by P J Tierney
He looked around the room; it was just as he remembered it, with stone walls and cathedral-like timbers, and a little table under the window, which was where he’d first taken tea with Master Wu. Calligraphy banners hung from the perforated screen behind Master Wu’s desk and Jamie caught a glint of gold through the holes. Master Wu was busy preparing the tea, so Jamie went up close to the screen and peeked through. He blinked, then beamed at what he saw.
The golden glint was the gilt edge of a large picture frame. Master Wu stared out from within its golden borders. Not the Master Wu who was still fussing with the tea, but a younger, bigger and, Jamie had to admit, slightly better-looking version. The picture was a poster from the most successful kung fu movie ever made, Legend of the Dragon. Around it were framed posters from all the other films Master Wu had made: a still from the famous fight sequence in Fighting Fists; a photo of Master Wu leaping from the temple tower in The Way of the Monk; another of him glaring straight at the camera in Jamie’s favourite film, The Immortals.
Beneath the posters was a table piled with memorabilia. Jamie recognised a mask from Legend of the Dragon 2, an ornately carved jade hairpin from The Pin of Death, and a huge ring, crucial to Master Wu’s powers in the ridiculous Kung Fu Superhero.
However, the object that truly took away Jamie’s breath was a large print that showed Master Wu executing the move that had made him famous; the move that kung fu sifus everywhere tried to emulate; that kung fu schools adapted to claim as their own; the move that marked a true master. It was a lateral spinning side kick from a seated position, known simply as the Wu-spin.
‘It seems I’ve been caught out,’ Master Wu said.
Jamie froze.
‘I teach humility,’ Master Wu went on, ‘and here I am, hanging my pride on the wall for all to see.’ Then he chuckled. ‘It’s so long ago, though, it almost feels like it’s someone else in those photos.’
‘The Wu-spin,’ Jamie breathed. ‘No-one’s ever been able to repeat it. Not properly anyway.’
Master Wu didn’t answer, only smiled in a knowing way. He gestured towards the desk. Jamie tore himself away from the movie posters and sat down. He was relieved to see that the newspaper on top of the pile Master Wu had been looking through didn’t have his face staring out of it, instead there was a photo of a girl. She was probably Jamie’s age and she was missing. Her parents were shown clutching their daughter’s teddy bear, pleading for information on Elizabeth. They looked to be devastated and Jamie hoped for both their sakes that the child with the striking blue eyes and the blondest hair he’d ever seen would be found soon.
Master Wu shook his head and sighed as he took in the picture of the girl, then moved the paper to the side. He poured the tea, but instead of passing the cup to Jamie, he held his palm up in front of it and the cup slid across the table of its own volition.
Jamie sprang to his feet, sending his chair tumbling. ‘Whoa,’ he said as the teacup came to a stop a comfortable distance from the edge of the desk.
Master Wu chuckled. ‘For the Spirit Warrior, you are very easily surprised.’
‘How did you do that?’ Jamie blurted, peering at the teacup, even picking it up to look underneath.
‘It’s called Conjuring, Jamie. You do it yourself. In fact, I hear Edwin owes his life partly to your Conjuring this morning.’
Jamie was still transfixed by the teacup. ‘But you see the energy coming out of me. Yours is invisible.’
Master Wu smiled. ‘I’ve been doing this for quite a while, Jamie.’
‘It looks like magic.’
‘Indeed it does, and that works in our favour, as people are intimidated by what they cannot see.’ His expression turned serious. ‘But remember, Jamie, there is no such thing as magic. Therefore, there is nothing to be intimidated by.’
Jamie blushed as he righted his chair and sat down again.
‘Try it,’ Master Wu said.
Jamie held his palm up towards the teacup and bit his bottom lip in concentration.
But before Jamie could start, Master Wu leaned over and replaced the tea-filled cup with one of the newspapers. ‘Maybe we should try with something that doesn’t scald,’ he said with a grin.
Jamie focused all his concentration into his palm and felt it growing hot. He imagined a beam of light between his hand and the paper. The air in that area shimmered like a heat haze, then turned white, like his breath on a cold morning. The beam touched the newspaper, but even though Jamie tried his hardest to make the paper move, all he managed was to set it smouldering.
Master Wu slapped at the smoke to keep the paper from igniting. ‘We may need to work on separating the heat from the energy,’ he said.
Jamie noticed a large singe mark through the first few pages. ‘Oops.’
‘I wouldn’t feel too bad,’ Master Wu said. ‘That’s the one with your father’s interview in it.’
Jamie cringed while Master Wu looked intently at him.
‘I’m sorry you had to read that,’ Master Wu said. ‘You’ve got to understand that wasn’t really your father speaking. No-one is ever truly the same once a spirit has taken hold of them.’
Jamie shuddered. It wasn’t easy to forget the sight of the black bugs of the malevolent spirit writhing beneath his father’s skin, or the look of utter terror on Hector’s face, or his tortured screams as the bugs took hold. But as for Hector’s nastiness being a result of being possessed by the rogue spirit, Master Wu couldn’t have been more wrong.
‘No,’ Jamie said with sad resignation. ‘That is him being normal. They must have got him early in the day, because a few more drinks under his belt and he’d have told them what he really thought.’
Master Wu frowned and he looked sorry for Jamie. Jamie didn’t know if that was because Master Wu didn’t believe him; or worse, that he did.
Master Wu looked down at the newspapers and sighed. ‘This changes things for us, Jamie. The whole world will be looking for you now.’
‘Why?’ Jamie asked. Underneath the great new title, he was still the same old boat boy.
‘Not for who you are,’ Master Wu said, ‘but for what you can do for them. You are no longer our hidden dragon; you have been exposed to the world and the world will come looking. You must be prepared. I’ve asked Jade to take over your training, and I ask that you do exactly as she says. You may not agree with how she does it, but she will equip you with the skills you need to defend yourself and to protect your fellow Warriors of the Way. Do you promise to obey her, Jamie? Do you promise to do everything Jade asks of you?’
Master Wu was looking at him intently. Jamie nodded.
Master Wu gestured out the window. ‘The walls of Chia Wu were designed not only to protect us but also to hide us. My dragons are too valuable to lose.’
Jamie wrapped his hands around his cooling teacup. ‘We’ve got to fix that wall,’ he said.
Inside, he was making a silent vow to protect his friends. He let go of his teacup as the energy from his hands made the liquid boil.
The Warriors of the Way were already in the bamboo grove when Jamie caught up with them. They were squeezed into the gaps between the thick green stalks, sitting cross-legged on a carpet of dried husks, ready to practise their Seeking.
Jamie sat down next to Wing and rubbed his jaw where it was still tender from Cheng’s fist. Cheng was right: his spirit guide really should have warned him about that. Seeking had always been problematic for Jamie; he’d found it impossible to connect to his spirit guide. Then they’d discovered that Zheng had trapped the Great Guide, who was also Jamie’s spirit guide, in a celestial orb for the past twelve years. Once Jamie had released his guide from the orb, he’d expected to hear from him once in a while: maybe some whispered secrets, enhanced intuition, fortuitous finds. But all he’d heard was that horrible voice screaming in his head while he was asleep.
‘Are you ready?’ Mr Fan asked Jamie. When Jamie nodded, he addressed the whole class. ‘You will remember that
we started Seeking by walking blindfolded through the bamboo forest. What did that teach us?’
Wing rubbed his forehead. ‘Not to walk blindfolded through a bamboo forest.’
Jamie nodded in agreement.
Mr Fan ignored them both. ‘Edwin, why blindfolded?’
‘To tune into our other senses,’ Edwin said, his cheeks colouring from the attention.
‘That’s right, we must refine all our senses. An over-reliance on one sense will cause you to miss many vital clues from your spirit guide. Today I would like you to close your eyes and concentrate on listening.’
Jamie shuffled into a more comfortable position, folded his hands in his lap and closed his eyes.
‘I want you to think of sound reaching you in waves,’ Mr Fan said. ‘What is the first wave?’
Jamie concentrated. ‘The birds.’
‘Some crickets,’ Edwin added.
‘Wing’s stomach,’ Lucy said.
Mr Fan spoke over the top of the stifled giggles. ‘And what about the wind through the treetops? Now think of all those sounds as the top layer; listen to them, hear all the tones within each sound. Visualise the wave this sound makes. Have you done that?’ He waited. ‘Now isolate that wave and block it out.’
Jamie envisaged the sound as if it was a current from an oscillator. He imagined turning off the oscillator.
‘Can you hear how the swallow’s call consists of three tones?’ Mr Fan said. ‘It starts low and finishes high. Listen to the sound of the wind through the bamboo leaves — a scratching sound like a straw broom across a stone floor. Really listen, and once you have isolated each wave, block it out.’
Jamie did as Mr Fan instructed. He found that once he’d acknowledged the sound, he could make his mind not hear it any more.
‘Now for the next layer,’ Mr Fan said. ‘What is prominent now?’
Jamie let his senses reach out beyond the walls of Chia Wu. He heard the waves gently lapping on the shore, the far-off call of a gull and the low drone of a solitary outboard engine.
Mr Fan spoke softly. ‘Block out this level as well. Now what is left?’
Jamie felt light-headed, his body weightless. Mr Fan’s voice seemed to come from a long way away.
‘Can you hear a whooshing sound?’ he asked. ‘That is the blood pumping through your veins.’ He paused. ‘And when you block that out, what can you hear?’
Jamie listened, his breath loud in his ears. In the gap between inhaling and exhaling, when everything was silent, he felt as if he was a tiny, tiny speck in an endless void. He willed his ears to find a sound. Nothing. Then a piercing shriek rang through his head. He leaped to his feet, brought his fists up ready to attack.
‘What is it?’ Mr Fan cried. ‘What did you hear?’
Jamie’s heart pounded. He peered deep into the forest.
‘Jamie,’ Mr Fan said gently, ‘there’s nothing there, child.’
He placed his hand over Jamie’s fists and gently pushed them down. Jamie realised everyone was looking at him, clearly bewildered by his reaction.
‘I, um, heard something,’ he said.
Cheng smirked. ‘That’s the whole point of conscious listening.’
Jamie felt his cheeks burning and he bit his bottom lip.
Mr Fan smiled at him. ‘You did it, didn’t you?’
‘Did what?’
Mr Fan paused, then said, ‘You connected with your spirit guide.’ Mr Fan beamed at him and squeezed his shoulder. He turned to include the others. ‘Jamie’s spirit guide is extremely powerful. He makes his presence known, doesn’t he, Jamie?’
‘Um, yeah,’ Jamie said, not at all convinced that what he’d just heard had come from his guide.
Cheng huffed vehemently and yanked a young bamboo shoot clear from the ground.
‘Well done,’ Mr Fan said quietly to Jamie and motioned for him to sit down. ‘Did anyone else manage to do this?’
There was a lot of nervous shuffling.
‘It is extremely difficult,’ Mr Fan said, ‘and takes practice. But if you are to make use of your spirit guide, you must be able to hear them at all times. It must become instinctive. I want you to get used to listening with purpose and to separating out the layers. I expect you to be able to differentiate the layers of sound as easily as you differentiate colours.’
As the Warriors settled back into listening, Jamie wondered who on earth, or, more precisely, who not on earth, was shrieking his name.
That night, Jamie woke to the sharp, cracking sound of thunder. Flashes of lightning lit up the room. He sat up, cold sweat dripping down his neck. The vision left over from his dream was so vivid he checked that his hands were empty. They were; the steel fighting staff he’d held existed only in his sleep.
Another flash of lightning illuminated the room and Jamie caught sight of Wing. He was out of bed, huddled in the corner of the room, with Jet latched onto his chest. Both of them stared wide-eyed at Jamie. It was clear it wasn’t the storm they were cowering from; they were scared of him.
When morning came, Wing acted as if nothing had happened. He joked about his shoulder wound being the perfect excuse to get out of kung fu training, and wondered aloud if the Penglai fishermen had brought in any more supplies. Except for the fact that he got dressed quickly and was babbling incessantly, Jamie might have thought Wing’s fear during the night was part of his dream.
Jet didn’t pretend though. When Jamie held his hand out to the little monkey, Jet didn’t swing down from the rafters and snuggle into his neck as usual. Instead, he hissed at him.
Jamie felt as if he’d been slapped.
‘Here,’ Wing said, tossing Jamie some dried fruit from the stash of food in his sandalwood chest. ‘This’ll bring him down.’
Jamie held the fruit up, but Jet edged further away.
‘He mustn’t be hungry.’ Wing shrugged.
But Jamie knew that wasn’t the reason. Jet didn’t have to be hungry to want food; he just needed to be near it.
‘Don’t waste it,’ Wing said and held his hand up for Jamie to toss the dried fruit back to him. As soon as it left Jamie’s hand, Jet was onto it, leaping down from the rafters and snatching it from Wing.
‘Hey,’ Wing laughed.
But Jamie wasn’t laughing. It was clear that Jet was terrified of him.
When they got outside, Jamie smelled smoke. His heart beat a little quicker as he thought of his dream. He started to run.
‘Where are you going?’ Wing cried out behind him.
Jamie charged across the zigzag bridge, past the Moon Gate and the Dragon Rock. The rainwater captured in the leaves of the plants showered down on him, but he didn’t stop to wipe his face, he just kept running — towards the Eastern Pavilions, across the slippery forecourt and up the steps to the Celestial Hall. There, he skidded to a stop. He knew this was where the fire had been. He’d seen it in his dream.
Master Wu stood in front of the burned doors, surveying the damage. He turned to Jamie. ‘It seems last night’s lightning set the doors alight,’ and he pointed to a round singe mark on the stone floor.
Jamie inspected the damage. The ancient timber doors were reduced to ashes, the wooden jambs were gone but the stone was only discoloured from the smoke. As he was looking, Wing arrived.
‘Strange for lightning to strike here though,’ Master Wu went on. ‘It’s never happened before.’
‘Well, they say lightning never strikes the same place twice,’ Wing offered.
‘Do they, Wing?’ Master Wu sounded genuinely interested.
Wing nodded with solemn authority.
‘And yet a lightning rod will be struck multiple times in just one storm,’ Master Wu said.
‘Oh.’ Wing stopped nodding.
Master Wu pointed up at the roof of the Celestial Hall. ‘A lightning rod much like the one on top of this building.’
Jamie and Wing stepped back to take in the roofline and the fine steel rod that extended up from it.
&nbs
p; ‘So the lightning should have hit that?’ Wing said.
Master Wu nodded. ‘In fact, the laws of physics make it difficult for it to hit anything else.’
Jamie swallowed. He glanced from the roof to the mark on the floor. He knew he was sweating.
‘Must have been one mighty big strike to defy the laws of physics then,’ Wing said, sounding impressed.
Master Wu chuckled, but he was looking at Jamie. ‘Mighty big indeed.’
Jamie exhaled. ‘Is there any damage inside?’ he asked.
Master Wu shook his head and patted the solid stone walls. ‘It seems the fire burned itself out with the doors!’
Jamie peered inside the hall. There was still some smoke trapped beneath the roof, but the long embroidered silks that lined each wall didn’t look damaged. The patterns on the silks told the stories of all the Warriors who had gone before them.
‘Our stories are safe,’ Master Wu said, walking into the hall and running the edge of a silk through his fingers. ‘Even the ones we wish had a different ending,’ he added quietly.
‘A different ending?’ Jamie asked through the doorway.
Master Wu gave a sad smile. ‘Some Warriors got distracted and chose a path that led them away from their life’s true purpose.’
Jamie crouched down and touched the small spot where the lightning had struck. There was an indentation in the stone, as if something hard had been hammered down onto it. Something like a fighting staff, swung with such ferocity that sparks flew when it connected with the stone. Jamie quickly pulled his hand away.
Master Wu noticed. ‘You’re not distracted, are you, Jamie?’
Jamie didn’t look at him.
‘Wing,’ Master Wu said, ‘I suspect you must be quite hungry.’
‘Um, yes,’ Wing said hesitantly, and Jamie heard him take a couple of steps. ‘You coming, Jamie?’ he asked.
Master Wu placed his hand firmly on Jamie’s shoulder. ‘Jamie will catch up with you shortly.’
Jamie gulped, his palms sweaty.
‘Is there something you want to tell me?’ Master Wu asked once Wing had gone.
Jamie didn’t dare look up. He swallowed and chose his words carefully. ‘I dreamed this fire happened.’
