by Jeff Wheeler
“You brought me back,” she said. “It was like living inside the killing fog. I felt nothing, even though I wanted to. I’m sorry I attacked you, Bingmei.”
“It wasn’t truly you,” she said.
Mieshi ran to Zhuyi then, and they fell into each other’s arms, weeping with joy. The depth of their sisterhood ran deep, and the reunion was powerful, causing Bingmei’s eyes to water as she watched them clasp each other.
Her heart felt like bursting. She closed a fist, pressing it against her mouth to keep from sobbing herself. Their joy was so living, so vibrant, so palpable it filled every corner of the room.
And then she heard the phoenix whisper in her mind. Imagine how it will feel when the doors of the Grave Kingdom are opened and families can finally be reunited again.
The strong surge of emotion in her chest felt like a swelling tide. Grandfather Jiao and Grandmother Fupenzi could be reunited. So could her parents. And eventually she would join her lost loved ones in the wondrous kingdom of Fusang. Would Shixian be kept from her even there?
Marenqo watched the bond sisters’ reunion with his hands on his hips.
Zhuyi and Mieshi wiped their tears and turned to face her. “What do you want us to do?” Mieshi asked.
“We are part of your ensign,” said Zhuyi.
Bingmei looked at them then at Marenqo. “Rowen is trapped as well. We must free him.”
Marenqo nodded. “Talk doesn’t cook rice. Let’s go.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
The Breaking Balance
They walked through the palace grounds as if they were ghosts, each step bringing them closer to the main courtyard of the palace. Bingmei had made sure, before leaving the cage, that all three of her companions had received the Shu glyph, which would protect them from the killing fog. She taught them the word and told them that General Tzu was bringing a combined army to attack. Since both Mieshi and Zhuyi had been part of Xisi’s guard, Bingmei had decided on the bold tactic of walking through the palace as if they belonged there. With so many servants at the palace, they wouldn’t stand out. The only danger was that Bingmei would be recognized, even with her wig, but they would take pains to avoid anyone who might notice her.
As they walked in silence, they passed servants and soldiers who didn’t give them more than a passing look. Bingmei reached out to the birds fluttering around the palace to be her eyes, to see what lay ahead.
Through one of them, she saw Xisi and her handmaids heading their way, walking at a leisurely pace toward the queen’s section of the grounds, which Bingmei and the others were attempting to leave.
“Xisi is coming this way,” Bingmei warned in a low voice.
“Do you smell her?” Marenqo asked.
“Not yet. But I can see her.”
“There’s another path to the main courtyard,” Zhuyi said. “This way.”
They followed her out of the covered walkway. After they had passed around a corner, Bingmei shifted her awareness back to the bird, watching as Xisi crossed the very spot they’d just left. She sighed in relief, returning to her body.
“I’m glad we put the broken door back in place,” Mieshi said. “But it won’t fool her for long if she goes to check on us.”
“Do you think she will?” Marenqo asked.
“Not soon. She’s been very busy since the palace started preparing for war,” Mieshi said. “They’ve known Tzu is coming. They intend to let him land without much resistance. Then they’ll send the dragons out to destroy the boats and frighten the army. The Qiangdao will swarm them. How is the general going to face the dragons?”
Bingmei could smell their concern and quickly spoke to reassure them. “The general knows this already. He knows he’s walking into a trap. And he’s gathered meiwood weapons to fight the dragons.”
“Won’t the weapons summon the killing fog?” Zhuyi said.
“It can’t harm them now,” Marenqo reminded her. “And the fog will create cover as well. It will make it harder for the Qiangdao to fight them. Even the odds.” He smirked. “Clever man, that general.”
“Clever Bingmei,” Mieshi said, glancing at her proudly. Her smell was flowery.
Bingmei enjoyed the scent, but their victory was far from assured. “When we first came here, we couldn’t have killed Echion even if we’d all fought him together. He was immortal and immune to our attacks. Now he isn’t. We have our chance to defeat them. This is what we were meant to do, what Kunmia would do if she were here instead of us. I don’t have her skill or training.” She felt a throb in her heart, the misery of longing for someone who had died. “But I will help guide you. Once Echion is dead, Xisi’s powers will be reduced. We can figure out a way to defeat her too.”
“She has your baby still,” Mieshi said, and Bingmei smelled the bite of her own sorrow.
“Wait . . . Bingmei has a baby?” Marenqo asked in wonder.
“Yes. It is Rowen’s son.”
All three of them turned and looked at her in bafflement as they walked.
“How can that be?” Mieshi said. “He’s a—”
“I know,” Bingmei interrupted. “I can’t explain it now. But it’s true. I gave our son to Xisi through an unbreakable pact. She intends to raise my son to rule at her side. I won’t allow that. She and Echion must both be stopped.”
“Someone’s coming,” Marenqo whispered.
They’d passed the gates leading to the inner palace. The main courtyard was around the corner, and the building’s sloping roof blocked their view of the person whose footsteps Marenqo had heard. His scent revealed him. The man approaching them down the path was one of Echion’s ensign, the warrior who had guarded her when she’d first been brought to Fusang. The man who had killed King Shulian with his fist.
“He’s one of Echion’s,” Marenqo whispered.
Bingmei continued to walk with purpose, leading the others. She had her wig and could not be recognized from afar.
The man glanced at them and slowed his pace. The smell of distrust came immediately.
Bingmei kept her expression unconcerned, as if oblivious to his identity.
“Where are you all going?” he said, holding up a hand to stay them.
Bingmei continued to advance. “We don’t answer to you,” she said curtly.
A gong sounded from the main courtyard. The noise reverberated in the air, then rang out again like a bell of doom.
“Report back to your mistress,” the man ordered. “The army is being assembled in the southern courtyard, prepared to march. The ships have been sighted entering the inlet.”
Still, Bingmei advanced with her companions.
She smelled it then. A shock of recognition.
“We don’t answer to you,” Bingmei repeated, then gripped the staff and thrust it hard right at his chest.
The man sidestepped, blocking the thrust, and Mieshi and Zhuyi lunged at him. Marenqo went around to block his escape. Bingmei saw a wild panic ignite in the man’s eyes as he tried to fight off three women at once. His hand went to Zhuyi’s side to try to draw a dianxue glyph on her, but Bingmei thumped his head with her staff. The blow caught him unawares, and he stumbled to his knees, his consciousness dazed. Mieshi grabbed him in an arm bar, and he was thrust forward, forced to kneel.
Zhuyi had her saber out and looked to Bingmei for orders.
Marenqo went to the next opening in the covered walkway to keep watch on the courtyard.
Bingmei walked up to the prisoner. “I never knew your name,” she said, standing before him. She kept her emotions under control. She did not hate him or seek revenge. But she couldn’t let him go either. It would risk the safety of her companions and her mission.
He looked up at her in fear and despair, sweat trickling down his cheek. And he knew he was a dead man.
Send him to the Grave Kingdom, came the whisper from the phoenix. He has chosen his master already.
“My name . . . my name is Heishou,” he said thickly.
A
n image came to Bingmei’s mind. A dianxue glyph for execution. The death touch. Zhu.
It was a punishment earned. One he had inflicted on many others. His body began to tremble with fear.
“Warn the souls in the Grave Kingdom that their master is about to return,” Bingmei told him. “The Reckoning is coming.”
A bloom of terror filled his breast, smelling of burnt soup. Bingmei drew the simple glyph on his head as Mieshi restrained him. And she watched as his spirit-soul sloughed from his body, which collapsed as its animating energy abandoned it. She saw his spirit-soul look at her, could smell its fear and despair. And then the otherworldly wind sucked it away, and it was gone.
She realized that all she needed to do was touch Echion with that glyph and he would die.
Unless he killed her first.
Bingmei and her companions strode down the stone steps leading to the main courtyard in front of the Hall of Memory. As they did so, her eyes shifted to the great building, to the marble tablet with the dragon design embedded in the middle of the staircase leading up to it. To their right, on the other side of the courtyard, was the Hall of Unity where Rowen was being kept. Like the other buildings, it was elevated atop a stone staircase, but it wasn’t quite as high.
As they continued to make their way to Rowen, she saw soldiers walking with spears and swords across the courtyard, not in orderly rows but in masses. They stank of murder and greed—the smell of the Qiangdao. There were thousands of them. Soldiers patrolled the walls as well, monitoring the progress as the Qiangdao army streamed around the Hall of Unity toward the front courtyard, guarded by the stone lions that had crushed Zhuyi all those months ago.
As Bingmei stared at it, she remembered the first time they’d run from the palace. The glacier had hung overhead like milky clouds. She remembered how that frozen sky had broken when the meiwood pillars ignited, and the chunks of ice that had rained down on them. The memories made her heart skitter with anxiety. They had barely managed to flee, and there’d only been a small contingent of Qiangdao to stop them. This was an army. And she only had three companions with her.
“What do we do?” Mieshi asked as they reached the bottom steps.
“They don’t know who we are,” she answered. “In the confusion, I think we can make it there. The doors leading to the hall have gold knobs on them. You have to touch all nine knobs in a row in order to have the strength to open the door.”
Bingmei’s stomach fluttered as she sensed the presence of dragons. She glanced up and saw a horde of dragons flying into the air like a flock of many-colored birds. A sense of dread overcame her. They were flocking together to destroy General Tzu’s army.
Oh, General, she thought. I hope you are ready for them.
“We’re going to die,” Marenqo whispered in dread. His fear wasn’t feigned. She could smell it from all of them.
Mieshi put her hand on his shoulder, trying to exude confidence and the honey-sweet smell of hope.
They watched as the dragons lumbered overhead. Even the Qiangdao crossing the courtyard seemed afraid of them. They glanced up in worry, as if afraid one of them might come swoop down to snatch a man in its jaws.
But the dragons weren’t interested in this prey. They flew away from the palace, heading toward the bay where the ships had come. Soon they were all gone, the sky blue once again, but Bingmei didn’t feel a twinge of relief. The monsters had flown off to attack the army that had come because of her. Lives would be lost, and the dead would be trapped in the maze of the Grave Kingdom. Unless that door could be opened once more.
But she’d done what needed doing. It had begun. The balance was shifting, its chains groaning with the weight of the ages. Bingmei started forward again. It was not the time for running. It was time to face her enemy. She sensed the Phoenix Blade caged within the Hall of Memory. It sang to her. It summoned her.
Go.
She felt the whisper from the phoenix. If her friends came with her, they would all die. She felt the certainty sink inside her bones.
I will, she answered immediately, her heart wanting to respond, to accept whatever fate lay before her.
“Go free Rowen,” she told the others. “Get him out of here.”
“What are you going to do?” Mieshi asked worriedly.
“What I must,” she responded, unfurling the invisible wings on her back.
The dragons were gone. All but the darkest of dragons, the dragon of smoke and shadow. In that crowd of menace she hadn’t seen the beast with the glowing yellow eyes.
Bingmei handed the staff to Marenqo and then soared into the air, headed for the Hall of Memory. As she flew over the carving of two dragons facing off over an orb, she remembered what the carving had looked like when she’d visited the future version of Fusang. It had been changed to a phoenix fighting a dragon. The hope of victory lifted her higher. She still didn’t know how it would happen, or if she’d made the decisions that would ensure it did happen, but she knew one thing.
The time had come.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Death’s Sting
Even through the thick meiwood doors, Bingmei could smell the stench of him, the horrible essence of a man who had committed unspeakable acts far beyond the lifespan of any ordinary mortal. But something new festered in the smell: fear. It wafted through the doors as Bingmei approached.
A huge golden lock was affixed to the doors, preventing anyone from entering. It had not been there before. She quickly found the glyph carved into it—the Immortal Word for “locked”: Suo.
Bingmei stared at the word, wondering why he had locked himself inside during an important battle. But the answer was obvious. He was in a weakened state. He didn’t trust his own ensign of dragons or his servants. And he especially did not trust Xisi.
Fear and doubt wrestled inside Bingmei. She was young and had not fared well in her previous battles with Echion, but she had been chosen anyway. And so she steeled herself to confront him. The Phoenix Blade was inside that chamber, and it belonged to her.
These doors belong to you. Open them.
The faint whisper in her heart compelled her forward. She raised her hand and traced the glyph Kai in front of the word Suo. The two words together created the Immortal Word for unlocking that which is imprisoned.
The inner mechanism of the lock shifted and clicked, and the massive doors began to open toward her, letting out a gust of brackish air, the reek of the man she’d come to destroy.
She smelled his flare of anger at the intrusion, the burning sulfurous rage, and in the shadows of the lair, she saw his pale hair rustle as he took a step forward and threw his spear at her.
Bingmei’s wings unfurled again, and she soared up as the spear sped beneath her, flying like a dart out into the middle of the courtyard, where it clattered to the ground.
“You!” Echion snarled as she floated in the air. He was incredulous, but he saw her with his own eyes.
“I’ve come to destroy you,” she said firmly.
“You cannot destroy me,” he said, the lie making the air even more pungent. “I am as the gods!”
“No longer,” Bingmei said. As she hovered in the air, she saw the still corpse of the maidservant, Baihe, sprawled on the ground, the eyes open and lifeless. An act of rage. Bingmei’s heart swelled with disgust and determination to end the reign of such a monster.
“And what is a little bird compared with a dragon!” Echion snarled. His body began to lift off the ground, and she had the briefest impression of massive black wings, as insubstantial as smoke, before he rushed at her, fingers bent into claws, face full of murderous intent.
Bingmei flew straight at him. She drew the glyph for light to blind him and tucked to the side as the light exploded inside the hall. Even with her eyes closed, it scalded her vision.
Echion yelled in anguish, but he knew how to counter her attack. She heard the rippling of scales, smelled the reptile stench of his dragon form. With her eyes closed, she arche
d away from the smell and soared up to retrieve the Phoenix Blade from the jaws of the stone dragon.
The dragon breathed out the fog of darkness just as she reached the blade. As her hand squeezed around the hilt, she felt a jolt of magic rip up her arm. Instantly, she felt a wrestle of wills in her mind—one force demanded she release it, another sang with delight at the reunion.
Bingmei yanked on the blade and felt the metal scrape against stone as she freed it. Power filled her from the crown of her head to her toes. The blade responded to her once again, seething and powerful—a weapon of her birthright, which had been stolen and warped by the Dragon of Night. She hadn’t wanted to take it earlier, knowing that it would give Echion an awareness of her location. But in such close quarters, it was unlikely to matter.
The smell of rage flew at her in the darkness as the plume of shadow smothered the chamber, quenching the light she had summoned. It was as dark as Sihui had been. The dragon rushed at her, and she imagined its gaping maw as its sharp teeth snapped inches from her. Bingmei flew down, bringing the sword around and chopping at the beast’s neck as it tried to snatch her from the air. The blade tore through the scales, and she saw a bloody ichor spray from the wound.
One of its wings buffeted her, sending her spinning. She crashed onto the stone floor hard enough to jar her bones. Pain shot through her arms, which had taken the first impact, and she dropped the blade. It slid across the floor, and Bingmei scrabbled to her knees and lunged for it. Although she couldn’t see it in the darkness, she could sense it. Which was how she sensed it shooting away from her, toward the dragon.
Bingmei let out a cry of frustration and willed the blade to come back to her as she reached out her hand. But the dragon was unwilling to release his mental grip on the blade, and it hung taut in the air between them, unable to move either way.