by P J Tierney
‘And the golden squares?’
‘The Renaissance.’
‘The what?’
‘When people learned a lot of stuff,’ Bohai said.
Jamie saw how it was a repeating cycle. The grey squares got darker until they were black and the black was followed by a small section of gold.
‘How far back does it go?’ Jamie asked.
Bohai pointed at the first few golden squares. ‘Two and a half thousand years.’
Jamie’s heart fluttered. ‘The Tao Te Ching and The Art of War.’
Bohai raised his eyebrows, both surprised and impressed. ‘Confucius too.’
And the Spirit Warrior, Jamie thought.
‘But here’s the problem,’ Bohai said, pointing at a long band of golden squares at the very bottom of the grid. ‘Things are supposed to be good right now. But, Jamie, things have never been worse.’
Jamie pondered what this could mean for the Warriors of the Way. ‘Are you sure the almanac’s right? You know how bad they are at predicting lottery numbers.’
‘I’ve cross-checked it with the history books. This almanac has never been wrong.’
‘So we should be in a golden age?’
Bohai nodded. ‘No wars, no natural disasters.’
‘So what’s gone wrong this time?’ Jamie feared he knew the answer: that Zheng had found the Spirit Warrior first. ‘When did things go off track?’ he asked nervously.
‘Right here,’ Bohai said, pointing at the beginning of the final golden band. ‘Twelve years ago.’
‘When we were born,’ Jamie said.
Bohai looked out his window and towards the southern headland. ‘Maybe we should be rebuilding that temple,’ he said.
‘Why? You think the Goddess of the Sea will help?’
Bohai looked up. ‘That’s not a temple to Tin Hau.’
‘But we’re in a fishing village. Who else would it be?’
‘That temple is to the Great Guide.’
There was that name again. He wondered what it meant. It seemed more important than ever to find Mrs Leung.
Jamie left Bohai to his almanac and found Mrs Leung in the kitchen. He picked up the tea towel to help with the washing up.
‘I saw your dad at the hospital,’ she said, glancing sideways and checking for Jamie’s reaction.
He reached for a wet plate and started to dry it.
‘He didn’t look well, Jamie. I’ve never seen him like that.’
‘What did the doctors say?’
‘They said they’re doing all they can, but they’re not sure what’s going on inside him. He’s still in a coma.’
‘Do they think he’ll wake up?’ And if he does, Jamie thought, will he be Hector or something even worse?
Mrs Leung looked at him. ‘They don’t know.’
Jamie wondered how bad the rogue spirit could make Hector become. He didn’t know if it was a good thing that Hector may not wake up, or not.
‘Are you okay over there?’ Mrs Leung asked, tilting her head towards The Swift. ‘Enough to eat?’
Jamie nodded. ‘Mrs Leung,’ he said, ‘with Dad away, I’ve sort of got some time …’ His voice trailed off, but he got his courage back and said, ‘I was sort of wondering if you had any books I could read? You know, ones that the twins might have finished with.’ He couldn’t bring himself to say ‘baby books’.
Mrs Leung beamed. ‘Oh, Jamie, what a good idea. Yes, we have books, lots of books that can help you to read. You know, reading is such an important skill …’
And she was off, searching through piles of books and rattling off titles like they should mean something to Jamie. He glanced over his shoulder, worried that Bohai or the twins would hear her.
She came back into the kitchen with a huge pile stacked high. Jamie had never seen so many books all together. ‘Um, just a few will do, thanks,’ he said.
He took two of the books with big writing; they would be the best place to start. He wondered how he was going to sneak them past the villagers, who missed nothing.
Back on The Swift, Jamie hid the borrowed books in the engine bay, along with his other great treasures: the bamboo scroll and the fraying silk from his mother.
After lunch, Mr Fan decided it was time for Jamie to find his spirit guide. ‘Concentrate,’ Mr Fan told him. ‘Your guide is there, but you have to listen, really listen, to connect with it.’
Jamie sat cross-legged on the hard deck, his ankles squashed against the steel, his bottom numb. He did everything Mr Fan asked of him — he sat still, he calmed his mind, he breathed deeply — but he couldn’t connect to his spirit guide.
‘Do you feel anything?’ Mr Fan asked. ‘A tingling sensation, anything?’
Jamie wanted to say yes, but all he felt was silly and uncomfortable. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried harder.
‘You’re trying too hard,’ Mr Fan said. ‘It’s got to come naturally, you can’t force it.’
Jamie breathed out sharply. ‘Concentrate and relax at the same time?’
Mr Fan swatted away the comment.
Jade was watching from the gantry. She shrugged at Jamie’s words and said to Mr Fan, ‘What did I tell you?’
‘What? What did she tell you?’ Jamie snapped.
‘Nothing,’ Mr Fan said quickly, ‘nothing at all.’ He sighed and looked out beyond the bay. ‘Come on, let’s try something else.’
Mr Fan took Jamie to the southern side of the escarpment path, where the bamboo and jungle intertwined. He dug around in his satchel and handed Jamie a length of dark cloth. He indicated for him to tie it over his eyes like a blindfold. Jamie was hesitant. ‘Connecting to your spirit guide is about using all your senses,’ Mr Fan said. ‘Blocking your sight will force you to use your other senses.’
Jamie tied the blindfold around his head and Mr Fan pulled it tight. At first Jamie strained to see through the blackness, then gradually he became aware of the sounds and smells around him. He could hear the hollow slapping sound as the waves lapped against the empty hulls of the fishing trawlers. He heard the squawk of a gull from a great distance away and, much closer, the scratching of the bamboo leaves as the wind rustled through them. He smelled the earthy, humid odour of the dank undergrowth and the familiar scent of his own skin, salt on the air and rain in the distance.
‘Now step forwards,’ Mr Fan said quietly. ‘Let your senses guide you. Follow your instincts.’
Jamie held his arms out in front of him, feeling the way. He knew there was a knot of palm trees to his right and the more sparsely spaced bamboo to his left. He veered left and flapped his hand to feel for the bamboo. His hand flicked against a stalk and he grabbed it to fix its position in his head. Then he felt for another. He heard the breeze through the branches and under that a very faint whistle as the wind brushed the stalks. He tuned his ears to the sounds and willed himself to hear the location of each upright.
Jamie stepped forwards and straight into a thick stalk. ‘Ow.’
‘Use all your senses,’ Mr Fan said.
Jamie tuned his ears and his nose. The earth underfoot was soft and damp with a musty scent of decay. He knew that the fallen husks were thickest at the base of bamboo clusters. He figured if he went away from the smell he’d have a chance of finding a clearer path. Jamie listened, sniffed the air and felt for an opening. He chose a path and with his arm outstretched for protection he stepped forwards.
Mr Fan called out a warning just as a narrow branch poked Jamie right in the eye.
‘Are you all right?’ Mr Fan asked.
Jamie wiped the blindfold off and rubbed his eye. He blinked a few times until both he and Mr Fan were satisfied that no harm had been done, at least not to his eye. It was apparent to both of them that Jamie had no idea what he was doing.
‘I’m sorry,’ Jamie said.
Mr Fan patted him on the shoulder. ‘It’s not your fault, Jamie, it’s a difficult thing. Still, I had hoped it would be easier for you.’ Mr Fan thought for a m
inute, then looked up, a little smile playing at the edge of his mouth. ‘This way, Jamie.’
Mr Fan led Jamie along the abandoned road to the southern tip of the headland. Jamie had to run to keep up.
‘Are you taking me to the Great Guide’s temple?’ he asked. ‘You know it’s haunted, right?’
Old Mama Chow would tell anyone who listened the story of a young bride who killed herself when her husband was lost at sea. Old Mama Chow had no time for her, not even during the Hungry Ghost Festival, when the other villagers burned offerings to her. ‘If every woman who’s lost a husband at sea was to haunt the village,’ she’d say, ‘there’d be no room left for the living.’ Old Mama Chow would know; she’d lost three.
Jamie himself had heard strange wails coming from the temple, and sometimes he’d seen the glowing ember of an incense stick even though no-one had been in there to light one. Once, when he was passing through the Gate on The Swift, he’d seen the figure of a woman running towards the cliff. He’d been able to see right through her. He hadn’t known whether she threw herself off because by then he’d hidden underneath the control panel.
At the doorway to the faded red building, Mr Fan stopped and took Jamie’s arm. He turned it towards the sun and looked very closely at the skin.
‘What are you doing?’ Jamie asked.
‘Looking for goosebumps,’ Mr Fan said.
Jamie inspected his arm. It was smooth.
‘Okay,’ Mr Fan said, ‘in you go.’
Jamie pointed into the dark, cold stone room. ‘In there?’
‘Yes, in there.’
Jamie peered into the darkness. ‘But there’s a ghost in there!’
‘Yes,’ Mr Fan said. ‘Now in you go.’
Jamie had never been inside the temple. Sometimes the older kids dared themselves to go in and would come charging out seconds later, eyes wide with fear, declaring breathlessly that they’d never, ever go in there again.
Now Jamie stood on the threshold. He took a deep breath and poked his head inside. The temple was dusty and smelled like incense and damp. He turned back to Mr Fan, who flapped his fingers to scoot him forwards.
He remembered what Mr Fan had said back on The Swift. A ghost is merely someone left behind after death. A ghost can’t hurt you.
She can’t hurt me, Jamie said to himself as he stepped across the threshold. She can’t hurt me, he said as he breathed the musty air. She can’t hurt me, he said as he felt the temperature drop inside the thick stone walls.
The plaster gods on the altar stared down at him, their painted eyes wide as if they’d been frozen mid-terror. He sidled up against the wall and eased past them.
It was cold behind the altar and the darkness was so heavy he could almost feel it. His heart pounded in his ears and his eyes were open so wide they hurt. His pulse raced. He recognised the signs of panic from that last dive.
Who is in here? He thought of the ghost and he thought of the Great Guide too.
At that moment he was hit by a sense of distance so vast and so shocking that he reeled. He steadied himself against the wall and as he blinked, an image formed behind his eyes. He saw a smashed dragon lantern and calligraphy brushes strewn across a stone floor. He blinked them away and leaned his head against the wall. He felt empty and alone.
He reached along the wall and back in the direction he had come. It grew brighter past the altar and Jamie saw the outline of Mr Fan in the doorway. He went towards the light.
Mr Fan reached for Jamie’s forearm and inspected it closely. It was as smooth as when he went in.
Mr Fan held his own goosebumped arm alongside Jamie’s. He said sadly, ‘Even if you can’t connect to your guide, Jamie, it will warn you about a ghost.’ He looked at him intently. ‘It will give you goosebumps.’
Jamie knew he had failed again. ‘Are you sure the ghost was in there?’
Mr Fan pointed at his goosebumps. ‘She was in there all right. My guide warned me.’
Jamie pulled his arm away. He knew exactly what was wrong with him. He didn’t have a spirit guide.
Chapter 16
That night Jamie sat on the steps leading to the bridge and watched Mr Fan stare out over the bay. The air was cold against Jamie’s face, bringing water to his eyes and nose. Jade tossed him a jumper, then sat on the galley step below him.
‘I’m not the Spirit Warrior, am I?’ Jamie said to her.
Jade shrugged. ‘If you don’t have a guide, it’s unlikely. It was looking good for a while, though, wasn’t it?’ she added.
Jamie scoffed. ‘You never thought it was me.’
Jade didn’t answer; she just patted Jamie’s knee in a kind but condescending way. He brushed her hand aside.
‘What would it take to convince you?’
Jade looked him in the eye and said slowly and without emotion, ‘It would take Lao Tzu himself declaring it from the mountainside.’
‘Great!’ Jamie said. ‘You need to hear it from a man who’s been dead for two and a half thousand years?’
‘Jamie,’ Mr Fan said from the darkness of the bow, ‘don’t mistake being dead for being gone.’
Jamie considered this for a minute. ‘You think he’s still here?’ he asked.
Mr Fan leaned on the rail. ‘Right now, I don’t know where he is, Jamie.’ Mr Fan shook his head. ‘He’s supposed to be watching over us, but it feels like we’ve been abandoned.’
Jamie knew what being abandoned felt like. He thought of Bohai’s almanac and the empty feeling inside the temple. ‘What if there is no Spirit Warrior?’ he asked softly. ‘What if Zheng found him first?’
Mr Fan tensed. ‘Then we have lost, Jamie, not just for now but for all time. If his spirit has been captured by Zheng, then he can never return to the Great Guide or to us. This will be the last incarnation of the Spirit Warrior.’ Mr Fan turned to Jamie. ‘And that tipping point we spoke of?’
‘Tipped over,’ Jade said bluntly.
Mr Fan nodded slowly. ‘It does not bear thinking about.’
Jamie looked up at the night sky and felt small and alone. For a fleeting moment, he actually missed his father. ‘I, um, should probably call the hospital,’ he said as he got up and squeezed past Jade. ‘Check on my dad.’
He climbed over the side and walked the length of the dock, his footsteps echoing off the escarpment.
The village seemed deserted. The moon made a long shimmery line on the water and cast stark, foreboding shadows across the square.
Jamie saw something from the corner of his eye. He turned to look, but there was nothing there. Nerves, he thought and turned back. But then he saw it again — a dark scurrying movement in his peripheral vision. He turned, but not quickly enough to catch sight of it. The hair on his neck stood up. He saw Jade watching, then stand up and move to the side of the boat. Jamie reacted again and she climbed over the side, her eyes never leaving him.
Jade ran to catch up, then fell into stride beside him. Mr Fan followed as well.
Mr Fan said, ‘Do you —’ and Jade said, ‘Yes,’ before he could finish.
Jamie pulled his collar higher against the cold air. His footsteps crunched loudly in the otherwise silent night. His two companions walked without making a sound. Everything was eerily still. There were none of the usual night sounds; no screeching bats in the canopy, no scratching of the bamboo leaves. Even the gentle slosh of the waves onto the shore seemed far, far away.
A shadow danced in Jamie’s peripheral vision again. He swivelled to catch a glimpse, but by the time he reached the spot, there was only stillness.
Jade spun with him. ‘What did you see?’ she whispered.
‘It was nothing,’ he said, grateful that the darkness hid the flush in his cheeks. Jade looked all around, her movements jittery and tense.
Jamie walked on, but within metres there was another movement in the shadows. This time he spun more quickly, but still didn’t catch anything.
‘There’s something there,’ Jamie said, �
��but every time I look …’ He didn’t finish the sentence.
‘Sifu,’ Jade said. Her voice was urgent.
Mr Fan took a protective stance between Jamie and the night. Jade moved in close too, her back up against his.
‘It was just a shadow,’ he said nervously, rubbing at his neck as a shiver ran up his spine.
‘Are the hairs on the back of your neck standing up?’ Mr Fan whispered.
‘Yes,’ Jamie said and he felt Mr Fan tense.
Jade crouched lower and Jamie felt every muscle in her back tighten.
Then Mr Fan shouted, ‘Into the water!’ and the next thing Jamie knew, Jade had her shoulder in his waist and was pushing him to the water’s edge. Jamie’s reaction was to resist — he tried to find traction from the stones under his feet — but the girl was strong and he was no match for her. At the edge of the jetty, she flung herself off, dragging Jamie into the water with her. They hit the surface hard and Jade’s elbow rammed into his teeth. The shock of the cold water forced the air in his lungs up into his throat and he gasped and coughed.
Jamie struggled towards the surface, his waterlogged jumper and Jade’s wayward limbs pulling him back. He finally made it and was about to shout at Jade when she pushed him under again. She held his head down until his resistance weakened, then pulled him up to take in air. The moment he’d sucked a breath in she clamped his mouth shut, stifling the abuse that was bursting to get out.
She yanked Jamie’s head close to hers and jerked her chin towards Mr Fan. Her eyes flared. Jamie understood. He stopped resisting and stood very still, not making a sound.
Mr Fan was circling in a crouched attack position, swaying ever so slightly like a cobra enticing its prey. Although his eyes were open, he looked as if he was in a trance. Jamie didn’t know what was going on, but he knew that the stakes were very, very high. He let the water drip off his hair and into his eyes, not risking the movement to wipe them.
There was a subtle change in Mr Fan’s movement; he homed in on a specific target. He thrust his palm forwards and released what looked like a beam of heat haze. The shaft of altered air found its unseen target and brought form to its invisible mark. Mr Fan brought his palm back slightly and thrust again. The air shimmered, then turned into a brilliant white light. A man in dark leather was illuminated as he struggled against the beam.