by Jeff Wheeler
Her heart lurched with dread when he dodged past her, putting himself between her and the rest of the cave. Did he know about the child? She dared not let him reach either Quion or Shixian. She jumped at him again and tried again to kick him, but he was too fast and dodged it. When she landed, he struck her in the ribs, hard, and she fell back against the wall of the cave. She felt his finger touch her abdomen, and he started drawing a glyph, one she recognized instantly as the death glyph.
Bingmei grabbed his finger and yanked it hard. She heard the snap as well as felt it. Then she kneed him hard in the stomach. Although she smelled his spurt of agony, he spun around and did a reverse kick that caught her on the temple.
The darkness was interrupted by flashing lights as Bingmei spun around dizzily and dropped to the floor. The pain was so acute she could barely see, but she reached for her blade anyway.
Then she heard the shriek of the snow leopard and a wail of terror from her child. She scrabbled to her feet, heart sick with worry, only to see the leopard had tackled the man and was slashing with its claws. The intruder howled in pain as the leopard continued to rake him. Somehow he managed to get loose, and she could hear him wheezing in agony and smell his fear and desire to escape. He stumbled toward the entrance, starting to transform again. Big dark wings sprouted from his back. In the dimness, she saw his bulk grow as he fled.
He could not be allowed to leave with knowledge of her baby.
Bingmei used her own power to fly after him. She caught him just as he left the cave, and plunged the sword into his back. The meiwood hilt thrummed with power, and she felt the magic swirl through the air and into her arms. She drove the blade in all the way to the hilt. The dragon let out a terrified screech of pain and collapsed in the snow. Dead.
Still reeling in pain herself, Bingmei pulled the blade out and saw it was steaming with the dragon’s blood. She had just plunged it into the snow when the snow leopard padded out of the cave, panting, and growled at the reptilian corpse sprawled before them. Quion was trying to calm the baby, who lay squalling inside the basket.
Bingmei breathed out sharply, feeling the sting of the cold against her nose. Although she’d killed this one dragon, she’d done a poor job defending them all, and there was no time for her to improve. Her eyes caught a play of green light in the distance, however, and she realized it was the Woliu. The dragons had not found her yet. This one had gotten lucky. Or unlucky, as fate had it.
Nothing Quion did could calm the baby, so Bingmei staggered back into the cave. The snow leopard padded up next to her, and she reached down and stroked the beast’s soft fur.
“Thank you,” she said. The leopard couldn’t understand her words. But she still felt like she needed to say them. If not for Quion’s friend, she would have lost.
In the morning, she would begin training. She would train hard. There wasn’t room for errors and mistakes.
Quion rocked from foot to foot, holding Shixian close, still trying to hush the crying. Bingmei closed the distance and took her son, who began to quiet as soon as she pressed her cheek against his. Her temple thrummed with pain. Her side ached, and she hoped she hadn’t broken a rib.
“What was that?” Quion said worriedly.
“A dragon found us,” she answered. “It was drawn by the heat of the glyphs and smelled the roasted hare.”
“Ah. Are others coming?”
“Not yet,” Bingmei said. “But I fear they will find the dragon’s carcass once it’s light. Then they’ll know which way we are going.”
“Where are we going?” Quion asked with a smile. They’d discussed how they would escape, but not where they were going.
She was surprised to realize she had an answer. That she’d been leading their small group without realizing it. “Sihui,” she answered. “I think that’s the place we need to go. With winter ending, we have to warn General Tzu. And prepare for the war.”
The baby had stopped crying, although he still whimpered, and she could smell his primitive fear. The noises and sounds had frightened him. If he was like her, perhaps the smells had alarmed him too. She kissed his fuzzy head in a rush of fondness.
“I’ll try and cover it with snow before we leave,” Quion suggested.
“There won’t be time,” Bingmei said. “It will take a while to cover something so big. It’s too cold out there to leave now, but we need to go before dawn.” The weariness and exhaustion weighed heavily on her.
Quion nodded. “I’ll start burying it now.” He gave her a look that brooked no refusal. She was so grateful for his determination to help, to be of use to her and Shixian. He truly had an indomitable spirit. And yet, at the same time, he wasn’t a warrior, and she feared what their enemies might do to him.
Grabbing his little spade from his pack, he headed toward the entrance.
Be safe, she thought as she watched him leave the cave.
She listened for whispers from the phoenix, something that would reassure her that he would be all right. But nothing came, and that made her worry even more.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The Narrows
The whole world felt like it was melting. Bingmei and Quion and the baby watched as each further sunrise exposed more and more of the mountains as well as the trees. Tiny droplets of melted snow dripped from branches, making pockmarks in the white expanse. After a few days, the effort of their march drew sweat from their brows as the sun stayed up longer and longer. On the fourth day after leaving the phoenix shrine, they began to find bear tracks in the snow.
They took turns carrying Shixian’s basket. Every day, Bingmei practiced her forms, and as she did so, she felt healing currents of magic glide beneath her skin. The pains of childbirth felt increasingly distant from her mind, and she smelled her own love for her baby each time she cradled him in her arms. The little murmurs and squeals he made were a source of delight. And every time she saw him smile, even when he was fast asleep, it made her heart ache with happiness. Quion did the most ridiculous things when he tried to coax one, but his efforts were often unrewarded.
When she sensed the dragons on the hunt, they hid beneath snow-laden trees and waited for the danger to pass. Often they could see the winged shapes in the sky on the horizon or hear the creatures’ distant shrieks. The sound never failed to chill her heart.
After walking all day, they finally reached the place where the mountains converged and formed the river maze. Tufts of dried tall grass began to poke through the snows that day, and the sun grew so warm that they no longer needed their fur jackets. The river was still thick with ice, but she could see water flowing beneath the crust.
She looked at Quion and frowned. “How thick is the ice, do you think?”
“One way to find out,” he answered. “Let’s camp in that thicket over there. I’ll see if I can catch any fish.”
She set about making camp while he used his dagger to stab through the thick ice of the river. Gazing at the tall chasm of rock before her, she remembered passing through it at the end of the previous summer. They’d walked knee-deep in water through the gorge. Within, they’d found that strange silver-barked tree with the deadly butterflies.
Shixian fussed to be fed after they set up their camp. Once Bingmei had nursed him and settled him in his little basket to sleep, Quion approached the camp with six fish on a knotted bit of twine.
“There’s my friend, the fisherman,” she said with respect.
He took one off and tossed it to the snow leopard, who began to devour it hungrily. “It wasn’t difficult work. The fish practically jumped out of the hole in the ice. I’ll get more after we’ve cooked these.”
“Let’s not cook them,” Bingmei said, shaking her head. “We’re too exposed, and those dragons have a strong sense of smell. We can eat it raw. After we’ve crossed the Death Wall, the smell of fire won’t stand out so much.”
Quion didn’t particularly like eating fish raw, but it would feel like a feast compared with the dried meat
, nuts, and withered fruit since their attack at the cave. He quickly skinned the fish and sliced the flanks into chunks. They had run out of the spices Quion had used on the raw fish before. Bingmei ate several of them, even though she didn’t enjoy the quivering bits of flesh as much as if it had been Quion’s cooking. But they needed their strength after the long marches each day.
After the sun fell, they carved a snow cave from a huge drift of snow. The work helped keep them warm and then they burrowed inside with their gear and Shixian’s basket. The snow leopard coiled near the entrance, as if keeping watch. The snow would hopefully help conceal them from their nightly predators as well as the possibility of wild animals picking up their scent.
Inside the snow cave, they huddled close together and wrapped themselves up in blankets. Bingmei couldn’t use the heat glyph that night—it would melt their shelter—but the tight confinement of the cave would pool their body heat.
“How thick was the ice?” she asked Quion.
He thought a moment and then held his hands apart to show the distance.
“That should support our weight,” she said. “At least I hope it will. We can’t walk through the river on the way back. The cold would kill us.”
Quion nodded in agreement. “Remember how shadowy it was when we passed through last season? I suspect it’ll be colder inside the chasm, which means less melted snow.”
“You’re right. I hadn’t thought of that. It took us two days to cross the river maze. After that, there’s the meiwood grove.”
“Let’s go around it this time,” Quion suggested, and Bingmei quickly agreed. The thought of confronting those lions again, even with the leopard, made her grimace.
“At least getting over the Death Wall won’t be a problem,” she said. “You have the cricket, and I can fly over it. Once we’re on the other side, it will be easier to escape to Sihui.”
“You mentioned that you can follow birds in your mind,” he said. “Have you tried it lately? With the changing of the season, the migrating birds should be coming back soon.”
“I haven’t seen many of them yet,” she said. “But you’re right. The change in the weather should start bringing them back. Maybe we’ll see more on the other side of the mountains.”
They continued to talk for a little while after that, and then Quion bunched up in his blankets and nestled on the icy floor by his leopard. Bingmei was tired but not sleepy yet, so she sat in a meditative stance and closed her eyes, controlling her breathing and seeking out any birds in the area. She found some little pine siskins nesting in a tree nearby, along with a red-breasted nuthatch with black stripes around its eyes. She joined a snow owl foraging for food. The thrill of the hunt excited her, especially when it came swooping down and snatched up prey with its sharp talons.
She sensed no birdlife in the mountains themselves, however, so seeing beyond them was still impossible. She found eagles perched in a huge nesting tree, devouring the remains of a small fish. And it was while she was visiting that nest that she saw the Woliu open in the skies above the river maze in the mountains. There were four eagles sharing that tree, and they all lifted their gazes at the colorful lights dancing in the sky. And then she heard the dragons shriek.
Bingmei returned to her own body, nestled inside the snow cave. When she opened her eyes, she found she could see by the ambient light from the Woliu. The greenish glow had penetrated the walls of the snow cave. The basket with Shixian hadn’t moved, and she heard the baby snuffle and sigh, blissfully unaware of the danger flapping on leathery wings overhead.
She could sense them coming. Too many to fight. Reaching out slowly, she took the meiwood staff from where Quion had put it and settled it across her lap. A shriek sounded overhead, making her flinch. They had no idea how close they were.
Bingmei determined to stay awake until they were gone. Sleeping would have been impossible anyway with the danger so close.
They didn’t leave until the sky began to brighten with dawn, the coming daylight finally banishing the Woliu.
Bingmei woke up Quion and told him they needed to leave. She wanted to get through the river maze as quickly as possible. It had taken two days last time, and they would need to camp inside the gorge for at least one night.
After she changed the baby’s soiled clothes and started to feed him, Quion went to the river to wash the dirty garments in the icy river. Bingmei was exhausted from lack of sleep, but she was determined to get them safely away. After the baby was fed, she bundled him up again and strapped him into the basket. He whimpered, wanting to be held.
“I’m sorry, baobei,” she said soothingly, rubbing her cold nose against his warm cheek. “We have to go.”
Once he was strapped inside, she carried the basket out, and Quion returned for his gear. They entered the chasm together. As they started walking, she heard little cracks coming from the ice.
Quion looked at her nervously. “We’d better walk farther apart from each other,” he suggested, and they did.
The ice held as they entered the gloomy chasm. The steep walls on each side dripped constantly from the melting snow. She could feel the thrum of the river beneath her boots. The current came from behind them, going through the chasm ahead. Some boulders stood above the ice, but they were easy to pass on foot. The ice provided a road to travel down. A few winter squirrels with huge tails appeared in trees and scolded them.
No dragons threatened them.
By nightfall, they had passed through several winding gaps that were nearly blocked by boulders. Huge sentinel peaks, layered in snow and ice, rose on each side. Bingmei was so tired, she felt herself staggering at times. Quion had the basket in his arms since his back had grown weary. She had tried taking it back to save him the labor, but he refused her entreaties.
They stopped to camp beneath a huge boulder for the night. She went to help clear out the space, but Quion told her to feed Shixian instead, and she fell asleep three times doing so. When she awoke, it was to the motion of Quion taking the baby from her and settling him in the basket beneath the boulder. She found herself waking up again when Quion picked her up and carried her to the shelter as well. She let him do so without argument and fell into a deep sleep despite the cold.
No sound of dragons disturbed her in the night. Birdsong awoke her at dawn, and she saw Quion had set one of his blankets over all of them. They lay on either side of the basket, crushed together for warmth.
The rest had done a great deal to replenish her strength. Bingmei practiced her forms again, feeling energized, and the practice eased the little pains in her body.
It was at midday, with the sun shining directly down on them, that the dragons attacked them in the chasm. She felt them come rushing down from the skies, and when she looked up, she was blinded by the sun.
“What is it?” Quion asked, seeing her expression.
“They’re coming!” she gasped in worry.
Something huge and black blotted out the sun, dropping down on them with its foul reek. It was Echion himself. Her heart spasmed in terror. Quion had the baby strapped to his back in the basket.
“Hide!” she told him, grabbing the meiwood staff from him.
But there was nowhere to hide.
As the Dragon of Night came swooping down at her, Bingmei unfurled her spiritual wings and launched herself at him with the staff. The dragon snapped its maw at her, but she swerved around it, invoking the power of the staff as she struck one of the wing joints on his back. The awful stench of him filled her nose. She’d forgotten how horrible it was, seasoned by the memory of his many murders, his evil intentions, his fathomless greed. As she swept past him, the tail tried to swat her from the sky, but she pitched down. The dragon turned and gave chase, just as she’d hoped he would.
She rose from the lip of the canyon, and two dragons lunged at her, both swooping down from the upper walls where they’d tried to blend in. The meiwood staff sizzled with power, and she struck one on the snout hard, stunnin
g it, and managed to fly away before the other could bite her. She moved quickly enough that the second dragon collided with the first. Echion rushed out of the canyon, yellow eyes blazing at her, snarling and snapping. She glanced down into the canyon but couldn’t see Quion anymore.
Arching her back, she flew higher, directly into the blinding light of the sun. Now, it would be difficult for them to see her. But she couldn’t go far, not with her baby and Quion so helpless below.
She changed directions and came rushing down again, only to find Echion had almost reached her. Although she managed to evade his next bite, his great wings buffeted her as she passed, knocking her off her course. Another dragon charged at her as she righted herself. Then she sensed Xisi coming.
Help me! she pleaded in her mind to the phoenix.
Bingmei felt a dragon closing in on her back, and she tucked and dived, letting it whoosh over her. Now that she was in the sky, she saw a huge column . . . not of smoke but an enormous cloud. Lightning streaked from it, followed by the distant pop of thunder.
The chase made her weary, so she dropped to the top of the canyon wall, holding the staff before her. She breathed fast, trying to think. Where was Quion? Where was her baby? If she’d been carrying the basket, she would have flown away with it, choosing to flee the area in order to protect her baby. But she was the capable fighter.
Once she landed, she immediately began doing the phoenix form. The wind howled around her, and the storm drew closer. More lightning. More thunder. She continued in her stance, waiting for her enemies to draw near.
One of the other dragons reached her before Echion. It was a colorful thing, bright violet with shades of ruby along its eyes. Its fangs dripped with saliva as it snapped at her, close enough she could see the pink of its mouth. Bingmei felt as if she were made from the wind. She leaped up at the last moment, and when it charged toward the empty space where she’d been, she slammed the meiwood staff on its head. Thunder boomed from the staff as it struck. She’d carved a word of power to that effect and activated it at that moment. The dragon slumped down, seemingly stunned by the sound and the violence of the strike. It tried to get on its feet, but it couldn’t. She swung the staff around her head and knocked it into the chasm, watching as it plummeted to its death. Its impact ripped a hole in the ice, and the river began to spill out.