by Jeff Wheeler
The leopard ran away. Bingmei had no sooner noticed than the insects swarmed around her, around her and Quion both. One tried to fly into her mouth, but she closed her lips and eyes and yanked on her friend’s limp body.
The insects went into her shirt, through the opening at her neck and the front of her blouse. They wriggled against her, flapping their disgusting wings. She nearly screamed at the sensation of them on her face, the noise of their wings in her ears. And she knew if she opened her mouth to scream, she would unwittingly eat one.
She pulled hard, dragging Quion with her, his body limp and heavy as she strained to get him out of the water.
And then, from far above, she sensed a dragon coming.
CHAPTER FIVE
Poison
A jolt of panic went straight through Bingmei’s heart as the crazed butterflies swarmed around her. A strong compulsion to flee nearly made her abandon Quion, but she wouldn’t leave her friend. Gritting her teeth, she shifted her position, hoisting him up from beneath his arms and dragging him back toward the chasm that led to the grotto. As soon as she left the water of the pool, pulling Quion with her, the insects returned to the tree. She steadied herself to prevent a scream from tearing loose as the wriggling creatures found their way out of her shirt.
The feeling of the dragon came closer. Bingmei realized she didn’t have time to drag Quion down into the chasm. But there was a boulder that had sheared off the side of the wall. Part of the underside was broken. She changed her course and pulled her friend to it. When she reached the edge, she dropped to her knees and pushed him into the small opening. His pack was too bulky and blocked her efforts, so she hurriedly removed it from his shoulders and shoved it in first.
Once Quion was positioned inside the crag, she rolled into it as well. A blue-winged insect crawled out from her shirt and fluttered by her face, and she slammed her fist into it, squashing it against the stone. She felt the dragon sinking toward the grotto.
Then she saw the meiwood staff at the edge of the pond where Quion had dropped it. He’d been carving it, so it no longer looked like a natural piece of driftwood.
It would reveal them.
Biting her lip, she quickly rolled back out and raced toward the edge of the pond. Grabbing one end of the staff, she dived back under the boulder just as the sound of leathery wingbeats filled the close space.
Bingmei let go of the staff, pressing herself against the rugged stone floor. The chasm stretched out to her left and behind her. She could see a shadow descend on the tree in its silver pool. The blue wings of the butterflies fluttered again, just as they had before, mimicking the leaves of a tree. Bingmei felt her pulse in her ears. She sniffed, trying to catch the dragon’s scent.
She caught a smell she recognized instantly.
It was Xisi, the Dragon Queen.
The dragon, pale as milk, landed gracefully at the edge of the pond. Bingmei smelled her own fear as it rose in pungent fumes. If the Dragon Queen captured her again, she’d be devoured.
As a dragon, Xisi was not as massive as Echion, but she was still quick and deadly. Her neck craned and extended over the pond, her forked tongue flicking out like a snake’s.
Her jaws opened then, exuding a strange mist Bingmei remembered from the Death Wall. She’d seen it freeze guardians where they stood. It wasn’t the killing fog, but it was just as fatal. The mist billowed, and Bingmei heard a crackling noise as the waters of the pond froze solid.
Tendrils of mist crept toward Bingmei, making her stiffen with additional fear. A frigid breeze came into the gap. She closed her eyes, wincing in dreadful anticipation, but no harm befell her. It was like touching a frosty cloud. It was cold but not painful.
When she risked opening her eyes again, Xisi had transformed into her human self. She wore the long, elegant robes that Bingmei recognized from Fusang, her hair arranged in an intricate style of small braids woven around combs and stays that propped it up. Xisi drew a sigil in the air with her finger, drawing Bingmei’s attention to the decorative silver claws she wore on her smallest fingers, the ones that could slit a man’s throat.
Bingmei watched in fascination as Xisi walked across the now-frozen pond with surefooted ease, approaching the tree with its silver bark.
The queen was alone, and it startled Bingmei to hear her speak.
“How long it has been since I first came to this place?” She inclined her head, gazing around at the cavern. “How many lives have you claimed, wicked tree? Blighted tree.” She gave a silvery laugh. “But you do bear good fruit eventually. Knowledge being the most useful. How foolish we were then. How ambitious. Echion grows more insufferable over the ages. But, thanks to you, I need not endure it for quite so long this time.”
Xisi, standing before the tree, removed one of the silver claws from her littlest finger. She held the open end upward. Then, pursing her lips, she blew a kiss, and a little puff of white smoke came from her painted mouth. The little curl of smoke lifted and touched one of the butterflies still clinging to the branches. As if mesmerized, the butterfly let go of the branch and fluttered down until it landed on the rim of the silver claw.
Xisi stuffed her finger into the hole, capturing the butterfly inside, and twisted the attachment shut. Even from this distance, Bingmei caught the scent of jealousy. The sharp lemon of greed.
Quion groaned as he started to revive.
Bingmei gasped and smashed her hand over his mouth.
Xisi turned sharply.
“Are you spying on me again, Husband?” she asked with a cruel laugh. “What form have you taken now? A newt? A scorpion is what you are. Come out of hiding, foul monster. Are you here for the same purpose I am?”
Quion’s eyes blinked open, and he saw Bingmei’s fearful look. She pressed a finger to her own lips before releasing his mouth. He gave a tiny nod, the smell of terror wafting from him as he registered the queen’s words.
“Come out, loathed husband! Do not skulk in shadows. Why gape at me, wretched man? Come out!”
Xisi’s disdain was so strong, Bingmei could smell it from where she hid. The jealousy and greed from earlier had been joined by more complicated emotions. Betrayal and the kind of deep, abiding hatred one could only feel for a former loved one. Had they ever been in love? Bingmei realized Xisi was trying to provoke Echion into revealing himself. She believed he was there, watching her plot his death. And part of her was still afraid of him.
Xisi crossed the frozen pool again, her skirts swishing against the ice. Little cracking sounds accompanied her faint footsteps. Bingmei held her breath, hoping the queen wouldn’t look down. But she wasn’t the kind of woman who’d think to—her chin was lifted high, her eyes on the walls.
“Come, black beast! Where are you? How you adore torturing me. Come out of your shell, snail. Where’s the greasy muck you always leave in your wake? Echion!” Her words became angrier, more venomous.
Then silence. Xisi breathed quickly. Her teeth were exposed by the snarl on her lips. She started toward the boulder, and Bingmei quivered in dread as she took step after step. When the queen finally stopped, her skirts were so close to Bingmei’s eyes, she could see the violet and blue trim at the hem.
“Is my mind frenzied? I heard a sound. Is he here or not?” Xisi stepped out of sight, but Bingmei didn’t dare twitch or cause a sound. Her eyes met Quion’s for a moment before shifting back to the pond.
“He would have revealed himself by now,” the queen whispered. “He cannot help but gloat. No, you heard nothing. Be calm, Xisi. Be calm like a spider. You have poison in your fangs now. You can end his reign when it suits you.” She laughed vengefully. “Even if it curtails your own power. What a bargain we struck. If only I’d known.”
She sniffed, her breathing becoming calmer. “Farewell, wicked tree. Until I have need of thee again.”
The strong reptilian smell returned, and Bingmei heard the flapping of wings as Xisi flew out of the grotto. With a sigh of relief, Bingmei edged her way o
ut from beneath the boulder.
“Bingmei, was that . . . was that Xisi?”
“Yes,” she answered. On her knees now, she gazed across the frozen pond. A strange sensation against her skin made her wince, and she untucked her shirt and shook out a few dead insects.
Quion emerged from beneath the rock, holding his pack in one hand and the staff in the other. He looked at her and then at the tree. A lemony scent began to come from him, and Bingmei saw his eyes glazing over with greed again.
“We’re going. Now.” She gave him an angry look. “The leopard has already left.”
He nodded, and they quickly returned to the chasm leading back to the river. When they arrived, they found the snow leopard pacing at the river’s edge.
“I’m sorry, Bingmei,” he said. “I . . . I lost my mind back there. I wanted to kill you.” His brow wrinkled with remorse. “I’m so ashamed. But I’m glad you stopped me. I’d rather die than hurt you.”
She turned and looked back at the chasm. “I’ve never seen a tree like that before,” she said. “It’s dead . . . yet not dead. I know you weren’t yourself. Let’s get farther away.”
“I’m sorry, Bingmei.”
“I know,” she said, reaching out and squeezing his hand. “Come on.”
Together, hand in hand, they plunged back into the river that would take them through the canyon maze.
“I couldn’t understand what she was saying,” Quion said after a while. “She was talking to herself, wasn’t she?”
“All I know is this,” Bingmei answered. “Xisi and Echion made an agreement of some kind in order to achieve immortality. Their powers are linked together. Like prisoners on a chain. They depend on each other, which might be why they hate each other so much. I have never wanted to get married, but that kind of union would be a horror to anyone.”
“Really? You’ve never wanted to be married?”
“No,” she answered simply. “This world is too brutal for children. No one should have to see their parents die like you and I did. But I always knew I wouldn’t marry. I have this.” She lifted her hand to her hair. It had been white, once, although it had turned red when she’d become the phoenix-chosen. Both colors marked her as an outcast. As someone who did not belong.
Rowen never looked at you that way.
The thought had teeth. She remembered the smell of Rowen’s love, like baking bread, and the way he’d looked at her. But she hadn’t been able to reciprocate his feelings, not in this lifetime, anyway. Something walled up her heart when it came to that kind of emotion.
For some reason, it was much easier to love a friend, to love Quion.
“Maybe that’s why the phoenix chose me,” she said flippantly. “Because I didn’t want a normal life.”
Quion looked at her. “I think the phoenix chose you because you’re brave.”
Somehow he always knew the right thing to say.
“There’s one in your hair,” he said. Letting go of her hand, he reached out and plucked the dead butterfly from her hair and cast it into the water. The current took it away swiftly.
But as it disappeared, her thoughts turned to Xisi and how she had captured one of the insects to use against Echion. She had no doubt if one of them had gotten into her mouth or Quion’s, they would have died.
Would it turn Echion mortal?
If he could become mortal, he could die.
CHAPTER SIX
River Maze
The narrows seemed to go on forever. Bingmei’s legs and feet were soaked, and the constant treading over river stones had made her ankles ache. The chasm between the mountains continued on and on, bringing with it a feeling of helplessness and weariness. Even Quion started to smell of disappointment and worry. The monotony pressed in on them—the layers of color in the stone walls around them, the glimpses of sky, their wet and rocky path, the leopard’s lashing tail. The one time they reached a fork in the path, Bingmei followed the call of the phoenix shrine.
The utter vastness of the land beyond the Death Wall was shocking. How long ago had it been inhabited? Would it ever be again?
When night fell, they decided to keep going as they’d found no place to camp on the edges of the river. They gripped each other’s hands to keep from losing each other in the near total darkness of the chasm. They kept moving that way for hours. Bingmei’s mind was numb with weariness, but she felt the phoenix shrine, its presence ever closer. The darkness seemed to be lifting somewhat, and when she looked up at the ribbon of sky overhead, she saw countless stars. Then more. Then even more.
“Look up,” she said to her friend.
She smelled a little pine-sap smell of relief from him. “I think we’re leaving the chasm. I can see more of the sky.”
They had finally reached the edge of the mountains. The river slowed to a trickle, and soon they were walking through reeds that choked it.
They stopped, breathing in the fresh, clean air.
“The lights,” Quion said, pointing to the east. “The dragons are looking for us over there.”
He was right. Ribbons of color painted the sky in that direction. The Woliu had been opened by Echion and Xisi, allowing dragons and other mythical creatures to cross into the mortal world. Although beautiful, the lights were a sign of danger. They meant evil beasts were on the hunt—to the east. For the moment, Echion had lost their trail.
Making their way by starlight, they walked to the edge of the reed-infested stream and found some marsh grass to bed down in. They lay on their blankets, but before Bingmei fell asleep, she found herself reaching for the thread inside her, the one that connected her to Rowen. She felt him at the other end, a solid, reassuring presence, and a feeling of peace settled over her. Her eyelids closed with exhaustion, and she fell asleep.
Once again, she dreamed of the Grave Kingdom.
She recognized the busy streets at once. Towering buildings surrounded her on two sides, but she stood on a long, winding street, surrounded by crowds of anxious people walking and running, searching for their lost loved ones. There were iron ridges atop the buildings, perches for the dragons, perhaps, and the red windows were barred shut and displayed the symbol of the Dragon of Night. The sharp smells of worry and desperation filled the air. A frantic mother tugged on Bingmei’s arm. Her eyes were unfocused as she stared off into the crowded streets. “Have you seen my daughter? She said she would meet me here, but I can’t find her. She died in the river when she was a child.”
Bingmei’s heart ached for the woman. “I have not,” she said.
“Please help me,” the woman pleaded, tears in her voice. “I dreamed about her the night before the Dragon Emperor’s army attacked us in Sihui. She said she would find me when I got here. Please help!”
Sihui, the beleaguered city from which Bingmei had been kidnapped.
“You are from Sihui?” she asked eagerly.
“We were refugees from Sajinau,” the mother said. “We fled there when the Dragon Emperor’s army came. My husband said we should follow General Tzu. I was killed by a Qiangdao after he murdered my husband.” Her emotions smelled burnt, sooty and black. She was anguished by her death but even more so that she couldn’t find her daughter.
“Has Sihui fallen, then?”
“I don’t know,” the woman said. “The enemy conquered all the bridges save one. There was no more room inside the palace, so we were outside the gates. They slaughtered us. I must find my daughter. She said she would meet me here. That all would be well.”
“I’m sorry. I cannot help you.”
Bingmei heard the chirp of a siskin over the noise of the crowd. She looked up and saw the little bird on a piece of ironwork fastened to the stone wall. Its coloring was unmistakable. This was, somehow, the same little bird that had been guiding her since she crossed the Death Wall.
A child’s voice cried out, “Mama!”
The woman, still gripping Bingmei’s arm, whirled, her eyes widening with recognition. “Baobei? Baobei?”
“Mama!”
A little girl no older than five appeared through the crowd and ran to the woman, clinging to her legs. The smell of cinnamon porridge broke through the sharp smells around them as the woman dropped to her knees and embraced the child, wrapping the little girl in her arms.
“Oh, baobei! Baobei!”
Bingmei felt her eyes sting as she breathed deeply of the powerful emotions churning between mother and daughter. Witnessing such a sacred reunion was overwhelming. She hungered to see her own mother. To see Kunmia Suun, who had become a second mother to her after her own was ripped away.
The mother kissed her daughter several times, as if she couldn’t bear to let her go, then pulled back enough to ask, “Where is your papa?”
The little girl said sadly, “We cannot be with Papa now.”
The woman’s brow wrinkled in concern. “But we are family.”
“There are no families here,” said the little girl. “The dragon has broken them apart. I cannot stay with you.”
“No, little one! No! I won’t let you go!”
“I cannot stay. The magic of this place will force me away soon. But don’t worry, Mama. The phoenix is coming to save us. The phoenix will undo the spell cast on the Death Wall. It’s happening soon, Mama! We’ll be together again.”
“No,” said the mother, her grief swelling again. “No, it’s not true. The phoenix-chosen refused to help us in Sajinau, and then the dragon took her away. Will we be trapped here forever? I won’t let you go.”
“I cannot stay, Mama. But what I said is true. The phoenix is coming. Someone told me so.” The little girl looked at Bingmei with hopeful eyes and smiled.
The mother turned to Bingmei in surprise. Her eyes widened as they landed on Bingmei’s distinctive hair. In the haze of her grief, she hadn’t really looked at her. She’d seen only a face in the crowd.