by Jeff Wheeler
“Well done! Try it one more time.”
She unloosed the knot and did as he asked. The knot held. He beamed at her. “We’ll tie one of the ropes around your waist before you jump, and I’ll secure it to one of the trees on this side. Once you’ve made it across, I’ll throw a second one over to you.”
She nodded quickly, warmed by his confidence in her. By that scent of plum sauce. He secured the other end of the rope to a thick tree while she took off her pack with the Phoenix Blade. She left the staff with Mieshi.
Quion prepared another coil and tied it off higher up on the tree. “We’ll still hold on while you jump, but it’s best to be safe.”
Bingmei nodded. She looked at the others, feeling her nerves tighten, then shifted her focus to Jiaohua. “Any sign of pursuers?”
He shook his head no. Quion left the line loose enough that she could jump, and he and Marenqo both took hold of some of the slack. Bingmei blinked quickly, trying to banish her nerves, not liking that everyone was staring at her. That everyone was depending on her.
She took a few steps back from the edge of the river, then fished her hand into her pocket for the reassuring shape of the meiwood cricket.
Except she hoped she wouldn’t need it. Her phoenix power, the one that had saved them at the caves, allowed her to fly. Sometimes. Crossing the river that way would be so much easier. She pictured herself floating on the breeze, soaring across the noisy river. Nothing happened. There was no prickling sensation down her spine. No swell of magic in her breast. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force the magic to come to her aid.
But it was a temperamental magic, and it did not come.
“You can do it,” Quion said coaxingly.
She sighed in frustration. The magic came when it wanted to. Not when she needed it.
Opening her eyes, she stared at the other side of the river. She gritted her teeth and took a deep breath. Sizing up the distance again, she took another step backward. Then she rubbed the cricket in her pocket and ran toward the river, feeling the magic swell in her legs. Her confidence surged as she pumped her arms and pushed herself as hard as she could. She could do this. She could reach the other side. She had to.
She leaped off the edge and soared through the air, feeling the thrill of the magic as she vaulted over the river. The churning water was beneath her, seething and frothing as it buffeted the rocks. One of the crooked-back bears down below lifted its head to watch her. She was flying, soaring, giddy with the feeling. But a sickening sensation quickly replaced the excitement as she realized she wasn’t going to make it to the other side.
Someone cried her name as she crashed into the frigid waters.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Grave Kingdom
Bingmei had just enough time to suck in a final breath before she was enveloped by the glacial water. The cold penetrated to her bones, and then she felt the impact of a river boulder against her knees. Reaching out, she grabbed at the rock, but the current yanked her away before she could get a hold. Her back smashed against another rock, whipping her around and tangling her in the rope. The noise of the falls was muted in her waterlogged ears, but she knew it was only a matter of moments before she’d fall to her death.
Pain knifed in her middle. The river was pummeling against her back, but the rope stopped it from carrying her away. Through the cold fogging her mind, she realized the pain was caused by the rope digging into her stomach. She lifted one leg and felt another boulder in front of her. Pushing against it with all her might, she managed to bring her head out of the water.
The river wasn’t as deep as she’d first imagined, but if she went over the falls, there’d be no coming back. Water smashed against her. Turning her head, she saw Quion, Marenqo, and Jiaohua all pulling hard on the rope to keep her from going off the edge. Their faces contorted with the effort, but they were strong enough to hold her. As she watched, Quion led the others in wrapping more of the rope around a tree to use up the slack.
Bingmei trembled with the cold. She was near the far bank, although the waters had swept her more toward the middle than she would have liked. Carefully, she turned herself around. The river continued crashing into her, but she could see boulders beneath the water. She reached for the first one and, with effort, pulled herself onto it. She gasped for breath, feeling every part of her body quivering. But she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t relent. She saw another boulder, close enough to step onto, and so she did. The bank was closer now.
She heard someone shouting to her, and the only word she could make out above the noise of the falls was “cricket.” The terror of the moment had driven it completely from her mind. Balancing on the rock, she reached into her pocket, stroked the artifact, and then her legs shot her onto the far bank, where she landed amidst the rocks and saplings.
Her whole body was racked with shivers, but she couldn’t change into warm clothes. Her pack was on the other side. She had to move quickly before she lost all sense of reason. Hastening to the tree Quion had pointed out to her, she worked at the knot around her waist. Her fingers were numb. Her hair dripped water into her eyes.
Why hadn’t the magic saved her? She felt abandoned and a little resentful, but she couldn’t think about that now. She needed to hurry.
After releasing the knot, she wrapped the rope around the tree near its roots. For a moment, she couldn’t remember the knot Quion had taught her, but the words seemed to spring into her mind in his voice.
Around, under, back, and through.
She quickly tied the knot, and it looked like the one he had taught her. Looking up, she saw Quion adjusting his knot on the other end, ensuring the rope was taut between the two trees. He then took the other coil and flung it across the river to her. She quickly wrapped the rope around a thick, sturdy upper branch.
She failed at her first attempt to tie the knot. But her second effort held. Bingmei shivered from the cold. She knew she ought to keep moving, but fatigue overwhelmed her. Instead, she squatted down as she watched her friends scramble on the other side of the river, preparing to cross the makeshift rope bridge. Sleep was all she craved, but she kept her eyes open, watching as Mieshi grabbed Bingmei’s pack and started across.
The lines sagged a bit, but Mieshi was nothing if not determined. She gripped the top rope and scuttled across.
Bingmei’s lids grew heavier and heavier. The trilling of a bird sounded behind her, so peaceful and mild that she found herself smiling, her eyes drifting shut at last. Sleep, blissful sleep. The noise of the falls faded.
She dreamed.
Darkness engulfed her. Murmuring voices filled her ears. She felt as if she were walking deep in the Dongxue. The light increased gradually, and she discovered she was in a huge city, the buildings impossibly tall, and the sky above hazy with smoke. Smoke trailed through the streets as well, reminding her of Wangfujing when it had been under attack by the Qiangdao. People surrounded her, all of them walking together in the same direction, but despite their united sense of purpose, they looked confused and smelled . . . wrong. It was as if they were somehow incomplete. As if some essential part of them was missing.
They all followed each other past the towering gray buildings lined with shuttered windows. The shutters were intricately patterned, the windows in different sizes and widths, although all were too narrow to pass through. At the next crossing, an iron effigy of a black dragon loomed above the passageway, anchored on all four corners to the surrounding buildings. The sight sent a chill down her spine. Could Echion see his minions through it? Or was it merely a reminder to the denizens of the Grave Kingdom of his authority? At the intersection, people mingled and began asking one another if they’d seen this person or that. A couple of them turned around in complete circles, their faces twisted with confusion.
As Bingmei reached the crossing, a sweet, familiar smell reached her through the tart scent of anxiety. It was a smell she had hardly ever experienced since leaving her grandfather’s quonsuun. A s
mell from her childhood. Warm porridge and cinnamon. It made her mouth water, and the crowd seemed to part ahead, revealing a woman.
Mother.
She looked different from how she had in life, but Bingmei recognized her in an instant. Her heart leaped in her bosom. She tried to run through the crowd, but the people pressed in around her, still hurrying forward, and blocked her mother from sight.
Bingmei felt desperate. The smell was so strong, so powerful, it nearly choked her with grief and longing. She pushed herself through the throng, trying to reach the source of the smell.
A little parting opened, and then she saw her mother standing before her, eyes gleaming with happiness.
“Baobei!” sighed Bingmei’s mother, clutching her, stroking her hair.
“Mama?” Bingmei said, overwhelmed by the sensation of being held by her mother again after all this time.
The crowd subsumed them, and they had no choice but to continue walking, arms locked together, following the flow of the crowd.
“Where are we?” Bingmei said, trying to make sense of their strange surroundings.
“This is the Grave Kingdom,” said her mother. They walked with urgency, like the others. The impulse to do so was impossible to deny.
“Have I died?” Bingmei asked with horror.
“No, baobei. Dearest. No. Not yet. But you’ll be coming here soon. We all must come here.”
“Where is Baba?”
“I don’t know.” Mother’s smile dropped away. “I can’t find him. There are so many people here. It’s easy to get lost. But when you arrive, I will come for you. Don’t be afraid, Bingmei. We must all enter the Grave Kingdom eventually.”
“But where are we going?” Bingmei asked. She tried to look at the others and saw it was a horde of women. They all had the same frantic look, as if they were searching for lost loved ones. She saw no side streets, just the one avenue lined with high walls, all the windows barred.
“Why am I here if I’m not yet dead?” Bingmei asked. She tried to stop walking, but the flow of the crowd continued to press against her. She wanted to hug her mother, to sob and linger, but she felt as if time were spilling out like a ruptured water bag.
“This happens before people die, baobei. I dreamed of the Grave Kingdom too. My mother came to warn me days before Baba and I found ourselves here. I was worried about what would happen to you, my child, but Mother told me someone else would take care of you.”
“What?” Bingmei asked, her heart clenching with anticipation.
“Kunmia Suun is here,” said her mother with a smile. “She became your mother for me.”
“Can I see her? Where is she?” Bingmei asked, her heart swelling painfully.
“Not yet, baobei. Soon. You will see her soon.”
Bingmei looked away for a second, trying to spot Kunmia in the crowd, and when she looked back, her mother was no longer at her side. She twisted around frantically, searching for her, but there was only the throng. The endless crowd of women searching, seeking, overwhelmed with despair.
“Mama!” Bingmei shouted, frantic and anxious.
She felt her throat tighten, and suddenly she couldn’t breathe.
“Drink, Bingmei,” Mieshi urged, pressing the flask to her mouth. Bingmei coughed and spluttered. “Good, wake up!”
Light stabbed her eyes. The sun was directly overhead, indicating it was afternoon. She winced, blinking, and held her hand up.
“Drink some more,” Mieshi said.
Bingmei gulped down the tepid liquid. The water tasted leathery, but it warmed her up from the inside. She noticed she was wearing a different set of clothes—her favorite red shirt and the dusky pants she liked to travel in. Her boots were leaning against a boulder, but the woolens on her feet were dry and warm. She lay in a strong patch of sunlight on a flat rock that felt warm to the touch. The warmth seeped into her clothes and her body. The roughness of the stone against her palm tickled her skin, bringing back the sensations of life.
It struck her that she didn’t feel the stabbing pain she’d experienced each time she’d left her body in the past. Why? Had it been a normal dream, different from the waking visions she’d experienced? Or was it because the vision was of the Grave Kingdom itself?
“Where are the others?” Bingmei asked after swallowing more water.
“On the other side of those boulders,” she said, waving a hand at them. “You can still hear the falls, can’t you?”
Bingmei concentrated for a moment, listening, then nodded.
“I didn’t think you’d want all the men seeing you unclothed while I changed you out of your wet things,” Mieshi said with a smirk. “I know I wouldn’t have.”
“Thank you,” Bingmei said, relieved but still perplexed. She reached for the other woman’s arm. “Was I . . . dead?”
The words startled Mieshi. “No. You shivered the whole time. I never once thought we’d lost you.”
Bingmei stared at her in surprise.
“What’s wrong?” Mieshi asked.
Bingmei shook her head. She didn’t understand it herself. Had she actually been to the Grave Kingdom, or was it just a strange dream?
Some of the younger girls, the students, approached the rock, peeking up at them. “She’s awake!” one of them called out.
Marenqo joined them, kneeling on the warm stone. “Well done, Bingmei. You managed to scare not only us half to death, you also scared away the bears! With all the shouting we did, they ran off, leaving the salmon for Quion’s spear. I’m going to ask him to catch some for supper after everyone has crossed over.”
“Food?” Mieshi asked with disgust. “Again?”
“It’s always a good day when you’re alive for another meal, Mieshi,” he replied. “I need to cross over again and help bring more children.” He darted a glance at Mieshi. “Damanhur made it across.”
“I wasn’t worried,” Mieshi said, but Bingmei smelled her relief. With one arm, the maneuver would have been more difficult for him.
“I’m glad you’re safe,” he said, touching Bingmei’s shoulder. “And dressed. I’ll be back soon.”
Mieshi stood and reached down to help Bingmei to her feet. The motion sent a piercing wave of pain through her head that settled as a headache, but she fought it off and walked over to her sopping-wet clothes. Mieshi had slung them over a rock. The cricket was still nestled in the pocket. Bingmei transferred it to her new outfit. Her pack sat on another boulder, along with her staff and the Phoenix Blade, the gold hilt blinding in its brilliance. She studied the creature emblazoned on the hilt and pommel. Looking at it gave her a feeling of foreboding, amplified by the dream of the Grave Kingdom.
It had warmed her heart to see her mother again, to smell the sweet porridge scent of her love. But what strange words she’d spoken. What ominous words. Mother had presaged Bingmei’s coming death. She’d made it sound like it would happen soon.
Bingmei smelled Rowen before she saw him. He circled around the boulder, his expression full of anxiety as he gazed at her. To her surprise, he took the last few steps at a run and pulled her into an embrace. The act of intimacy startled not only her but Mieshi too. The scent of fresh-baked bread mingled with the perplexity that was emanating from Mieshi.
“I’m all right,” she said, pulling back.
“They’re coming up the trail,” Rowen said worriedly. “Jiaohua’s spies just warned us. Not everyone has crossed yet.”
Bingmei was already shaking her head. “I want everyone across. We leave no one to get captured.”
He put his hand on her shoulder. “There might not be enough time! I think we need to cut the ropes so that they can’t cross over.”
Bingmei stepped around the large boulder, which blocked her view of the other shore. Quion still stood on the far bank with Jiaohua and a few others. There were two crossing over, walking cautiously on the swaying rope as they shuffled ahead, clutching the rope overhead, hand over hand. Marenqo waited near the tree for his turn
to cross back.
“How much time do we have?” Bingmei asked.
“If more than two cross at once, the rope sags into the river,” Rowen said. He shook his head. “I’m not being heartless, Bingmei. Just practical. What’s the point in crossing the river if we leave the bridge intact?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Into the Void
Bingmei frowned in frustration and shook her head no. “We don’t leave them,” she said. “Everyone gets to cross.”
“Bingmei . . .” Rowen sighed.
She pointed her finger at him, silencing him with a Mieshi-like glare, and then stormed toward the edge of the falls. Looking across the river, she saw movement in the trees. Their enemies were too close. She seethed with impatience, watching as Quion lined up another two people to make the crossing. Of course he was still focused on others’ safety. That was just like him, and while she found his selflessness endearing, it made her stomach churn with dread.
What would she do if he were captured?
She saw Rowen moving toward the tree, a hand on the hilt of his knife. She smelled his frustration. Would he sever the ropes on his own, defying her?
“Rowen,” she said warningly.
Maybe he didn’t hear her. Maybe he pretended not to.
She reached into her pocket and rubbed her thumb across the cricket, bounding over Rowen’s head and landing by the tree anchoring the ropes. A man and a young girl had just reached the shore.
She put herself between the exiled prince and the knots she’d tied.
They met each other’s gaze. “You know it’s the right thing to do. We’re out of time,” he said in a low voice.
“I don’t accept that,” she said. “We can’t abandon our friends.”
“There is no more time!” he shot back at her.
And that was when Bingmei noticed the eagle perched in a tree on the other side of the river. It had a blazing orange beak, white plumage at its head, and dark brown feathers across the rest of its body. She noticed another. And another. Four massive eagles. One of them lifted itself up and spread its wings, the sight making her gasp. Its wingspan was wider than she was tall. The birds looked powerful and savage, almost otherworldly because of it.