by P J Tierney
‘You kick when the wave hits,’ Mr Fan called, and Jamie nodded. He watched the swell and stumbled with the undertow that threatened to pull his feet from under him. He corrected his footing, lowered himself to get more traction and just as the wave hit he swung his leg forwards. But as soon as he lifted his leg, the pain was jarring. He’d underestimated the force of the water and his leg was yanked backwards, his hip unfortunately going the other way.
He cried out just as his supporting foot was washed from under him. He slipped beneath the wave and was dragged along the rock shelf.
He eventually got his feet back under him. His elbows and knees were scraped raw. He held his wounds up for Mr Fan to see.
‘Ouch,’ Mr Fan said with a sympathetic cringe. ‘I told you not to fall.’
Jamie squared up again. This time he tensed every muscle from his buttock to his toe. As the wave hit, he transferred the energy from his whole body down into his leg, forcing his foot through the water. The wave churned past him and Jamie landed his kick.
He turned to Mr Fan, his arms up in jubilation. Mr Fan merely pointed at the next wave that was bearing down. Jamie turned and kicked again. As the set of waves grew bigger, kicking became more and more difficult. But after innumerous sets, Jamie had developed a very powerful front kick.
Then there were side kicks. These made the front kick seem easy. When his leg was extended sideways, it acted as a rudder, spinning him with the wave. It took him much longer to get this right and by then he was sore and tired. His shorts chafed his thighs and he was desperately thirsty.
Then came the roundhouse kick. He had to swing his leg out to the side and then to the front, combining the worst from the previous two.
Jamie had just landed his first roundhouse kick without being scuttled when he looked to Mr Fan for recognition. Not only was Mr Fan not applauding, but he wasn’t even watching. He was reading the newspaper, totally oblivious to Jamie’s success.
Jamie huffed. He faced up to the next wave and pulled his roundhouse kick with such force that a shimmering sheet of water was sent all the way to the shore. It doused Mr Fan and his newspaper.
Jamie was shocked. He hadn’t thought his kick would be that effective.
Mr Fan stared at Jamie and the soggy newspaper drooped. Mr Fan called him from the water and Jamie imagined a punishment similar to Jade’s escarpment run. But when Mr Fan started positioning a large piece of driftwood between two rocks, Jamie got worried.
‘Come here,’ Mr Fan called. Jamie, shivering and wide-eyed, shook his head and stayed put. Mr Fan glanced at him, then at the driftwood. His expression changed when he realised why Jamie wasn’t budging. ‘Oh no,’ Mr Fan said, flushed and shocked. ‘I’m not going to hurt you. I want you to kick it.’
‘Ohh,’ Jamie said in relief. Then he realised how thick the piece of driftwood was. ‘Really?’
Mr Fan nodded.
Jamie took a deep breath. He stepped up to the wood and took a fighting stance. He wiped at the water that dripped from his hair and into his eyes, then he concentrated. He swung his leg forwards. Without the resistance of the water, his leg moved faster than he’d expected. His foot broke straight through the piece of driftwood, shattering it to pieces.
Jamie gasped. They stared at each other, both surprised at what they’d seen. Gradually Mr Fan smiled and Jamie did too.
He turned and ran back into the water.
‘What are you doing?’ Mr Fan called out.
‘More practice!’ Jamie shouted back. ‘Imagine what I could do when I’m good!’
At dusk Mr Fan called Jamie from the water. Jamie knew he had done well. As they made their way back along the headland, he formed a list in his head: he could block, he’d done the eagle claw, he could shatter solid timber with his foot. But more than all of that, Jade had smiled at him. Jamie was starting to think that it was all adding up to something. He might just be the one they were looking for. Maybe he’d have a future beyond Hector and Sai Chun.
They rounded the temple on the headland, Jamie giving credence to the stories of it being haunted by keeping a very wide berth. Mr Fan chuckled, but quickly stopped when he caught sight of the little village of Sai Chun far below. He pointed. Rising high above the northern end of the bay, where The Swift was moored, was a plume of thick, black smoke.
Jamie and Mr Fan sprinted along the abandoned road, barrelled across the square and charged the length of the dock. They leaped aboard The Swift, Mr Fan screaming Jade’s name as he ran into the thick smoke.
Jamie grabbed the fire extinguisher and pulled the pin as he raced into the cabin behind Mr Fan. The smoke alarm was shrieking, and the smoke stung his eyes and burned his throat. Jamie swept Mr Fan aside and took aim with the extinguisher, spraying the hissing white foam into the smoke. He couldn’t find the flames.
Then he saw Jade waving a tea towel in front of the smoke alarm to stop it ringing. She raised her eyebrows at the extinguisher, suggesting that it was a bit of an overreaction.
Jamie glanced around for flames and his eyes fell on the charred remains of something in his favourite wok. He flapped at the smoke and opened the hatches and portholes, till it cleared enough to stop the incessant alarm.
‘Would that be dinner?’ Mr Fan asked in the sudden silence, tilting the wok to inspect the blackened crust.
‘No,’ Jade huffed. Her brow was beaded in sweat and her hair dishevelled. She added under her breath, ‘Not any more anyway.’
Mr Fan raised his eyebrows at Jamie, who smiled but not so Jade could see.
‘Shall we try the noodle house?’ Mr Fan asked innocently.
‘No,’ Jade snapped. ‘You told me to cook dinner and I’ve cooked dinner.’
Her sharp tone stopped Jamie and Mr Fan in their tracks. They sat without speaking.
Jade fussed at the cooktop a while longer, then plonked two bowls onto the table. Some pale pink liquid sloshed over the side and flaccid noodles floated to the surface.
Mr Fan leaned over his bowl and sniffed. ‘Hmm,’ he said and brought the spoon to his lips. ‘Soup, straight from the can.’
Jamie snorted. He tasted the soup: it was watery and salty, like Jade had squeezed ketchup into sea water.
‘You’re not eating?’ Mr Fan asked Jade.
‘Not that,’ she said, jutting her chin towards Jamie’s bowl. ‘I spat in that.’
They took dinner on Feng Chow’s verandah that night: wonton soup and a plate of stir-fried gai lan. Mr Fan seemed distracted. He didn’t join the discussion Jade and Feng had about knife-throwing: the best ones to use, how the secret was all in the balance and weight of the blade. Feng showed them his collection of throwing knives. Jade picked one up, held the blade between her thumb and forefinger and threw it. The knife whooshed through the air and slammed into the timber wall of the noodle house. Jamie stood to retrieve it and saw it was more than a random throw. The blade had pierced a cockroach straight through, pinning it to the wall like it was a specimen mounted for display.
Jamie turned to her, his mouth open in amazement. She shrugged as if it was nothing. Jamie said to Mr Fan, ‘Did you see that?’ But Mr Fan wasn’t looking. He was lost in his thoughts and staring up at the temple.
When the meal was finished and Feng had taken the plates to the kitchen, Mr Fan finally pulled his gaze away from the headland. He said to Jamie, ‘Have you ever heard of a spirit guide?’
Jade caught her breath.
Jamie shook his head.
‘It is a spirit that travels with you through life as your personal guide.’
Jamie reeled. ‘Like that thing inside my dad?’
‘No, no, nothing like that,’ Mr Fan said. ‘Your spirit guide helps you, protects you and only works in your best interests. Well, mostly anyway. It chooses you even before you are born and helps you towards your life’s purpose. Remember I asked if you felt anyone watching us in the clearing?’
Jamie nodded.
‘That sensation of being watched, that t
ingly feeling you get on the back of your neck, that’s a warning from your spirit guide. Goosebumps, a lucky find, a prophetic dream, or when your gut tells you something isn’t quite right. They’re all messages from your spirit guide too.’
‘Imaginary friends,’ Jade added.
‘That’s right,’ Mr Fan said. ‘They’re not imaginary at all. Young children can actually see their spirit guide.’ He looked at Jamie. ‘Did you have a pretend friend when you were younger?’
Jamie racked his brain for a memory of an imaginary friend, or a tingling sensation, a gut feeling or goosebumps when he wasn’t cold. He came up empty. ‘Are you sure everyone’s got a spirit guide?’ he asked.
Mr Fan hesitated slightly before he said, ‘Yes, I’m sure. You cannot cross into this realm without one; it is a binding contract made before birth. Most people, however, go through life unaware of their guide’s presence, failing to appreciate that the lucky finds or close escapes are, in fact, their guide’s intervention.’
‘And we’ve all got one?’ Jamie asked again, just to be doubly sure.
Jade answered before Mr Fan got a chance. ‘We all start with one anyway.’ That comment roused a ferocious glare from her Sifu.
‘We’ve all got one,’ Mr Fan said firmly and gave Jade a pointed look. ‘Now let’s leave it at that.’
Jamie looked suspiciously at Jade, curious as to what she wasn’t saying. He didn’t want to tell Mr Fan he thought he might be wrong, so he steered the conversation in another direction. ‘You said a spirit guide works mostly in your best interests?’
Mr Fan sighed and looked off into the distance. ‘There was a spirit guide many generations ago who targeted weak-willed individuals. He discovered their secret desires and indulged their fantasies. He let them believe they could have anything they wanted. He created dictators and despots and he was responsible for some of the most catastrophic periods of human history.’
‘Who did he create?’ Jamie asked.
‘Open up a history book — they’re all there.’
‘So what happened?’
‘The Warriors of the Way learned to recognise who was guiding these people.’ He looked pained as he added, ‘We acted pre-emptively.’
‘Deal with a problem while it is small,’ Jade said.
Mr Fan nodded. ‘This spirit guide found out what we were doing and came to earth to deal with us personally. He has been trying to kill us ever since.’
‘Zheng,’ Jamie whispered.
Mr Fan nodded again. ‘Zheng.’
Jamie gulped. ‘And now he wants to eliminate me? Because I’m connected with the Way?’
‘Partly that,’ Mr Fan said, ‘but mainly because of your birthday. You see, there is a guide more powerful and knowledgeable than any spirit guide. He understands how our lives interconnect with each other, not only in this life but the ones we’ve already lived and the ones that are yet to come. If our life’s purpose is not achieved, the consequences can cascade through time. Should many lives’ purposes be unfulfilled, the consequences become insurmountable for us and for the planet. That is when the Great Guide sends the Spirit Warrior.’
‘Are things insurmountable now?’ Jamie asked.
Mr Fan nodded sadly. ‘We are at that tipping point. Do you watch the news, Jamie? The natural disasters around the world, the floods and earthquakes and wildfires, they tell us that the Way cannot keep the planet in balance.’
Jamie thought of Low See Fut’s dire analysis of the world and its weather. ‘This Great Guide doesn’t seem to be doing a good job right now.’
Mr Fan sipped his tea. ‘No, he doesn’t, and that is why we need to find the Spirit Warrior. He is our link to the Great Guide. With the knowledge he brings and the connection to the Way, he sets thing right.’
Jamie sat up a little straighter.
‘And how he does that,’ Mr Fan said, putting down his teacup and looking Jamie in the eye, ‘is by achieving his life purpose.’
Jamie nodded.
‘The Spirit Warrior’s life purpose,’ Mr Fan said, ‘in fact, his only purpose, is to seek out Zheng and defeat him.’
Jamie held Mr Fan’s gaze.
‘Still hoping you’re the Spirit Warrior?’ Jade asked.
Jamie turned and looked her in the eye. You bet, he said to himself.
Mr Fan saw the intensity in Jamie’s stare and said, ‘You are very much like someone I used to know.’ He reached into his satchel and removed a bamboo scroll, stood up from the table, patted Jamie on the shoulder and handed it to him. ‘Whatever your purpose, you’ll need this,’ he said, then walked off into the night.
Jamie watched him go. ‘What is it?’ he asked Jade.
‘The Art of War,’ she said. ‘It’s a study of battle tactics written two and a half thousand years ago by Sun Tzu.’
Jamie considered the scroll in his hand, then asked, ‘Will I need it because I might be the Spirit Warrior?’
Jade smirked. ‘You’ll need it because you fell for the “your breath stinks” trick.’
Jamie squeezed the scroll in his hand. If he was the Spirit Warrior, or if he was ever going to get some respect from Jade, he’d better learn how to read.
Chapter 15
After breakfast the next morning, Jamie went to visit the Leungs. He hovered at their door, working up the courage to knock.
‘Come in, Jamie,’ Mrs Leung said when she spotted him. ‘Bohai will be pleased to see you.’
Jamie felt a bit guilty that he had been so caught up in training that he hadn’t visited earlier.
Bohai was in his room and he seemed startled as Jamie entered. He quickly closed a book he’d been reading and slid it under some papers.
Jamie was pleased to see he looked much the same as usual, except for the bruise around his neck and the way he tugged at his shirt collar.
‘Are you okay?’ Jamie asked.
Bohai nodded. ‘The police think the men in the black shirts got the wrong village. They can’t find any reason why I’d be a target.’
Jamie nodded and looked around Bohai’s room while he thought of something to talk about. Every wall was plastered in posters. There were posters showing the times tables and the solar system. There were historical timelines, mathematic formulas and a chart of the southern constellations. That was the only thing Jamie understood: Hector had made him learn to navigate by the stars. That and the picture of Master Wu taped behind the door.
‘There’s talk about the old guy staying with you,’ Bohai said.
‘What sort of talk?’ Jamie asked. He was trying to figure out the location of the mysterious reef in relation to Bohai’s star chart.
‘They say he’s of the old ways.’ When Jamie didn’t respond, Bohai added, ‘They say he’s a Warrior of the Way.’
Jamie tensed. ‘I didn’t think they were real,’ he said, careful not to give anything away.
Bohai shrugged. ‘Me either, but those guys,’ tilting his head towards the fishermen’s homes, ‘they say he’s a Warrior and,’ Bohai paused and watched for Jamie’s reaction, ‘that he brought the trouble with him.’
‘That’s rubbish,’ Jamie said quickly, but looked carefully at his friend. ‘What do you think?’
‘I think they’re mental.’
Jamie forced a chuckle. ‘They never think anything could be just a coincidence.’ Then he remembered what Mr Fan had said about there being no such thing as coincidence and stopped laughing.
‘You know what they’re like,’ Bohai said. ‘They can see something sinister in anything. What about Old Mama Chow and that virus that was in the news last year? She was convinced it was the plague come to kill us all. Low See Fut sees the end of the world every time there’s an early storm, and don’t get him started on climate change.’
‘Or fish stocks,’ Jamie added.
‘Or the state of the economy.’ Bohai smiled. ‘Should I go on?’
Jamie smiled too, although he was thinking about what Mr Fan said the night before ab
out the Great Guide and how the world really was at a tipping point. ‘They’re old,’ Jamie said, trying to fob it off and pretend everything was okay. ‘They’ve got nothing better to do.’
‘But they know stuff too,’ Bohai said, turning serious. ‘How much do you know about the old man and the girl?’
‘I know he saved you,’ Jamie said. ‘And my dad too.’
‘Maybe. But none of us needed saving before he got here.’
Jamie felt betrayed. ‘Mr Fan and Jade are all right,’ he said.
‘Just be careful. There are things you don’t understand.’
‘Why?’ Jamie snapped. ‘Because I’m not Chinese like you?’
‘No,’ Bohai said, ‘because you’re twelve, just like me. This stuff goes back generations — even the old guys don’t understand it all.’
‘What’s to understand?’
Bohai pursed his lips and looked nervously over his shoulder. He indicated for Jamie to close the door, then pulled out the book he’d hidden beneath the papers. Jamie recognised the style: thin tissue-like pages bound together with red string. It was an almanac and they were supposed to tell the future. The fishermen used them to predict the weather and the lottery numbers. They rarely got either right. They got more lottery numbers correct the time they tore out the pages and threw darts to choose. But Bohai’s almanac looked ancient and remarkable. The thread was interwoven with gold and the pages were yellowed with age.
Bohai said, ‘Dad brought it home from the museum. He’d be sacked if anyone knew he had it.’ He carefully turned the pages till he found what he was looking for. He laid the book flat for Jamie to see: it showed a grid that spanned the two open pages.
Jamie leaned in.
The page was divided into thousands of tiny squares, most of them coloured in varying shades of grey through to black. There were a very few that were coloured in sparkling gold. Bohai ran his finger across the page. ‘It shows the state of the world per year.’
‘The golden years,’ Jamie said, drawn to the few shimmering squares.
‘The black squares are when things were really bad.’ Bohai pointed at a series of black boxes near the bottom. ‘That’s the two world wars.’ He moved his finger up the page. ‘That’s the Great Plague there.’
