Jamie Reign

by P J Tierney

  ‘There’s a sequence!’ he shouted.

  He counted the next for Mr Fan: seven, a short lull; seven again; then a double set and a longer lull. It was the double set that had attacked his confidence.

  Mr Fan nodded. ‘I think you’re right.’

  They tested the theory again on the next set, and they timed the lull.

  ‘Next set?’ Jamie asked.

  ‘Next set,’ Mr Fan confirmed.

  Together they counted, and as they reached fourteen, Jamie set his mouth and swung The Swift portside. He pushed the throttle down as hard as he could and kept watch on the swell. He charged towards the west for as long as he dared, then turned the bow into the cresting wave.

  He checked the compass and the GPS and pumped his fist. ‘One,’ he counted.

  They were on their way.

  In sets of twenty-eight waves and a quick run to the west, Jamie got The Swift and his charges all the way to the Penglai Islands.

  The islands were a cluster of submerged rocks and towering landfalls. The outer islands were jutting masses of inhospitable yellow rock, but they became bigger and greener the further into the labyrinth they got. The straits between the landmasses were narrow and the constricted current ran fast. The Swift barrelled along and Jamie fought for control.

  ‘Go between the next two islands,’ Mr Fan said, pointing to starboard. ‘But take it slowly — there’s a rock in the middle of the channel. The water’s deepest to the right of the rock.’

  Jamie swung The Swift as close to the northern island as he dared, so that when the current caught them they wouldn’t be slammed into the opposite shore. He increased the engines’ thrust and kept his eyes peeled for the rock in the centre of the channel.

  He corrected his course and saw that the rock was dead ahead. He breathed again only when they were past it.

  ‘You don’t get many visitors here, do you?’ he said.

  The current in the channel was fast-moving, and Jamie, conscious of conserving fuel, allowed The Swift to be swept along. The islands either side towered over them and the sound of The Swift’s engines echoed off the cliff faces. Jamie felt minuscule.

  Mr Fan pointed at the opening to a narrow channel and Jamie manoeuvred The Swift through. They came out in a calm and misty bay with thick jungle beyond. At the far end was a long stretch of sandy beach. A single dock extended over the still waters. They’d made it to safe harbour.

  The drizzle and dull light blurred Jamie’s vision, so they were almost at the dock before he realised someone was watching their approach. It was a lone figure, one hand over their brow to shield their eyes from the rain. The person shifted nervously, then paced back and forth, stopping occasionally to peer at The Swift. Then the routine would start over again. Jamie got the impression he was taking too long to dock.

  Mr Fan went to prepare the mooring lines. As Jamie turned The Swift to portside, the figure on the dock, which he now saw was a woman, shouted and waved them in with snappy, impatient movements. Jamie couldn’t hear what she was yelling to them until he cut the engines.

  ‘He’s out in a sampan!’ she cried desperately. ‘Did you find him?’

  Jamie looked to Jade for explanation. ‘Wing’s mum,’ she said.

  ‘Yulong!’ the woman screamed, recognising Mr Fan. ‘He hasn’t come back.’

  ‘We’ve got him, LeLing!’ Mr Fan shouted. ‘It’s okay, we’ve got him.’

  ‘Is he all right? Please let him be all right.’ When Mr Fan assured her that Wing was cold but okay, the woman doubled over and sobbed. She praised everyone from the Great Guide down.

  Jamie closed his eyes and lowered his head to the wheel. A trembling exhaustion overcame him. His wet clothes clung to him and chafed his skin, his lower lip was raw from being bitten. He prised his fingers from the wheel. Jet climbed up Jamie’s leg and clung to him. Jamie held him close and ran his fingers through the dark fur on his back.

  The Swift rocked as LeLing clambered aboard. ‘Where is he? Wing!’ she called out.

  Jade put her hand on Jamie’s shoulder and gently directed him towards the gantry. ‘This will make it all worthwhile,’ she said.

  LeLing’s eyes darted around the boat until she spotted Wing. He stood at the top of the cabin stairs wrapped in a grey blanket, his face pale and teeth chattering. LeLing ran to him, swept him up as if he weighed nothing and cradled him. Then, very slowly, she crumpled to the deck, still folded around her son. LeLing sobbed into Wing’s blanket and rocked back and forth.

  ‘I thought I’d lost you,’ she said over and over again.

  Wing let her rock him. He was crying too. ‘I’m okay,’ he said. ‘I’m okay.’

  Jamie turned away. It felt wrong to be watching something so raw. He caught Jade wiping at a tear, but she quickly turned her back.

  Jamie took the gantry stairs slowly. On deck, Wing was now easing himself from his mother’s embrace. ‘It’s okay, Mum,’ he said gently, ‘they found me.’

  Mrs Choo wiped her tears and Mr Fan helped her to her feet. She kept one protective arm around Wing and drew Mr Fan in close with the other. She clung to him and Jamie heard a muffled ‘thank you’ come from the folds of his robes.

  Then Mrs Choo spotted Lucy, who still looked a little green and smelled slightly of sick. Mrs Choo didn’t seem to notice. She pulled Lucy into the embrace, then reached out for Jade. Jade tensed and Mrs Choo patted her awkwardly on the shoulder instead. Jade looked relieved.

  Jamie hovered in the background.

  ‘It is not us you should thank, LeLing,’ Mr Fan said. ‘It is this exceptional young man here.’

  Mrs Choo seemed to notice Jamie for the first time. She gently moved Lucy aside, then Wing too, and walked towards Jamie, her arms out wide. Gently, almost reverently, she folded her arms around him and held him tight.

  Jamie felt her deep, deep sobs.

  When she released him, she held him at arm’s length and looked at him in a way that conveyed more than gratitude. It conveyed respect.

  Chapter 21

  Jade helped Mrs Choo take Wing ashore. He was still very wobbly and sore. Lucy was looking the worse for wear too: her hair was dishevelled and her clothes were wet and bedraggled. She trudged along the dock behind them. Jamie was left standing alone on the deck of The Swift, wondering if he was supposed to be here at all.

  Mr Fan climbed up from the cabin and exhaled. ‘My goodness,’ he said, taking a long breath of fresh air, ‘Jade wasn’t wrong about Lucy being seasick.’ He held his arm up to stop Jamie from going down to the cabin. ‘You’ve been through enough for one day.’ He tossed Jamie some dry clothes, then slung his satchel over his shoulder. Jamie’s heart raced. It felt like a goodbye was coming.

  ‘I need fuel,’ he said, more abruptly than he’d meant to.

  ‘That can wait,’ Mr Fan said. ‘There’s a whole island I want to show you first.’

  Jamie’s heart leaped.

  He followed Mr Fan along the dock and to a narrow set of stairs cut into a steep rock face. They wound ever higher through dense jungle vegetation. Jamie was too tired to block and let the fronds slap at his face and arms.

  The stairs levelled out onto a small clearing and Jamie found himself standing in front of a towering Chinese entry gate. It was two massive timber buttresses with a pair of red lacquered doors between them and a curved, tiled roof above. The lacquer on the doors had faded and peeled from the wood; the bronze studs that gridded them were dull. The gate was set within a high granite wall that ran across the ridge, snaked down into the valley and up the spur to the far side. The wall extended as far as Jamie could see.

  Mr Fan leaned on one of the doors and with a slow sigh it opened to reveal a second set of doors. Jamie knew this was for protection.

  As Mr Fan opened one of the second doors, he stood back and with his other arm made a grand, sweeping gesture. ‘Jamie, welcome to Chia Wu.’

  Jamie stood on the brink of a whole new world.

  In front of him
was a terraced lake with rocky waterfalls linking the levels together. Paths meandered around the lake, past curved-roofed pavilions and across arched bridges. Willows draped over the water and peonies grew along the edges. A rugged single-peaked mountain formed the backdrop, but what drew Jamie’s eye was a magnificent pagoda. It was a tower of diminishing red wooden octagons with curved eaves that reached for the heavens.

  ‘Whoa,’ he breathed.

  Mr Fan directed Jamie along a path that followed the contours of the lake. Overfed carp meandered lazily towards them. The water was speckled with flotsam from the recent storm, but not even that could taint such a picturesque view.

  Mr Fan stopped at a viewing platform to look through a hole carved into a stone gate. ‘It’s the Moon Gate,’ he said. It framed a jagged rock that jutted up from the lake. ‘And that is the Dragon Rock.’

  They walked on, ducking beneath the cascading willow branches and breathing in the scents of peony and jasmine. The path opened out onto a series of courtyards and covered buildings.

  ‘The Eastern Pavilions,’ Mr Fan said.

  Jamie saw that the square formation around a large courtyard was similar to the house the Leungs were building. It was an ancient pattern.

  ‘The Celestial Hall,’ Mr Fan said, pointing to the long building that was the focal point of the formation.

  It was a long, sweeping hall with a double-stacked curved-ridge roof. Huge red columns formed a walkway at the entrance and a patterned ramp edged with stone stairs led up to bronze-studded doors. ‘The administrative suites are behind it,’ Mr Fan explained, ‘and the classrooms are to the left and right.’

  They walked through the courtyard and around the buildings and continued along the winding path. Smaller paths led off here and there, offering enticing glimpses of the gardens, or the ocean, or the jungle.

  ‘That way to the bamboo forest,’ Mr Fan said, pointing towards a covered bridge.

  Further on and around they went, climbing the path to the Grand Pagoda. It had a dusty, ancient air about it, a faded beauty. Inside, there were elaborate carvings where the beams joined together, and the octagonal floor was worn and warm. It was skirted by shelves holding scrolls and books. A single carved desk stood in the very centre of the room and around it a semicircle of small individual desks. Suspended above it was a carved dragon lantern that looked as if it was breathing fire.

  ‘It’s something special, isn’t it?’ Mr Fan said as Jamie craned his neck to look beyond the dragon to the overhanging balconies that held rows and rows of books that stretched up the walls. ‘The dragon is an exact replica from Lao Tzu’s pavilion.’

  Jamie knew enough to be impressed.

  Jet chattered excitedly and leaped from the satchel. He swung on the rails and jumped on the furniture. ‘Come back,’ Jamie called. He grabbed the monkey before he could break anything.

  From the Grand Pagoda, they walked past a waterfall and then into a wild and overgrown thicket. They pushed through the foliage and came out at another collection of pavilions.

  ‘The Western Pavilions,’ Mr Fan said. ‘The sleeping quarters for our Warriors of the Way.’

  They were older than the Eastern Pavilions and not arranged as tightly around the square. A large central fireplace dominated the courtyard and some wooden training dummies stood off to the side. Jamie couldn’t help noticing that stubs of shattered rods stuck out of each one.

  ‘Jade?’ he said.

  ‘Jade,’ Mr Fan confirmed.

  Further on, Mr Fan pointed out the kitchen and dining pavilion. Jamie could hear a buzz of excited voices from within. The Warriors of the Way were inside.

  ‘How many Warriors are there?’ Jamie asked.

  Mr Fan looked sad. ‘Our numbers have dwindled. Currently we have only six Warriors of the Way at Chia Wu. But the skills are returning, Jamie. There will be more joining us soon.’

  Jamie was desperate to be number seven.

  ‘Come in,’ Mr Fan said. ‘Let me introduce you.’

  Jamie shook his head and was reminded of the fishermen all sitting around the table at Sai Chun. He was scared that he’d say the wrong thing, that he was wearing the wrong clothes, or that he’d double-tap the table when he shouldn’t.

  ‘No need to be scared,’ Mr Fan said. ‘You know half of them already.’ But Jamie couldn’t be swayed. Mr Fan led on.

  ‘Is Lucy one of the six?’ Jamie asked. ‘Is she a Warrior of the Way?’

  ‘She is one of ours, just like her father was before her.’

  ‘So she doesn’t really go to Xavier Elite?’

  ‘We placed her there. We thought one of their students might be the one we are looking for. Lucy had the perfect attributes to represent our interests there,’ Mr Fan said.

  ‘You mean she’s rich.’

  Mr Fan chuckled. ‘Let’s just say she fitted right in.’

  ‘So no-one knows about this place?’ Jamie asked.

  ‘Oh, lots of people know about it, but only those who are supposed to.’

  ‘So it’s not a munitions dump?’

  Mr Fan smiled. ‘No.’

  ‘But I’ve seen photos in the newspapers of vessels burned to the waterline.’

  Mr Fan’s eyes twinkled. Slowly it dawned on Jamie.

  ‘The newspaper stories — that was Lucy’s dad, wasn’t it?’

  Mr Fan simply raised his eyebrows and let Jamie come to his own conclusion.

  ‘So I shouldn’t believe everything I see in the papers?’ Jamie said.

  ‘Oh no, Jamie,’ Mr Fan said with a mischievous smile, ‘it would serve us well if you did.’

  They walked on, Jamie deep in thought. ‘Do you have other people looking for Warriors of the Way?’ he asked.

  ‘There are a few individuals who are … um …’ Mr Fan couldn’t seem to find the right words to finish.

  ‘Representing your interests?’ Jamie offered.

  Mr Fan smiled. ‘Yes, representing our interests.’

  Jamie thought for a minute. ‘So could there be someone representing Zheng’s interests?’

  Mr Fan stared at Jamie so intently that Jamie wondered if he could see straight through him. He squirmed and Jet shifted nervously in the satchel.

  When Mr Fan spoke, he said very slowly, ‘You could almost guarantee it.’

  They took a zigzag bridge across the lake. In the middle, they stopped and Jamie said, ‘You didn’t seem scared at all during the storm.’

  ‘It’s easy to be confident when you know the outcome.’

  ‘How could you be sure though?’

  Jamie was expecting some praise of his seafaring skills, but Mr Fan said, ‘I knew I wasn’t going to die because I haven’t fulfilled my life’s purpose yet.’

  ‘Oh,’ Jamie said, a little deflated. ‘So what’s your life’s purpose?’

  Mr Fan looked at the sky, then beyond Chia Wu’s walls towards the sea. ‘My life’s purpose is always the same: to find the Spirit Warrior.’

  It took Jamie a moment to realise that if Mr Fan hadn’t achieved his life’s purpose yet, then he wasn’t the Spirit Warrior, even though he could Summon and Ride the Way and produce an orb from his bare hand. In a voice barely more than a whisper, Jamie asked, ‘Are you sure?’

  Mr Fan looked at him with compassion. ‘Jade is.’

  It made Jamie wonder who he was and where on earth he belonged.

  At the other side of this lake, Jamie’s thoughts turned to the name of this place: Chia Wu. He searched his mind for the translation. Chia meant ‘school’; Wu meant ‘nothing’ or, more specifically, ‘the absence of something’. But Wu also had another meaning, something far more significant to Jamie.

  ‘Mr Fan?’ he asked in a timid voice. ‘You said this place is Chia Wu? As in … well, you know?’

  Mr Fan smiled.

  Jamie said, ‘It’s him, isn’t it?’

  Mr Fan said, ‘Yes. It is the school of Master Wu.’

  Jet let out a piercing screech and leaped out of th
e satchel. Jamie launched into a defensive stance, his weight centred, his knees bent, his fists high. His eyes darted around for the assailant.

  Mr Fan looked amused. ‘Not a bad stance.’ He repositioned Jamie’s hand to protect more of his head. ‘Not bad at all.’

  Jamie bashfully lowered his arms. Mr Fan pointed to a small grove of trees a little way off the path. They weren’t just any trees; they were lush and bountiful banana trees. Jamie caught a glimpse of black darting up the nearest trunk.

  ‘One of the downsides of having a monkey for a talisman,’ Mr Fan said. ‘One glimpse of food and they’re off.’

  Jet wound his tail around the tree trunk so he could free his hands to pick bananas. He shoved one in his mouth, swivelled it around his bulging cheeks and seconds later spat out the skin. He kept going until there was a pile of skins at the base of the tree. But instead of stopping, Jet stocked up for later. He piled as many bananas as he could carry in his arms, then put more in his mouth. He was now very top-heavy and was having trouble clinging to the tree.

  ‘Let some go,’ Jamie called.

  Jet held tighter to his haul and then, as if in slow motion, he began to tilt away from the trunk.

  ‘Let go of the bananas!’ Jamie yelled. Jet tilted further, but still didn’t release any bananas so he could hang on. ‘You’ll fall,’ Jamie called as Jet toppled all the way over. He hung upside down with his back against the trunk, his arms still holding tightly to the bananas. The wood was soft and couldn’t hold Jet’s sharp claws. Gradually the monkey slid headfirst towards the ground, his claws leaving track marks in the trunk.

  Jamie ran to catch Jet before he hit the ground. He plucked him from the tree and Jet wound his tail around Jamie’s arm and flung himself back into the satchel.

  ‘Happy now?’ Jamie asked him.

  It was obvious that Jet was happy. He positively beamed as he stuffed the bananas into the space around him.

  ‘Are you ready?’ Mr Fan asked Jamie.

  ‘Ready for what?’

  ‘Ready to meet Master Wu?’

  Jamie’s stomach flipped then flopped and he thought his knees might buckle. He bit his bottom lip and flattened his hair with his hand.