Dragonkeeper 2: Garden of the Purple Dragon

by Carole Wilkinson

  Most of the trees in the forest were ancient junipers. Their foliage had a bluish tinge and their bark hung in peeling strips. Ping chewed on juniper berries. They had a bitter taste, but they kept her alert. Apart from the birds and the unseen animals that rustled through the undergrowth, the silent trees were the only witnesses to her journey.

  Late in the afternoon, Ping heard the sound of rushing water. She left the path to look for the stream. Three deer were drinking on the opposite bank. They didn’t notice Ping at first. Then suddenly they all looked up together. Ping thought she must have made a noise to disturb them, but the startled creatures weren’t looking in her direction. They were looking behind them. The trees were dense, their branches crisscrossed each other like latticework. Some of the dark branches moved. The deer darted away. Ping peered into the forest. Something was moving.

  An animal stepped out of the trees. It padded toward the edge of the stream on large paws. It stopped to sniff the air. It was huge. Its fur wasn’t yellow as she had been told, but honey-brown, striped with black bands. It crouched down and lapped at the water with a large, pink tongue. The markings on the animal’s lowered head were beautiful. They looked as if an artist had painted them on with a brush dipped in black ink. The tiger looked up. Though she hadn’t moved, hadn’t so much as taken a breath, Ping knew that it had heard her. It looked straight into her eyes. Its lips curled back, wrinkling the fur around its nose, making its white whiskers stand on end, baring its huge teeth. The tiger’s deep roar reverberated through the trees.

  The birds stopped singing. No small creatures rustled through the bushes. Everything was silent out of respect for the tiger’s terrible strength. She imagined its claws raking deep into her skin, those huge teeth tearing her flesh. The creature was designed to kill. The tiger took a step towards her. Ping looked into its eyes and felt her own power, her own strength. It wasn’t her destiny to be killed by a tiger. The creature roared again, then turned and stalked back into the forest.

  Ping drank from the stream. She should have felt the thread joining her to Kai by now. She hurried back to the path. The sun was low. She had to get to Ming Yang Lodge before dark. Ping had started her journey counting the days until she would be with Kai again, then she had counted the hours. At last she was able to estimate the time in minutes. She started to run.

  She was looking for the lights of Ming Yang Lodge, but there were none. She had expected the gates to be closed, guards to call out their customary challenge “Who presumes to disturb the peace of the Son of Heaven?” But the gates were wide open, and the watchtowers empty.

  Ping walked through the gates.

  • chapter twenty-five •

  BLOOD AND FIRE

  She became aware of a faint sound. It was like the

  highest notes of a flute played on a far mountain.

  Each note was so full of sadness and pain it made

  her heart ache.

  Ping entered the darkened Garden of the Purple Dragon. Even in the half-light, it looked like a different place to the one she had left a little more than two weeks ago. Where there had been garden beds of winter lilies and irises just beginning to open, now there was a huge, dark mound of earth. On top of the mound were the smouldering ashes of five fires and a large bronze cauldron lying on its side. The surrounding earth was trampled as if a crowd of people had been stamping and dancing on it, but there was no one around. Animal bones and fruit peel littered the ground. Cups and wine jars lay abandoned under shrubs. The smell of cold animal fat and ashes didn’t quite overwhelm the pungent traces of incense. Plants had been flattened, tree branches broken. A single duck quacking miserably beside a rubbish-filled pond, was the only sign of life.

  Ping had wondered what sort of reception she would receive when she returned to Ming Yang Lodge, but she hadn’t expected this. She couldn’t understand it. The Emperor’s festival to appease Heaven wasn’t due to start till the following day. Had she lost track of the days? Or had the Emperor been too impatient to wait for the auspicious day that the seers had set?

  Ping’s heart was pounding, panic rising in her throat. She still couldn’t feel the thread joining her to Kai.

  She went inside Ming Yang Lodge. It was dark and eerily quiet. She found a lamp and Hua lit it with one of his spitballs. She ran to the Dragon Quarters. Kai’s bed had been stripped of its blankets. His goatskin ball was lying on the floor.

  She ran to the dining hall. Hua scurried after her. It was empty. So were the kitchens. There were no servants. The pots and kettles were all packed away. The Chamber of Spreading Clouds was just as empty. The furniture was draped with cloths. There were no imperial guards anywhere. She went to the Princess’s chambers. They were completely bare. The chests and baskets of gowns, the boxes of jewellery and cosmetics were all gone. The wall hangings had been taken down, the mats and cushions removed. She ran along corridors, not knowing where she was going.

  She became aware of a faint sound. It was like the highest notes of a flute played on a far mountain. Each note was so full of sadness and pain it made her heart ache. It was Kai. He was calling to her. Something or someone was hurting him. Ping tried to work out where the flute notes were coming from, but the more she listened, the fainter they seemed.

  She felt a sense of foreboding spread over her like a cold sweat. Something bad was going to happen. She reached into her pouch to touch Danzi’s scale to calm herself. Instead her hand closed around the dragon stone shard. Her mind suddenly focused. It homed in on the faint sound like a well-aimed arrow seeking its target. She could feel the thread at last, tugging her, leading her towards Kai. She put down the lamp and strode forward, eyes closed. What she saw was just a distraction. She didn’t stop until a door barred her way.

  Ping opened her eyes. She knew exactly where she was. Behind the door was the Hall of Peaceful Retreat where the Longevity Council did their mysterious work—where she had seen the necromancer. She could hear the dragon’s voice in her mind, but there were no words, just low miserable moans.

  Ping pushed the door open. The room was lit by several lamps. She could see details that had been hidden in the dark on her previous visit. Symbols were painted on the walls—strangely shaped mushrooms, a woman carrying a tray of seven enormous peaches, the characters for never and decay. Ping recognised the sharp, sour smell from her previous visit. She remembered why it was familiar—she had smelt it in Wucheng.

  Bowls and jars were spread out on a bench. There was a mortar and pestle where someone had left off grinding tortoise shell to a powder, an open bamboo book and some dried plants. The unpleasant smell was coming from bowls containing dark, sinister mixtures. One bowl held a thick dark liquid in which Ping recognised birds’ feet, pine needles and pieces of dog flesh with fur still attached. Maggots squirmed in it. In another there was a rancid mixture of pig lard, teasel and black beetles. Alongside the bowl was a needle threaded with brown silk. This familiar tool seemed out of place. Hua sniffed a third bowl. It contained just one thing—a large, bloody liver. This wasn’t rotting. It was bathed in fresh blood. A piece had been hacked from it.

  Ping thought they must have been the elixirs and spells that the Longevity Council was experimenting with. Ping had always been uneasy about Liu Che’s obsession with longevity, she had worried about his health—now she was concerned more about his souls. But she didn’t have time to worry about the Emperor. Kai was all that mattered. The invisible thread pulled her towards the curtained doorway where the necromancer had been hidden on the night that the tower fell. Ping drew the curtain aside.

  The necromancer wasn’t there—but Kai was. There was just enough light from the other room to see him. He was strapped down on a bench. He slowly turned his head towards her. She ran to him. His green eyes were as dull as stagnant water. His lips were the colour of old meat. Blood was oozing from a gash in the little dragon’s tail. Ping gasped. The edges of the wound had been pinned back to stop it from healing. Drops of purple blood
dripped into a flask beneath the bench.

  “Ping.” The dragon’s voice was faint.

  Ping pulled the pins out of his tail and ripped the hem from her gown to bandage the wound. She picked Kai up, cradling him in her arms. He was barely conscious.

  “Who did this to you?” Tears were running down her face. She couldn’t speak without sobbing, so she said the words in her mind.

  “Bad man,” Kai replied.

  She knew who he meant.

  There would always be those who sought Kai, whether it was for the properties of his body parts or his value in gold. Her job was to protect him from such greedy people. She had failed. She had believed she and Kai were safe. It hadn’t occurred to her until it was too late that there might be enemies within the walls of Ming Yang Lodge.

  A feeling of dread struck Ping. She found it hard to breathe. She felt a prickling sensation on the back of her neck. Someone had come into the room. Someone who meant to harm Kai. She swung around, scanning the dim corners. She couldn’t see anyone. Hua made a sound, a squeal of warning. His fur was standing on end. He reared on his hind legs and launched a spitball. It missed its target, but in the brief flare of fire Ping saw what the rat had seen.

  A snake with black and orange markings was slithering across the floor. Kai whimpered. Ping could feel his fear as if it was a solid presence in the room. The snake was more than six feet long and as thick as a man’s arm. It raised its head. It only had one eye. There was a scar where its other eye should have been. The snake’s one yellow eye glinted in the lamplight staring at Hua. The rat froze, his paws were stuck to the floor, and he seemed unable to drag his eyes away from the yellow eye. Ping had seen a similar yellow glint high on the cliff at Twisting Snake Ravine. It had had that same effect on her. The snake turned away from Hua and towards Ping, its forked tongue darting in and out.

  The snake started to twist and shimmer. Ping felt her stomach heave as the snake transformed into a cloaked figure with a ginger beard, a tattooed face and a patch over one eye. He was holding a knife in one hand—a kitchen knife like the ones the imperial cooks used to cut up meat. In his other hand was the hacked-off piece of liver still dripping blood. Ping had seen the necromancer taken away from Ming Yang Lodge in chains. Somehow he had got free and he and the Imperial Magician had banded together.

  Without thinking Ping focused her qi on a large jar and sent it flying across the room. It hit the necromancer on the head and smashed to pieces. He sagged to his knees with a groan. Ping’s heart leapt. It was the first time she’d felt pleasure at hurting anything. His cloak slipped from his shoulders and she could see that he was wearing a strange vest. It was made up of flat squares of green jade. There were holes in the corners of each square and they were linked with what looked like gold wire. Liu Che had told her about the properties of jade. Important people were buried in suits of jade so that their bodies didn’t decay after they died. The jade shielded the corpses from forces trying to attack them. The jade vest had formed a shield which kept the necromancer hidden from her second sight until she was standing an arm’s-length from him.

  Claw-like black fingernails reached out for Kai, just as they had grasped for the dragon stone in Wucheng. She held the dragon tighter and summoned her qi power again. Anger burned within her like a pool of molten metal. She had never been so furious in her life. Still on his knees, the necromancer raised the knife ready to throw it. Ping released a burst of qi power. The knife leapt from his hand and clanged against the wall behind him. The tattoo on his face looked more like a tame cat than a fierce wild creature. There was fear in his one eye, instead of the hypnotic glint. Ping felt triumph swell within her.

  She moved towards him, rejoicing in the fact that he was on his knees before her. She got ready to strike again. Her foot collided with something. She looked down. It was an arm. In the dim light, she hadn’t seen a body lying on the matting. In the moments that she was distracted, the necromancer picked up a bronze pot and swung it at her, knocking her sideways.

  Ping hit the floor. It took a moment or two for her eyes to focus. She recognised the body on the floor. It was Saggypants. His face was white, his eyes wide and staring, but his skin was still warm. The Dragon Attendant’s jacket was pulled open and his saggy trousers slashed to lay bare his belly. His hands were bound above his head and tied to the bench leg. There was a large hole in the right-hand side of his stomach. Dark blood had formed congealed pools on the bamboo matting around him. Ping remembered the liver in the bowl. From the expression on his face, Ping was sure that the Dragon Attendant had still been alive when his liver had been cut out of him.

  She retched, but her stomach was empty. Nothing came out but a trickle of yellow bile. Kai was making a high-pitched keening sound. It was a sound of pain, terror and desolation. Ping tried to get up. Barbed metal discs spun through the air towards her. The barbs just missed her flesh, but pinned her sleeves to the floor so that she couldn’t get up. Her anger changed to fear, her own power had been smothered like a cupped flame.

  The necromancer had the threaded needle in his hand. He turned away from her, so she couldn’t see what he was doing. She heard him groan with pain and hoped she’d hurt him. She had to refocus her qi while he was distracted, gather together every shu of strength and power within her. She wrenched her left arm up from the floor, ripping her sleeve. Then she pulled out the barbed discs that pinned her to the floor. She got to her feet. Ping had never felt such anger. She sent out a bolt of qi and it was strong, much stronger than anything she’d been able to summon before. The necromancer staggered when it hit him, but when he turned towards her, a sound like a crackling bark came out of his mouth. It was laughter. Bolt after bolt shot from Ping’s arm. They were useless. Just a few minutes ago, the necromancer had resorted to hitting her with a bronze pot and using barbed discs to disable her. Something had changed. Now power radiated from him like heat from a blazing fire.

  She raised her hand again.

  “Keep trying,” the necromancer laughed as he moved towards her, the knife was back in his hand. “You won’t be able to bend back my little finger.”

  Ping tried anyway. He sucked her strength from her before she was able to focus it. She couldn’t summon a single bolt of qi. His one eye stared at her. She looked away. She had to avoid his stare. She had to escape or she would end up like the unfortunate Dragon Attendant. She couldn’t help Kai if she were dead. What little strength she had left, she used to run to the door and didn’t look back. She ran down corridors, up stairs, turning this way and that in the vain hope that she would lose the necromancer.

  She found herself outside the Emperor’s private quarters. It was forbidden to enter without being invited in by the Emperor, but the chambers were almost at the top of Ming Yang hill. There was nowhere else to go. She entered with the smallest hope that Liu Che might be there and would help her.

  The lattice doorways leading to the balcony were all closed. The sky was overcast. The lotus patterns of light on the matting were only faint grey. No lamps were lit. The furniture was draped with cloths.

  The feeling of dread hit her so hard, it knocked her off her feet. All hope drained from her. She turned around. The necromancer was standing in the doorway, his mouth twisted into a smile that had nothing to do with joy or happiness. Ping shuddered. His one eye glinted at her. It bored into her like a drill. She couldn’t tear her gaze away. She could see deep into his evil souls—and what she saw made her very afraid.

  His eye released her, but she still couldn’t get up. All she could see were the wooden floorboards squashed up against her face. The necromancer was still laughing, relishing his victory over her. He held the knife in front of him.

  As she stared at the dark floorboards, something appeared through one of the knot holes. It was so close that she couldn’t get it into focus. Then she saw that it was a trembling pink nose. A set of whiskers followed, then two bright blue eyes and two ears, one with a chunk missing. Hua had reco
vered and found her. He somehow managed to squeeze his body through the hole. The sight of the rat helped her find a little strength—just a trace, like a drop of water in an empty bucket.

  The necromancer walked unhurriedly across the room. He knelt down beside Ping and held the knife blade against her belly. An unlit lamp was the only thing in reach that she could use as a weapon. She grabbed it and struck him on the head. Oil ran into his eyes and onto his cloak. He swung the knife blindly at Ping. She rolled aside, but felt a searing pain as the blade slashed her right arm. There was a flash, followed a moment later by another. Hua was launching his spitballs. The necromancer’s cloak suddenly burst into flame. He let out a howl of pain and fear as the flames flicked up his face. He fought to undo the cloak’s clasp. His cries sounded like music to Ping.

  The necromancer flung his burning cloak from him. Flames spread to a cushion and then to a rug. The fire raced across the bamboo matting faster than a galloping horse. It flared up between Ping and the necromancer. Ping felt a wave of relief. He couldn’t get to her—but the fire also cut off any chance of escape. Through smoke and flames, Ping saw the necromancer turn and stride out of the room.

  As she ran out onto the balcony, she could feel the heat on the back of her neck. Tongues of fire were already licking through the latticework of the doors. She looked around frantically. There was no escape. Behind her was the roaring fire. In front was a drop of four chang to the courtyard below. Hua clawed his way up the back of her gown. He knew what she had to do. She leapt over the scarlet balustrade. There was no other choice.

  Ping fell headfirst. She could hear a tinkling sound over the rush of air. It was the waterfall that tumbled down the hillside into a pool far below. She felt a surge of joy. The pool would break her fall. She looked down. Her relief changed to panic. The pool wasn’t directly below her. She would hit the ground and break her neck. She closed her eyes. Something smacked into her, it wasn’t as hard as earth, but intense pain shot through her chest. She’d fallen into the branches of a willow tree. They didn’t break, but bent beneath her weight.