by P J Tierney
‘How are we supposed to get over the highest one?’ Jamie asked Wing.
‘Ride the Way?’ Wing offered.
‘That’ll really get me sent home, or worse,’ Jamie said, thinking it would draw Zheng.
Wing patted him on the back. ‘Either way I get my room back.’
Jamie looked at him with surprise.
Wing flashed a smile. ‘Told you I was funny.’
‘Yeah, you also said I was the Spirit Warrior,’ Jamie said.
Wing shrugged and stepped back to let Jamie go first in line. Jamie thanked him, then looked over to his left and realised this put him up against Cheng.
‘No way,’ Jamie said, pushing Wing back to the front of the line. ‘You go first.’
Wing grinned. ‘Not a chance.’ He looked smugly over at his rival: Edwin, who was four foot nothing.
‘Some friend,’ Jamie said.
Wing just smiled.
Jamie leaned into a starting position. Cheng was crouched over, his hands on the ground, as if on starting blocks. Jamie muttered, ‘You owe me, Wing.’
A whistle blew and Jamie charged. He scrambled over the lowest wall, but Cheng cleared it with a single bound. Cheng had the flag before Jamie had even landed on the other side.
‘Oh, too bad,’ Wing said as Jamie passed him on the way back to the end of the line. ‘Maybe next time.’
Jamie could have hit him.
No-one was surprised when Wing beat Edwin; and Lucy gave Bruce a run for his money till she tripped on her fluorescent pink shoe laces.
‘Where’s Jade?’ Jamie asked.
Wing shrugged.
The trainees moved to the next wall. It was higher than Jamie was tall. He and Cheng were at the front of the line again. Cheng spat on his hands and rubbed them together before he took his starting position.
‘Eww,’ Lucy whispered, ‘whatever you do, don’t shake his hand.’
‘As if that would happen,’ Wing said.
The whistle sounded. Jamie timed his stride to leap as close to the wall as possible. He got one hand to the top, then the other one, and hauled himself over. He dropped down the other side just as the whistle sounded, declaring Cheng the winner.
‘Is there really any point to this?’ Jamie muttered as he passed Wing.
Wing leaned into his start position and stared at the wall. When the whistle blew, he charged at it. Both he and Edwin used the same technique as Jamie and their leading foot hit the wall at the same time. Wing’s foot held and he grabbed hold of the top. Like Jamie, he hung there for a second before hauling himself up.
Edwin slipped and slammed face-first into the timber. He grabbed at anything he could to stop his fall and his hand found Wing’s foot. Wing struggled against the extra weight, then his grip failed. Jamie ran to break their fall.
Edwin landed first. With a loud, sickening crack, Wing landed on top. Jamie was at their side seconds later. ‘Are you okay?’
Wing had landed face-up. He didn’t budge and his eyes were wide. ‘I’m okay, but I think I’ve really hurt Edwin.’
Mr Fan reached them. ‘Don’t move,’ he said to Wing, and to the other boys, ‘Lift him off. Don’t let him roll.’
Jamie and Bruce each held a leg; Cheng locked his arms under Wing’s shoulders. ‘On three,’ Cheng said. ‘Three.’
Jamie was still waiting for one and two and almost dropped Wing’s leg.
Edwin was pale and gripped in that moment between shock and pain.
Mr Fan said firmly, ‘Take control, Edwin. Concentrate on your breath.’
Edwin nodded and breathed in short, sharp bursts, but then the pain hit, and he gasped and his whole body tensed. His left forearm was bent at an unnatural forty-five-degree angle. Jamie had to look away.
Mr Fan murmured, ‘Keep control, Edwin, you can do this. Breathe.’ He gestured Jamie and Cheng to hold him down.
Edwin’s skin was hot and clammy. ‘Sick,’ he managed to say, just before he heaved and vomited down the side of his face.
‘Gross,’ Cheng said, pulling away.
Jamie looked around for something to wipe Edwin’s face. There was nothing so he took off his shirt and used that. Wing took Cheng’s spot.
Mr Fan put his hands over the break in Edwin’s arm, closed his eyes and concentrated. It must have had a soothing effect because Edwin’s breathing became deeper and some colour returned to his cheeks. Mr Fan nodded for Jamie and Wing to hold tightly, then he held the arm either side of the break and bent it back into place. Edwin’s scream pierced Jamie’s skull and seemed to reverberate in his brain long after it had stopped.
Every muscle in Edwin’s body was rigid and his face was contorted. Mr Fan’s concentration increased; the air around his hands distorted and a heat haze formed. The swelling around the break reduced and the flesh reverted to its natural colour. Edwin sighed and slumped down as the pain eased.
‘Better?’ Mr Fan asked.
‘Much,’ Edwin said and smiled faintly.
Jamie was stunned. ‘Th-that’s it?’ he stammered. ‘It’s fixed?’
‘The break will be weak for some time, but yes, you could say it’s fixed.’
Edwin sat up slowly, then wobbled as he got to his feet. He tested his arm by opening and closing his fist. He flinched a little, but not enough to show how serious the break had been. Edwin spotted the shirt, the patch of vomit on the ground and Jamie’s bare chest. ‘Thank you,’ he said.
Mr Fan sent Edwin to Mrs Choo to have his arm bandaged — ‘to protect the weak join’.
Lucy was quick to offer to take him. Jamie suspected her kindness had more to do with avoiding the patch of vomit. He couldn’t believe what he had just seen and stared after Edwin and then back at Mr Fan’s hands.
Mr Fan chuckled. ‘You will all be able to do that soon.’
‘Wow,’ Jamie said. ‘How?’
‘Simply by seeing the body as billions of tiny particles rather than a whole.’
‘Right,’ Jamie said, nodding as if it was perfectly reasonable to consider yourself as anything other than whole.
Wing said, ‘That’s why Warriors of the Way never scar, isn’t it, Mr Fan?’
Jamie quickly scratched his brow to hide the yellow bruise on the bridge of his nose.
‘Mr Fan?’ Wing prompted, but Mr Fan seemed lost in thought. He was staring into the distance and rubbing a spot on his shoulder.
Wing said to Jamie, ‘The scars come back when a Warrior of the Way dies. All the wounds he healed with his life force return once the life force is gone.’
Jamie raised his eyebrows to show Wing he was impressed, but he couldn’t stop looking at Mr Fan. Mr Fan pressed at the spot on his shoulder, defining a circular depression through his robes.
‘Mr Fan,’ Jamie ventured, ‘are you injured?’
Cheng snorted. ‘Didn’t you just hear him? He self-heals.’ Then he mumbled, ‘Idiot,’ but only loud enough for Jamie to hear.
Mr Fan still hadn’t responded.
‘Mr Fan?’ Jamie prompted.
‘He’s a Sifu,’ Cheng spat. ‘Show some respect.’
Jamie glared at Cheng. ‘Sifu Fan?’ he said.
Mr Fan was finally drawn from his thoughts. He sighed in a resigned way and said, ‘You’re right, Jamie, there is something I am not telling you.’ He turned to include the others. ‘As you are aware, I have met with Zheng on occasion.’ Some boys nodded. Jamie glanced at Wing and saw the muscles in his jaw clench tightly.
Mr Fan pulled back his robe, exposing his shoulder. There was a huge, raw hole where the flesh was missing.
‘That’s impossible,’ Cheng said.
‘It seems Zheng has perfected a Charged Summons,’ Mr Fan said. ‘It latches onto the flesh and burns into it.’
Jamie felt queasy.
Cheng leaned in close to examine the wound. ‘So you cut it out?’
Mr Fan nodded. ‘The only way to stop the burning.’ He ran his fingers over the stretched pink skin. ‘Self-healing only
made it burn more intensely. I had to gouge out the flesh behind the burn. There is no other defence against it.’
‘How does Zheng do it?’ Wing asked. ‘How does he Charge a Summons?’
Mr Fan shook his head. ‘We are yet to learn that. It is extremely concerning that he is becoming more powerful.’
A shudder ran through the group. When Mr Fan called them back to the training exercise, they lined up with new vigour.
The last wall was at least half as high again as the one before it. Jamie knew the technique he’d used last time wouldn’t work; it had only barely got him over before. There was no way he was going to make it to the top. Cheng must have known Jamie didn’t have a chance because he could barely contain his smile.
A thought nagged at Jamie. Why would any reasonable person think someone of his height could get over that wall? He knew Mr Fan was a reasonable person. He ran Mr Fan’s instructions through his head, then it occurred to him that there was something Mr Fan hadn’t said. He smiled wryly.
At the sound of the whistle, both boys charged for the wall. But as Cheng scrambled his way up it, Jamie dashed around the side and claimed the flag. Mr Fan blew the whistle and Jamie threw his arms up in victory.
Mr Fan was clearly delighted. ‘Finally,’ he said.
‘He cheated!’ Cheng shouted. He leaped down from the wall and bore down on Jamie. ‘You cheated!’
Jamie ducked behind Mr Fan.
‘What on earth made you think you had to climb over the wall?’ Mr Fan asked Cheng.
‘You said to,’ Cheng replied.
Mr Fan shook his head. ‘I explained the objective and showed you the obstruction. It was you who decided to take the most difficult path to achieve it. Just because an obstruction is there,’ Mr Fan said as he clipped Bruce, Cheng and Wing behind the ear, ‘does not mean you have to go over it. Think your way around a problem. Do not act blindly or out of habit. The ease of the first wall committed you to an approach you should have rethought. Please do not be that easily fooled in battle.’
Jamie grinned and clutched the flag to his chest. Mr Fan turned and clipped him behind the ear too.
‘That was for the first two walls,’ he said.
The class moved into the Grand Pagoda, where Master Wu stood beneath the carved dragon lantern. The Warriors of the Way sat in the semicircle of individual desks. Jamie was out of breath, having dashed back to Wing’s room for a shirt. Both Edwin and Jade had turned up, Edwin with his arm bandaged from his elbow to his wrist.
Master Wu said, ‘The Way teaches us that time is cyclical. Lao Tzu introduced us to the concept of the cyclical nature of time. After his death, other sages presented the theory that our lives repeat, that we may return to the earthly plane again and again. So how does this help us?’
His question was met with blank stares. He exaggerated a sigh and said, ‘By studying the connections with your past, you will learn about your unique purpose in this life and recover skills that may have been lost to you. You have the opportunity to rediscover what you knew in a former life.’
Master Wu paced in front of them. ‘Zheng is becoming more powerful. The events of yesterday are a timely reminder that we must remain vigilant.’
Wing clenched his jaw and Jamie slunk down in his chair.
‘It is vital that each of you connect to who you were before and remember the skills you have accumulated over lifetimes past. If you were to rely only on what you have learned in this life, none of you would stand a chance against Zheng.’
Jamie saw a quiet determination in each Warrior’s face. Then Master Wu laid a large bound book on each of their desks. Jamie’s stomach lurched.
‘Inside this book you will find stories about all the Warriors of the Way who have gone before you,’ Master Wu said. ‘Take notes on those you feel a strong connection with. The sign could be a whisper from your guide, a tingle in your spine, or simply a knowing feeling. Those Warriors’ knowledge may be buried deep within you.’
Jamie ran his hand over the embossed writing on the book’s cover. Very tentatively, he opened it and scanned the first page, then the second. He flicked through page after page. There were words upon words upon words and not a picture to be seen. He closed the book.
He looked around at his classmates. Wing and Lucy shot him furtive glances. Beyond Wing was Edwin, who had his eyes closed and was holding his palms over the page. Bruce let the book fall open at a random page while Cheng seemed deep in meditation. Jade opened her book, turned directly to a specific entry and started taking notes.
Jamie opened his book again and pretended the words meant something to him. Perhaps if he feigned interest in a page or two, he just might get away with this. But then Master Wu said, ‘Cheng, your findings, please.’
Cheng began to read out loud about a Shaolin monk, Yuogong, who lived many centuries ago. He was a highly skilled Warrior. Cheng flushed with pride as he told the story of Yuogong defending the monastery’s temple and going on to teach martial arts throughout the empire.
‘And that is why,’ Master Wu said, ‘that some call Yuogong the father of kung fu. Do you feel a special connection with him, Cheng?’
‘Yes, Master,’ Cheng said. ‘A strong one.’
Wing coughed in a way that sounded a little like, ‘Rubbish.’
‘Wing,’ Master Wu said, turning on him and his cough, ‘read the page you have open.’
Jamie quickly closed his book so he couldn’t be asked next. The movement drew Master Wu’s eyes and, by the way they narrowed, his suspicions as well.
‘Oh,’ Wing said, caught off guard, ‘I’ve just opened it. I haven’t chosen a Warrior yet.’
‘Maybe someone chose it for you,’ Master Wu said, looking towards the heavens. ‘Read it, Wing. It’s open at that page for a reason.’
As Wing began to read, Jamie fought a rising tide of panic. Master Wu would ask him next and then they would all know. Cheng was smirking already.
Wing rattled on and on about a chef to the Emperor Qin who cooked spectacular dishes infused with secret herbs to give the Emperor a long life. Jamie shuffled in his seat and sweat beaded on his brow. He saw Master Wu watching him from the corner of his eye. Wing went on and on, glancing nervously at Jamie every couple of seconds.
Master Wu was very close to Jamie now. He bent as if to whisper something in Jamie’s ear, then he closed his eyes and breathed very slowly. Jamie swallowed; he felt clammy and dizzy. Master Wu slowly exhaled, then took another deep breath. His calmness spread to Jamie, who began to breathe properly again. His stomach stopped churning and somehow the shapes in his head formed into groups. The mess of black and white became ordered. Letters joined together and formed words and then sentences. Jamie picked up his pen and began copying what he could see in his head.
Sai la, he thought, I’m writing!
‘Yes,’ whispered Master Wu, ‘although you really shouldn’t use that word at all.’
Master Wu straightened up just as Wing finished reading about the chef’s agonising death at the hand of an angry and rapidly aging Emperor. ‘And what does that tell you, Mr Choo?’
‘Herbs aren’t any good for making you live longer,’ Wing said. ‘Especially if you’re the chef.’
Everyone laughed and Master Wu moved on to Lucy. He smiled at Jamie and gently squeezed his shoulder as he passed. It astounded Jamie that nobody seemed to notice that Master Wu had just taught him how to read.
Jamie raced through the pages in front of him, in awe of his new skill. He was searching for the one Warrior he felt sure he would have a connection with. He got to the end — nothing. He worked backwards — still nothing. He checked dates, then alphabetical entries. She wasn’t there.
At the end of the class, Jamie stayed behind to speak to Master Wu. ‘How did you do that?’ he asked.
‘Do what?’ Master Wu said innocently, but his smile gave him away.
‘You taught me to read.’
‘All I did was align the thoughts in yo
ur head, Jamie. You did the rest.’
Jamie blushed. ‘I never thought I’d be able to do it.’
‘Words contain more than meaning, Jamie; they have power. Use that power well.’
‘Master Wu,’ Jamie said, ‘you said the Warriors of the Way were all in that book, but I couldn’t find my mother.’
Master Wu nodded. ‘You’re right, Jamie, she isn’t there. She never passed the gate.’
‘Why not? She beat you.’
Master Wu chuckled. ‘Thank you for that reminder. Yes, she was good, and I’m sure she would have passed had she stayed to take the test. She left the evening before the ceremony.’
‘It doesn’t seem fair that she’s not in there.’
‘You’re right,’ Master Wu said, ‘but I think that’s how she wanted it. Let me show you something.’
Jamie walked with Master Wu to the Eastern Pavilions and the Celestial Hall. They went up the stairs and into the long corridor of columns. Master Wu gestured for Jamie to go in.
Opening the door stirred layers of dust from the floor and sent it swirling up into the shafts of light that beamed through the windows. The air was dry and gritty, and Jamie could feel its particles settling on his skin and irritating his nose. He walked to the centre of the room; what looked like vertical lines on the far wall were, in fact, silk banners. They hung in parallel lines, perpendicular to the wall and no more than a hand width apart. Each was decorated with elaborate stitching. Jamie ran his hand along their edges, creating a wave of silk ripples. The room was long and there were hundreds, possibly even thousands, of banners hanging the length of the Celestial Hall.
Jamie was drawn to the far wall, which was carved with a magnificent scene. The detail became clearer as he got closer. It was a series of square scenes radiating from a decorative circle. At the very centre there was a hole carved deep into the stone and dragons chased each other around the rim. It reminded Jamie of something, but he couldn’t quite place it. Carved above it all was a picture of a round-faced man sitting inside a pavilion in the clouds. He had a calligraphy brush in his hand and sat beneath a beautifully carved dragon lantern.