The Killing Fog (The Grave Kingdom)

by Jeff Wheeler

  She became aware, a few minutes later, of the others joining her at the tunnel’s entrance. Looks of relief crossed their faces. They all were desperate for breath by the time they found her against the ice pillar. Bingmei held out the staff to Kunmia, who silently took it.

  A moment passed before any of them spoke. Rarely had Bingmei’s emotions been so raw. She knew she’d start crying again if someone looked at her with accusation. None of them did. They all smelled relieved, grateful to be alive. That they had even made it this far was nothing short of miraculous. But the danger was far from over.

  “Do you . . . do you think,” Marenqo asked, his hand clutching his eyes as he squatted nearby, “that Budai knew this would happen?” He smiled a crooked grin. It was just like him to try to lighten the mood at such a time.

  Kunmia was staring up at the ripples in the ice overhead. Her rune staff was dormant, the traces of magic spent. Black scorch marks riddled its length. Bingmei realized, shuddering, that they all probably would have died if Kunmia hadn’t possessed the staff.

  Bingmei reached for her water, wanting to slake her thirst before she answered him, but it was gone, left behind in the burial chamber. Just thinking about the waterskin made her remember when she’d last seen it—she’d used water from it to trace the glyph on the tomb. Another wave of guilt crashed into her.

  “No,” Bingmei said. “Budai was greedy, nothing more. He wasn’t trying to trick us.”

  “We need to warn him,” Kunmia said. “We need to warn all the rulers. This ancient one has power we do not understand. His magic must block the killing fog. Look how much I used the staff. Nothing. Not even a little wisp of it.”

  Noises reverberated from the direction they’d come, stone claws moving over gravel.

  “Let’s keep going,” Mieshi said darkly, pushing away from the ice pillar. “I wish we’d never come.” She looked at Bingmei then, and her scent soured. There were notes of mistrust, jealousy, and even a little fear. It wasn’t a pleasant smell, but then again, Mieshi’s feelings for her had never been altogether pleasant.

  Bingmei understood. Of all of them, she’d been closest to Zhuyi, whom they had lost in the tunnels.

  They rose and continued through the ice tunnel at a fast pace. It looked different to Bingmei. The sense of wonder she’d felt was gone, replaced by concern for the future. And as they walked away, she felt the Phoenix Blade flare with magic. Its pulsing magic felt like a snare, pulling her mind free of her body. The vision opened up, and she stood at the gate of the forgotten palace once again. The ancient ruler stood before a group of Qiangdao, including the leader who had murdered her parents and grandfather and led her new family into danger.

  The fearsome ancient held the Phoenix Blade in his hands.

  “Find her,” he said. “Bring her again. She must not die. Do this, and you will no longer skulk in the caves and in the woods. I will make you rulers over many. You will have slaves to bring you food and wine. Do not fail me.”

  The ancient one handed the Phoenix Blade to Muxidi. When the foul man touched the hilt, his eyes widened with pleasure, and an uncontrollable smile twisted his mouth. She felt his emotions in a way that made her cringe and writhe in disgust, in part because she had reacted to the sword in the same way. She did not wish to understand him, of all people, or to feel anything that he felt.

  “Yes, Lord Echion,” he said in reverence.

  As they hurried to leave the ice cave beneath the massive glacier, Bingmei’s mind roiled with what she had seen in the vision. Bring her again. That phrase kept repeating in her mind.

  Again. Again.

  When they’d first encountered the Phoenix Blade, it had been in the hands of a group of Qiangdao. A group that had ambushed them when they’d tried to disembark from Quion’s father’s boat.

  The conclusion was inescapable. They had been waiting for her. For Bingmei. The blade had led them to her. Although she didn’t understand why, she was connected to the blade and it to her. With it, they would find her, no matter where she went.

  Feelings of hopelessness surged inside her again. Muxidi was coming for her. She could feel the blade coming closer. Even if they made it to the boat, even if they sailed away, Echion’s followers would still come. She thought she knew why.

  The other tomb still lay unopened.

  “We must go faster,” she warned. “They’re hunting us.”

  Kunmia looked at her in surprise but nodded in acceptance.

  Marenqo snorted. “I was just going to suggest we stop and eat. Maybe we’ll wait until we reach the boat.”

  He was always trying to lighten the mood, something Bingmei appreciated. The stress of the ordeal weighed on them all. But Mieshi was less patient. “Can you only think about food?” she snapped with anger, her scent raw and unpleasant.

  When they emerged from the ice tunnel, the sun was so bright it hurt their eyes. The little streams delivering the melted ice from the cave sloshed against their boots, and the cold quickly became unbearable. They donned their heavier clothes and hastened up the slope they’d come down.

  How strange to return to the real world and find it unchanged. The snow-capped mountains, the distant thunder of the waterfall coming down the rocky edge of the slope.

  Marenqo’s eye was swollen shut and encrusted with blood, but he managed to keep his feet. Bingmei’s legs were exhausted from the rough journey, but she, too, was motivated to keep a brisk pace. If they could reach the boat, they’d find shelter on the water, however impermanent. Was Echion trapped beneath the ice? She hoped his powers did not extend beyond the caves, although she suspected if that were the case, it would not be so for long. If that were so, there was time to warn the kingdoms about him. That thought gave her a modicum of hope. But it still felt impossible to defeat one capable of such magic.

  “They’re coming,” Mieshi warned, causing them all to turn back. Qiangdao were already exiting the glacier and charging up the rockslide hill.

  “Run,” Kunmia said urgently. “We must get to the boat first!”

  The terrain seemed determined to stall them. Every boulder, every slick patch of ice threatened to bring them to their doom. The scenery became a blur in Bingmei’s mind as she tore down the mountain toward the sandy shore. The waterfall roared on her left, drowning out the noise of their pursuers. But she didn’t need to see them to know how close they were. The Phoenix Blade was calling to her, and its song burned in her blood. It urged her to take it from the unworthy Qiangdao leader. To bring the fight to Echion and destroy him with it. But the magic was tainting her mind, surely, just as it had before. It had made her believe she was special, that it was hers and hers alone, and in so doing, it had led her straight to Echion. She regretted ever laying eyes on it.

  Marenqo stumbled as they came down, and she watched him fall down the mountainside in front of her, yelping as he struck a rock. She hurried forward and helped him stand, but he barked in pain and clutched his arm. He’d likely broken it.

  But he kept his feet, grimacing in agony, and continued to clamber down the mountainside.

  When they reached the beach, Damanhur, Rowen, and the others stood around the Qiangdao they’d captured, who were kneeling in the sand. The boat and Quion were gone. Bingmei’s heart sank. She’d forgotten Kunmia Suun’s orders. They were trapped on the beach.

  Damanhur saw them coming and raced to join them, his look full of concern.

  “What happened?” he asked quickly.

  “A hundred men are chasing us,” Bingmei shouted, looking back. The hillside swarmed with Qiangdao. Their shouts could just be heard over the roar of the falls.

  The Qiangdao kneeling on the shore suddenly leaped to their feet. Some fought with hands and legs, others ran away. The mayhem was instant.

  “Without the boat, all is lost!” Kunmia said frantically.

  “It’s hidden nearby,” Damanhur said. “Come.”

  He drew his sword, and they all rushed back to help the others fig
ht the former prisoners. Bingmei, although tired, was one of the first to enter the battle. It quickly became clear that these Qiangdao understood Echion’s intentions—rather than attack her, they tried to carry her away. One of the men grabbed her from behind, around the waist, and hauled her off her feet. She smashed her elbow back into his face, but he didn’t drop her. Before she could redouble her attack, another one grabbed her legs.

  They started hauling her away as she bucked against them, but Rowen stabbed the one holding her legs, in the back. The man screamed in pain, and as he sagged to his knees, Rowen spun around and jabbed one of his blades into the arm of the man who held her. The man let go and fled, gripping his arm, even as blood welled up through his fingers. Rowen stood over Bingmei, nodding for her to get up. Another one of the Qiangdao attacked next, and Bingmei jumped forward, swiveling her legs and kicking him in the face. He slumped onto the sand, unconscious.

  “This way,” Rowen said, leading her back toward the others. The Qiangdao who had pursued them from the cave were starting to reach the shore. They were a large, well-armed force. These men had not been involved in the earlier battle, which suggested the Qiangdao leader had purposefully lost to them earlier. The whole exercise had been a manipulation to ensure they might deliver Bingmei to the ancient ruler.

  Kunmia and the others had not been expected to make it out of Fusang alive.

  As they raced across the beach, Bingmei saw Quion dragging the boat out from behind a large boulder that had concealed it. His legs were wet as he stood in the frigid water, but he dragged at the guide rope until it came around. Some of the others had reached the edge of the water and were already splashing into it to get inside. Quion helped each of them up.

  The screams of the Qiangdao grew louder as they charged closer, brandishing their weapons. Fear blazed a path through Bingmei. She was the one Echion wanted, but if they weren’t quick enough, all her friends would be murdered on the beach.

  Rowen sheathed his blades and gripped her arm, ushering her toward the boat. She watched as Mieshi made it inside. Then Marenqo. Some of the members of Damanhur’s ensign climbed in. Kunmia waited at the water’s edge, gesturing for her and Rowen to hurry.

  Bingmei didn’t dare look back.

  The fisherman Keyi’s face was wide with alarm as he hastened to raise the sail, his hands shaking as he untied Quion’s knots.

  “Get inside!” Kunmia shouted to Damanhur, who arrived next. He shook his head and turned, his sword out.

  Rowen and Bingmei arrived and plunged into the water. The shock of the cold couldn’t overwhelm her panic. She reached the boat, and Quion gripped her around the waist and heaved her into the boat as if she were a net full of fish. Mieshi helped pull her inside. Rowen made it on board on his own. Then Damanhur and Kunmia plunged into the water, and together with Quion, they pushed the boat deeper.

  “I can’t undo the knots!” Keyi wailed in terror.

  Quion pulled himself on board and quickly, methodically released the tension on the ropes. Damanhur helped lift Kunmia up into the boat next, leaving himself as the only one in the water. A spear flew at him and missed, striking the side of the boat with a quivering thud. Quion helped Keyi pull and raise the sail. When the arm was yanked to the side to catch the wind, it nearly knocked Marenqo down, but it didn’t, and the sail bulged with air and started to move the boat.

  Damanhur grabbed the edge of the boat and let the vessel pull him away. Mieshi and another man reached out and grabbed his arm just as he lost his grip.

  Against all odds, they’d made it.

  Bingmei, shivering, turned in her seat and looked back at the shore where she saw Muxidi standing at the edge of the lapping water, holding the Phoenix Blade. The blade didn’t want to be left behind. It screamed at her mind in panic, invoking a torrent of feelings.

  She stared at Muxidi’s face, and he at hers, and she wished she had killed him when they’d first captured him on the beach.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Things Not Seen

  The sail billowed with a strong wind that sent the fishing boat clapping on the water, unlike the calm they had rowed against when they’d first arrived. Bingmei sat in a stunned stupor, her mind unpacking the events that had preceded their perilous escape. Relief soothed her agitation as distance separated her from the mammoth glacier. Her feelings calmed, settling into a shallow sense of gratitude that she was still alive.

  Damanhur, who sat next to Mieshi, asked Kunmia for their story, but the master shook her head, saying it was not the time. She ordered Keyi to make for Wangfujing in the most direct manner possible. The open sea.

  Damanhur stared at her in alarm. The risk was great, especially since they knew they had pursuers. Prince Rowen’s feelings ignited with anger and confusion, giving an ugly smell that reminded Bingmei of burnt turnips. After stewing in his feelings awhile, he carefully approached Kunmia and whispered something to her. The master listened, then shook her head no.

  “I will tell you when we’ve reached calmer waters,” she said pointedly.

  He wasn’t satisfied by the answer, but he made his way back to his seat. The faraway look in his eye told her that he was thinking of the Summer Palace. He had bet his fortunes on discovering treasure in the lost city. There was plenty of treasure there, although it was not available for the taking. Bingmei could smell the festering disappointment he concealed, sour and bitter, like the rind of the spiky durian fruit. “No one answered me earlier,” Damanhur said softly to no one in particular. “Where’s Zhuyi?”

  Mieshi shook her head, tears in her eyes. Her mood was dark and sad. Her grief was deep.

  When the sun finally set, Bingmei felt embraced by the dark. Rations were handed out, including hunks of smoked fish, which Quion had already prepared for a later meal. It was salty and fragrant with spices. Their supplies had been intended to last for some time, so Kunmia was liberal with the portions. Memories from the palace streaked through her mind like lightning between storm clouds.

  The boat had entered another fjord leading to the sea when Kunmia finally spoke. Although they were on open water, they were far from danger. Far, at least, from the danger Bingmei had unwittingly released in Fusang. She had lost nearly all sense of the Phoenix Blade by this point. Its power over her was definitely strengthened with proximity.

  “I wish to tell you what we faced. What we lost,” Kunmia said, her voice calm. But Bingmei could smell the concern, the worry that lay beneath it.

  Foreboding hung in the air. There was enough light for Bingmei to see the faces of her companions. Keyi, the fearful fisherman, looked despairingly at her. Bingmei hung her head low, dreading the tale.

  “More importantly,” Damanhur said, “why we are running from Fusang? The Qiangdao had greater numbers than we thought, but their ability is nothing compared with ours.”

  “That was the only option to survive,” Kunmia said. “If we hadn’t run, you’d be dead.”

  Damanhur shrugged. “Maybe if we’d all been together, perhaps it would have turned out differently.”

  Bingmei thought his tone was too disrespectful. Although Damanhur was not as arrogant as she’d thought at first, he had never relished being second in command. She glared at him.

  “You don’t know what you’re saying,” Mieshi snapped.

  Kunmia was unruffled. “There is a series of palaces hidden under the ice that not only rivals but dwarfs that of Sajinau. We only witnessed a portion of it, but it’s all intact. Even the paint seems new. Magic preserves and defends it in a way I struggle to understand. The Qiangdao discovered it first. I think many of them are living hidden within the walls.”

  Damanhur nodded. “How many do you think?”

  “Several hundred, I should say, but they aren’t the true threat. We’re not going to Wangfujing to raise an army. We’re going to warn King Budai. And then King Shulian. And then all the others.”

  Rowen stiffened at the mention of his father’s name. His brow furrowed
with agitation. This was not the victorious return to Sajinau he had planned.

  “What did you find there?” Damanhur asked worriedly, catching on. The lemony smell of greed laced the air around him and the prince. The hidden city was there, just as they’d thought, and they wanted their treasure.

  “This is not a matter of what we found, but of what we awoke. We found a slab of solid stone, marble I should think, bearing effigies of two entwined dragons. There were two stone tombs in one of the palaces, made out of pale marble and carved into the likenesses of two rulers, male and female.”

  Rowen and Damanhur exchanged a long speculative look. A smell of excitement passed between them. Bingmei wondered what they already knew, what myths had driven them to seek out Fusang. They clearly knew more than she had, more—even—than Budai.

  What had they set into motion? Had they done so knowingly?

  “Which one did you open?” Rowen asked.

  “We opened the tomb of the male,” Kunmia said. “The corpse within had been painstakingly preserved. It had not decayed to the point of bones. There was still leathery flesh and hair. Pale hair.”

  Rowen’s eyes turned to Bingmei in surprise, and perhaps some alarm, and she felt her cheeks start to burn.

  “Did the corpse rise?” Damanhur said with curiosity and some fear. “Was it a xixuegui?”

  “I don’t know,” Kunmia said. “But I don’t think so. It came back to life.”

  “Then it was a xixuegui,” Damanhur insisted.

  “In those legends, they speak of the dead who have only one soul walking and feasting on the living. This one returned to life, yes, but he became young again. Alive. Whole. The corpse’s flesh was restored.”

  Both Rowen and Damanhur looked shocked by that news. Their smells confirmed it. Whatever they’d expected, it wasn’t this. At least they hadn’t set out to raise Echion.