The Ultimate Dragon Warrior Read online

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  For Lucas, Flynn, and Astrid Bousfield

  ~ G P J

  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Teaser

  Questions for the Author

  Read all the Ninja Meerkats adventures!

  Copyright

  Ah, it’s you. Yes, I thought it would be. How did I know? Well, I am blessed with a kind of sixth sense. Unfortunately my other five senses appear to be letting me down in old age. Only yesterday I had a rather long chat with a lampshade. I found the conversation most illuminating. It turned out we both had a lot in common—each of us requires sixty watts. Since my hearing worsened, I’m forever asking, What did you say? What was that? What’s going on? But that is neither here nor there. You don’t want to hear about my problems.

  What I should really be telling you about is the Clan of the Scorpion. Armed to the teeth with ninja-know-how, these four formidable fighters have just one goal—to keep the world safe from their sworn enemy, the Ringmaster and his villainous circus troupe.

  Jet Flashfeet: a super-fast ninja whose only fault is craving the glory he so richly deserves.

  Bruce “the muscle” Willowhammer: the strongest of the gang, though in the brain race he lags somewhat behind.

  Donnie Dragonjab: a brilliant mind, inventor, and master of gadgets.

  Chuck Cobracrusher: his clear leadership has saved the others’ skins more times than I care to remember.

  Oh, and me, Grandmaster One-Eye: as old and wise as the sand dunes themselves.

  This story is one of my favorites, for it tells of how the clan took part in the Trials of Dragon Island, competing for the title of Ultimate Dragon Warrior.

  All of which reminds me of a poem on the subject of competitions by the snail poet, Mo Bilome.

  In every competition

  In which I did compete,

  I always tried so hard to win

  But always faced defeat—

  I wonder if it’s down

  To having so few feet.

  Anyway, I think it’s time to get on with the story of … THE ULTIMATE DRAGON WARRIOR.

  Two fishermen stood on the beach, watching the rowing boat make its way out to sea.

  “Where do you think it’s going?” asked one of the men.

  “Looks like it’s heading for Dragon Island,” replied the other, pointing to an ominous-looking island with a huge volcano at its center, sending out red smoke into the sky.

  “My cousin told me the island’s named for the dragon smoke that billows from its center,” said the first fisherman.

  “Your cousin is a superstitious fool,” said the other. “The smoke comes from the volcano.”

  “So why does it turn red every five years?”

  “No one knows. I even swam to the island as a boy to try to find out, but there’s nothing there other than wild lemurs.”

  Had the two fishermen seen the boat up close, they would have realized that the rower was a shop dummy, disguised as a fisherman. It was being operated by a remote control held by one of four ninja meerkats onboard.

  “Another brilliant disguise, Donnie,” said Chuck.

  “Thanks,” replied Donnie. “I call it the M.O.R.B.—Mannequin Operated Rowing Boat.”

  “Why do we need a disguise anyway?” asked Bruce.

  “The invitation said we should arrive in secret,” replied Chuck.

  “The invitation for me to be crowned the Ultimate Dragon Warrior,” added Jet. “Ninja-boom!” He leaped up and punched the air.

  “Jet,” shouted Donnie. “You’re rocking—”

  “You’re right,” Jet interrupted. “Being invited to compete in the most awesome kung-fu contest in the world is rocking, isn’t it?”

  “I mean, you’re rocking the boat,” said Donnie. “Besides, the invitation was for all of us. Any one of us could win.”

  “Ha! It’s bound to be me,” said Jet.

  “Jet, boasting is not a good thing,” said Chuck.

  “Yeah, my uncle almost died when it happened to him,” said Bruce.

  “He died from boasting?” asked Donnie.

  “Yep,” said Bruce. “It turned out he was allergic.”

  “I believe that was a bee sting, Bruce,” said Chuck. “And actually, it could be that none of us takes home the title. Remember, the invitation said there would be eight competitors in total.”

  “I’ll see off the competition with my Super-charged Shock Attack!” said Jet.

  “What’s that?” asked Bruce.

  “It’s my new move,” explained Jet. “You rub your feet on the ground and charge yourself up with static electricity, then use it to shock your opponent.”

  Donnie smirked. “If you want to shock them, just tell them how long you spent looking in the mirror this morning.”

  As the boat got closer to the island, the red smoke from the volcano blocked out the sun and threw the boat into the shadow of the island.

  “Donnie, what did your background check reveal about this island?” asked Chuck.

  “Very little,” replied Donnie. “It’s named Dragon Island because of the red smoke, but everything else is a mystery.”

  “Ooh, spooky,” said Bruce.

  “Are we sure this isn’t one of the Ringmaster’s traps?” asked Chuck. “A strange invitation, a remote island— I wouldn’t put it past him.”

  “No way,” said Jet. “The Trials of Dragon Island are legendary. Once every five years, when the volcano smoke turns red, the world’s finest martial arts fighters are summoned to compete for the title of Ultimate Dragon Warrior.”

  The boat drew close to the island, giving the meerkats a good view of the white sand on the beaches that surrounded it. Donnie pressed a button on his remote control that stopped the dummy rowing.

  “Why are we stopping?” asked Bruce. “We’re not there yet.”

  “The invitation said there should be no evidence of visitors on the island,” replied Donnie. “So we need to leave the boat here. It’s time for the M.O.R.B. to go fishing.”

  He pressed another button and the dummy pulled in the oars and picked up a fishing rod. The other meerkats watched in amazement as the dummy cast the line out to sea.

  “The hook on the end will latch on to the ocean floor and act as an anchor, so the boat doesn’t float away,” said Donnie.

  “Very clever,” said Chuck.

  “So we’ve got to swim to the island?” said Jet, aghast.

  “Don’t worry,” said Donnie. “You won’t have to mess your fur up.”

  From his backpack, Donnie pulled out four clear plastic bags and handed them to the others. He then showed them how to climb inside and seal the entrance.

  “This is weird,” said Bruce.

  “Yeah, I feel like I’ve been shrink-wrapped,” remarked Jet.

  “There’s a red toggle inside. Pull it, like this,” said Donnie. He demonstrated and suddenly his plastic bag inflated into a clear ball around him. The others did the same.

  “I call them Ninja-zorbs,” said Donnie.

  “Now I feel like a hamster,” said Jet.

  “Yes, they work in the same way as hamster balls. Watch.”

  Donnie ran forward, propelling the clear ball over the top of the boat and onto the surface of the water. The others followed and soon they were all charging toward the island.

  “Donnie, the brilliance of your inventions never ceases to amaze me,” said Chuck.

  “I’ve heard of running water,” said Bruce. “But we’re running on water.”

  The Clan of the Scorpion reached the beach and began deflating the Ninja-zorbs.

  “Very impressive,” said a voice.

  “Yeah, it was all right, I suppose,” said another.

  They turned to find a pelican and a badger standing behind them.

  The pelican, who wore a yellow bandana tied around his head, bowed respectfully, while the badger, who wore a black robe with a white belt, stood with his arms crossed.

  “You must be the other contestants,” said Chuck, returning the pelican’s bow. “We are the Clan of the Scorpion.”

  “It’s an honor to meet you,” said the pelican.

  “And it’ll be a pleasure to beat you,” added the badger, with a chuckle.

  “I’d like to see you try,” said Bruce, squaring up to him.

  The badger laughed. “The name’s Mickey ‘knock out’ Stripes. My fans call me Stripes.”

  “Fans?” scoffed Jet.

  “Yep. You are lucky enough to be talking to the undefeated winner of the Interspecies Wrestling Competition, the No-Holds-Barred Championships, and the Tooth ’n’ Claw Caged Fighter of the Year three years running. I put the bad into badger.” He boxed the air. “A quick one-two, and you novices will be out cold.”

  “We certainly are novices when it comes to competition fighting,” said Chuck. “We are
more used to the real thing.”

  The pelican spoke. “All of us have good reason to be here. Mr. Stripes was just telling me how his father competed in the last competition, five years ago.”

  “Yeah,” said Stripes. “The difference is that my old man didn’t win, whereas I will.”

  “A wise warrior is always prepared for battle. A foolish one expects victory,” said the pelican.

  “I couldn’t have put it better myself,” said Chuck.

  The pelican bowed again. “I am sorry, I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Plato.”

  “I knew I recognized you,” Jet said excitedly. “You’re Plato Wynn, the high-kicking pelican. I read an interview with you in The Karate Times. It said that you once kicked an opponent so hard, he went into orbit around the planet.”

  “That’s him all right,” said Stripes. “Watch.” He punched the trunk of a nearby palm tree, causing a coconut to fall. It would have whacked Plato on the head, but the pelican jumped into the air, spun around, and kicked the coconut away, sending it soaring so high into the sky that it reached a passing cloud.

  “Astounding,” said Chuck.

  “High praise indeed from Chuck Cobracrusher.”

  “You know my name?” said Chuck.

  “Your abilities are legendary,” said the pelican. “Chuck Cobracrusher, wise leader of the Clan of the Scorpion. Your companions are also well known to me. Jet Flashfeet, the super-fast ninja always on the lookout for a new move, Bruce ‘the force’ Willowhammer, as strong as ten lions, and Donnie Dragonjab, the inventor of many brilliant gadgets and dumbfounding disguises. Your reputations precede you. Now we are only waiting for the eighth competitor.”

  “The eighth?” said Donnie. “I only count six of us here.”

  “You are not the first person to overlook Lay-Z.” Plato pointed out a mound of fur lying in the shade of the palm tree.

  The meerkats took a closer look and saw that it was a furry creature, curled up and fast asleep.

  “Wow,” said Jet. “Lay-Z, the three-toed sloth, famous for inventing the martial arts style known as Do Zing. I can’t believe I’m here alongside my heroes!”

  “Thanks,” said Stripes.

  “I didn’t mean you,” snapped Jet.

  Bruce looked up. “Hey, look—the coconut’s falling back to earth.”

  Donnie squinted at the sky. “That’s no coconut.”

  “How can you tell?” asked Bruce.

  “Because it’s dressed in an orange robe and has just opened a parachute. Someone must have jumped from that plane.”

  “Hey,” said Bruce, peering more closely at the figure suspended from a parachute. “It’s one of the Shaolin Monkeys.”

  The spiky-haired monkey detached his parachute just before he hit the ground, and landed in an elegant forward roll. He sprang to his feet and joined the others.

  “It’s Turbold,” said Jet, who had fought both against and alongside the monkey back in India.

  “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the Clan of the Scorpion! I wondered if you would be here,” said Turbold, grinning. “When does this competition start?”

  “I think we’re about to find out,” said Chuck. “Listen.”

  From the jungle behind them they could hear sounds that grew louder and louder, until finally the source of the noise was revealed.

  Out of the jungle emerged hundreds of lemurs dressed in plain white robes. Some of them banged drums made from coconuts. Some played trumpets made from bamboo. Others held big branches, which they used as fans.

  At the center of this troupe was a great wooden carriage, pulled along by more lemurs. Sitting on top was a female lemur who wore a golden robe and a magnificent headdress with a ruby at its center. She held up a paw and the music stopped.

  “We extend a warm welcome to the contestants hoping to become the Ultimate Dragon Warrior,” she said.

  All the contestants bowed, except for Stripes, who nodded his head in greeting, and Lay-Z, who was still fast asleep.

  “We are Empress Me,” said the lemur.

  “All of you?” said Bruce.

  “No, just us,” she replied, pointing to herself. “These are our loyal subjects.” She indicated the other lemurs.

  “Why’s she speaking like that?” asked Bruce out of the corner of his mouth.

  “It’s how royal people speak, Bruce,” responded Chuck quietly. “She’s an empress.”

  “Well, she don’t empress me much,” whispered Donnie.

  “It’s a great honor to be here,” said Chuck.

  “The honor is all ours, Mr. Cobracrusher. You have been selected as the eight finest kung-fu fighters in the world, and yet there can only be one Ultimate Dragon Warrior.”

  “It’s definitely going to be me,” said Jet.

  “Yeah, right,” said Turbold and Stripes together.

  “The competition will begin shortly. You will learn some of our greatest secrets during your stay, so now we ask that you swear an oath of secrecy. Please raise your hands.”

  The contestants did as they were told. Even Lay-Z raised a long, clawed hand, although the sloth kept his eyes shut.

  “Now, repeat after us,” said Empress Me. “We swear, on all that we hold dear and precious, to keep the secrets of Dragon Island.”

  They all repeated these words: “During our stay we will have no contact with the outside world. If we break this oath, we accept the consequences.”

  The contestants lowered their hands.

  “What about that lot?” said Stripes, pointing at the crowd of lemurs. “They all keep your secrets, do they?”

  “Our loyal subjects took a vow of silence many years ago. Here, we dedicate every moment to the study of martial arts. The lemurs of Dragon Island live and breathe kung fu.”

  “What do you eat?” asked Bruce. “My stomach’s been growling like a grizzly bear with a bellyache since I left the mainland.”

  Empress Me smiled. “We will show you, Mr. Willowhammer. We have a special banquet prepared.”

  “A banquet,” said Bruce. “Now you’re talking.”

  Surrounded by hundreds of silent lemurs, the contestants followed Empress Me’s carriage. They made their way through dense jungle, where the sunlight was blocked by the large-leafed vegetation, and brightly colored birds perched in the trees.

  They walked by the side of a trickling stream to a clearing where a fantastic banquet had been laid out on a long table carved from the trunk of a fallen tree. There were eight seats around the table and a huge wooden throne at the end.

  Empress Me stepped down from her carriage and took her place at the head of the table.

  “You should all find something to eat here,” she said. “For Plato, there are seven types of freshly caught fish. For Turbold, a variety of local nuts have been specially picked. For Lay-Z, there is a bowl of leaves, and for the meerkats, a selection of bugs and lizards. Stripes, as badgers are omnivorous, you may take your pick.”

  “What does om-niv-or-ous mean?” asked Bruce.

  “It means you’ll eat anything,” said Donnie.

  “So I’m omnivorous too?” said Bruce. “Because I eat anything.”

  “You eat everything,” said Donnie. “That’s just greedy.”

  Chuck took a seat next to Plato, and Donnie and Turbold sat opposite. Bruce sat down at the end of the table by Lay-Z, who had been carefully placed on a chair, still fast asleep. Jet found himself facing Stripes.

  “Hey, Jet,” said Turbold. “How would you like your egg cooked?”

  “What egg?” asked Jet, puzzled by the question.

  “The one that’s going to be on your face when you lose,” Turbold replied with a smirk.

  “Well, you’d better leave some room for humble pie when I defeat you,” replied Jet.

  “Ha! On the contrary, you’re the one who’ll be eating your words,” Turbold retaliated.

  “I wish you two would take a vow of silence,” Chuck said.

  “So, tell me, Empress,” said Stripes, speaking with his mouth full of food. “What is the prize for this competition?”

  “There is no prize money,” she replied. “The victor will be named the Ultimate Dragon Warrior. This is a great honor.”