Kingdom of the Blazing Phoenix

by Julie C. Dao

  Any elation she might have allowed herself to feel disappeared when she saw what was happening on the riverbank. A rain of jet-black serpents had begun to fall in the jungle, writhing and hissing. Their slender, slippery bodies were even emerging from the mirror-water.

  The Serpent God stood with his back to her, arms out while dozens of wriggling, coiling silhouettes climbed up his body and the jungle vomited more serpents with blood-red eyes.

  “Jade!” Fu screamed. “Get on!”

  He had somehow opened the cage of human bones and was urging the enormous turtle into the water. Jade scrambled onto the riverbank and flung her belongings onto her back, still clutching the rose and fishbone, then dove back into the current. The rushing waves propelled the turtle downstream toward her, hitting her hard and almost knocking the breath from her.

  She just managed to throw her bags onto its shell and cling on with all her might. They tore down the cascade, and when the water dipped, she mustered every ounce of strength left to pull herself onto the turtle’s back. Fu knelt grimly beside her as she held on, gasping for breath.

  Behind them, serpents poured into the river like thick slimy noodles in a poisonous soup, their bodies ejected after her by some force much more powerful than the current.

  “What do we do? They’re gaining on us!” she shouted.

  The turtle lifted its head and spoke in a gravelly voice: “What would you wish for more than anything, Princess?”

  “What?” Jade was only half listening, too horrified by the pursuing snakes to be stunned by the turtle’s ability to speak. Glints of ruby shone nearer and nearer, and any moment now, the serpents would catch up to them . . . Their fangs flashed in the river . . .

  In her hand, the rose still burned with a powerful flame. It had protected her from the whirling bones and the water so black it resembled toxic oil.

  Jade pushed up on her hands and knees. Her stomach dropped as the turtle tossed and turned in the racing waters. The Serpent God was now far behind them as the river took a sharp hairpin turn, and she nearly lost her grip on the shell. The right side of her body landed in the water and she struggled to climb back on, her fingers slipping. If she fell into the water now, the snakes would be upon her like so many vultures over a corpse.

  The turtle shifted as they took another nauseatingly sharp turn, and she crumpled back onto its shell. “What would you wish for?” it asked again, and all at once she remembered the fishbone. She had recited the poem, she had claimed it, and now it owed her a wish.

  “My mother,” she whispered, and the whisper became a shout. “And that the fire from this rose will burn every single one of these serpents!”

  This time, when she touched the rose to the river, it was like applying fire to oil. The flames exploded and shot backward, blazing a trail of destruction through the sea of snakes.

  “Hold on!” Fu cried.

  The river dipped sharply, submerging both the turtle and Jade in the heaving water.

  Jade’s empty stomach churned. “Burn no longer,” she whispered, and the rose went out. Tucking her relics away, she sprawled out on her stomach as they roared through the caverns, the smell of death subsiding beneath the acrid smoke. She lay still, pressing her cheek against the cool, damp shell and praying for the sickening, rocking motion to end.

  Fu called her name, but it sounded far away, as did the sound of the crashing cascade.

  “Daughter.”

  Jade opened her eyes and found herself, quite impossibly, back in the soft greenery of the Great Forest. She was not on a turtle barreling toward death, but sitting underneath the apple tree in full bloom. The blossoms swayed in a gentle breeze, and beside her was Empress Lihua.

  “You wished on the fishbone for me,” her mother said, smiling. “But I am with you always, you know that.”

  Jade reached for Lihua’s hand and felt its reassuring warmth in her own. “Xifeng killed you—killed the blue dragon. I saw it die and these roots drank its blood.”

  “She cannot kill something that will live forever. A mother’s love transcends death, and you will find my protection in every part of this tree.” Empress Lihua glanced at the fishbone in Jade’s free hand. The relic glimmered with a rose-gold light as though it were made out of precious stones. “The turtle guardian of that fishbone must be glad to see it in your hands.”

  “Fu freed the turtle from a prison of bone. The Serpent God must have trapped it there.”

  Lihua smiled. “Fu always did love animals.”

  “Only two relics left. One of the Great Forest,” Jade said, gazing at the ruby-red apple in the branches above them, “and one of Dagovad.” A thought occurred to her. “The Serpent God separated me from my friends in the maze—he created a diversion, a spectre that led them west. This river is carrying us west. Will it bring us to the Kingdom of the Four Winds, to my friends?”

  “Anything is possible,” Empress Lihua said. “Perhaps you won’t be so alone after all.”

  “I’m not alone, Mother. I have Fu.”

  Lihua laughed. “That pleases me above all things. Keep him with you and treat my Little Fisherman with respect. It was his nickname . . . and a sister ought to respect her older brother.” Her eyes sparkled at Jade’s astonishment. “Fu was the eldest of my sons with my first husband. He was the Crown Prince in life, brave and solemn, but secretly loved mischief. The eunuchs had their hands full with him when he was young.”

  “My brother.” The word felt like music on Jade’s lips. She’d had family with her all this time. “Why were assassins after him? Why did he have to beg Ming to kill him?”

  “That is Fu’s story to tell. He knew Xifeng when she was a girl, and in fact, he brought her to me. I wonder if lingering in the desert, waiting for you and now watching over you, is his way of making amends for what he unknowingly did.”

  Jade sat back, reeling from the revelation that Fu had introduced Xifeng to Lihua.

  “You will come to understand many things,” her mother said. “The most important is that those hungry for power are as flawed as they like to appear strong. But you seek to help others. That is what you would do on the throne.”

  “All my life, I’ve thought myself weaker than others. But everyone has to work at being brave, don’t they? Day after day, in their own way.”

  Empress Lihua pressed her lips against Jade’s forehead. “Uphold our family’s honor, my dear one, and don’t give in to those who know nothing of goodness. Promise me on the fishbone, this symbol of a mother’s enduring love and protection.”

  “I promise.”

  Empress Lihua smiled, and then she and the forest both vanished.

  When Jade opened her eyes, she was on the turtle’s back once more, racing down the black river with Fu, her brother, by her side.

  The river had mellowed, though it still flowed steadily, and the stench of death was gone. Jade peered over the turtle shell and saw her reflection in the clear water. Fu leaned over beside her. His features seemed clearer, as though knowing who he was had made him more real to her. He had a strong, compassionate face, and his eyes held all of Lihua’s sparkle.

  “You weren’t with us just now. You were somewhere far away,” he said.

  “I was in the Great Forest. I spoke to our mother.”

  Fu gazed at her without surprise. “That’s true, isn’t it? We are family. I didn’t remember until you said it, but that must have been how I could leave Ming for you. After all, it is a brother’s duty to go with his headstrong sister on her deadly missions.”

  “No wonder I think you’re so infuriating. You’re my brother, my family.” She laughed, blinking away tears. “I’m so happy, I don’t know why I’m crying.”

  “I’d cry too, if I could. But I’ll settle for telling you how proud I am of you.”

  “Mother said you knew Xifeng when she first came to court.�
� Jade studied him. She could almost see the scraps of memory floating in his brain as he frowned in concentration.

  “I had no idea what she would become, or that she would destroy my family. Yes, I remember now,” he said slowly. “I thought she would be a good companion for Mother. But even with all her brains and beauty, she had not a stout heart like yours, little sister of mine. Rest now. We’ve left the Serpent God’s realm, though it will be a while before we leave this river.”

  Jade pillowed her head on her bags. “It’s a fitting place for him to hide away, controlling Xifeng from afar. I never thought I would condemn a deity to cowardice.”

  “He is a coward, but perhaps he’s right to be afraid,” Fu said. “The other gods waged a great battle against him when he destroyed their alliance ages ago, and he has never forgotten.”

  “What an army he has built, with all those serpents that came to his aid.” Jade shook her head, her eyes on the cavern’s ceiling far above them. “He and Xifeng mean to join their forces to overtake the continent, but they’re in disagreement. They haven’t made their move.” She bit her lip. “He tried to tempt and manipulate me as he did her. He showed me the monastery.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  Jade sighed. “I thought so once. But now I see it wouldn’t make me any different from him, hiding while people suffer under Xifeng. What has she done to this world of ours?”

  “Nothing that you cannot fix.”

  Jade couldn’t help smiling. “Do I deserve your confidence in me?”

  “It’s not just me,” her brother answered. “It’s Mother, it’s the whole of the continent—everyone who utters a secret wish for the Empress’s downfall, so that the true sovereign may come forward. The last-born of the house of Dragon Kings. You.” He touched Jade’s shoulder, his mouth trembling with emotion, and she felt the light pressure of his fingers.

  At that moment, the turtle raised its head. “I will stop here and rest,” it said, slowing as it moved toward the riverbank, where they found a flat clearing of pale grass, withered from lack of sun. High above them, they saw holes through which sunlight trickled down. Fu stepped onto the shore with his hands behind his back like a traveler in a fascinating new land.

  “I wonder how Wren and Koichi are,” Jade said, taking a seat on the dry grass, but Fu had wandered off and did not hear her.

  “Your friends?” the turtle asked, moving with painstaking slowness to lie beside her. It sighed with relief, its shell shining gray green in the dim light.

  Jade nodded. “How did you come to be here from Kamatsu?”

  The turtle shut its eyes wearily. “My family and I were journeying home for the freezing months when we discovered that ice had formed early: chunks as big as islands, stretching miles below the water. We had never seen winter come on so quickly. It changed our routes.”

  “You were lost?”

  “We separated to find the best way around the ice, but I went too far. I saw a hollowed tunnel of ice deep below the water and thought it might be a passage to the other side.” The turtle opened one rueful liquid eye. “Curiosity is a weakness of mine. No sooner had I entered than a powerful current sucked me in, sweeping me away.”

  “And the fishbone?”

  “The Serpent God, or so he calls himself,” the turtle said witheringly, “tore the treasure from my back when he captured me.” He released a long, slow breath. “I feel so ill and parched. There is something dreadfully toxic about this water, and it weakens me.”

  “I’ll clean some for you,” Jade offered. She found a curved, indented piece of rock and filled it in the river, coaxing flames from the rose to apply to the liquid. At once, the water felt lighter. She held the rock out to the turtle, then repeated the process several more times until the animal had drunk its fill.

  “Thank you, child.” The turtle eyed her. “You’re an odd sort of girl to encounter down here. How did you come to be in the desert?”

  She laughed. “It’s a long story.”

  “When you are eight hundred years old like me, you’ll realize time is of no matter. I have all the time in the world.”

  And so Jade told the turtle of her adventures, and of how she had come by the rose and the crane feather cloak. “The fishbone was under your guardianship,” she recalled. “Will you allow me to use it for my purposes and then return it to you?”

  The turtle shook its head. “It is yours now. It was under my protection only until the right person came to claim it. When the Serpent God pried it from my back, it fell into the river and he could not remove it no matter how hard he tried.”

  “Perhaps he should try reading more stories,” Jade suggested.

  The turtle gave a dry, gravelly laugh. “An odd sort of girl,” it said again, indulgently, and then it closed its eyes and fell asleep.

  * * *

  • • •

  For ten days, they floated through the dark world without sun or moon to guide them, the quick and steady current taking them far west. Jade felt a peace she had not known since the monastery, knowing not even Kang would be able to follow them now. Whenever they stopped to rest, she found edible mushrooms and plants to eat, and the turtle told her stories of its native Kamatsu, where it would return once they found a route to the ocean. The tales of the Boundless Sea made Jade feel closer to Koichi than ever.

  But underneath her contentment was a lingering unease, a knowledge that this might be the calm before the storm. Sooner or later, they would emerge, she would collect the final two relics, and then confront Xifeng once more . . . in either triumph or death.

  One day, the turtle said, “We’re underneath the kingdom of Dagovad now.”

  Jade, who had been listening to Fu tell an amusing story, sat up. “We’ve gone that far west?” She prayed the spectre had led Wren and Koichi here as well, not anticipating she would be propelled after them. “Will you be able to find a channel to the open sea? To go home?”

  “Don’t worry about me. I can already taste the salt of Kamatsu from here. But I must find a place to leave you. You’ll have to find a way to climb up into the mountains.” The turtle glided to the riverbank and waited as Jade clambered off with her possessions, followed by Fu.

  Jade bowed low to the turtle. “Thank you for all you’ve done for us. I wish you a safe journey to Kamatsu and a happy reunion with your family.”

  “And I wish you luck in your task, Jade of the Great Forest. And Fu of the Great Forest.” The turtle’s gentle eyes swept over them. “There are challenges ahead of you; that is clear even to me. But you have gone far enough that you cannot back out again.”

  “I don’t want to back out,” Jade said. “Not anymore.”

  “Keep that kind heart beating, for if you wished it, you could light all the world.”

  She bowed again, accepting the blessing, and watched the turtle drift back into the river. The sight of the current carrying it west, homeward bound, filled her with joy and regret and longing. “Will I ever know what that feels like? Returning to a peaceful life?” she asked Fu.

  “Anything is possible,” he said. “Come, let’s find a way up to the mountains.”

  Both the cavern and the river had narrowed; where once they had been so wide that Jade could not see the other side, the opposite wall of rock was now close enough to throw a stone at. The shore was long enough for a man to stretch out and sleep without his feet touching the water.

  Jade lit the rose and led the way along the water’s edge. “I’m glad you left Ming to be with me,” she said, drawing strength from Fu’s presence. “Do you remember Mother at all?”

  “I do,” he replied, sounding amazed. “Somehow the memories of her are stronger when I’m near you. She loved white jasmine flowers and miniature trees; she filled her apartments with them. There was one tree with tiny white flowers like lanterns. She was often sad.”

&nbs
p; “Was my father unkind to her?”

  “No. Disinterested, perhaps. He didn’t love her the way my father did.”

  “I don’t feel bitter toward Emperor Jun anymore,” Jade said thoughtfully. “I was happy at the monastery, but I resented him for throwing me away. I kept thinking he wouldn’t have done that if I had been a boy. He wouldn’t have discarded you, for instance.”

  Fu’s laugh had harsh edges. “Don’t be so certain.”

  “What happened to you?”

  It was a long moment before he answered. “I argued with Emperor Jun,” he said slowly. “I wanted to rescue my brother, who had been captured on an overseas mission. But Jun refused, at first, to let me go. My youngest brother had died of illness, and if this brother died as well, I would be the Emperor’s sole heir. But Jun relented at last, equipping and sending my men and me off like a doting stepfather.”

  “But you never found our brother.”

  “He was already dead. A piece of information Jun neglected to tell me.” Fu’s voice rang with bitterness. “The captors’ ship crossed paths with mine on the sea. They were going to the Imperial Palace with my brother’s head as proof of his murder, which Jun had demanded of them. The captors attacked and killed every one of my men, but I escaped and found Ming.”

  A stitch formed in Jade’s chest. “The Emperor sent you on a lost cause, knowing you would be killed for nothing? Did Xifeng have anything to do with . . .”

  “Xifeng was still Mother’s lady-in-waiting. I believe it was entirely Jun’s doing.”

  Emperor Jun’s voice echoed through Jade’s head: I’ve done so many things wrong, but now I am doing one thing right. I will, at last, make amends to Lihua.

  “I was nothing to him,” Fu said. “Worse than nothing, because I was another man’s son. I tell you this so that you know how emperors play fast and loose with all of their children. Son or daughter, prince or princess. We are pawns in their game. That is the way of a ruler.”