xiang mu tree branch. Smelling the evergreen's sap can bring unconscious people like you back to the waking world.”
Ying groaned. He glanced up to see where they were and was temporarily blinded by the sun high overhead. He squinted and moaned, “What time is it?”
“Nearly midday. You've been unconscious since last night. I was beginning to question whether you were ever going to come out of it. I was lucky to have found the xiang mu tree nearby. I found a few other things, too.” She nodded toward Ying's left shoulder. “How does it feel?”
Ying turned his head to see strips of Hok's white silk dress wrapped neatly around his upper arm and chest. The whole area felt as if it had been trampled by an ox.
“It's fine,” Ying said.
“It's not fine,” Hok replied. “I'm sure it hurts quite a bit. I removed a qiang ball from your shoulder last night, and packed the wound with horsetail plant once we arrived here.” She pointed to a cluster growing nearby, close to the water's edge.