"Forget the Sinanju almanac," Remo snapped. "We have to find my daughter."
In the square, the villagers huddled together. They, too, knew that it lacked two hours to sunset, but darkness mantled the little village like a doom.
"Look!" quavered Pullyang. "See! I did not lie. They are back."
Remo looked. Down by the shore, two creatures circled on their purplish-pink bat wings, their hatchet faces twitching on gooselike necks.
"Pterodactyls," Remo breathed. "I was right."
"I have never seen such things," said Chiun. "But I understand this much. They are circling prey."
"Oh, no," groaned Remo. He flashed to the rocks that ringed the shore and hit the sand running as the pterodactyls dipped lower, their spiky tails whipping excitedly.
On the beach, running on tiny legs, was a little girl with blond hair.
"Freya!" Remo called. "Hang on, babe. I'm coming." The pterodactyls swooped down like blue jays worrying a cat. Freya kept running, her face haunted.
Remo ran after her, his feet blurring as he concentrated on his breathing. In Sinanju, proper breathing was all. It unlocked the latent powers of the human body. Remo's breathing flattened as he ran and his feet picked up speed until he was running faster than the pterodactyls could fly:
Freya's little legs churned. She glanced back in fear just as a rock was coming up in her path.
Remo yelled, "Watch the rock!" He saw Freya trip. He leapt for her.
But the pterodactyls were closer. One twisted away and came at Remo, talons grasping. Remo chopped once, but the claw was somehow faster than his lightning reflex. He ducked under a billowing wing and came up behind the ungainly thing. About to launch a kick at the back of its saclike body, Remo suddenly forgot his situation.
The other pterodactyl landed where Freya had fallen and folded its beating wings in a quick gathering motion. It returned to the sky, its long neck straining. Clutched in its hanging talons, a tiny figure wriggled like a worm.
"No!" Remo screamed.
The pterodactyl glided out over the water.
Remo plunged after it. His feet did not kick up any sand as he ran. And when he hit the water, he did not plunge in, but kept running, his feet moving so fast they did not break through the heaving waves. He was running on top of the waves, his momentum so great that gravity could not pull him down.
Remo narrowed his focus. Only the pterodactyl existed for him now. The pterodactyl with a little girl in its claws-Remo's daughter. He wasn't going to lose her too. All the awesome power that was Sinanju burned within him, forcing every muscle to function in perfect harmony.
He was only dimly aware of Chiun's voice behind him. "I am with you, my son."
Remo didn't answer. He was gaining on the ugly reptile. Its tail lashed tantalizingly within reach.
"Yes," said Chiun, as if reading Remo's mind. "The tail. If you can snare it, you may bring him down. Do not worry about the child. I will catch her when the devil heron lets go. Or I will plunge into the sea and rescue her. You stop that monstrosity. Trust the Master of Sinanju to preserve the life of your child."
The tail danced closer. Remo knew he would have only one shot. Once he went for the tail, he would lose the momentum that kept his feet from sinking. One shot. He wasn't going to blow it.
Remo took his shot. He saw his right hand close over the purple tail. Then the sea rose up to swallow him. Still hanging on, he let himself sink. He'd drag the pterodactyl to the ocean bottom and tear it to pieces. Please, God, he prayed as the cold clutched his muscles, don't let Chiun fail.
The water was like a wall of ice. It numbed his body. He could not tell whether he still had the tail. His fist felt like a rock. Remo reached out, found his wrist, and reached up toward his clutching hand. No way that thing would shake a two-handed grip.
But Remo felt nothing. The sea was too dark. He couldn't see if he still had the tail. God, do I have it? I couldn't have missed. Please don't let me have missed.
And suddenly, as if the sun had been turned on, the sea flooded with light. Remo saw that his fists were clutching seaweed. Frantically he kicked his feet, trying to get back his equilibrium. There was no sign of the pterodactyl.
The Master of Sinanju, his cheeks puffing air bubbles, swam up and tapped him on the shoulder. He shook his head no.
Remo kicked free. When he broke the surface, he saw the sun was out again. It was low in the horizon. The skies were clear.
Chiun's wrinkled face surfaced beside him.
"She is gone." Remo thought tears streamed down his wrinkled face, but it might have been seawater. "My beautiful granddaughter is gone!"
"I don't see the pterodactyl. It's got to be down there!" Remo slipped under the surf, Chiun following.
Grimly they searched, their lungs releasing pent oxygen in infinitesimal amounts. A half-hour passed without their breaking for air. The ocean floor was rocky and forbidding. Few fish swam. And although they scoured the ocean floor for more than a mile around, they found no bodies. Only the green crabs of the West Korea Bay, which had been known to eat the flesh of drowned villagers.
Fearfully Remo dived into a group of them feeding on the ocean floor, scattering them with his hands. He uncovered a fragment of white meat. A flat silver eye stared at him. A fish.
When the sun disappeared beneath the waves, they gave up. "I am so sorry, Remo," Chiun said chokingly. "I saw you grasp the tail, and when the bird fell, I reached out for the poor innocent child. I thought I had her. But once underwater, my arms were empty. "
"I couldn't have missed that tail," Remo said.
"You did not," Chiun told him.
"I had the tail and you saw the bird come down. But there's no bird down there."
"What does it mean?" asked Chiun.
"Come on," Remo said grimly, settling into the overhand swimming stroke that was favored by Sinanju. He made for the shore.
Jilda was waiting on the beach. She stood tall and grim, her hands clutching the seams of her cloak. Her womanly face reflected neither grief nor resignation. She was too proud a warrior for either emotion.
"You failed," she said in an arid voice.
"You watched us. What did you see?" asked Remo.
"You fell on the ugly bird. It crashed into the sea. And the two of you come back empty-handed. Could you not have at least returned my child's body to me?"
"She's not out there," Remo said flatly. And he struck off for the village.
Jilda spun on Chiun. "What does he mean? I saw-"
"You saw a darkness fall and lift in an hour's time," said Chiun. "Did you believe that?"
"I do not know."
"Distrusting your senses is the first step toward truly seeing," said Chiun, taking Jilda by the arm. "Come."
"And what should I trust, if not the evidence of my eyes?"