by Jeff Wheeler
“That’s the one,” Rowen said.
“We’re almost there. It’s abandoned still, I think. The work crews are cultivating the imperial gardens on the south side of the palace first.”
“Let’s go,” Bingmei insisted, increasing her speed. She didn’t look back at Liekou, but she knew he was there, keeping his distance. She dreaded he’d call out and order her to stop.
He didn’t, nor did he stop pursuing them.
When they reached the corner of the palace grounds, the covered walkway opened to a small terraced garden. The trees were still alive, which proved the power of the dragon’s magic, but the lawns were brown and decayed, and the smell of peat moss made her furrow her nose. There was no main gate to the garden, and there were no gardeners present either.
In the center of the garden was the pavilion Rowen and Jidi Majia had spoken of. Stone railings set at abrupt angles surrounded it, with four stone staircases leading up to it. The interior of the pavilion was made of meiwood lattices painted red, which concealed anyone taking shelter inside the pavilion. It was an excellent place to hide.
As she crossed the threshold into the garden, she was relieved to smell the sour odor of Jiaohua hiding in the bushes by the entrance. Other members of the Jingcha were also hidden within the bushes by the gate.
She caught the smell of Muxidi just before he emerged from the pavilion. He no longer reeked of murder and death, although there was still blackness in his soul. His lips pursed when he saw her, and she felt guilt and relief battle within him for a moment.
She approached him, Jidi Majia alongside her, and they met at the bottom of the steps.
“It is nearly noon,” Muxidi said. “We were getting worried.”
Bingmei felt his strong sense of purpose, his willingness to sacrifice himself so that she might escape. His whole bearing had altered. He looked nobler now, more self-assured.
He glanced over her shoulder, his face twisting into a scowl.
Liekou had entered the garden.
Bingmei held up her hand, turning slightly so they were both within her view. “Do not attack him,” she said.
Liekou’s brow lifted. “How did you get in here?”
“We’re going to escape,” Bingmei said, turning to face him. “We plan on taking Cuifen, and you may come with us if you’d like. This is your only chance, Liekou. You could not save me, but I can save you.”
She smelled his wariness along with the growing anger from her friends and allies. The others wanted to hurt him, to take vengeance on him. They had not forgotten his dogged pursuit. One of the Jingcha had been killed in the river crossing, and he’d slain Mieshi too, only to raise her.
She saw Marenqo step around a stout tree, tapping his staff against his open palm. Mieshi emerged next, her eyes full of vengeance as she stared at Liekou. Damanhur was behind her, and although Bingmei wasn’t sure whether they’d reconciled, he was clearly still furious on her behalf. His one hand wielded his sword.
Liekou did not look threatened, but she smelled the sour scent of worry. He dropped into a martial pose, an elegant cat stance, his fingers splayed in the tiger-hands technique.
“Is that your choice?” Bingmei said. “You’d rather stay Echion’s slave?”
“I’d rather not be his eunuch,” Liekou said. “You think this small band can best him?”
“Yes,” Quion said, stepping outside the pavilion. “We do.”
Her heart leaped with courage upon hearing his familiar voice and smelling his fishy smell. They were all here. They’d risked their lives to save her. If she got the chance, she’d do the same for them.
Bingmei shook her head slightly as Jiaohua raised his blowgun to his lips.
Liekou looked at Muxidi with open distrust in his eyes. “You turned on the master?”
“I’ve endured the cost of serving him,” Muxidi said. “Fear and death. He blinds men to do his will. My eyes have been opened. She is the phoenix-chosen. She’s our only hope.”
Liekou’s lip curled. “She’s not much to believe in.”
Bingmei took a step closer to him. “I could have told Echion about you and Cuifen,” she said. “I sense your heart, Liekou. You’re conflicted. You don’t want her to be one of his concubines. And Xisi plans to murder her.” His face remained impassive, but his heart sprayed out a desperate, worried smell. She came closer. “I could have betrayed you to them, and you’d be one of his eunuchs right now. But I didn’t.” She gave him a forceful look. “If Cuifen stays here, she will die. Maybe even today after the ceremony. Come . . . with . . . us.”
He tilted his head, his eyes full of doubt. “You could be lying.”
“You know I’m not.”
His resistance faltered. He abandoned the martial stance. “I can’t let him have her,” he whispered.
“Then go get her.”
His brow furrowed even more. “You would trust me?”
She took another step. “I know when someone is lying. You cannot conceal it from me. If you swear on your souls that you will get her and come back, that you will not betray us, then yes . . . you can go.”
She saw Jiaohua’s nostrils flare with disbelief.
But what she smelled was the sweet-cake aroma of possibility. For the first time, Liekou believed he might, just might, be able to escape with the woman he loved. He didn’t want Cuifen to be enslaved to Echion, and he absolutely didn’t want her to be murdered by Xisi. The jealousy and resentment faded from his scent, and hope flamed in his heart like fire.
The sound of a loud gong rumbled from the center of the palace grounds. It repeated a second time, long and still.
Liekou blanched. Fear replaced his other emotions.
“It’s the ceremony,” Jidi Majia said. “They’ve started it early.”
“No,” Liekou replied, shaking his head. “That’s the alarm,” he said, looking at her. “The whole palace is under alert now. You’ll never escape.”
But his smell hadn’t changed. Jiaohua had lowered the blowgun, but he raised it again abruptly. The warrior turned as the dart shot toward him, his hand thrusting up faster than a bird. He caught the dart midair, just before the point struck the flesh of his neck. He gave Jiaohua a warning look.
“I know another way out of the palace,” he said to them. “A place where there are no guards.”
It was the truth.
Bingmei cocked her head, the beginnings of a smile on her mouth. “Where?”
“There is a garden on a hill behind the palace. It’s secret. Only the most trusted members of his ensign know of it.” He gave Muxidi a mocking smile. “Is that how you came in?”
Muxidi shook his head no. “We came in through the servant gates.”
Liekou nodded. “Those will be guarded. But not the secret gate leading to the hill. Follow the moat along the north wall until you reach the statue of the dragon. Wait there. Stay out of sight from the guards patrolling the wall. If I don’t report to Echion immediately, I’ll be executed.” He looked into Bingmei’s eyes. “But I will get Cuifen, and I’ll come back. I promise you.”
She could smell the distrust all around her. But Liekou wasn’t lying.
“Go. We’ll wait at the dragon statue.”
Liekou bowed and then retreated from the garden. No one attempted to stop him, but Jiaohua looked at her incredulously. Many of them did.
“Rowen,” Bingmei said, and he emerged immediately from a haze of smoke.
She turned to Muxidi. “Take the meiwood spider and follow him. See that he honors his word.”
Muxidi nodded, and Rowen handed him the meiwood charm.
Turning to Jidi Majia, Bingmei said, “Go to the concubines’ garden and get Eomen. Bring her to the dragon sculpture. Hurry, Jidi Majia. We only have this one chance.”
“I will,” he answered solemnly.
Bingmei sighed as she turned to the others. “We have to trust him.”
Damanhur stepped forward, sheathing his sword. He smelled doubtful
and worried. “No, Bingmei. We’re trusting you. With our lives.”
She saw Marenqo approaching her, holding the rune staff out to her for the second time. The sight of Kunmia Suun’s staff brought Damanhur’s words home to her. If she failed, they all did. If she failed, the dragon would win. Again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Hunter and Prey
Tension filled the palace grounds following the sounding of the gongs. Worry throbbed inside Bingmei’s heart. Even if they did escape Fusang, hunters would be sent out to find them. The dragon and his queen could search the surrounding area from the air. She was weary of always being on the run, but escape was her first thought. One step at a time. She could not worry about tomorrow if it never came.
As they carefully made their way through the abandoned passage north of the Hall of Memory, she sensed the dragons’ anger. The walls seemed to exude it. It felt like dozens of eyes were following their progress, and a band of armed warriors might appear around the next bend at any moment, hopelessly outnumbering them. While it was a pleasure to have her old ensign around her again, she felt a keen responsibility for them.
The sun shone down from directly above. This was the time of the ritual, the ceremony that would reopen the Woliu. Would they conduct the ceremony anyway, or would it be put off to search for the intruders?
The sound of rapid footfalls reached her ears—it was a large group, not a single person, and they were behind them. Since they were on a main corridor, there were no hiding places.
Bingmei saw a side alley, heading deeper into the palace. They had to get off the main thoroughfare immediately.
Marenqo looked back, his face turning pale with dread.
“This way,” Bingmei said, gesturing to the alley.
There was no time to argue. They darted down the alley as a group, then quickly turned around the edge of the building. There they hunkered down and waited, Bingmei watching the way they’d come.
In a few moments, a stampede of warriors charged down the path. She ducked her head back to avoid being seen. None of the warriors ventured down the alley where they’d gone. She pressed her forehead against the stone, breathing deeply in relief. She’d seen at least two dozen warriors charge past them, and their smell drifted down the alley until it reached her nose. Qiangdao. The air reeked of them.
“Where next?” Damanhur asked, sword in hand again. Mieshi sidled up next to him, her mouth pinched in a frown of worry.
“We’ll be safer if we stick to the alleys,” Jiaohua said with a look of wariness. “I’ll make sure the path is clear.”
“Do that,” Bingmei said. “But I must warn you. Zhuyi is alive.”
Mieshi’s face lit up, joy emanating from her in sweet waves, but Bingmei quickly shook her head. “Alive, but only half-alive. She has no feelings. Her loyalty to the dragons is fixed. She cares nothing for us now. If you see her, you must fight or run. She’s one of the people hunting us.”
“How?” Mieshi whispered. “How did they change her?”
“The dragon only brought back one of her souls,” she said.
Her words caused grief and confusion, but they couldn’t discuss what had happened or how. Time was a luxury they did not possess. Jiaohua quickly left to scout ahead.
They continued to follow the edge of the building and then took to the alleys, careful to examine both ways to avoid being seen. Bingmei tested the air with her nose at regular intervals, trying to catch the scent of any pursuers.
After crossing several byways, Jiaohua held up his fist. He peeked around the corner again and then gestured rapidly for Bingmei to join him. When she did, he nodded.
“I see the dragon sculpture and the gate,” he said. “It’s not guarded. But it’s out in the open. If we linger there, we could be seen.”
Bingmei risked a look and saw the dragon sculpture. Perched atop a pedestal, which made it taller than any of the men in the company, it was tall and long, the body twisted like a snake’s. The head was wreathed in iron strips like flames, or did they symbolize smoke? The snout was long and the maw open, revealing stone teeth. Even the hide was delicately carved into scales. The front left paw was raised, and it held a brass sphere that was also wreathed in flames or smoke. It was situated to vigilantly guard the exit gate.
Her experience with the bronze lions at the main gate made her shudder in dread. It would not let them pass without some gesture. Only Liekou knew what needed to be done. They could not escape without him.
“Do you want me to go closer?” Jiaohua asked her.
She thought a moment longer and then shook her head no. Turning to the others, she said, “The gates leading into Fusang were guarded by two lions. Did you pass them?”
“We had to bow before them,” Rowen said.
“When we tried to flee the first time we came here,” she continued, “the lions tried to stop us. To stop me, specifically. Now that the alarm has been sounded, it may not be so easy getting past this statue.”
They waited for a short time, listening for the sounds of guards, waiting for the others to arrive. Once they heard warriors searching the alleys, but none of them ventured closer.
Soon enough, they heard approaching steps. Bingmei smelled a distinctive mix of sadness and hope that told her to expect Jidi Majia. She went back to the edge of the building where they were hiding and peered down the alley toward the dragon sculpture. Jidi Majia and Eomen appeared by the statue. They waited there, searching the streets nervously.
Bingmei gestured to get their attention, but they kept looking along the main thoroughfare.
“I’ll get them,” Jiaohua chuffed.
But he didn’t move quickly enough. The stone dragon leaped off the pedestal and attacked Jidi Majia.
“No!” Rowen shouted in a panic. He cared fiercely about both of them, and she knew he intended to put himself in the path of the rampaging statue. She rushed after him. At least she could help. It was the one thing she could do for him.
Eomen screamed in terror, backing away as the beast sent the steward sprawling. The stone dragon rippled as it moved, as if possessed by some animating spirit. Bingmei gripped the rune staff and charged down the alley, the others following at her heels.
Jidi Majia rolled to the side as the dragon tried to rake its claws down his back.
“Betrayer!” The hissing voice came from the creature’s open maw.
Jidi Majia tried to get to his feet, but the dragon buffeted him with its lashing tail, knocking him down again.
Bingmei sprinted harder, passing Rowen, invoking the power of the rune staff. The sigils within it glowed as she rushed up and whacked the dragon’s stone hide before it could bite into Jidi Majia’s body.
The wood of the staff struck the stone with a loud noise. She felt the magic of the staff draw away some of the dragon’s essence. It began to turn, ponderously slow, its snout bared in an evil snarl. When it saw her, its tail came for her head.
She easily blocked it and felt magic drain from it again. The staff grew hot in her hands. She worried it might still summon the killing fog, but their need was too great to be ignored. The staff hadn’t summoned the fog the last time they were in Fusang, so she hoped it wouldn’t happen now. Marenqo and Rowen pulled Jidi Majia to his feet and ushered him away from the dragon.
“There you are!” mocked the dragon. “You reveal yourself!” He turned sluggishly to face her.
She swung the staff around and hit its snout. A piece of stone broke loose this time, clattering to the path beneath them. Damanhur struck it with his sword, and the metal edge sparked against the creature’s flank.
“Open the gate!” Bingmei called to Quion.
He nodded in obedience and rushed to the doorway, his pack heaving against his back. Jiaohua hurried over to help him.
A warning pulse in her mind told her the dragon was coming. Not the stone dragon: Echion. The statue had summoned him. He flew over the massive palace, rushing to reach them before they left the gate
.
The dragon statue swiped at her with its claws, but she dodged out of the way. Its tail lashed out and struck Damanhur’s calf, knocking him down. Mieshi struck at the dragon with her staff. The blow was ineffectual, but it gave Damanhur the opportunity to jump to standing. Her gaze shot to the gate—both Quion and Jiaohua were pulling at the iron handle, but the door wouldn’t budge. Like the other doors of the palace, it had nine rows of nine golden knobs. Then she remembered the Hall of Unity where King Shulian had been imprisoned. The memory came as a spark.
“Quion!” she shouted. “Touch a row of knobs first! All of them! Hurry!”
The distraction nearly cost her her life. The dragon shuffled forward, and its jaws snapped shut, nearly clamping around her arm. In the last second, Damanhur managed to shove her aside.
The dragon’s teeth bit into his remaining forearm instead. The pain was intense, and she heard him cry out in agony. The dragon jerked its head, pulling him off his feet and slamming him into the ground. But it did not let go of his arm. Blood dripped down its stone fangs.
“Damanhur!” Mieshi shouted in dread. She struck the monster with her staff again and again. Bingmei joined in, trying to use the rune staff to break off the edge of the snout and suck away its remaining power. Damanhur groaned in agony, driven to his knees. His sword fell from his useless fingers and clattered onto the ground.
She felt the dragon coming closer, swooping over the buildings, racing to catch them. They had to flee before it was over. If Echion caught them, they were doomed.
And so was the rest of their world.
“Bingmei!”
It was Quion. She saw him pulling open the gate, his face grimacing with the strain. She felt the palace’s magic grasping at them, attempting to prevent them from leaving. He pressed his body against the gate, straining against the painted door, and Jiaohua joined him. They both strained against the painted door.
“Go!” Bingmei shouted at the others. “Get out! He’s coming! The dragon is almost here!”
She smelled him now, the dark clotted smell of his murders. Of his malevolence. And then, not to be outdone, she smelled Xisi swooping in, hatred and jealousy emanating from her like poison. Panic made her want to flee, but she also wanted to protect her ensign as Kunmia would have.