by Jeff Wheeler
“He’s alive?” the general said, and she smelled the hope flowering inside him.
“Yes. I know, General, that you have the right to choose who will rule the people if this war is won. I know because I overheard your conversation. But my information was cut off once winter came. The only birds I could commune with were eagles, snow owls, and some small birds. None of them went much farther than the mountains where I was confined. Once the season began to change, the birds started to come back.”
“How did you learn Echion is coming to destroy us?” Liekou asked.
She bit her lip. “I went to Fusang because my child was abducted by Xisi. We were protected in the shrine until he was born, then we had to flee. Echion summoned a flood that nearly drowned Quion and took my baby far away. Quion is the one who told me about Xisi taking the child. He’s on his way here, to Sihui, right now to warn you. I went after my son, but Xisi has him hidden in the palace. I’ve sent a bird to try and find him.”
“It is good you had a son,” General Tzu said. “If it had been a daughter, she would have perished for certain. Echion has set a new Iron Rule. No daughter born shall survive.”
As he said the words, she smelled his outrage and anger, his determination to defy Echion to the death. And she also smelled worry, worry that came directly from Liekou. Cuifen was pregnant. It made this battle even more serious for him. If Sihui lost, they would be at the mercy of the Iron Rules.
“Yes. I know about the order,” Bingmei said. “After summoning the flood, Echion tried to hunt me down. I eluded him. He arrived back in Fusang just after I did, and he went to Rowen because he knows we are connected.”
“How so?” the general asked. “I remember he refused to marry Cuifen because of you, but he wouldn’t have any way of knowing you’re alive.”
“It’s complicated,” Bingmei said. She paused, trying to decide how much to tell him, then decided she should share everything. “General, you may find this difficult to believe.” Glancing at Liekou, she added, “You both may. But Rowen is the father of my child. My son’s name is Shixian. It is Rowen’s destiny to rule Fusang.”
General Tzu squinted at her doubtfully. “I’ve heard reports that Rowen is a eunuch now.”
“What I say is true,” Bingmei told him. “For that, you will have to trust me. Echion went to Rowen to find out where I was hiding. I was with a bird at the window, watching the whole thing. Rowen knew I was near the palace in Fusang, but he lied and said I was in Sihui. He was trying to send Echion as far away from me as possible.”
General Tzu started pacing and stopped by his armor. She saw by his expression that his mind was whirling with the news she’d brought.
“General,” Bingmei said. “Echion wants you to attack Fusang. You shamed him when you defeated his attack on Sihui, and he plans to do the same to you. First, he’ll give you the false impression that you’re succeeding. And then, when it is too late to turn back, he and his dragons will descend and wipe out your army before you’ve reached the walls of the palace.”
He turned his head to look at her. “My plan was going to fail all along,” he whispered.
“Because he knew what you were going to do and had prepared for it,” she said. “But consider this, General Tzu. You know what he is going to do, which means you can prepare to face him. Dragons are vulnerable to meiwood weapons.”
“And meiwood weapons are cursed by the killing fog,” General Tzu said. “When someone invokes their magic, it brings the fog.”
“There is a word of power, one of the Immortal Words, that will protect your soldiers from the killing fog. The one you used previously was only a temporary protection, for Echion would never have taught this one to his servants. It will protect you, doubly so. You can summon the fog on purpose, making it more difficult for the dragons to find you. The rest of them are not like Echion. They follow him blindly. I can write this word for you.”
“There is a tablet on the desk,” he said eagerly. Liekou joined them at the table, looking on as Bingmei took the wax tablet and drew the symbol in the wax. She made the glyph large, easy to be seen and copied. “This is the glyph Shu. It means many things, but the closest meaning is a ransom that has been paid. The killing fog will not exact its toll when someone has this glyph written on them. Echion never taught this glyph to his army because he feared they would become too strong and defy him. He has cursed meiwood itself . . .”
She paused, blinking, remembering the huge grove of meiwood trees beyond the Death Wall. The lions had drunk from a pool of water. Inside that pool of water, she realized with astonishment, lay the curse.
“What is it?” the general asked, seeing the look on her face.
“I think I know how to stop the killing fog for good,” she said. “I think . . . that doesn’t matter now. This symbol, this glyph, will protect you from it. You need to gather as many meiwood weapons as you can in preparation for the attack.”
A sickening feeling fluttered in her stomach. She sensed a dragon coming. She’d hoped she would have more time.
Turning, she looked at the door. “He’s already here.”
A stone carving of a giant eagle perched at the pinnacle of the roof at Eagle Palace. The tiles sloped downward in tiers, with swan statues marking the edge of the next level and falcon statues decorating the next tier down. Bingmei concealed herself behind the eagle statue but watched the skies to the east.
The upper windows of the throne room were just beneath her, and they had all been left open so she could enter from any of them. Upon Bingmei’s suggestion, the general had already ordered Jidi Majia to take Rowen’s sister, Eomen, on a boat and get her and himself away from the palace.
Bingmei continued watching until she saw a gray slit in the sky that grew larger and darker. She’d drawn the symbol Shu on the rooftop, bringing its blessing of protection to everyone within the palace itself. It was the same symbol that had protected her ensign in the phoenix pagoda atop the hill outside Fusang. But it would not protect the entire city, not unless it could be drawn on every building and home, which there was not time to do.
As she waited, she wondered. Would Echion come as he had before, landing on the bridge and spewing clouds of blackness and terrifying the people? Would he summon the fog?
She wasn’t sure what he would do, but she knew the glyph for light and hoped it was strong enough to dispel the darkness if it came.
The dragon vanished before Bingmei’s watchful eyes. She blinked in confusion, but she still felt him—he’d merely hidden himself from the sight of others. He was anticipating a surprise attack and didn’t know that Bingmei knew he was coming. The presence came closer. She worried he’d fly over the palace and possibly spy her on the roof. But if he did, she’d fly away and draw him after her. The others would still be safe.
Instead, he descended to the courtyard behind the palace wall. When he appeared again, he wore a soldier’s uniform, complete with the eagle badge. He looked like one of Zhumu’s soldiers. His stench was so potent it wafted up from the courtyard to where she crouched on the roof.
Duplicity. His usual game.
Bingmei waited until he had entered the palace doors, unchallenged, and then swung off the edge of the roof with her staff in hand. She landed on the sloping tiles and ducked inside the small window. With a flex of her wings, she glided down to the floor of the audience hall, which was now teeming with soldiers. Kexin and Budai had been brought back to the chamber to lend to the illusion that Echion’s arrival was unexpected. Neither of them had been informed of the situation, and they looked more nervous than the rest of the group, who were pretending all was well.
She walked up to General Tzu and King Zhumu.
“He’s arrived, in disguise as one of your soldiers,” she whispered. The doorway leading to the corridor had been deliberately left open. It was a trap, and she was the bait. The swarm of smells in the room rattled her senses, making her edgy and concerned, but she smelled Echion approaching.
“There’s a soldier approaching right now,” General Tzu muttered. Bingmei’s back was to the door, so he looked over her shoulder. “Is that him?”
“Yes,” she answered. “You might want to have people back away.”
“We have one chance to catch him unawares,” the general whispered. She smelled his anxiety, his concern at letting their enemy stroll in amongst them unchallenged. Liekou lay in wait behind one of the support pillars—she could smell but not see him—and all the soldiers had been given one order. They were to attack whomever Bingmei started to fight.
Bingmei gripped her staff, preparing to summon the power of its runes. She swallowed when she felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle as Echion entered the crowded chamber.
Squeezing her staff, she turned and looked at those assembled, although she purposefully kept her attention off the dragon.
“Is there a problem, Bingmei?” King Zhumu asked, adding to the deception.
“Something’s wrong,” she said, purposefully threading confusion and doubt into her tone as she came down the steps of the dais. She started walking toward Echion, although she still did not take special notice of him.
The smell of his smugness struck her hard. He was relishing the moment, believing that she was walking straight to her death.
“My lord! Save us!” Kexin screamed. Had he recognized Echion through his disguise somehow?
The smug look on the disguised soldier’s face melted into a frown.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Like a Cormorant
Bingmei swung the staff around, aiming for Echion’s head, but the surprise she’d planned had been ruined by Kexin’s warning. He brought up his arm swiftly, catching the meiwood staff on his forearm. She leaped at him with a flurry of kicks, only to find him already retreating backward, blocking each one deftly. Bingmei dropped to a low crouch and swung the staff at his legs. When it struck, it was like hitting a column of stone.
The disguise he wore melted away as he kicked down at her. Bingmei rolled to the side, avoiding the first blow. The second struck her ribs and sent her careening away. She would have fallen to the ground on her back, but her spirit wings unfurled and she swooped back onto her feet, coming down in a strong bow-and-arrow stance.
She glared at him, rubbing her ribs, and then the whole room of soldiers charged at him from every direction. As the mob converged, Echion whirled, striking one and then another—arms, fists, knees, feet. He spun like a child’s top, zigzagging around in tight circles, and the soldiers peeled away from him. There was no room to join the fight through the press, but Bingmei watched in utter disbelief as Echion defended himself, striking quick and hard and with terrible power. She saw his hand quickly trace a glyph—speed. And then his motions became a blur.
She caught sight of Liekou, who had his bow raised, meiwood arrow pulled back, but there was no target with so many bodies flailing. The smell of battle filled the throne room, of sweat and determination and growing fear.
The battle raged on, but none of the soldiers landed a single blow. Echion was moving too fast, and his instincts and skills had been perfected over millennia. She saw blood spurt from a broken nose, saw men grimace as they were kicked in the chest and literally thrown off their feet. Weapons were equally useless. The spears rushing him were parried, then yanked away and used against them.
Only a warrior moving as fast as he was could hope to defeat him.
Bingmei traced the symbol for speed in the air and felt a tingle run down her arm. She flew at him, striking fast and hard, feeling her own actions accelerated by the magic of the glyph.
Other warriors tried to strike him while they fought, hoping he would be distracted. But each time someone came near, he would send them sprawling with a fist or a foot, without even looking at them.
Bingmei moved herself in a semicircle, hoping Echion might turn his back to Liekou. The meiwood arrows were their best hope—the dragon’s skill and ferocity were unearthly. There was no sweat on his brow, no labored breathing, although she felt herself drenched and flagging. Both of them had just flown from Sihui, but she seemed to be the only one who felt it.
Behind Echion, she saw Liekou fix his aim and loose the arrow. Although he should have had no way of sensing the danger, he responded to it and pivoted. The arrow went straight at Bingmei instead. If not for the speed glyph, it would have impaled her. She struck the meiwood shaft aside with her staff, sending it clattering to the floor among the other discarded weapons.
She had only had time to draw the complex rune on three of the arrows, hoping that a surprise attack would be all that was needed.
Liekou sprang into the fight. He charged toward Echion and engaged in battle, whipping the bow around to strike his face, only, the Dragon Emperor ducked it and kicked out, stomping on Liekou’s foot, striking his knee, and then his hip—three blows so fast that Liekou grimaced in pain and retreated.
Most of the other soldiers had fallen and were groaning with pain, trying to rise to continue the fight. Some had fled.
Bingmei invoked the power of the staff, and the runes blazed to life. Echion’s movements began to slow as the staff’s power drained the speed sigils. Liekou used a series of snapping and flying kicks, engaging Echion with determination and ferocity, while Bingmei attacked him on his other side.
Echion turned in a half circle, parrying them both, responding with swift kicks to chests and temples. She blocked some, but a few made it through, even though he had slowed. Each blow brought pain, and with that pain came fear. She was lifted again on her wings, prepared to fly should she need to escape a killing blow—or intervene to protect her ally from one.
Liekou was struck twice in the forehead and slumped down to the ground, dazed. Bingmei felt dread for him rise in her throat, but Liekou was only pretending. As soon as Echion’s attention diverted from him, he lunged and grabbed another arrow. He rolled onto his back, fit it to the string of the bow, and rose to a low bow crouch. Echion was nearly on top of him when he launched the second arrow.
Bingmei, hovering in the air behind Echion, watched the arrow strike the Dragon Emperor. She saw the bladed arrowhead emerge from his back, but it did not come through. The arrow had impaled him.
Echion grunted, staggered back.
Liekou panted, eyes wild.
Bingmei, taking advantage of the moment, swung the staff down on Echion’s head with cracking force. It would have killed any other man.
When the staff struck him, it was like hitting a boulder, and the sound it made reverberated through the hall of the Eagle Palace.
Echion reached up and grabbed the staff, using it to spin Bingmei around his head. It happened so fast she didn’t let go until he’d thrown her halfway across the room. Her wings unfurled at the last moment, stopping her from smashing into Zhumu’s empty throne.
Liekou rushed him, kicking over and over, trying to overpower Echion, but each blow was blocked until a counter palm strike hit Liekou in the ribs and sent him hurtling away. Then Echion grabbed the fletching of the arrow and pulled it out of his body. Although he had a pained look on his face, there was no blood or gore, just a silvery syrup that clung to the shaft. He tossed the arrow away.
Echion gave her a feral grin as she hovered in the air.
“You cannot kill me, Bingmei. No man, no army is sufficient. It was a clever trap, to be sure. But this body, which you resurrected for me, cannot be burned by fire, drowned in the sea, or frozen.”
As he spoke, terror washed through her. She smelled the truth of his words.
“But you can die,” Bingmei said. “I’ve seen your corpse.”
“Only when I choose it, little bird. You cannot take my life from me. But I can take yours.”
She smelled a half-truth there, and she clung to it.
“There is a way, and I will find it,” Bingmei shot back. In her mind, she saw a fluttering blue butterfly, clinging to a tree limb.
His look smoldered with anger. He
bared his teeth.
“And I will end this rebellion, little bird.” She saw him begin to draw a sigil with his finger.
Bingmei’s eyes flared with panic, and she flew up and out the window. Echion charged after her, abandoning the half-formed glyph. She could sense him coming, chasing her. She flew down the river toward the sea. When she looked back, she saw he’d already transformed back into the dragon. His yellow eyes burned at her, and he flapped his wings, gaining on her.
She soared low, passing over the sails of fishing boats and war ships. She reached out in her mind for birds, any birds, and willed them to come to her aid, to cloud her from Echion’s sight. The smell of the sea breeze filled her nose, but it did not mask the stench of Echion. The wings of the dragon buffeted the masts and sails of the boats as he chased after her.
Flocks of seagulls rose from the shores beyond the docks, where they’d been picking at food, a plume of white and gray and squawking noises came as they converged around her.
Echion hissed as the birds soared around him, flapping and pecking at his scales. They were no match for his size and strength, but they blinded him. Bingmei continued to soar away from Sihui, following the bay to the south. But the dragon didn’t lose interest in the chase. Echion pressed against her, keeping pace with her, determined to devour her and end the rivalry. She was exhausted. But they were equally determined. She soared around boulders as waves crashed against them, spraying white foam. She passed a flock of puffins, but they were too small to help her.
Ahead, she saw a lonely fishing boat away by itself. The fisherman stared at them coming, and he jumped into the water in pure fear. It gave her an idea.
Could the water protect her?
Some birds dived at the water, like pelicans. She’d seen them do it. And other birds, like cormorants, actually went under the water to catch fish. In fact, she sensed a cormorant nearby, sitting idly on a boulder, watching them as they flew past. Excitement filled her chest. In this race, she would lose. But if she could shift Echion’s attention from her for long enough to dive underwater, he wouldn’t know where she’d gone.