by Laurence Yep
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To Jackson, who will have his own adventures
Guide to Pronunciation of Kushan Names
Árkwi (Ark-wee). Lord Tsirauñe’s griffin.
Klestetstse (Klays-tayts-tsay). More often shortened to Kles (Klays). Scirye’s lap griffin, a gift from Princess Maimantstse.
Koyn Encuwontse (Koin En-coo-wōn-tsay). Iron Beak.
Kwele (Kway-lay). Lady Sudarshane’s griffin.
Lady Miunai (Mee-oo-nai). A Sogdian lady near the Arctic Circle.
Lady Sudarshane (Soo-dir-shi-nay). Scirye’s mother.
Lady Tabiti (Tuh-bee-tee). A legendary Sarmatian warrior chief.
Lord Resak (Re-shak). A spirit of the Arctic.
Lord Tsirauñe (Tsee-rou-nay). Scirye’s father.
Māka (Mo-kuh). An aspiring sorceress.
Nishke (Neesh-kay). Scirye’s older sister.
Nanaia (Nuh-nai-uh). A goddess.
Nanadhat (Nuh-nah-dat). The princess’s steward and a relative of Princess Catisa.
Nanayor (Nuh-nuh-yoar). A captain in the vizier’s personal troop, the wolf guard.
Oko (Oa-kao). A Pippal who once served with Nishke.
Pärseri (Pir-say-ree). A ratlike creature called an akhu (Ah-koo).
Prince Etre (Ay-tray). Kushan consul.
Prince Tarkhun (Tur-koon). A Sogdian prince near the Arctic Circle.
Princess Catisa (Ka-tee-si). A Sogdian princess.
Princess Maimantstse (My-mun-tsuh-tsay). Cousin of Scirye’s father.
Rapaññe (Ruh-pun-nyay). Scirye’s clan.
Sakre Menantse (Suh-kray May-nun-tsay). A name for the Kushan Empire meaning “Blessed of the moon.”
Sakre Yapoy (Suh-kray Yuh-poi). Another name for the Kushan Empire meaning “the Blessed Land.”
Scirye (Skeer-yay). Mistress of Kles.
Riye Srukalleyis (Ree-yay Sroo kull-lay-ees). City of Death.
Tarkär (Tur-kir). Kles’s clan.
Tute (Too-tay). A lynx and friend of Māka.
Upach (Oo-pak). An ifrit, a desert spirit who happens to live near the Arctic Circle.
Wāli (Wo-lee). A Pippal who once served with Nishke.
Warmapo (Wir-mi-puh). A griffin captain.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Guide to the Pronunciation of Kushan Names
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Afterword
Reader’s Guide
Also by Laurence Yep
About the Author
Copyright
1
December 1941
Somewhere over the Asian steppes near the northern Kushan border
Scirye
“How fast do storms come in here?” Bayang the dragon asked, staring at the dark gray clouds boiling rapidly toward them from the east. The misty wave rolling toward them was at least a mile across and two miles long, and their shadows plunged the mountains beneath them into an ominous twilight.
Scirye and her companions were sitting on a great triangular wing that had been woven magically from straw, and Scirye tugged at a strand of her red hair as she wondered how long the flimsy mat would last in a tempest like that.
Suddenly the wing lurched upward. “Ho, fear not, lumplings,” boomed the great wind, Naue. For a wind, he was fairly pleasant company, except for a bad habit of boasting.
In Hawaii, they had saved the goddess Pele and, in return, she had helped them on their quest by summoning the Cloud Folk to weave the straw wing they rode on now. She had also charged the powerful zephyr, Naue, to carry them on their quest, and he had faithfully carried them to the Arctic and now into Asia. “No little drizzle can stop Naue the magnificent. He will just carry you above it.”
As Naue picked up speed, the sound of their passage rose to a high keening, and perhaps they would have been blown off the mat except for the magical frame of woven straw. The frame was little more than woven poles set upon four upright ones so that it resembled the sketch of a house, but its enchantment protected them as efficiently as brick walls would have.
Behind Scirye, the snow-covered steppes stretched like a huge sheet of cotton batting. It was so vast, so empty, so harsh. It had shaped her ancestors, the Kushans, into a warrior race as hard and sharp as steel. She had never appreciated just how tough they must have been—she knew that she herself could never have survived there.
Somebody as weak as she had no place chasing Badik the dragon and his employer, Roland, who was one of the richest men in the world. Worse, when they had stolen an ancient Kushan treasure and killed her sister, Scirye had been so blinded by rage that she had rashly asked the powerful goddess Nanaia to help her get her revenge. Now there was no question of dropping the pursuit because Nanaia always expected people to keep their word—or else.
Scirye’s palm itched at the mere thought of the goddess, and she glanced at the glove covering it. There was a faint glow from Nanaia’s mark, the number 3, though they could only guess what it meant. Scirye might have felt more reconciled to the bargain if the goddess had made it clear what She wanted Scirye to do.
Scirye and her friends had already survived a trip through the molten insides of a volcano and the sinking of an island to the freezing Arctic wastes, but their greatest trials wer
e just ahead.
Her green eyes gloomily watched the mountains pass underneath them. Snow covered the mountains’ shoulders and the steep black slopes looked as if some giant monster had raked its claws through the earth.
On the other hand, Scirye’s lap griffin, Kles, had grown up in mountains like these, and the excitement of his homecoming had made her parrot-sized friend chattier than usual, eyes bright, eagle-shaped head jerking from side to side, and lionlike tail twitching as if he wanted to take in everything.
Upon her shoulder now, he fluttered his wings and crowed excitedly, “The Astär Mountains, the roof of the world.” Astär meant arrow in the old tongue, and the sharp peaks did look like arrowheads. “Home! We’re home, lady. We—.” He dove suddenly, pinning a two-inch-high badger against the mat near a pouch. “Stay out of the supplies!”
The head of an indignant Koko wiggled up between two of Kles’s claws. His round head seemed to be all gray fur except for the large, shining black eyes—made to appear even larger by the rings of black fur.
His round ears wriggled indignantly on top of his head as he piped in a barely audible voice, “I just wanted a snack. Transformation is hungry work.”
Another miniature Koko kicked the griffin’s haunch. “Don’t be such a pill. When we’re this size, it won’t be more than a nibble.”
“Yeah, you’ll never notice it, you big bully.” A third Koko pounced on Kles’s tail and began trying to pull the griffin off his prisoner. More tiny Kokos joined him in yanking at Kles until the exasperated griffin let go of his captive and swept his forepaws behind him, bowling little badgers left and right.
The air hummed as Leech floated over on his flying discs, his brown hair rippling about his head. He was a human boy about Scirye’s age, and he had joined her quest when Badik had killed his friend Primo. “I thought you were trying to transform into a tiger?”
A dozen Kokos scratched their heads. “So did I,” they all chorused.
“Will you re-unite?” Kles snapped. “One of you is bad enough.”
“Keep your paws crossed that this works.” When the miniature badgers began muttering and making passes, their outlines shimmered. Immediately they began running toward one another, merging until there was a single, much larger badger again. “Whew, that’s a relief,” he said, rubbing his fur vigorously. “But I itch all over now.”
As Leech squatted to scratch his friend’s back, he asked Kles and Scirye, “How much further to the City of Death?”
“We find a peak called the Black Diamond and turn east,” the griffin explained.
Koko gave a shiver. “So why do they call it the City of Death anyway? Is it full of skeletons?”
“It was where Yi the Archer killed a terrible monster who was destroying the countryside,” Kles explained. “The grateful people built a temple in his honor, and so many pilgrims visited it that a city grew up near it. Many centuries later, the Kushans and griffins stopped an army of Huns there, but at great cost. Neither the defenders nor the invaders survived, and no one goes there now.”
“Except Roland and Badik,” Scirye said.
“Yes, except them,” Leech agreed. “But we’ll stop them.”
Roland and Badik were heading there, where they hoped to find the last part of an ancient super weapon that would be capable of destroying a sun. They already had the bow of the fabled archer Yi, as well as the special archer’s ring, for which they had killed Scirye’s sister, Nishke, and injured her mother, Lady Sudarshane. Now the thieves were hunting for the arrows.
Suddenly Kles’s fur and feathers began to fluff out and Koko began to scratch more furiously than before. Scirye’s own skin began to tingle as if a thousand ants were running up and down over her.
“I think that storm is moving even faster now,” Bayang said.
The roiling storm swallowed up the land as it chased after them like an angry gray tidal wave.
2
Leech
Wheeling around, Leech saw that the storm cloud had arched upward to intercept them, its sides churning and writhing like a giant panting worm.
Sitting at the wing’s apex, Bayang dug her claws into the interwoven straw and tightened her grip on the straps that steered the wing. “That’s no normal storm cloud. Everyone sit down and grab hold of the wing. And that especially means you, Leech.”
“But—,” Leech began to protest.
The tip of Bayang’s tail whipped about the boy’s wrist and held him firmly in place. “I don’t want you going to check out the cloud. Now sit!”
As Leech obediently stepped off the discs and restored them to his armband, the inner voice in Leech’s head complained, Why do you let her boss you around?
Leech couldn’t bring himself to call the Voice, Lee No Cha. Long ago, Lee No Cha had been a boy who had killed a dragon prince and then used the hide to make a belt as a gift for his father. For that horrific crime, Lee had been executed by his own family and had been hunted down in subsequent lives by the dragons.
That earlier self was dead. He was the real one, but Lee No Cha existed somewhere in his memories and had awakened when Leech had discovered the magic in his armbands—the very same devices that had killed the dragon prince.
Bayang was supposed to kill Leech before Lee No Cha could rouse, but when Leech had saved her life, the dragon had made her peace with him. But that was because she assumed he was different from that earlier self. If she knew that Lee No Cha had not disappeared, the dragon might decide he was a danger to her kind after all and go back to trying to assassinate him. But Leech was more afraid of losing Bayang’s friendship than he was of losing his own life.
Raised in a San Francisco orphanage where he’d been bullied, Leech had not had any friends until he’d run away and met Koko, who disguised his badger form in a human shape. A man named Primo had befriended them, but he had died fighting Badik the dragon. Since then, his circle of friends had expanded to include Scirye and Kles, but he’d come to depend upon the tough, smart Bayang the most.
So the voice was a double-edged weapon: Leech needed its advice for flying and fighting, but it was also a threat.
She’s gotten us this far, Leech replied and, plopping down on the woven surface, grabbed some nearby straps that had been placed strategically about the wing. But would Bayang stay his friend if she knew Lee No Cha had awakened inside him?
Scirye sat down as well and took hold of another pair of straps. “Do you think this is Roland’s work?”
Kles, her lap griffin, landed on her shoulder and slipped inside her coat. “He might have set patrols as a precaution. Or it could just be our bad luck. The mountains are very old and full of magic. And there are monsters here that go back to the creation of the world.”
“Monster or Roland’s slave, nothing can catch Naue,” the wind bragged and he flew even faster and higher.
Thunk-a thunk-a-thunk.
“That sounds like a drum roll,” Leech said.
A bolt of lightning suddenly shot from the cloud to blast the mountain beneath it, the light temporarily highlighting the curling mist of the storm.
Boom!
More and more lightning bolts crackled from the cloud’s belly so that it resembled a giant centipede climbing rapidly after them on fiery legs.
“Ho, so you want to play tag with Naue? Then so be it,” Naue boomed.
And the next moment Naue banked sharply until he was zooming toward the cloud.
“No, no, go away from it!” Bayang shouted.
But the wind ignored her, and as they rushed toward the face of the cloud, the inky strands writhed like charcoal snakes.
Naue roared with laughter as he plowed through the cloud, whipping it into smoky tendrils. Their straw wing bucked and rolled as Naue twisted and turned, tearing the storm to shreds.
And yet through Naue’s merriment the drum roll deepened until it was a steady booming.
“Ha, that will show it,” Naue announced as he finally circled away.
> “Who’s that?” Leech asked.
It was as if a huge ball of dark cotton had been ripped apart to reveal an inner core, a rough gray oval about ten feet long like a huge bar of soap. And upon the disc a creature danced on two stubby legs. He looked like a squat man but his skin was blue and tusks rose from his lower jaw. From his shoulders hung a wide strap of drums and in his hands were the bones he used to beat them.
Bayang swore an oath in an old dragon tongue. “What’s a lord of thunder doing here? He belongs in China.”
The strange lord brought both sticks down upon one drum, and the next instant there was a flash of light. The gold flecks in Bayang’s green scales shone as a bolt streaked from the drum across the sky and through Naue.
Boom!
“Aiee,” Naue cried out in agony and shock, as if this was the first time the fleshless creature had felt pain. “Naue hurts!”
The sudden flash made spots dance before Leech’s eyes, and the smell of ozone tickled his nose.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Naue screamed as each beat of the drums shot lightning bolts through him. It was all they could do to hold on as the wind whirled about, trying to escape, but the lightning was relentless. Too late, Bayang realized that their wing marked where the invisible Naue was.
“Naue … can … not … keep … together,” the wind gasped.
Though the lightning could not destroy the air that made up the wind, the energy was making it hard for Naue to keep his currents together. It was like unraveling the threads that make up a piece of string.
Naue bellowed in torment, and suddenly the wing was spinning earthward as they fell out of the injured wind’s grasp.
3
Bayang
With a ripping noise, a large scrap of the wing fluttered away and then more and more pieces whipped after it.
“The wing’s falling apart,” Koko yelled in alarm.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Bayang said grimly.
The long trips and abuse had taken their toll upon the wing’s woven straw. Through the numerous holes, Bayang could see the earth waiting for them three thousand feet below.
Bayang clenched her fangs in frustration. If only she could fly her friends to safety under her own power, but she had injured one of her wings fighting Badik. She tried to unfurl them anyway, but pain shot instantly through her back from the half-healed wound.