by Jeff Wheeler
Bingmei released her summons, and the blade shot at the dragon. She launched herself at the beast, her mind hot with anger. They collided in midair, the impact enough to steal her breath. The hot smell of the beast sickened her, but she knew what she needed to do. No punch or kick would harm such a creature, but that wasn’t necessary. She only had to draw the glyph of death on it.
She began to trace it on one of the scales, but the hard surface rippled and dissolved beneath her hand. Echion had transformed again, reducing the size of his bulk to a human form that had less to touch. He kicked her in the stomach. She choked with pain and felt the Phoenix Blade coming for her.
Bingmei tried to twist away in time, but the blade pierced her stomach. She felt it slide into her, experiencing the shock and pain of it. Her muscles seized with agony, and she felt the wings on her back stiffen. And then her spirit-soul sloughed from her body as death claimed her once again.
“You dared . . . believe you could defeat me?” Echion growled, driving the blade in deeper.
When her spirit-soul departed her body, she could see again, no longer impacted by the darkness of the dragon’s breath. She saw the expression on her body’s face, the surprise still registered on her mouth. Her eyes open, unseeing. The blade had run her completely through.
Echion wasn’t speaking to her body. His brutal eyes were fixed on her spirit-soul.
“You will serve me now and forever in the Grave Kingdom,” he told her.
Despair gripped her soul as Echion flung her body to the stone floor, where it lay in a heap of bone, muscle, and leaking blood. A tug of current began to pull at her, drawing her away from the Hall of Memory. As she was sucked out of the palace, she saw a battle underway outside the Hall of Unity. Mieshi and Zhuyi fought against a group of Echion’s ensign, one with a sword, the other with the rune staff. They were both surrounded and fought hard, but it was a one-sided encounter. How long would they last so outnumbered?
The sickening realization of failure bit inside her as the pull of the Grave Kingdom tugged her toward the afterlife.
Bingmei’s spirit-soul hurtled through the flashing colors of the Woliu toward the Death Wall. The summons of death was relentless this time, and she was powerless to stop it. Every bit of her dreaded the crowded streets, the tangle of desperate masses seeking to be reunited with their loved ones. She grieved at her own failure, at the chance she had taken and lost. Her own imprisonment in the Grave Kingdom would be the price she paid.
The mountains stretched before her, capped with melting snow and crowned by a wall that had been built ages ago to capture and imprison the dead. And like all who had gone before her, she raced toward it.
And then she heard three words, words that pierced and snared her. “Shui. Xue. Po.”
Instantly the wind that had summoned her to the gates of the Death Wall reversed. She knew the voice, and even though the words had been spoken far away, it felt as if he’d whispered them in her ear.
It was Rowen’s voice, summoning her back from the dead.
A spasm of color exploded around her, and she was sucked back into her body. Pain exploded inside her, the agony of severed muscles.
In the anguish, she felt a warm hand press against the wound, and another Immortal Word was uttered. A word that healed and restored. In an instant, her torn muscles knit together, and then the skin on both sides of her torso. Pain melted from her, replaced by vigor and strength.
Darkness blinded her once again, but she felt a warm hand on her stomach, breathed in the bread and honey scent of Rowen’s feelings. There was no sign of the dragon. She touched his hand, surprised to find it so tender and careful. The Phoenix Blade lay at her side. He must have pulled it out of her before invoking the words that brought her back to life.
She lifted herself up, and then his gentle hands pulled her into an embrace.
He did not speak to her, but she could smell his breath near her face. She knew it was him, and she knew how it felt to be blind. Memories pulsed inside her. To be held by him, even for a moment, was worth the agony she’d endured.
“Is it you?” she whispered, reaching for his face.
She used the same words he had said to her. Words full of meaning. Words she hoped he would remember from his vision. The smell of love only deepened—it was her scent too, she realized.
His fingers went through her hair, removing the pins one by one until her wig tumbled to the ground and her white braids slumped down around her neck and shoulders.
The smell of him was so delicious she wanted to stay. There was no rivalry or jealousy in it anymore, only deep affection and respect. She felt the hard stone floor beneath her. The heat from his body. Although her eyes could not see through the dragon’s dark fog, her other senses seemed to explode with life. Then he pushed the flat of the Phoenix Blade at her chest. Their hands touched as she folded her fingers around the sharp edges.
“Let’s kill him this time,” he whispered. “You don’t have to face him alone.”
“I don’t want to be alone anymore,” she said, coming to her feet, he with her.
“I saw it too, Bingmei. This is our palace. It’s time to claim it.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Falls the Shadow
She grasped the Phoenix Blade in a reverse grip so that the blade pointed up behind her arm. With her other hand, she intertwined her fingers with Rowen’s, enjoying the warmth of him. The smell of his love. Together they walked out of the dark-shrouded Hall of Memory and into the vivid sunlight.
A few stray hairs that had come loose from her braids tickled her face as a breeze caressed her. The pain from the wound was gone, her muscles and organs fused together again. As she walked across the threshold before the wide steps leading down to the courtyard, she could hear the sounds of fighting. Once she reached the edge, she saw Echion standing in the middle of the steps, grasping his spear like a pole and leaning on it as he watched his ensign pressing down against Mieshi, Zhuyi, and Marenqo. Several warriors had been felled, but there were at least twenty more, and beyond them stood a ring of Qiangdao soldiers watching the fight with interest.
Bingmei looked down at her friends, her companions, and felt a swell of protectiveness. The urge to keep them safe, to shelter them from harm. Rowen squeezed her hand, and from his bittersweet fragrance, she sensed he felt the same way.
“Do you see it?” she asked him curiously.
“I can see it through the birds,” he whispered back, his voice full of awe.
And she realized in that moment that every rooftop surrounding the enormous courtyard was thronged with birds of a hundred different varieties, from little finches to majestic cormorants. Their individual presence was so small, so understated, that she hadn’t realized she’d been sensing them all along.
Another smell struck her, the scent of Xisi in a murderous rage. She released her hold of Rowen’s hand and turned, watching as the Dragon Queen came up behind her with the sharp talons attached to her fingers. Xisi’s hatred and killing intent thrummed from her in wave after wave of desperate fury.
Xisi closed on her, raising a hand to stab at Bingmei with her metal claws, but Bingmei dodged the swipe.
“Give him back! Give him back!” Xisi shrieked. “You’re bound by the Xieyi! Give him back!”
Another slash came at her face, and Bingmei ducked and struck back, aiming a phoenix-eye punch at Xisi’s temple. The blow landed as intended and sent her reeling back a few steps.
“I’ve honored my oath,” Bingmei said, bringing her sword around defensively.
“Liar! You’ve stolen him! Give me Chushuile! Give me my baby!”
Hope swelled in Bingmei’s breast. Why did Xisi think Shixian was missing? Had someone rescued him from her? Perhaps his nursemaid had taken him away?
The Dragon Queen lunged at Bingmei again, trying to gore her with her metal claws. Bingmei flew up in the air to get out of the way—and saw Echion rushing at her in a fit of violence, spear pointe
d at her heart. She saw the creeping mist of the killing fog snaking through the courtyard, converging on those battling within its confines.
Rowen grappled with Xisi, tackling her onto the stone floor, and Bingmei drew the glyph for speed and soared away from Echion.
“You were dead! I killed you!” he shouted at her. “You are not immortal!”
“And neither are you,” Bingmei shot back, swooping around. They met in a clash of weapons, her Phoenix Blade against his spear tip. He thrust and jabbed at her, while she flew over the steps, passing over the very marble engraving that would be changed to show their essences battling around an orb. The sun beat down on them, casting their shadows on the stone, and Echion vaulted into the sky after her. She had never seen him fly without being in his dragon form before. The fact that he could do so made him even more formidable.
Someone was charging toward Marenqo, intent on stabbing him from behind, so Bingmei arched her back, spreading her wings to gain velocity, and swooped down into the battle. She struck down the foe with a single blow, but there were many more to replace the fallen man. Glancing up at the birds perched around the courtyard, Bingmei summoned them to join the fight. She could sense her phoenix-sisters’ spirit-souls among them and rejoiced. She circled around, keeping just ahead of Echion, who grew more and more frustrated at her evasions. The courtyard filled with birds, which came down and started attacking the Qiangdao gathered around. At first the soldiers seemed to think the birds were nothing but an annoyance to swat away, but they kept coming—more and more of them—and the men began to flee and shout in surprise and fear. Confusion reigned in the courtyard.
Echion switched paths, and suddenly he was in front of her. Their weapons clashed again, and the force of his blow sent her spinning. She collided with the ground and rolled a few times before dropping the Phoenix Blade. A tendril of fog coiled around the blade.
Although stunned by the blow, she knew she had no time to recover. She held out a hand and summoned the sword to her. It flew from the fog’s embrace to her hand, and she flipped up onto her feet just as Echion crashed down next to her. Runes burned in the shaft of his meiwood spear as he attacked her in savage fury. She ducked, dodged, blocked, and kept skittering backward, trying to keep from dying again.
A flock of doves flew into Echion’s face, momentarily blinding him. Bingmei thrust with the sword and saw it slice through his silk tunic. She saw an angry slash of blood—red blood—and heard him grunt. He pivoted the spear and struck at her head with the other end, but she ducked it and took to the air again. The fog coiled around their legs but didn’t harm them.
Bingmei glanced back at the top of the palace steps and saw Rowen still grappling with Xisi, his hands on her forearms as he wrestled her back down. He kneed her in the stomach several times, but to no avail. She had not eaten one of the butterflies. Any pain he dealt to her would be impermanent. A distraction.
A ripple of magic filled the air as Echion transformed into the dragon again. With a few pumps of his powerful wings, he’d swatted the attacking birds away like they were flies and issued a dreadful roar that deafened her. The Qiangdao were in full retreat now, rushing toward the front of the palace where the rest of the army had gathered.
She saw Marenqo sprawled on the ground below. It wasn’t the death sleep from the killing fog—they’d protected themselves against that. She saw the blood from his wounds staining the ground. Zhuyi and Mieshi looked as if they were spent with exhaustion. Hopelessness pressed at her, but still she fought on, even when the dragon came at her, teeth snapping.
She slashed at it with her sword, swooping around, battling it in the air above the courtyard. It seemed impossible that the odds could be turned in their favor, yet still she fought, trying to stay away from the claws and fangs. One of Echion’s wings buffeted her again, but she sliced it with the sword. The dragon snarled in pain but didn’t lose air. She rushed down toward the ground and barreled into the ensign again, knocking over several of the warriors, trying to win more time for her companions.
Echion swept down like a boulder and caught her in his claws. She felt the jolt of pain as his talons pierced her. Her power of flight ebbed. Blood seeped from her wounds. The dragon hurled her down to the stone, where she landed in a heap, like a broken thing. Pain seared her leg and hip. She rolled onto her back and held the sword up, hoping to impale the beast. But the dragon landed away from her. Her elbow was numb with pain. Blood . . . the taste of blood filled her mouth.
The dragon transformed again into the cruel tyrant, his face obscured by the haze until he waved his arm and suddenly the fog retreated, driven back by some unearthly command. His face was a mask of hatred and contempt. “How many times must I kill you!” he shouted. “You cannot defeat me. Your wings are broken, little bird.” A hawk swooped down at him, but Echion drew a glyph in the air, and the bird exploded in flames. He reached out his hand, and the spear answered his summons. He was going to stab her again, as he’d done to the phoenix in the vision.
Behind Echion’s shoulder, Bingmei saw Mieshi go down. Her heart panged in dread and fear. What could she do? She still held the Phoenix Blade, but it seemed so weak in comparison to Echion. He had centuries of fighting skill. He’d defeated the best warriors of the past. He’d defeated all her sisters.
The air around her went cold. A shadow fell across the courtyard.
Echion smelled startled and his expression betrayed the emotion. Gripping his spear, he turned around. The rich blue sky turned purple. Stars began to appear. The cold deepened.
“What is this trickery?” Echion gasped, looking up at the sky.
Bingmei saw the sun begin to blot out, as if some giant shield had slid over it.
A great chorus of crickets sounded, and the birds that had been fighting began to chirp and shriek as if it were sunrise again, their songs giddy and bright.
Bingmei was baffled by what she beheld. In a few moments, the sun was blotted out of the sky, leaving only a fiery ring around a sphere of blackness. It made her think of the carving from the future, the phoenix and the dragon battling around the orb. In a gush of understanding, she realized that it wasn’t an orb. It was the sun! Something had happened to the sun during their battle, and it would be crucial to their victory.
“The Reckoning,” Bingmei gasped, sitting up. “The reign of the Dragon of Night is over.” She didn’t think it was, but she’d learned from Xisi. Echion was not immune to trickery, and she hoped her words would terrify her nemesis.
Fear gushed from Echion like a punctured vat. “No! It cannot be! It cannot be!” He was paralyzed with fear, with dread, with the premonition of an impending doom so brutal and devastating that his very soul shrank in horror.
An eerie twilight fell over the courtyard. Everyone was staring up at the sky. Zhuyi was the last one, encircled totally by enemies, but the transcendent scene had commanded the attention of every single person in the courtyard. No one knew what was happening or why.
Strike hard, Bingmei. Strike his unfeeling heart.
She, too, had been caught up in the marvelous display. Noonday had literally turned into twilight. But it was time to act.
Echion gazed in horror at the ring of fire hanging in the sky, like some baleful eye judging him, condemning him.
Bingmei, crouching, gripped the hilt of the Phoenix Blade and sprang as she plunged it into Echion’s chest. The keen blade pierced his silk shirt, plunging into his heart.
Echion gasped with pain as he staggered back, the action freeing him from the sword. His pale hand clutched his chest, but it could not stem the blood. His face became grotesque in its expression of pain, dread, and anguish. It was a maelstrom of smells, each reeking and horrid. Bingmei covered her nose, backing away, the sword still in her hand.
Echion dropped to one knee as the spasms of his ruptured heart continued. He tried to speak, to curse her, but his lips could not form words. With his other hand, he tried to draw a glyph, but his arm rattled too v
iolently for him to manage it. He clung to his life in desperation, trying to will himself to stay in the mortal world.
Bingmei stepped forward, feeling his hate, his dread. He knelt before her, blood flecking his lips. Standing over him, she drew the glyph of death on his forehead.
And then his eyes rolled back in his head and his smell, his abhorrent murderous smell, vanished as the trunk of his body slumped to the pavement.
“Aie!” screeched Xisi from the top of the stairs. It was a keening cry of devastation. Of despair. Of nonsense.
Xisi transformed into the pale dragon, breaking free of Rowen’s strong arms. The dragon launched down the steps, coming right at Bingmei, who brought up her blade to defend herself. But Xisi was still immortal. There was nothing Bingmei could do to stop her.
Even as that thought passed her mind, Rowen transformed before her eyes. Not into a dragon but into a phoenix, like the many she had seen in the ethereal realm of Fusang. The bird Rowen rushed down and clawed at Xisi’s back. The white dragon hissed and spurted a jet of gray foam, which splashed down on some of the ensign members, making them shriek in pain before dying. The two winged creatures thrashed at each other, but the phoenix was bigger than the dragon. Rowen grasped at her with his talons, slashing at her neck with his beak.
Another gout of freezing froth came, and Bingmei’s weakened wings unfurled, lifting her up and away. The misty ichor flooded the ground where Echion lay, and the corpse became as hard as stone, the pale skin turning gray.
She watched as the phoenix kept the dragon away from her. Despite Xisi’s rage and attempts to destroy her, the bird always interposed, slashing and biting and buffeting the dragon with his much larger wings.
As Bingmei hovered in the air, keeping her distance, her eyes were struck by blinding light. The shadow that had fallen over the courtyard began to lift. The sky brightened once more, the stars fading from view. What magic was this? She didn’t know, but soon the noise of crickets started to fade and the chattering birds began to quiet.