The Killing Fog (The Grave Kingdom)

by Jeff Wheeler

  “Guanjia persuaded him?” Damanhur said incredulously. He rubbed his mouth. “I’m surprised. Budai was stubborn.”

  “Indeed. But he was cunning too. It won’t be easy for Echion to steal his treasures. But that’s beside the point. Budai trusted his steward, and Guanjia is persuasive. The decision had barely been made when Captain Heise—or Echion—came as summoned. We had already caused a stir by defeating the guards left at the east gate, and Heise demanded the authority to arrest our ensign. He had no other guards with him, as instructed, and Guanjia had summoned at least twenty guards he believed loyal. Budai ordered them to arrest the captain.”

  Bingmei’s heart raced in anticipation as the story was told. She’d visited the throne room many times and could picture the events in her mind. Budai had not often let anger get the better of him, but his rage, when it came, was terrible to behold.

  “The guards rushed to apprehend him. Guanjia said he attacked with just his fists. He was clearly a practitioner of dianxue, and could incapacitate a man with a single blow. He struck quickly, leaping high into the air at times, as if carried on invisible wings. It shocked and horrified them. Budai loosed his two leopards and tried to flee, but Echion soared across the room and blocked the door. He then drew his blade and stabbed Budai’s belly. When Guanjia saw his master fall, he tried to save his own life, grabbing the box and leaving the palace through a secret passage. He managed to evade the black-shirts until just before reaching the docks, when he was spotted. He thinks it’s possible Budai survived. He has a meiwood charm. But if he did, he’s helpless.”

  The news sickened Bingmei. She was grateful they had made it out of Wangfujing at all.

  Damanhur breathed out sharply. “With Echion’s ability to transform into other people . . .”

  Kunmia nodded. “We have to assume he can take on Budai’s identity and rule Wangfujing in his stead.”

  “Could an army hope to defeat him?” Damanhur wondered.

  “Eventually? Maybe?” Kunmia said, shrugging. “We don’t know. Which is why it is imperative that King Shulian be summoned back to Sajinau. Our only advantage is that his disguises cannot deceive Bingmei. That makes safeguarding her one of our primary duties.” Kunmia gave her a sharp look. “And why we must avoid danger. You were almost captured.”

  “I’m not reckless,” Bingmei objected hotly. “Guanjia shouted my name!”

  “No, you aren’t reckless,” Kunmia said. “But there is something different about you. And not just the color of your skin or your unusual hair. When Echion was reborn, I first thought he was an old man because of his white hair. But it’s not white. It’s just . . . pale. It’s different. You are connected to Echion in some way. One of his people, I think.”

  Kunmia’s words chased around in her mind and her heart. Had she not wondered the same thing upon seeing him?

  “The more I’ve pondered this, the more I realized that you were summoned to Fusang,” Kunmia said. Her words only confirmed what Bingmei had felt all along.

  “How can that be, Master?” Damanhur said, his brow furrowed, his tone fierce. “Who summoned her?”

  Kunmia sighed. “The Qiangdao found Fusang before we did. Likely they also found the Phoenix Blade in the tomb. I don’t know the truth; I’m just hazarding a guess. Echion was unable to revive himself. That much is clear, or he would not have needed Bingmei to do it. After our mission last summer, the Qiangdao were waiting for us. They ambushed us. Was that an accident? Or did Echion send some Qiangdao with the blade to find her?”

  Damanhur tilted his head. “It could be coincidence.”

  “No,” Rowen said, shaking his head. “There was something about that blade. I felt it drawing me as well.”

  Damanhur looked at him in surprise. “I thought you just wanted to buy it.”

  “It was more than that,” Rowen said. He looked at Bingmei. “Wasn’t it?”

  She remembered the strange ghostlike vision she’d had. She’d never told anyone about it. At that moment, she wasn’t sure whether she should speak of it or not. Kunmia’s words made sense to her. Had she not wondered at the sequence of events? But she still felt wary around Rowen and his conflicting emotions.

  She couldn’t trust him.

  The Raven rushed up and over the huge ocean swells with the ease of its namesake bird. Bingmei admired the power of the wind the captain and his crew harnessed with the massive black sails. She’d hardly seen Quion at all during the voyage. He was enamored with the vessel, and Kunmia had arranged with Captain Guoduan for him to lend a hand. He was already skilled with knot tying and knew the essentials of sailing, but traveling in the vast ocean was an entirely different type of sailing.

  When the sky poured down rain, everyone crowded beneath the teakwood roof in the center of the boat. There was little room in any of the compartments below deck because of the cargo. Bingmei enjoyed exploring the boat to drive off the monotony of the voyage. They were so far from land that only the vague shape of mountains could be seen in the distance. The sea looked like a field that went on for eternity.

  Captain Guoduan had a map that had landmarks on it to help guide the journey, but he mostly used the stars at night. He’d let Bingmei gaze at the map, and it looked like the land was just a huge bow of islands and inlets scattered from west to east over a vast ocean. At the center of the bow was nothing but glaciers, and it was at one of those that they’d discovered Fusang. In fact, she saw that a recent sketch had added a palace in the midst of the ice fields. She wondered if Quion had pointed it out to the captain.

  Bingmei brooded constantly about being the one who had freed Echion from his tomb. She couldn’t even understand how it had happened. How had she known the glyph that had revived him? She thought on it over and over until her head hurt. At night, she had difficulty falling asleep. Her skull still throbbed from the blow she’d been dealt in Wangfujing.

  The sky was often devoid of clouds, and an overwhelming sense of nothingness would wash over her as she stared up at the stars. Her ignorance ran so deep she felt like crying. What were the stars? How had the world come into existence? Why did she need to breathe? What was the purpose of it all?

  In those moments, the utter chaos of the world pressed against her, and she shivered beneath her fur blanket, feeling as small as a mote of dust flitting with a breeze. She’d heard the various myths of creation, of course, but there were so many. All different. Which one should she believe in? The tales of death were equally confusing. Why did some people believe that the afterlife was a giant labyrinth, like the fjords that riddled the coastline, while others believed in rebirth? A cruel king could be born again as a quivering worm in order to teach him humility. What would Budai be reborn as, then? A frog? Or perhaps he’d been a frog in his previous life, and he’d collected sculptures of them because he was compelled by a forgotten memory? There were so many myths, yet nothing satisfied the craving for purpose in her soul. Why had she been born with the winter sickness? Or was it even a sickness at all? Why could she smell in a way others could not? There were never any answers to her questions.

  On the fourth night of the voyage, she was struggling, again, with sleeplessness. The moon hadn’t risen yet, and the darkness seemed especially deep, as it did during the season of the Dragon of Night. She sat still, staring at those who slept. Of her group, Rowen was the only one still awake. She spied him at the prow, leaning against the front, watching the junk slice through the water.

  Her feelings of loneliness were so terrible that she rose from the bench and carefully picked her way over to him. Whenever she’d tried to share her sullen feelings with Quion, he’d looked at her in confusion, unable to relate to her grim feelings of purposelessness. His mind never wandered that far or plunged into the deep. But she had an instinct that Prince Rowen would understand. He brooded more than her, it seemed.

  Rowen glanced back when he heard her coming. The wind struck from the west, and so she didn’t smell him until she was practically next
to him. She leaned against the rail, staring down at the breakers striking against the hull of the junk. He said nothing to her, although it wasn’t a mean-spirited thing. He smelled thoughtful, worried, and morose. It was a pungent blend.

  It was up to her to break the silence.

  “Do you hate your brother?” she asked, gazing at the water that seemed to never end. It was difficult believing that Sajinau lay ahead in the gloom. There was no trace of it, no light on the horizon to reveal it.

  “I do,” he answered simply, then sighed. “But it’s more complicated than that.”

  “Tell me about him,” she said. The spray from the water made her face damp, but it felt strangely soothing.

  “Why?” he asked with a chuckle.

  “Because I’m about to meet him, and I’d like to know more about who he is.”

  His lips pursed just a little. “I don’t want to influence you. You may end up liking him.”

  A little whiff of jealousy accompanied the words.

  “Why do you say that?” she asked.

  He sighed again, but his voice, when he spoke, was full of loathing. “Because everyone likes him. He’s perfect. Handsome. Strong-willed. Dutiful. Commanding. Insufferable.”

  “Was he cruel to you?”

  “Never,” Rowen said. “He’s arrogant, to be sure. Demeaning to others who do not meet his level of perfection. He always tried to make me more . . . like . . . him.” He snorted. “It was like having two fathers. And my sister usually took his side.”

  “You have a sister?”

  “Yes. Eomen. We used to be close, then she became insufferable too. I don’t see things the way they do. My brother tries so hard to be just like Father. I think he’s never had an original thought in his life,” he muttered at the end.

  “How does he feel about you?” Bingmei asked. His feelings matched his words, but he was still jealous. Jealous of his brother’s popularity. Of his father’s preference for him.

  “That’s what we’re about to find out,” he said, turning to face her. His eyes gleamed in the starlight. “That is what I most want to know. And what I most dread.” His eyes narrowed. “Your power frightens me, Bingmei. We are all laid bare.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Unspeakable Grief

  Marenqo had attempted to describe Sajinau’s splendor to Bingmei before they arrived, but even he was at a loss for words.

  “Just wait until you see it for yourself,” he said. “It’s not as grand as what we saw under the ice. But it’s impressive. You’ll see.”

  They arrived at the port of Sajinau the following day, after an especially turbulent night at sea. Captain Guoduan had arrived in record time, for which Bingmei was grateful. She watched eagerly as the snow-peaked mountains rose from the horizon like the dawning of a sun.

  Sajinau, like Wangfujing, lay inside a massive fjord. But unlike Wangfujing, there were guard towers positioned at the entrance of the fjord, and she could see the smoke trailing from the flaming torches within them. The Raven was not alone in the water. Many junks came in and out, passing beneath the eyes of the sentinels guarding the way.

  The inner chasm was broad enough for many ships to pass through side by side. Captain Guoduan carefully attended the tiller, and his pet raven squawked whenever another boat was seen. Anticipation bubbled inside Bingmei as they entered the fjord. She gazed up at the watchtowers, wishing she had wings like a raven’s so she could fly up to enjoy the view.

  A labyrinth of small waterways unfurled after they entered the fjord, weaving through the rubble of shattered mountains. But the captain knew his course. Quion worked closely with the crew still, and she saw the respect in the eyes of the sailors who had come to value his contributions. It made her smile.

  Prince Rowen’s looks darkened as they entered the shadows of the fjord. He was coming home. Bingmei sensed he had been gone for some time.

  As the ship passed through the fjord, she saw additional guard towers built on the cliff walls. She wondered if there were ways to communicate between the towers, like signal fires, something to inform the whole kingdom of any invading forces. There were no houses or walls along the shore, nor was there room for them. The cliffs themselves provided protection.

  When Sajinau came into view at last, Bingmei walked to the edge of the junk and gripped the railing in wonder. Her eyes feasted on the scene. The thick green trees and colorful gorse made the view particularly delightful. It was the largest city she had ever seen, dwarfing the size of Wangfujing. At the end of the inlet lay a wide, flat basin, around which the city and its palace had been constructed. Tree-covered mountains towered behind the city, providing ample protection there. In a distant valley, she saw a section of the Death Wall with its square turrets. She also saw evidence of a glacier in the range of mountains, feeding the fjord with ice and water.

  Wooded hills engulfed the edges of the town, and the row of docks teemed with junks of all sizes and shapes. Now she understood why King Shulian was so respected. His kingdom enjoyed natural protections and was blessed with an uncultivated beauty that rivaled any in the living world.

  The palace could be seen on a cleft of rock above the city, massive and ancient in construction. Yes, it was a good place to build a city, and it had gathered a population over the years that numbered in the thousands.

  The harbor was patrolled by royal junks, and they were met by one of them and directed to a berth.

  Damanhur prowled the deck restlessly. Mieshi watched him, her look impassive, but she smelled interested in him. He watched as the city drew near, his eyes furtively glancing to Rowen, who had seated himself beneath the pavilion and held his head in his hands. Most of Damanhur’s ensign had survived the ordeal, but they all looked despondent about returning to Sajinau, as if doing so had brought dishonor to them.

  As the ship approached the wharf, Bingmei saw a crowd had assembled. Some held banners with streamers, which fluttered in the winds. Bingmei noticed that the wharf they approached only contained royal ships.

  Damanhur noticed it too. “Captain, what’s going on? What did you tell them?”

  Captain Guoduan frowned. “I told them about our cargo, and they directed me here.”

  “There are no merchants junks here,” Damanhur pointed out.

  “So I’ve noticed, Bao Damanhur.”

  The wharf was thronged with people. Not merchants but citizens.

  Rowen stood from the bench. “I don’t like this,” he said worriedly. Bingmei could feel the tension emanating from him in waves. He remained within the shadows of the pavilion.

  “They couldn’t have known we were coming,” Damanhur said.

  “What if Echion is already here?” Kunmia suggested. She also looked troubled by the crowd that lay in wait. She had a worried smell, like wilting flowers.

  “Turn the junk around,” Damanhur said.

  “I can’t,” the captain said. “There isn’t room. And the royal fleet would only become suspicious. It could be nothing.”

  “I don’t think it’s nothing,” Damanhur snapped back.

  Mieshi gave off a fearful smell. She bit her lip.

  “Look,” Kunmia offered, pointing. “It’s Jidi Majia.”

  Bingmei followed the line of her arm, but in truth, she did not need anyone to point him out. The man stood out of the crowd because, as Damanhur had told her, he, too, had the winter sickness. His hair was white as snow, his skin pale. He wore royal robes and the chains of office and held a ruyi with a tasseled end. That scepter was a mark of his power and rank.

  After sidling up next to him, Bingmei asked Marenqo if he knew the famous advisor.

  “I’ve never met him in person. Only Kunmia has. He looks . . .”

  “Fat,” Bingmei commented.

  “If I were constantly surrounded by the delicacies of Sajinau . . . I would be too. That he’s here on the docks is peculiar.”

  “Bingmei,” Kunmia said, and the girl approached her master. “You will come with
me as we disembark. Only you can know if Jidi Majia is real or an imposter. I’m worried we’ve come to a trap.”

  “Then we should turn while we still can,” Damanhur seethed.

  “If we try to leave, they’ll launch the whirlwind trebuchets against us,” Rowen said. “We wouldn’t make it through the fjord. Be wary. If it is Echion, we cannot let him know we’ve unmasked him.”

  Bingmei had more than one wig, and so she’d already pinned the other to her hair. The experience she’d had in Wangfujing had left a bitter taste in her mouth, and she felt just as uneasy about approaching Sajinau as the others did. Worry bloomed in her breast. She turned and saw Quion coiling a rope around his arm, watching her. He set the rope down and stood near her, offering his silent support.

  Captain Guoduan gave the command to dock the ship, and his crew acted with prompt obedience. Some dockmen on the wharf took the ropes and fastened them to the iron docking cleats at the bow and stern. Bingmei saw the crowd growing more eager, their faces aglow with wonder and joy. Jidi Majia stood at the forefront of the welcoming party as a plank was lowered from the junk and set carefully on the dock. Captain Guoduan went down first.

  “Why the formal greeting, Jidi Majia?” the captain said, looking at the crowd.

  Kunmia and Bingmei stood at the top of the plank. The smell of rotting salmon drifted up from the water, and she noticed a few dead fish bobbing on the surface. But that smell was mild compared to the hope and eagerness emanating from the crowd. These were not townsfolk, Bingmei quickly realized. They were all formally dressed in ceremonial clothes, many of them in great finery and silk.

  As Bingmei fixed her gaze on Jidi Majia, she tried to catch his smell, but it was masked by the teeming emotions of the crowd. Kunmia gave her a quizzical look and Bingmei shrugged. She didn’t know.