by Jeff Wheeler
She looked away, wondering how she could use this situation to her advantage. An idea struck her. “Will you bring Princess Cuifen to see me?” she asked.
There was that smell again, as soon as the name was mentioned.
“I cannot. She’s being transformed into a concubine,” Liekou said, the smell tinged with jealousy now.
“You have authority here. See that it’s done.”
He looked suspicious. “Why her?”
“I have my reasons. Echion is going to kill me tonight after I bring Xisi back. I just wish to speak with her and learn what I can about my friends.”
She sensed his distrust, but he was also intrigued, and he wanted to see the princess again. Bingmei hoped it was enough.
“I will try,” said Liekou.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Revealed
They came for her at midnight.
Bingmei had paced the chamber, looking for a way out of her situation. The door was guarded by Liekou, who had returned without Cuifen, his smell regretful, and refused to talk to her anymore. Bingmei had tried meditation to see if any new ideas came to her, a way to escape from Fusang. But without the magic of the phoenix to assist her in flying away, she could not see a way out. In her mind, she thought on her encounters with Grandfather Jiao and King Shulian.
The vision of her grandfather made her feel death was inevitable. Yet Shulian had seemed to think not all was lost. He’d believed she could still follow the phoenix’s will and cross the Death Wall.
Bingmei regretted that she hadn’t attempted it before. If she was going to die anyway, why not perish in an act that saved thousands of lives? Echion ruled beyond the Death Wall too, and her sacrifice might help her parents and her grandfather, Kunmia Suun, Prince Juexin, and countless others.
During her meditation, she poured out her soul to the phoenix, promising to do what she must. Yet her heart achieved no answer. No magic came to relieve her.
The sound of steps came from the exterior corridor.
Liekou stepped outside the chamber to see who was coming. Then he returned and said, “It is time.”
Bingmei sighed, disappointed not to have received her answer. Still dressed in the white robes from earlier, she joined Liekou by the door. She smelled a wave of bitter sadness and knew it belonged to Jidi Majia before she saw him. His eyes were swollen, as if he’d been crying.
He must have learned about the king’s death. Bingmei pursed her lips and nodded to him.
“The dragon will see you now,” Jidi Majia said.
Liekou gestured for her to go first. She smelled wariness about the warrior, a determination to bring her as he’d been commanded. He was expecting her to resist. But what could she do? If she fought him, he would strike a dianxue blow and render her helpless. No, she would face her fate with courage.
She followed Jidi Majia down the corridor. Staring out at the courtyard as she walked, she saw the night sky teeming with stars. The days were much longer now, and night seemed a fleeting thing. She wondered if, at the apex of summer, the sun would set at all in Fusang.
As they turned the corner and headed toward the rampart leading to the hall where Echion awaited them, she said in a low voice, “I’m sorry, Jidi Majia.”
He didn’t turn to face her, but she smelled a fresh wave of sadness from him. “The dragon consumed his body,” came the soft reply. “It was terrible to watch.”
A shudder went down her spine. “To what end? He was already dead.”
“I believe to assume his essence, his powers. It’s how he understands his enemies. They become part of him. Their wisdom, their memories. It made him sick. He’s only just recovered.”
That last thought was accompanied by a tart scent, a gratified feeling that his old master had at least caused the dragon some discomfort.
“I wish I had listened to you last year,” Bingmei said with a sigh. “I’m sorry.”
Jidi Majia said, “Maybe in another thousand years the people will have another chance.”
The sentiment made her wince with shame and regret, although she could do nothing to change the past.
The moon had just appeared over the wall surrounding the palace, filling the courtyard with silvery light. Dread and apprehension consumed her. After crossing the bulwark, they reached the side door of the palace. Bingmei smelled flowers, but beneath it she picked up the scent of Princess Cuifen, who was hidden in the shadows behind a pillar.
A hand closed around Bingmei’s upper arm, stopping her.
“Tell Master we’ve come,” said Liekou.
Jidi Majia turned and looked at the two of them with confusion, but he went to the door ahead of them and opened it.
“This is the best I could do,” Liekou whispered. “You sense her?”
“I do,” Bingmei replied. They walked together, Liekou’s hand still gripping her arm, and went to the pillar.
“Your Majesty,” Bingmei said as Cuifen appeared around the pillar, her eyes fearful.
She was almost unrecognizable in the finery of Fusang’s court, the same fancy robes that Bingmei had been dressed in upon her arrival, her hair pinned up with tassels and wooden combs.
“Hello, Bingmei,” said Cuifen in a tremulous voice. She glanced at Liekou and then looked down. A roselike smell came from her. It was a small smell, barely noticeable through the smell of fear, but Bingmei realized that Cuifen had feelings for Liekou as well. The two of them stared at each other a moment too long.
“You wished to see me?” Cuifen said, her eyes shifting back to Bingmei.
“I wished to tell you that I’m sorry,” Bingmei said. “I had sworn to protect you, but I could not even protect myself.”
“I bear you no resentment, Bingmei,” said Cuifen. “All of us were vulnerable to the darkness.” She glanced at Liekou again.
The floral scent coming from the warrior grew stronger, although it was layered with jealousy and resentment. He did not want Echion to have Cuifen, but he still struggled against his feelings. He knew what they could cost him. She felt his grip on her arm tighten.
“Do you know what became of my friends?” Bingmei asked.
The princess shook her head. “I was abducted shortly after you, but we passed huge war ships after leaving the range of the darkness. I fear the dragon is unstoppable now.”
The door opened, and Jidi Majia’s face appeared in the doorway. “Come,” he insisted.
Cuifen slipped back into the shadows behind the meiwood pillar, and Liekou pulled Bingmei toward the door.
“She cares for you,” Bingmei whispered to him.
Her words affected him as she’d intended, and he let out a hiss of breath.
“It’s not too late,” she whispered again as they reached the threshold. “Help me escape.”
“Neither of us would make it down those steps alive,” he countered, stepping over the threshold. He tugged her with him, and she had only a moment to lift her foot. His feelings were writhing like a basketful of snakes, although his exterior was calm.
The inner sanctum glowed with light from the sigils carved into the meiwood pillars. She saw Echion pacing within, his expression smug and alert. She sensed the Phoenix Blade in the room, and then she saw it. It had been hidden high in the rafters, the blade resting in the jaws of a wooden dragon carved out of meiwood.
Liekou released her arm and then stood by Jidi Majia at the doorway.
“You are dismissed,” Echion told the two men, who bowed and then retreated out the door. It shut ominously behind them.
She stood still, her flowing robes settling around her body, and looked upon the two tombs. Once again, she felt the impulse to raise Xisi.
“Did you enjoy your pathetic attempt to thwart my plans?” said Echion. The reek of his smell struck her forcibly again. Part of him smelled like tree sap, but it was such a faint smell compared to his overpowering stench that she wouldn’t have noticed it if she hadn’t remembered the experience with Shulian so vividly. �
��He was easily dispatched. Your defiance accomplished nothing.”
Although he meant the words, she didn’t believe them. Shulian had died revealing to her a great truth. She was in control of how she responded to things. Although Echion might turn into a dragon and consume her as well, she did not have to give in to her fear.
Bingmei started forward, even though she wanted to flee.
“We’re all powerless against you,” she said. “Does that take the fun out of it?”
He chuckled to himself, though it was a bitter sound. “Of course one with such a limited view of life would conclude that I do this out of a sense of . . . enjoyment. No, it is the challenge that motivates me.”
Bingmei cocked her head, still approaching him.
“I understand Shulian’s motivation. I’ve . . . tasted it before. He gave his kingdom to his less ambitious son. I’ve already forgotten his name. Weak-willed. Devout. Always seeking to please his father’s whims. Dutiful.” Bingmei could smell how Echion despised those words. “And within a few years, the younger brother would have started a war. I’ve seen it happen over and over. The brothers would have struggled, locked onto each other’s throats in a choking grip, until one or both were dead. They would have destroyed all their father built. Now, if Shulian were truly wise, he would have named the younger son king and poisoned the elder. But he couldn’t do that.” He had reached her now, his look arrogant.
Bingmei gazed up at him. “Because he loved both of his sons.”
“Yes. And love is blindness. It is the greatest lie. I’ve tested the mettle of men like Shulian for centuries, and the same lessons have emerged again and again. Love doesn’t work. Ruthlessness prevails. Cruelty triumphs. Fear is the only thing that wins respect, honor, and obedience. I’ve tried it all, Bingmei. Benevolence and mercy.” He chuffed as if a bitter thing were in his mouth. “Those are the seeds of rebellion. Every civilization breeds its own self-destruction. I have founded my kingdom on the only principles sure to delay the devastation. The Iron Rules. It is my goal to understand and apply all the facets of order so that my kingdom will ultimately create perfection. Every citizen must have a duty. Each duty must be performed with precision.”
She wasn’t sure why he was telling her all this, but part of her believed that he simply enjoyed the act of boasting. She could sense that he cared nothing at all for the people he ruled.
He spread out his arms. “Do you not see the splendor of what I’ve created? A palace built to withstand the ravages of time. This place has seen earthquakes. It has withstood glaciers. And, like my empire, it will remain for all seasons and for all eternity. Each time I’ve been reborn, I’ve managed to keep my empire running for longer. I’ve learned to bridle the greed of men like Budai as one would harness a horse. But one immutable law rules all of civilization. The universe itself must remain in balance, or it spins into chaos. And that is why you are here, Bingmei.”
He reached out and pointed to the other crypt.
“Bring her back.”
He said the words with such loathing that she recoiled.
“Power must be held by two or none at all,” Echion said, his tone commanding but full of hatred and animosity. It smelled like vomit and made her sick inside.
“But you cannot stand her,” Bingmei said in disgust.
His eyebrows arched. “Does that even matter? It is the only way to achieve my full dominion. Raise her from that bier. You will do this.”
He turned and walked back to the crypt. Bingmei had opened his tomb with the help of three others, but he grabbed the marble cover of Xisi’s tomb with two hands and hoisted it off as if it weighed no more than a plank. His muscles bulged with strength as he set the lid down effortlessly.
Bingmei gaped at him. The action released the same spicy smell that had risen from his tomb. She hadn’t smelled his darkness, his depravity, until his corpse was revived.
If she did this, his power would be even stronger. Now that she was here, she balked at the task.
“Come, Bingmei,” he said, his arm outstretched to her. “Wake your queen.”
In her mind, she thought of the marble plinth outside the hall, the one with the carvings of twin dragons on it. It was a testament of their combined strength and power. They ruled the skies as well as the seas and the land. His command made her shudder.
“Come, Bingmei,” he said in a dangerous voice.
“Please, no,” she murmured in despair. “Do not make me.”
His lips curled back, revealing unnaturally sharp teeth. She could sense his hunger, his rapacious appetite. He wanted to consume her, to sate his hunger if only for a brief moment. Smoke began to ooze from his pores again, the dragon straining to come out.
He reached out with one hand, palm tipped up to the ceiling, and she heard the singing of metal and sensed the Phoenix Blade rushing toward his hand. Her yearning for it melted her heart. She reached out, trying to summon it to her palm as she’d done before, but the blade shot straight into his hand instead, and shoving against his will felt like pushing against solid stone. The Phoenix Blade crackled with energy as its magic was invoked.
The sword tugged at her, the craving for it so strong she felt herself walking toward it. Walking toward him. Tears ran down her cheeks.
Echion smiled with victory, gripping the blade.
When she reached the stone tomb, her legs were shaking. The power of the palace radiated around her, pressing in on her.
“Do it!” he commanded.
Bingmei stared down into the crypt at the shrunken figure garbed in colorful silk that had so many different hues it was difficult to pick a dominant one. The corpse was bedecked as royalty. It was clear she had not suffered from the winter sickness. Her skin was darker than Echion’s, her hair black as jet. The skin was stretched so tightly across her skeletal face Bingmei was surprised it hadn’t ripped with the strain. The bony hands had long, sharp-ended metal covers on the smallest fingers. The hair was braided and held up by a crowning wreath of wooden stays that made it fan out. There was a rune tattoo on the middle of the forehead.
Bingmei, overcome by the weight of the power pressing on her, knelt by the side of the bier, her limbs weak, her willpower wilting. She gazed up at Echion pleadingly, but he stood over her, sword upraised as if he were about to execute her. If only he would!
Sobbing, she knelt by the sarcophagus and pressed her hand against the cool stone to steady herself.
“Draw the rune,” Echion said.
Bingmei felt her arm lift, as if a hand—once again—were guiding hers. Strangely, it felt right, as if she should not resist the invisible touch. She didn’t trust the sensation but was unable to stop herself. Using her tears as water, she traced the rune as she’d done before, her finger moving on its own.
When she was done, she felt relief.
A voice whispered to her the words she’d heard Shulian say.
Yes, a sword shall pierce through your own soul also. That the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed.
Thunder crackled in the sky beyond the palace, and she felt the power of it in her knees. The wind began to howl, and a tingling, deadening sensation shot up her arm and into her heart.
The sound of a delighted sigh came from within the crypt.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Power and Posterity
Bingmei fought to stay alive. The pain from invoking the magic was even worse this time, and it felt like needles were jabbing each fingertip. She could sense every clench and release of her heart, and each one was slower than the one before it. Dizziness and excruciating pain washed over her, and she slumped against the side of the sarcophagus. The magic was ripping her souls from her body in a slow, aching release. Part of her longed to accept the soft embrace of death, but her role in this was not done.
A new smell filled the room, and she knew it was Xisi, the queen reborn. It was the smell of jealousy, animosity, spite, malice, vengeance—all these smells roiled into one. But the most pro
minent of the smells was hatred, a fiery hatred that used all the other emotions as fuel. It stank like charred meat, burnt vegetables, and cinders. It made her gag.
“There,” said Echion with triumph. “The empress has returned at long last. Hail, Queen of the Night.”
“It took you long enough to bring me back, Echion. Were you even trying?”
Her voice sounded like the smooth strains of a flute, yet it was punctuated by vindictive jabs.
Bingmei lifted her head, and her vision swam as her souls stretched to leave her body. Still, she clung to the mortal fabric of it. The pricks of pain were agonizing, but she accepted the cost and greeted it as a sign she was still alive.
“You thought I would strand you in the Grave Kingdom permanently? If only I could.”
“You could and you did, grave lord. And I mean that in its double sense. I’ve come back to the mortal world at last. How I missed this earthy shell.” Bingmei could hear silk ruffling. “And how I loathe you.”
“You were more silent as a corpse,” said Echion. “Here we are, clawing and raking at each other—”
“Like two dragons,” she interrupted. “Isn’t that what we sold our souls to become? You hate me; and I despise you. That wasn’t part of the bargain, yet we should have foreseen it. You were never satisfied by anything.”
“How could I be when you never sought to please me? You’re a vain, spiteful woman.”
“You chose me, not the other way,” she said with a sly tone.
“If I’d known you didn’t have a heart but a fissure of stone, I would not have.”
Her laughter sounded like tinkling bells, which belied the venom behind it. The pain started to ebb from Bingmei’s heart. The dizziness began to pass. Their snarling and snapping were only amplifying the disgust she smelled in each of them.
“If you’d chosen someone milder, she would not have survived the first transformation. You cannot bear having a rival, an equal in power.”
“You are not my equal in power.”
“But I am, and that is what galls you the most. The bridge of immortality was crossed. You alone could not cross it.”