Stronger Than a Bronze Dragon
Page 24
But that last one … she looked like a cursed version of a Yueshen woman, almost as if someone had tried to bind her body to that of a Ligui. I wish I could have questioned her.
I wonder how long I’ll have to wait for Tai to return. Sweat pours from my forehead, and the breeze flowing in through the tomb’s entrance brings welcome relief. A minute later, I spot a shadow flying down toward the tomb. I instinctively raise my sword, but lower it again when I realize it’s Tai, returning in his shadow form. The white crescent glows on his neck. I swallow hard, as if I could swallow the automatic hatred the sight of it sparks.
This isn’t the being that killed my father. The shadows fade as his feet touch the ground, and I relax at the sight of Tai’s face.
“I couldn’t find her,” he mutters. “The moment she left the tomb, she vanished in a flash of silver light … like a Yueshen.”
“Was she one of them—one of you?”
He furrows his brow. “She was no Ligui. Except … something’s happened to her, and she’s no longer fully Yueshen.”
“How? And what was she doing in Kang’s automaton?”
“I’ve never heard of any magic that could trap a Yueshen. Except …” Tai trails off. Even in the dim light, I can see his expression darkening.
I gasp. “Except the story you told me about your parents. Your father … he trapped your mother when they were young.”
“It was only a game.” Tai squares his shoulders. “We should continue.” He speeds back to the passageway.
I rush to keep up. “Your father has been dealing in darker magic than anyone could have imagined. We both saw those Ligui emerge from the automatons. I think they were the automatons—somehow, they possessed and powered the machines.”
“That’s impossible.” Tai seizes the lantern.
I step over the broken machines. “This is his secret chamber we’re going to, and those were his automatons guarding it.”
“Really? I’d forgotten.”
“That’s not funny!”
Tai laughs—a humorless, cynical laugh that puzzles me. “It must have been unintentional. Perhaps he was experimenting with strange new magic and didn’t realize what the consequences would be.”
“That’s ridiculous, and you know it.”
“Of course it’s ridiculous! Everything about this is ridiculous! My father using Ligui to power machines? I’ve spied on him my whole life, but I’ve never seen anything that would explain him using forces of evil.”
“That’s probably because he was most guarded with it—or because you were only seeing what you wanted to see.” I grab his shoulder and force him to face me. “Bendan! It’s obvious what happened!”
Tai laughs again, and this time, he laughs so hard, he leans back against the wall. Some kind of madness must have gripped him, because I see nothing humorous in any of this.
“What’s wrong with you?” As I step toward him, I notice a bloodstain darkening the upper part of his right sleeve. “You’re injured!”
“Oh, right.” He glances at his arm.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I stick my sword in its strap and rip at the hem of my tunic.
“I was a little distracted.”
As I finish tearing a strip of cloth, I recall how he’d laughed while fending off the three automatons—and back when I first met him and hit him in the gut. “Do you always laugh when you’re hurt?”
“It’s either laugh at the absurdity or scream at the pain. I’d rather laugh.” Though his mouth remains bright, there’s a strained look in his eyes.
“You’re absurd,” I grumble. He doesn’t protest as I examine his cut. He leans his head back and stares at the blank rock above us, still but for a slight flinch as I feel the edges of his wound. It’s deeper than I’d hoped. I bite my lip and bind the wound as tightly as I can. “You need a doctor.”
“We’re not exactly in a position to fetch one.”
“You should head back to Tongqiucheng. I’ll continue alone.”
He gives me a look that says that’s the most ridiculous thing I could have uttered. “I’m not going to bleed to death. And I haven’t come this far to turn back without answers.”
That’s exactly what I would have said in his position. I nod. “Then we’d better hurry before you lose enough blood to faint. I don’t want to carry you out of here.”
“Being carried actually sounds rather nice. I should have asked that automaton to aim for a deeper vein.” After what he said about laughing and screaming, the grin he gives me suddenly seems tainted. It’s no longer the carefree, irreverent expression I took it for. I wonder how many other laughs and smiles he threw on to conceal some kind of hurt.
We continue down the dark passageway. Only shadows accompany us, and the lantern isn’t bright enough to illuminate the end. My mind keeps traveling back to the cursed Yueshen woman. Kang must have trapped her—but how? And was he the one who cursed her, or had she already been cursed, and whatever dark magic was meant to draw Ligui drew her in as well? And then there were her strange words …
“Who did the Yueshen woman mean when she said ‘I found them’?” I wonder aloud.
Tai purses his lips. “When she flew away, she said, ‘The vanished were with me.’ I thought maybe …”
“What?”
Tai sucks in a sharp breath. “Before Mowang trapped them, the Yueshen had been disappearing without explanation. They would leave home one day and then … never return. It started many years ago—before my mother died—but no one has ever been able to find out what happened to them. And it wasn’t just a few—it was dozens, which grew to hundreds.”
I purse my lips. “Ibsituu told me about that. I thought Mowang was taking them.”
“So did I. I thought I’d find them with the others in the Courts of Hell. But even after we defeated Mowang, they were still missing.”
“You think the cursed woman was among the vanished, and that she’d been to wherever they were taken.”
He nods.
“She emerged from the automaton …” I step in front of Tai. “What if Kang is the reason for the disappearances? What if he trapped them and cursed them—perhaps trying to use them as he does the Ligui?”
Tai’s face spreads into an odd, humorless grin. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. My father would never do that—he married a Yueshen woman, remember? They’re family to him. We don’t even know for certain if the Ligui were part of the magic he used in the automatons.”
“How stupid can you be?” Some kinder part of me warns that insulting him will only do harm, but my frustration shouts over it. “We saw the same thing!”
“Do you realize what you’re accusing my father of?” Flickering shadows from the floating lantern contort his strange, pained smile. “Imagine if it were your father we were speaking of. What would you do?”
“My father would never—”
“Exactly.”
I’d forgotten—again—that Kang is more than a ruthless viceroy to Tai. Dark magic, using Ligui, trapping and cursing innocent Yueshen … this is the kind of wickedness only Mowang should be capable of. The idea of Kang possessing such evil comes easily to me, but … that’s Tai’s father.
There’s more than one idiot in this tomb tonight.
“I’m sorry.” Not because I think I’m wrong, but because of how callously I acted.
The smile fades from Tai’s face, and I see fully the agony in his eyes. The disbelief, the willful denial that someone he loves could be capable of such evil. That’s when I realize that everything I said … he knows it as well as I do. He just doesn’t want it to be true. I hope for his sake that I’m wrong.
Whatever the case, the truth lies beyond the shadows obscuring the passageway’s end.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
DARKER THAN HELL
I expected to walk into some kind of study, perhaps a cramped library stuffed into a cave. Instead, I face a cavern that seems as wide as the Courts of Hell. I
nfinite darkness stretches beyond the lantern’s meager light, which flashes off gleaming surfaces and offers a tantalizing glimpse of what might stand before us. Something shimmers like water ahead, and I wonder if we’ve stumbled upon an underground river.
“I think I preferred the Courts of Hell,” I murmur. “At least there we knew what we were dealing with.”
“Are you saying my father is worse than the demon king?” Tai approaches, a carefree look settled firmly on his face.
I choose not to answer and take a few slow steps forward. The darkness doesn’t budge. I can see the entire sphere of light cast by our one small lantern, and it doesn’t illuminate anything. I shudder at the enormity of the space. Yet the hollow echo of my footsteps indicates that there must be walls—an end somewhere.
I’m about to pull Anshui’s spectacles from my pocket when the cavern blooms to life. Splashing noises pepper the cool, dank air as glowing bronze lanterns rise from a vast lake stretching before me. With their round shapes, they remind me of a million fireflies. Tiny propellers hum softly as they scatter throughout the darkness, bit by bit pushing it back with their golden light.
I stare with awe and disbelief at what they reveal: a great armada of bronze dragons and flying ships. Golden brown sails scallop down proud masts, and grand propellers protrude from the sides of broad hulls. The larger ships are decorated with the heads of dragons or tigers or phoenixes, while the smaller ones look almost identical to the little single-mast boat Tai and I rode upon. The waving bodies of the dragons curve out of the water and dip back down, forming glittering arches. With their raised metal heads and yawning mechanical jaws, they look as if they’re screaming at the sky.
I’m so overwhelmed by the sheer number, I almost don’t notice that some of the machines appear unfinished. One ship near the shore is little more than a bronze skeleton housing complex engines. A dragon not far from it sits with the wide doors open, exposing the metal tubes winding through its body like veins. Enormous as this fleet is, Kang apparently isn’t finished.
Considering the landscape outside, this must be the hollowed-out inside of a mountain—and machines fill nearly the entire space. They make Kang’s current fleet appear tiny … In fact, I’m sure the Emperor’s own navy is not so great. Though the ships and dragons currently sit deactivated on the water’s still surface, the sight of such power to destroy makes my heart quiver.
The Emperor would never allow such a force to exist. Enough news trickled to Dailan for me to know that the Emperor dislikes it when regional governors grow too powerful and forbids anyone from wielding magic greater than his own. With this armada, Kang could conquer entire nations. The Emperor would be furious if he knew.
I turn to Tai. “Did you know about this?”
“Of course not.” His eyes are round. “That explains why he needed the River Pearl. Can you imagine how much magic it would take to power this fleet?”
Whispering voices chatter past my ears, speaking sharp syllables but lacking words. It’s as if someone ripped a language apart and scattered its beads. Yet there’s a desperation to the sound. A frosty sensation tiptoes down my spine as I’m reminded of the similar whispers I heard on board Tai’s ship.
Release me …
I whirl toward Tai, who shoots me a puzzled look.
“Did you say something?” he asks.
I shake my head. “What was that?”
Light … I beg you … Give me light …
From the confusion on Tai’s face, I know he heard it too.
Darkness … So much darkness …
The whispers shimmer with an uncanny quality that chills me to the core. Tensing, I look around, but I see only lifeless machinery, still water, and silent stone.
I recall the otherworldly voice—the one that sounded like my father—that called to me on board Kang’s flagship. That was the closest sound I’d heard to these voices … But what does that mean? Are the dead trying to reach us?
Where am I? Where am I? Where am I?
Free … Set me free …
I’ve lost the light … Can you help me find it? I’ve lost the light …
“Any ideas?” A slight quiver in my voice betrays my nervousness.
“My father is preparing a fleet that can conquer the world.” Tai shrugs, but his grip tightens around his sword. “He must have been very noisy while constructing it, since apparently he’s awakened the dead.”
I peer at the unfinished dragon. The exposed machinery inside—a mishmash of gears and tubes and cylinders and wheels—fascinates me. “He couldn’t have built all this alone.”
“And yet, I have a feeling he did. If he’d hired laborers, he would have had hundreds—no, thousands—of people who knew what he was up to. Swearing them to secrecy would only do so much to keep so many contained. Not to mention the budgeting nightmare that would come from paying them … can you imagine trying to hide such a cost from his treasurer?”
I huff. “So you think he hollowed out a mountain and hammered together a fleet of flying ships by himself? Even if he did, who’s going to fly them?”
“Well, he is brilliant at magic. Perhaps he created a spell to make them build and fly themselves.”
I start to retort but pause when I realize he’s probably right. Magic is greater and more complex than anyone can imagine—Anshui told me that once.
Since I’m not going to get any answers by staring, I march along the edge of the lake in case there’s more than a fleet here.
Tai jogs to catch up. Tawny light from the hovering lanterns covers every craggy wall, leaving hardly any shadows. Since they only activated when Tai and I entered, Kang must have enchanted them to illuminate upon detecting a person’s presence. If he were to come down to the cavern, he’d know right away that someone’s here. We need to move quickly.
A small one-story building comes into view. It’s more akin to the humble houses of Dailan than the magnificent tiered structures of Tongqiucheng. Abstract patterns of red and green and blue zigzag along the trim, and carved dragons frame the open doorway.
Tai dashes to it. I shove my sword into its strap and follow. By the time I arrive, he’s already inside and examining a copper device. It looks like a spherical cage protruding from the end of a metal cylinder. Intricate symbols, similar to what Ibsituu carved into the sword that defeated Mowang, snake across its golden body. And it’s the right size for the River Pearl.
“What is that?” I ask.
“No idea. It was just lying here.” Tai gestures at the wide, lacquered desk before him.
A high-backed chair, decorated with graceful swirls, sits behind it. The one-room building is filled with shelves. The dark wood slashes downward at harsh right angles. Brown dowels protrude from the ends of yellow and tan scrolls. Curious, I seize one and unfurl it on the desk. The bound strips of bamboo clatter against the table, adding their voices to the strange symphony of whirring lanterns and continuing whispers—some that carry odd words, and some that only convey desperation and fear.
Let me go …
Tell me why … Why …
Please … It’s so dark …
I do my best to focus on the black characters inked across the scroll. But they swim and swirl before me—like they always do—and my heart thunders. Concentrating hard, I trace each stroke, forcing my mind to perceive characters instead of jumbled symbols. But my progress is slow.
Beside me, Tai stares at a scroll he pulled from one of the shelves. This one is made of paper, and it crackles as he spreads it.
I lean closer to the one I’m examining, as if that might help me read better. Eventually, I’m able to piece together the meaning of the first column of characters—it’s a poem, an ode to the power of steam. While that seems useless, there are still several columns to go.
Meanwhile, Tai rolls up his scroll and grabs another one.
“What did that one say?” I ask.
“Just a description of a steam engine. How about yours?”
Tai rolls up the next scroll. He glances at me, and his brow furrows. “Didn’t realize you were an admirer of poetry.”
I scowl. “There might be more than poetry here.”
“Is now really the time to become a literary critic?”
Heat rushes to my cheeks as I realize that he’s already read the entire scroll at a glance—and that it really is only a long poem. Which I would have realized before wasting so much time if only my brain weren’t so averse to the written word.
I roll up the scroll, shove it back into the spot I took it from, and grab a second.
Meanwhile, Tai has unfurled another. This one has diagrams, which I can understand much easier. The brushed black lines look like the inner workings of an automaton.
“What does that say?” I ask.
Tai shakes his head. “I was hoping it would tell me what the Ligui have to do with the automatons, but it’s an early prototype. It still has placeholders for the types of magic to be used.”
I spread the scroll I grabbed. Though I hate to ask, I know he’ll read it much faster than I could—and at least tell me if it’s useful before I waste my time perusing it. “What about this?”
“A treatise on Imperial politics … It says so right in the title. Can’t you …?” He trails off and pulls his lips in.
He’s wondering if I’m illiterate. It’s not an outrageous assumption, considering that half my village can’t read. Father, who spent so many painstaking hours teaching me despite his peers saying it was pointless to teach a girl, would weep if he knew. I powered through those lessons, powered through my tears of shame and frustration, but though I absorbed the knowledge, it never came naturally to me.
Now that I know that Tai’s the viceroy’s son, I realize he comes with a whole host of assumptions that he wouldn’t have if he were born as poor as I am.