by Jeff Wheeler
“If he is useful, he will live. I’ll have a taste and see if there are any memories that might benefit us.”
“Good, Husband. Good. He may know something about General Tzu that is useful.”
He glowered at her. “We need no help with the general. He is running out of time,” he said. “With the season of the Dragon of Night approaching, he’ll act soon. He won’t want to wait.”
The bird’s tiny heart quickened in its breast as Bingmei watched them from the cage. Could she warn General Tzu and King Zhumu? She knew she had to try. She felt another thread from a bird outside in the gardens. And then another, and another. It would take time, but she would make her way to Sihui.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Speechless as a Bird
It took time to travel from bird to bird across the lands. Sometimes it was on an eagle’s wings. Sometimes a seagull’s. Bingmei sensed her body, but it was enshrouded in magic, as if she were barred from returning to it. So she traveled across the lands, seeing the mountains, some with snow still clinging to the highest peaks, as well as the ocean waves crashing against the rocks. She saw pine trees and spruces and colorful vegetation stretch out beneath her.
She crossed the space, just her consciousness, like a speck of light sailing along the threads made by the birds. In the waters, she saw ships of varying sizes sailing westward. And she could see the huge shape of whales as they swam in pods along the coastlines. Depending upon which bird hosted her—some were more sharp-eyed than others—she could even observe the black fins of ni-ji-jing.
It took a long time to reach Sihui, but she sailed in on the wings of a gull. She was horrified at the devastation she beheld. When she had last been there, the river had been barricaded with fortified bridges. They were all demolished, save one. The river was choked with junks and fishing vessels of all sizes.
By the looks of things, Sihui had indeed survived the onslaught.
She saw people in the streets wearing fashions from different lands and recognized that other kingdoms had joined together to unite under King Zhumu. Some of the buildings had burned down, and she saw people sweeping up the rubble. Some were working at saws and hammers to rebuild what had been lost. Guards patrolled the streets wearing the uniforms of King Zhumu with the eagle crest.
She joined a crowd of tiny blackbirds who flew together toward the palace. As they passed over the walls, she connected to a lonely gray-feathered thrush hiding on the roof. She waited in that thrush, feeling for strands that would bring her closer to the upper windows, which had been left open. None of the plovers or sparrows in the gardens were close enough. She sensed the birds used by the king for hunting, large birds of prey, but they were hooded and in cages in the mews.
After waiting unsuccessfully for another opportunity to present itself, she wondered whether she could direct the little thrush.
Please. Can you fly to the windows?
The thrush trembled, and Bingmei felt herself become one with it. Suddenly, she could understand its feelings. It had hidden under a cracked shingle on the palace roof because it was frightened of all the noises inside the palace and in the courtyard.
Please, Bingmei pleaded. You won’t be hurt. Fly to the window.
She felt the thrush tremble again. It understood her instructions, she thought, but it was still afraid. Tiny birds lived in constant fear. They had to lower to the ground to get their food, but doing so exposed them to predators. This little bird’s fear went beyond that. Bingmei coaxed it, guiding it with her thoughts. After she made several attempts to reassure the thrush, the little bird finally exploded out of the tiles in a fluff of wings and soared to one of the open windows.
The window was lined with wooden slats with little iron rings attached to the ends so they could be closed with poles. But they were open, and so the thrush settled on the ledge beneath them and folded its wings meekly against its body. She could feel its little heart beating rapidly, but it was an upper window, and the hall below was far enough beneath them that nothing could reach the bird. It began to calm as it quietly nestled in place.
Bingmei heard the voices coming from the room below. Now that she was there, she could see King Zhumu sitting on his throne, leaning forward and scrutinizing the other men assembled before him. None of them looked like the courtiers that had filled his throne room on her last visit to Sihui. One of the chairs was vacant, for General Tzu stood before him. They were in the middle of a conversation, and it took Bingmei some time to catch on.
“We will continue to be outnumbered in any event,” the general said. “Not only has the dragon conquered seven other kingdoms, he has the combined might of the Qiangdao.”
“But he slaughtered the army of Sajinau,” said a bald man Bingmei didn’t recognize. He had a long drooping beard and fancy robes.
“King Mingzhi,” said General Tzu, and Bingmei placed him as the king of Tuqiao, “he did destroy the army. But he hasn’t repeated that with the other kingdoms he’s conquered. He’s executed rivals, but it’s to his benefit to keep the warriors obedient. Even if we had all united under King Shulian prior to the dragon’s rise to power, defeating the Qiangdao would have been difficult. Surely you don’t disagree?”
“I don’t, General,” said Mingzhi. He rubbed his mouth. “But why would attacking Fusang now do us any good? Doing so would plunge us into the middle of the dragon’s empire. We’d be surrounded and destroyed. I didn’t come here to die. I came to keep my own kingdom safe.”
“Agreed!” said another man.
Someone in the back chuffed and shook his head, and Bingmei recognized Budai, the former king of Wangfujing. “Be grateful your kingdom is still your own. Mine was robbed by trickery and deceit, but I still have a cache of meiwood weapons we can use. It would take a few ships to fetch them. I would be willing to lend them to the fight . . . for a price. But you run the risk of attracting the killing fog. You cannot count on luck helping you this time.”
Zhumu scowled. “You are always asking to be paid, Budai. Your selfishness knows no bounds.”
Bingmei had to agree, but she wasn’t surprised to see Budai flush with anger. “Your daughter Cuifen was robbed from you. Do you not seek her safe return? We’ve heard nothing, nothing, from the ensign we sent to rescue her and rescue Bingmei. It is likely they are all dead and your daughter is now a concubine of the dragon. Would you not like to win her back?”
“I would,” said Zhumu. “And I am willing to heed the general’s advice and attack Fusang with all my remaining strength to do so.”
“Even if you fail?” asked another man, whom Bingmei assumed was also a king.
“But we didn’t fail last time,” said General Tzu. “Echion struck Sihui with a powerful blow. A blow meant to crush us. To leave us crippled. But we prevailed because of our united strength. We found the sigil of protection once, and although Echion has undoubtedly changed it, we will find it again. If you had not joined your strength to ours, we would have failed. If there is even the smallest possibility of success now, we must seize it. Echion will only grow more powerful. The changing of the season is coming. That gives us defense. He’s bonded to the dragon somehow, and I don’t know of any reptile that thrives during the winter.”
Some of the men grunted in agreement, and they all began speaking at once, which made it impossible to hear any of them. Bingmei listened helplessly to their talk. She wished she could give voice to what she’d overheard Echion and Xisi say. She also wished she could tell Zhumu that his daughter had already escaped Fusang. Although she did not know what had become of Cuifen, the princess had left with Liekou, a warrior who had defected from Echion’s ensign. She hoped they were both safe.
But she didn’t know how to do any of that. Indeed, it was a struggle to convince the thrush to stay. The bird began to panic at the raised voices, and she had to focus on calming it.
After the commotion had gone on for a while, Zhumu raised his voice. “Silence, all of you!”
Their
faces twisted with anger. Most likely, they were not accustomed to being spoken to in such a manner.
Zhumu frowned at them. “You babble like children. We are all kings here. We are each of us used to being obeyed. There must be one leader. One voice to issue commands.”
“And that will be you?” demanded another in outrage.
“No, it will not,” Zhumu said, shaking his head. “My army has mostly been destroyed. My brave warriors are still recovering from their wounds. And it would be unwise, as I’m sure you will all agree, for us to choose a permanent leader now. It might be that none of us survives what lies ahead.”
“Then what do you suggest?” Budai demanded.
Zhumu fixed him with a glare and then bowed his head. “It is my counsel that we entrust the affairs of this war to one man. None of us trusts one another. With just cause, considering the happenings of the past. But each of us must admit that General Tzu is a commendable general. He survived the fall of Sajinau. Without his cunning, Sihui would have fallen victim to Echion’s traps long ago. What I propose is that we each surrender to him what resources we do have, be they men, ships, or meiwood weapons, and let him assemble us into an army united by one purpose: our desire to defeat and destroy the Dragon of Night. Then”—he paused, looking up at those assembled, and held up his finger—“if he succeeds, then he will choose one man to rule a combined kingdom. One man whom he believes will act in the interests of all and not selfishly. We will not kill a dragon only to plant another in its stead.”
He paused again, studying each of the leaders in turn. “This is wisdom. For too long we have warred among ourselves. That is why I called this meeting. That is why you are here.”
Silence prevailed in the room. Bingmei thought the strategy was a good one. But she knew it was doomed to fail if they acted too soon. They didn’t know that she had accepted her fate as the phoenix-chosen. Nor did they know that Echion’s mastery of the Woliu had brought other dragons back into the world.
The thrush grew more uneasy, its little heart pounding in its chest as it considered fleeing.
Please. Stay longer. Please!
“And you would be the first to renounce your authority?” asked King Mingzhi.
“Yes, I shall do so now,” Zhumu answered. “Barring a miracle, my daughter is lost. I had hoped to unite her to Prince Juexin in marriage and unify the kingdoms earlier, but my plans became dust. So I do relinquish my authority to General Tzu. And I speak it in front of all of you so you may bear witness.”
She saw the looks on their faces. The selfishness and greed tearing at them. They looked at one another, seeing who would bend first. Again Bingmei wished she had a voice. But she could not even whisper to them. She tried to speak from the bird, but it just came out in little chirps. When she attempted to land next to the general, he swatted at her host, and the bird soared away, out of Bingmei’s control.
Although Bingmei and Quion had come to trust the little siskin controlled by her phoenix-sister, it had taken time. And a lot of convincing. These men would be even more resistant.
“I will do the same,” said King Mingzhi at last. “I did not think I would live to see the day when King Zhumu the Proud learned humility. Mine is not the strongest kingdom, but I have the most ships of all of you since we are an island kingdom. General Tzu—I give you the power to command my ships and soldiers.” He leaned back in his chair, slapping his palm on the armrest and giving the others a look that provoked them to act in kind.
One by one they did so. Bingmei felt the momentum in the room shift as these men, these leaders, declared their allegiance to a cause greater than themselves. It was a moment to be remembered, although it would not end well. Bingmei saw a look pass between Zhumu and Tzu. They were hoping the plan would work. But Echion was waiting for them, and if they did what they planned, he was likely to eat them alive.
At last, they had all given their consent, all except Budai, who sat with a stubborn look on his face. The other kings had given voluntarily what he was being forced to surrender. And yet still, even now, she saw the defiance on his brow, his unwillingness to put others before himself.
“Well, Budai?” Zhumu asked, his gaze piercing.
“What if I refuse?” Budai said with challenge in his tone. “You stole a meiwood charm from me when the blackness of the dragon fell over Sihui. I’ve not forgotten that slight. It was mine. And so are the meiwood weapons and artifacts that I’ve collected these many years. I’ve spent a fortune on them.”
“You’ve also earned a fortune because of them,” growled another king.
Budai shot him a venomous look. “You cannot take my belongings from me because you do not know where they are. I’ve hidden them. Even if you kill me, you cannot have them. But what happens if I give them up? I get nothing? Will they be returned to me, the rightful possessor, when this is over? I think not. I don’t trust any of you, to be honest.”
What he couldn’t see, Bingmei realized, was that he would lose them anyway. If Echion caught him, he would be devoured. His body-soul would tell the dragon everything he needed to know about where the weapons were being kept.
“What do you want, Budai?” Zhumu asked.
Budai squirmed in his seat. “I wanted your daughter, but you wouldn’t give her to me. My kingdom has been denied to me too. Should you not all suffer as much as I have?”
“That is what you want? For us to suffer like you?” Zhumu pressed.
“You despise me,” Budai snarled. “You do not treat me as an equal. If not for these men, you would be just as ruined as I am. No ships set sail to Wangfujing when I was in trouble. Everyone abandoned me. Everyone. I will not be part of this. You are all going to die.” He rose from his chair and flashed them a haughty look.
“Where do you think you are going?” asked General Tzu calmly.
“Away from here. I’ll . . . I’ll hire a fisherman to take me away.”
“You know our plans,” General Tzu said, stepping forward.
Budai’s eyes widened with fear. “What . . . what are you going to do? I won’t reveal what I know. I swear it.”
General Tzu nodded to two guards standing at the doorway. “Take him to the dungeon. Maybe the loss of your freedom will change your mind.”
Budai’s face became pale as the guards marched forward and grabbed him by the arms. Bingmei felt some satisfaction at seeing Budai so humbled, but she suspected his resentment would only grow. Would he become even more obstinate in the humid cell beneath the palace? What would those feelings grow into?
Once Budai was gone, General Tzu turned and faced the rulers. He sighed. “There is no instance of a kingdom benefitting from prolonged warfare. We will gather all our forces for a single attack, leaving no men or ships behind to defend in case we lose. We’ve debated already the ideas of attacking Renxing by land and Tianrui by sea, to add to our force if possible. They will be expecting that. I have determined that we must attack Fusang itself. If we win, the other kingdoms will surrender. If we lose, it won’t matter anyway.
“We go to war, brethren, and we do it together.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
A New Life
When the sun rose on the third day, she felt the quivering tug of her body. There was a rushing feeling, like a leaf caught in a river’s torrent, and she was drawn back to the phoenix shrine beyond the Death Wall. For the return trip, she did not pass from bird to bird, but was pulled back quickly as if in a vortex.
As she neared the sarcophagus, she sensed the power of a glyph, one she had not noticed before, but there was no time to analyze it. Suddenly she was once more enshrouded in the darkness of the tomb. She’d anticipated it would hurt, easing back into her body, just like it had before she reached the phoenix shrine. But again there was no pain. It felt good slipping into her own skin again, feeling all the muscles and blood and sinews that held it all together. So different from the fragile form of a bird with its tiny bones, feathers, and wildly beating heart.
> Her eyes itched, and a little tickle went to the tip of her nose. She felt the hard stone beneath her, and then, with anxious fingers, she felt along her abdomen, expecting it to be swollen and ripe.
It felt just as it always had, and a flicker of panic went through her.
Do not fear, Bingmei. The babe sleeps and grows within you. It is too small to feel yet.
She smoothed her hand over her front again. She’d wondered if the process would be quicker, somehow, since she’d traveled into the future.
It was encouraging to hear the phoenix’s voice, but it didn’t allay her concerns for the general’s offensive.
But when? she asked. We need the help now. If they attack Echion, they’ll be destroyed.
I know.
The thought struck her forcibly. Dread swelled inside her. She thought of the rulers who had finally united against their common foe. It had taken incredible defeat before they’d been willing to do what King Shulian had been wise enough to believe in from the start. And it would all be for nothing. The phoenix had confirmed General Tzu and the surviving kingdoms would indeed be sailing to their deaths. The need to warn them blazed inside her.
You cannot go, Bingmei. If you leave this rock, the dragon will hunt you, and I cannot protect you. This is your sanctuary until your child is born.
Bingmei didn’t want to accept that. She felt tears sting her eyes as she imagined the countless deaths coming in the near future. Hadn’t enough people died? The pain she felt was overpowering. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.
Is there no way to stop it? she pleaded.
Would you have me break eternal laws? That is the way of the Dragon of Night.
But isn’t your power supposed to protect the innocent?
Is Budai innocent? Or Zhumu?
Bingmei realized the phoenix was right. The voice inside her was not harsh or mean-spirited. It spoke the truth.
They are not, Bingmei confessed. But they are what they are because of Echion’s legacy. It will take years to overturn it. This is only the beginning.