Jamie Reign the Hidden Dragon

by P J Tierney

  Mr Fan waved Wing up close and gestured for him to take his shirt off. Wing grimaced and caught his breath as he attempted to get the shirt over his head. Mr Fan helped him as the men on the rivercraft shuffled impatiently.

  The dressing on Wing’s shoulder was wet and discoloured. Mr Fan gently lifted the bottom edge away from Wing’s skin and a gush of yellowy-greenish pus ran out. The stink of decaying flesh made Jamie gag. Lucy vomited.

  The captain stumbled back. ‘What is that?’ he cried. ‘Is it contagious?’

  A crew member pointed at the code flag fluttering from the Lin Yao’s gantry mast.

  The captain screamed, ‘You’re in quarantine?’

  He backed up into his crew and slapped at them to get out of his way so he could put as much space as possible between himself and that stench.

  Mr Fan called out to him, ‘You didn’t touch our boat, did you? We’re bound to report it to the Department of Disease Control if you did.’

  The captain bounded up the stairs and started the rivercraft’s engines. The boat lurched in his haste to get it in gear, sending the crew sprawling. Finally, after some coughing and spluttering, the rivercraft sped off.

  It should have been funny, Jamie thought, probably would have been, except for the fact that Wing was dying before their very eyes.

  Chapter 11

  Wing slumped to his knees, wobbled for a second and then fell forward onto the deck. Mr Fan laid him on his back. The entire left side of Wing’s chest was swollen and red. Yellow squiggly lines under his skin radiated out from the shoulder wound, showing how far the infection had travelled. Wing’s belly clenched, released and then clenched again. Mr Fan rolled him on his side to puke.

  Jamie rushed for the cooler bag of antibiotics. He thrust it at Mr Fan, but Mr Fan didn’t open the bag.

  ‘Give him the injection,’ Jamie urged.

  Mr Fan shook his head. ‘The infection is too advanced. It would take a hundred vials to stop this.’

  ‘Try,’ Jamie said, opening the bag and pushing the smelly phoenix amulet aside. He shoved a vial into Mr Fan’s hand.

  ‘It won’t work, Jamie. Look at his skin. We’ll need these vials when the infection is manageable.’

  The redness was spreading further across his chest and down his stomach. Wing moaned.

  ‘Do something!’ Jamie screamed.

  Mr Fan pulled Jamie down to kneel at Wing’s side. ‘Jamie, this is far beyond anything I or the antibiotics can do for him. But you, you have been a healer before, you have lifetimes of knowledge within you. You have forgotten more than I have ever known. It’s time to remember, Jamie. It is time for you to do something.’

  Jamie bit his bottom lip and held his trembling hands over Wing’s wound.

  ‘Think, Jamie,’ Mr Fan said. ‘Something more than your hands.’

  Jamie felt sick. ‘I don’t know what to do. This is all I know.’

  ‘No, it’s not,’ Mr Fan said. ‘Draw on your skills.’ Jamie cried, ‘What skills?’

  ‘You can View,’ Lucy said gently, and added purposefully, ‘Through the water.’

  Mr Fan nodded to Jamie. ‘View him.’

  Jamie’s heart raced. He closed his eyes and concentrated, willing the swinging sensation to come. Adrenaline surged through him and he couldn’t calm himself enough to think clearly. Wing moaned again.

  Jamie thought of Wing sleeping in their bedroom doorway to protect him from Zheng; he remembered Wing tricking Lucy into cleaning up his vomit on The Swift; and he saw his look of gratitude when Jamie rescued him from the sinking sampan. The memories calmed him and he felt the swooping sensation in the pit of his stomach.

  He focused his View onto the wound and felt drawn in. There was a constrictive pressure, like when he was diving and suddenly it was dark. He could hear the rapid, rhythmic swoosh of Wing’s blood through his veins. His View adjusted and he saw red all around, then an oozing wall of gelatinous yellow goo.

  His instinct was to snap back to his body as fast as he could. Then he heard a soft, lilting voice inside his head. His spirit guide said, ‘Conjure.’

  Jamie felt his body respond as if it was controlled by someone else. With his View inside and his body outside, his palm hovered over Wing’s stomach. He drew on his own energy to Conjure a shaft of light. His Viewing self saw the infection shy away from the penetrating energy; the yellow ooze banked up then spilled over, flowing around the shaft of light. It was like trying to stop a raw egg from spreading with a toothpick.

  Jamie put both hands to Wing’s chest and drew on everything he could, forcing the energy out of him. From his Viewing self he saw two arcs of light penetrate then join together to form a bank of radiating light. He pushed against the infection so hard he drained himself to the point of blacking out. He felt woozy and his vision blurred. Mr Fan shook him back to consciousness. Jamie cleared his head and willed himself to keep going. Inside, the wall of yellow ooze banked up against the arc of light. Jamie gritted his teeth and slowly forced the wall of pus back, reclaiming Wing one cell at a time.

  There was a sound like a cork popping and the pressure suddenly released, sending a rush of light through Wing’s chest and Jamie stumbling forward. He snapped back to his body and saw three things as he collapsed, exhausted, onto the deck: a plume of pus and blood spraying from Wing’s wound, Lucy’s horrified expression as the mess hit her feet, and Mr Fan jamming a vial of antibiotics into Wing’s arm.

  Jamie must have been passed out for some time because when he woke, the sun was high in the sky and a tarpaulin had been strung from rail to rail to protect him and Wing from the sun. Jamie’s head ached and he was desperately thirsty.

  It was an effort to move, but he crawled from beneath the makeshift shelter in search of water and some company. The water he found in the galley — a little stagnant, but better than nothing. Lucy and Mr Fan he found on the bridge.

  ‘Jamie!’ Lucy rushed over and threw her arms around him. ‘You did it. You saved him!’

  He let her gush for a minute, all the while feeling weak in her strong embrace.

  Mr Fan simply gave him a nod and a smile.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Jamie asked, seeing the radio disconnected from its mounting and lying on the chart table.

  Mr Fan looked a little sheepish. ‘I was taking a leaf from your book, or from your hands rather.’ He picked the radio up and closed his eyes. A white light glowed around his hands but reflected off the steel of the radio. Mr Fan opened his eyes and put the radio down. ‘I was hoping to get enough charge into it to make an emergency call.’

  Jamie nodded. The radio drew very little power, so in theory it might work. He saw from their expressions that it hadn’t yet.

  Lucy held the radio out to him, her eyes gleaming. ‘You try.’

  Jamie knew he was going to disappoint her; he barely had enough energy to stand up, let alone power a radio. He took it from her all the same, closed his eyes and concentrated, but had absolutely nothing to draw on. He was spent.

  The gleam in Lucy’s eyes dimmed just a little.

  They drifted for hours. Wing eventually woke up and asked for food, which everyone agreed was a good sign. There was one can of baked beans and two packets of dried noodles in the galley. Jamie broke the noodles up into small pieces and sprinkled them onto the baked beans. He took the bowl and four spoons out to the deck. The meal was mushy and crunchy and tasted like tin. Jamie shared his portion with Jet, who tasted one bean and spat it straight back out.

  Mr Fan monitored Wing closely, explaining to him that a wound from a Charged Summons never actually heals; the best he or Wing could hope for was to keep it from spreading. But Wing was either too weak, or maybe the Charged Summons that got him had been perfected in the years since Mr Fan had been wounded, because no matter how hard he tried, Wing couldn’t stop the wound from growing again.

  The sun tracked its course across the sky, then Jamie watched the moon do the same. He used the stars to plot where he t
hought they were on the chart. It wasn’t good: they were drifting in a massive expanse of ocean, without even the slightest prospect of running into land.

  Jamie tried the radio a few more times, thinking some food might have recharged him. It hadn’t.

  ‘I could Summon,’ he suggested.

  But Mr Fan gestured out over the water. There was nothing but horizon all round. ‘Unfortunately,’ he said, ‘there is no energy to Summon from.’

  Lucy, Wing and Mr Fan all tried telepathy. Mr Fan acknowledged it wasn’t his strongest skill, but still someone should have heard him. Jamie wondered what was going on at Chia Wu to keep them all too busy to hear them.

  The night air grew cold.

  Lucy wrapped her arms around herself. ‘Maybe we should have got on that rivercraft.’

  Jamie leaned on the rail, and looked at the ocean’s inky depths. Jet perched next to him and rested his head against his chest. The quarantine flag fluttered in the chill air. It had saved them from Zheng’s men. Jade had told them about the flag, but she hadn’t said a word about them drifting at sea. If she wanted them to live — and he was pretty sure she’d want Mr Fan and Lucy, and possibly even Wing, to survive — then why hadn’t she given them a clue about what to do? Jamie thought it through till his head hurt, then he grinned. Jade didn’t tell them anything because she didn’t need to. She knew they were going to get out of this mess themselves.

  Feeling much happier, Jamie patted his little monkey’s head. Jet pulled away, distracted, and Jamie saw what had grabbed his attention: a fish leaping up from the black water, not far from the Lin Yao. Its silvery scales glinted briefly in the moonlight before it disappeared again. As Jamie watched the concentric circles from its splash come closer to the boat, he saw stars suddenly appear, reflected on the ocean’s surface. Lots of stars, millions even, more stars than were in the sky. Jamie gasped; they weren’t a reflection at all — the water was alight with luminescent plankton. The tiny organisms were their own source of energy; they lit up when they sensed a threat, like a jumping fish.

  A surge of adrenaline burst through him and he called the others. He sent Lucy to the bridge for the radio, and Wing to the galley for anything they could throw overboard.

  The plankton lightshow dimmed while he waited for them to return. Wing came back with a handful of knives and forks. When they were all assembled, Jamie held the radio in his hands.

  ‘When the plankton fades, toss something into the water,’ he told Wing. ‘It’ll make them light up again.’ He turned to Mr Fan and showed him the radio handset. ‘Press this button and say “mayday” three times, then our coordinates. Just keep saying it over and over again and don’t stop, okay?’

  ‘And the coordinates?’ Mr Fan asked.

  Jamie bit his lip; he didn’t have time to check their exact position on the chart. The current could pull the plankton away at any minute. He closed his eyes for a second and racked his brain to estimate the probable coordinates based on his last calculation.

  ‘Twenty-one degrees north, one hundred and fourteen degrees east,’ he said, and hoped for the best.

  Jamie set the dial to a channel he knew The Swift monitored, then held the radio in both hands and gave Wing a nod. Wing lobbed a fork into the water. There was a splash and the plankton glowed. Jamie closed his eyes and drew energy from the tiny living organisms. He felt a connection, then heard the roar that accompanied a Summons. He opened his eyes and saw a galaxy of white glowing orbs charging right for him. He braced himself. The orbs hit him from all sides; his skin tingled as he absorbed their energy. He felt himself growing stronger, and he closed his eyes and willed the energy to his hands. His palms grew hot and he heard a click from the radio then Mr Fan’s voice: ‘Mayday, mayday, mayday, twenty-one degrees north, one hundred and fourteen degrees east. Mayday, mayday, mayday …’

  Mr Fan said it over and over, twelve times or more. Not even Hector could sleep through twelve calls. Well, not a sober Hector anyway.

  Then they waited.

  The plankton drifted away on a current that was too slight to move the Lin Yao, and they were on their own again. They sat on the deck with their backs up against the bridge, mesmerised by the setting moon. It got closer and closer to its reflection. First there were two moons — one in the sky, the other in the water — then there were three. A headlight!

  Then Jamie heard an engine, and not just any engine but finely tuned dual engines. He’d recognise that pitch anywhere. He jumped to his feet and waved in The Swift.

  She pulled up close, her headlight beam blinding everyone on deck.

  Hector’s voice rang out from behind the light. ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘It’s you.’

  ‘Well, that’s a nice welcome,’ Wing said, but to Jamie it was perfect. It was just the welcome he’d hoped for: mean-spirited and selfish. Yep, Hector was well and truly back to normal.

  ‘Do you accept my line?’ Hector called.

  Mr Fan, Lucy and Wing, excited and relieved, cried out, ‘Yes!’

  But it was Jamie’s voice that was the loudest. He shouted, ‘No!’

  Lucy rounded on him. ‘Are you mental?’

  ‘Accept his line and he gets to keep the boat,’ Jamie said. ‘It’s maritime law.’ He thought quickly. ‘How much money have you got on you, Lucy?’

  He figured it would be a lot. As she’d told him when they went searching for the celestial orb, money got you out of trouble.

  Lucy looked at him. ‘Quite a bit.’

  ‘How much?’

  She paused for a second, then said, ‘Enough to buy a small village if you wanted to.’

  Jamie whipped around to face his father. ‘We don’t accept your line, but we’ll pay you for a tow.’

  ‘It’s the line or nothing,’ Hector replied.

  Jamie heard Wing say, ‘Sheez.’

  ‘No line,’ Jamie said. ‘We’ll pay you, but we keep the boat.’

  Hector revved the engines, but Jamie held his ground.

  ‘It’ll mean you’ve come all this way for nothing,’ he said. ‘Think of all that fuel you’ve burned through.’ Hector hated to waste fuel. ‘I radioed you,’ Jamie added, ‘I can easily radio someone else.’ He paused to get Hector’s full attention, then finished, ‘I bet Neptune Marine and Rescue could be here in a flash.’

  Neptune Marine and Rescue were the ‘big boys’ Hector was always complaining about. They had more boats, more crew and more money than anyone else in the salvage industry; and more often than not, they beat Hector to the prize.

  Jamie let his words find their mark, then said, ‘It’s the money or nothing.’

  Hector scoffed, but it sounded half-hearted. ‘It’ll take more than what you kids can scrape together.’

  Jamie smiled. He held his hand out to Lucy, who placed her money belt in his palm. Jamie angled it into The Swift’s headlight beam and undid the zip.

  From the darkness on the other side of the light, they heard Hector say, ‘Whoa.’

  The four Warriors of the Way and the little black rhesus monkey were all tuckered out, while Hector and The Swift towed them to Sai Chun. Mr Fan was propped against the side rail, dozing. Wing was flat on his back, snoring. Jamie leaned up against the bridge wall, his head resting on his knee. Lucy came and sat beside him. They watched the moon sink below the horizon, then she very gently put her head on his shoulder.

  Jamie closed his eyes and was just drifting into sleep with the scent of strawberry shampoo in his nose when he was startled awake by a voice shrieking his name. He flinched, his heart pounded.

  Lucy stirred but quickly settled, Wing was still snoring, and Mr Fan didn’t budge. Jet’s ears pricked up, though, and he looked at Jamie.

  Jamie felt sick. He thought he’d got rid of that voice with the bugs back at Chia Wu.

  Chapter 12

  Jamie stood at the rail of the Lin Yao and watched the headland of Sai Chun come into view. He couldn’t say he loved the little village on the bay, but it was the place he knew
best. He knew every submerged rock on the Gate, the dangerous maze in and out of the bay that bamboozled the fishermen and gouged the sides of their boats as they tried to negotiate it. He knew that the moorings behind the fishermen’s stilt houses would be empty till noon; unless of course it was summer and the prawns were running, then they’d be empty from midnight till dawn. He knew every detail of the ancient red temple, with its crazy ghost who liked to scare anyone coming into the bay by charging out of the temple and throwing herself off the headland. She’d terrified Jamie, who always hid beneath The Swift’s control panel during night-time approaches.

  They passed Feng Chow’s shop and noodle house, which sold everything from a fuel filter to a plate of steaming har gow dumplings. Jamie saw the ancient village well, a brick circle with a hole in the side where a rusty old tap had been plumbed in. They drifted past the Leungs’ house, built in the traditional style, centred around a walled courtyard. The house still wasn’t finished and the courtyard door was closed. Strange, Jamie thought. Now he was aware of it, the whole place seemed quiet. The fishermen’s houses were all shuttered up. On Old Mama Chow’s verandah, the stool she usually sat on to wrap the dumplings for the wonton soup was sprawled against the screen door. The hairs on his arms tingled.

  Jamie called for his monkey, who climbed into his arms and strained towards the jungle on the escarpment. As soon as they were close to the mooring, Jet leaped off the boat and dashed into the jungle. Moments later, he was visible high up in the trees, biting into a green papaya.

  Jamie was hungry too. It had been hours since the tin-flavoured baked beans and noodles.

  He jumped onto the dock and pulled the Lin Yao hard up against the mooring. He heard a ‘Hey, boy!’ and dodged Hector’s mooring line as it snaked over his shoulder and thumped at his feet. He put the rope over the bollard for his father, then glanced at the Leungs’ place again. The door was only ever closed when they were out. He thought about peering through Bohai’s window to see if he could spot the almanac, but his rumbling stomach needed attention first.