The Killing Fog (The Grave Kingdom)

by Jeff Wheeler

  “I think it’s trying to protect us,” Bingmei said. She looked around for any traces of the fog.

  The sense of danger receded. Bingmei started to feel more at ease. She saw no evidence of the killing fog, not even a creeping mist. Whatever had frightened her, it had withdrawn from the sword. The noise of sliding rocks revealed that Kunmia and the others were approaching. The Qiangdao leader’s eyes glowed with lust as he beheld the blade. His awful stench reflected his desire to wrench the weapon from her hand and take it for himself.

  Kunmia approached them with a stern look. “Why did you draw the blade?”

  Mieshi spoke up first. “She sensed something dangerous.”

  “The guardian,” said the Qiangdao leader.

  They all turned to him.

  He chuckled. “You thought this place would be left unprotected? Magic keeps those who would intrude here at bay.”

  “What is it?” Kunmia asked.

  Muxidi shrugged. “No one has seen it. It afflicts the mind. It can drive someone mad.”

  “Does it kill?”

  The man chuffed. “Not with claws. It drives people to kill themselves. No one wanders in these caves all alone.”

  Bingmei smelled the truth in his words.

  “We’re almost there. Keep going,” he said.

  The presence Bingmei had felt was gone, so she sheathed the sword again. A look of disappointment crossed the Qiangdao’s face. He noticed her looking at him and glared. The smell of banked violence made her walk away. She couldn’t bear it.

  As they walked, it felt as if it was getting warmer and warmer. Before long, Bingmei’s fur jacket became unbearable. The rocks at their feet were smoother, less jagged. And then, to Bingmei’s surprise, she saw tufts of plants growing out of the gravel. A little farther, flowers dotted the ground. Where the sun could not reach them? It made no sense.

  Except she could not deny the light had also grown brighter. Was there perhaps a hole in the ice? She knew from caves she’d visited before that plants did not grow inside mountains. Well, only the strangest of plants did, the lichens that speckled the walls and could trap light from a torch for a little while. But this was entirely different. Farther still, she saw little trees sprouting.

  The rocks gave way to dirt and turf and then, impossibly, a street made of carved marble. Overhead, the rippling ice looked like the underside of clouds. There was no hole in the ice. The light was coming from ahead, not above. Bingmei and Mieshi exchanged baffled looks. They were entering an enormous cavern where the walls were made of rock, which soared up to touch the ice overhead. Waterfalls gushed from where the rock met the ice and formed two rivers, one on each side of the clearing. Boulders sat haphazardly around the valley, pocked with larges holes where the water had carved through them.

  A little farther along, they reached a wall made of painted meiwood pillars with sloping rooftops, painted a thousand dazzling colors. The shingles on the roof looked to be made out of solid gold. Before the gate embedded in the wall stood two enormous bronze lions, carved in perfect symmetry with each other. Each one was taller than three men standing atop one another. The lions were each perched on a square pedestal intricately carved with designs. Their heads were slightly turned in, opposite each other, as if they were standing guard.

  The vibrant reds and blues and greens painted on the wooden wall reminded her of an arrangement of flowers. What kind of craftsman had done such work? The paint on the walls of Wangfujing was all peeled and faded, with hardly anything left. This was fresh and lovely. No Qiangdao could or would have done it.

  “Now you see?” said Muxidi. “The wealth of Fusang. It belongs to us.”

  This was beyond anything they’d imagined.

  The light she’d noticed came from behind the decorative wall.

  “The gate is open,” urged Muxidi. “Go on.”

  The wall was taller even than the lions, so they couldn’t see over it. As they came nearer, the design work became more apparent. How many painters had been required to embellish such an elaborate scene? How long had a craftsman spent fashioning the lions to make them so smooth, so muscular, so lifelike? As Bingmei approached, she saw that each lion had a paw raised. On one of them, the paw rested atop a carved orb.

  As they drew nearer to the gate and the carvings, Bingmei felt that strange pressure in her head again, the worry that had risen before.

  “Wait,” she said, stopping.

  Everyone froze. They looked around, trying to determine the danger.

  “Go on. Are you afraid?” asked Muxidi.

  He smelled rank, but it had a new foul flavor to it. Deception. He wanted them to go forward.

  “What will happen if we pass the lions?” Bingmei asked him.

  “They’re made of bronze. Decorations.”

  His lie stung her nose. He knew something he wasn’t saying.

  “You’re lying,” she said.

  “You little . . .”

  Kunmia struck him behind his knee with her staff, making him grunt in pain as he fell to his knees.

  “You brought us this far only to trick us?” Kunmia said.

  “No!” Muxidi fumed. “Just walk in!”

  Bingmei shook her head no.

  “Maybe we could go around the lions and climb the wall?” Marenqo suggested.

  The meiwood posts glistened red with lacquer and looked very slippery. There were no handholds.

  “I could jump up there,” Bingmei said.

  Kunmia frowned. Then she nodded, giving Bingmei permission to try.

  Bingmei licked her lips, which were very dry, and walked around the base of the lion on the right. Upon closer examination, the orb on which its paw rested seemed to be shaped like flower petals. The other lion rested a paw on something different, which she couldn’t make out from a distance. She feared what lay beyond that wall, but it would be better to see what was beyond the barrier than to rush in blind. She reached in her pocket and stroked the cricket.

  To her amazement, nothing happened.

  Never had the charm she’d gotten from her grandfather ceased to work.

  The Qiangdao leader started to laugh. “What? You’re surprised? Your grandfather’s toy won’t work. This place has magic beyond anything you’ve seen. Those posts are made out of meiwood. Think of it! And the stumps are used to hold up the roofs. I will show you. There is nothing to fear. I will go first.” He slowly rose to his feet again, although his legs trembled.

  “I don’t trust him,” Mieshi said with a scowl.

  “None of us do,” Zhuyi agreed. “Master . . . maybe we should leave this place.”

  The thought of leaving sent a spasm through Bingmei’s heart. No!

  “Just follow me,” the Qiangdao pleaded.

  Kunmia’s look was intense. She gazed up at the wall. There was a doorway beneath the overhang, but it was dark, lost in shadow. Bingmei could smell her confusion, her unease and ignorance. She wasn’t ready to decide yet.

  The Qiangdao leader lunged forward and raced between the lions, surprising everyone with his sudden escape.

  Zhuyi, the fleetest and quickest to respond, rushed after him. One of the lions suddenly leaped off the pedestal, landing in front of her with an impact that sent tremors through the ground. The Qiangdao man was already past it and sprinting toward the doorway. Zhuyi tried to duck and escape, but one massive paw from the bronze lion struck her, and she collapsed. A low bell-like growl came from the beast.

  Everyone else backed away from it, weapons raised.

  The lion climbed back on the plinth and resumed its position, resting a large paw atop something that had remained behind. It was a statue once more.

  Zhuyi lay still, sprawled on the stone.

  Dead.

  And the Qiangdao leader was gone.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Ancient City

  The shock Bingmei felt at seeing Zhuyi’s crumpled body left her frozen with dread. Again the fragility of life gave her a helpless
feeling, made keener by the dread that she would someday meet the same fate. The other members of the ensign stood hushed at the entrance. Mieshi stifled a sob, the smell of her aching grief nearly overwhelming Bingmei’s senses.

  Kunmia stood transfixed, a look of mourning on her normally calm face. Each member of the ensign was important to her. She gazed up at the massive statues, cold and lifeless once again. Whatever magic had given them power had become dormant.

  Marenqo broke the silence. “We do not understand the rules of this place,” he said with a worried tone.

  “Do we go back?” Mieshi asked, tears strangling her voice.

  “We cannot go back,” Kunmia said. “We have a duty to fulfill.”

  “That Qiangdao scum made it past,” Marenqo said. “Why didn’t the lions crush him?”

  “Because he did something to prevent it,” Kunmia said. She turned and faced her companions. “He was bobbing his head as he passed.”

  Bingmei had seen it too, but the shock of Zhuyi’s fate had made her forget. “Yes. I saw that too.”

  “But how do we know for certain?” Marenqo challenged. “Maybe there were also words he muttered that we couldn’t hear!”

  “We can’t know for certain,” Kunmia said. “But we must try. That man must be held accountable for the ruin he’s wrought.” Her brow furrowed. Bingmei had rarely seen her master express so much anger. “He tricked us into bringing him this far. We must proceed with the utmost caution and care. If you sense anything out of order, you must speak immediately. Our lives are at stake. Passing these guardians is only the first task. But we must succeed.”

  Her speech roused the group’s courage. Bingmei struggled to subdue her own emotions, but she did. She clenched her fists and nodded in agreement.

  “How will we get past the guardians?” Marenqo said. “I’m not questioning you, Master. I’m afraid. This place is beyond anything I’ve ever seen.”

  “Uncertainty always causes fear,” Kunmia said. “I will go through the lions myself.”

  Their master would never ask someone to do something that she herself wouldn’t do. It was why they all respected her so much.

  “Be careful,” Mieshi said.

  Kunmia bowed her head and began to meditate. They all emulated her example, trying to find a place of peace within them despite the danger of their situation and their grief at losing a friend. The only sounds in the quiet were the chatter of streams and the creaks and groans of the ice. No other animals lived down there. No birds. No insects. Nothing but them and their enemies.

  Kunmia raised her head, her eyes burning with purpose. She gripped her rune staff and invoked its magic. Blue light rippled down it, the sigils sparking to life. She took a step forward and then another. As she walked, she bowed her head to each of the lions. Bingmei held her breath, trying to quell her worry. The others looked on in fascination and hope.

  The lions remained still.

  When their master reached the crumpled body of Zhuyi, she paused. Neither of the lions had moved. Kunmia stood there for a moment, gripping her staff. Then she stepped beyond the body, farther than Zhuyi had made it.

  Nothing happened. The lions remained statues.

  “Come,” she beckoned to them. “Bow in obeisance as you do.” She would wait in the middle to see that the others made it across safely.

  Mieshi obeyed first. Her meditation had calmed her agitation, but the closer she walked to her dead friend, the more Bingmei smelled her grief thicken. The stew of emotion worried Bingmei. Would the lions sense it and attack? Mieshi continued forward, walking confidently. She nodded her head to each lion, paying her respects. Neither statue budged. She reached Kunmia, who motioned for her to pass.

  “Marenqo,” Kunmia called.

  His courage was faltering, but he stiffened his resolve. Blinking quickly to calm himself, he strode forward next, bowing to each lion in a more pronounced manner than the others had. He adopted a groveling demeanor, keeping his head low and his eyes on their powerful paws. He wiped the sweat from his brow when he reached the safety of the other side.

  That left Bingmei alone.

  Kunmia met her gaze and nodded for her to come. Holding herself proudly, she began to walk toward the lions, bowing her head as she approached. Now that she was closer, she saw that the lion on the left had its paw resting on what appeared to be a lion cub, turned upside down on its back. That was the only difference between the two lions. One rested a paw on an orb, the other on a cub.

  Both of the lion heads turned suddenly, their snouts facing her. Bingmei’s heart quivered in her chest like a wild bird trying to escape a cage. Would they attack? But the statues did not attempt to leave their perches. Rather, both of them bowed their heads to her.

  She stared at them in awe and wonderment. Why had they done this for her and not the others? Again she experienced the strange notion that this place was familiar. She regretted that she hadn’t darted after the Qiangdao leader before Zhuyi could.

  A sense of peace and wellness suffused Bingmei’s heart. She believed the lions posed her no threat at all. She continued walking and passed them. After she had, their heads swiveled back to their previous pose, and they remained still.

  “What did that mean?” Marenqo asked in confusion, staring at Bingmei.

  “Perhaps it’s the sword,” Kunmia said. “The phoenix is the king of all birds.”

  Perhaps that was true. But there was a part of Bingmei that didn’t believe it. The sword had not given her any special feeling at that moment. It struck her that the sword seemed to respond to her differently as well. Kunmia had felt compelled to give it to her. Why? She had no firm idea, but the Qiangdao leader who’d attacked Wangfujing had said the phoenix had chosen a servant. Did that have something to do with her? She didn’t know, but she hoped the answer lay beyond the colorful door directly before them.

  Kunmia’s eyes were thoughtful. “Bingmei. Lead the way. You may be the only way we can all get in safely.”

  The doorway was perched on a high ledge separating the threshold from the interior, very similar to the ones at the quonsuun. But after passing through the partially open doors, Bingmei saw that what lay beyond was much more vast. It opened to an empty courtyard that had built-in waterways to channel the half-frozen water through it. Stone railings lined the waterways on both sides, and ramps and staircases led up to an enormous manor, at least six times the size of King Budai’s palace. With sloping rooftops at multiple levels, the building was as colorfully decorated as the outer wall.

  Marenqo breathed out a sigh of wonder as he stepped over the threshold next. Lower buildings, similar in fashion to the palace, surrounded the courtyard on all sides, like walls. Giant meiwood trunks held up the edges of the roofs, each bedecked with decorative illustrations with an assortment of color.

  There were so many buildings. Would Muxidi have fled to the central one, the palace-like structure straight ahead? Or one of the many other buildings forming the walls of the courtyard?

  Her instincts told her to go to the palace. She led the way, walking across the courtyard, wondering at the labor required to erect such a substantial building. The blue-gray ice overhead felt like the sky, and it glowed with ambient light. There was no evidence of the sun, no shadows cast on the ground as they walked. The strange cold light suffused into them.

  As they approached the huge staircase leading up to the giant palace, they saw large urns stationed at the tops of the steps. Bingmei turned around as she walked, looking back at the tall wall they had just passed.

  As she turned back to the palace, she caught a faint odorous scent in the air. She wrinkled her nose and readied her sword. From her vantage point in the courtyard, she couldn’t see ahead, but she imagined their enemies could see them.

  “Be ready,” Bingmei said, warning the others.

  She started up the steps. The handrail was intricately carved into animal shapes, but the carvings were old and worn and faded by the passing of time. The
grandeur of the place filled her with a sense of awe. King Budai would not believe it when they told him. This place had been immaculately preserved under the ice for centuries. Had the glacier not melted, it would have remained hidden for ages to come.

  Upon reaching the top of the steps, she searched for signs of their quarry, reassured by the sound of the others climbing up behind her. Two enormous doors lay ahead, each decorated with nine rows of nine golden knobs the size of pomegranates. The plating at the base and top of the doors was solid gold. Huge golden door handles were fixed to the painted doors, each carved into a lion’s head.

  Kunmia and the others joined her at the top of the steps and gazed up at the huge doors. Was the palace built for a giant?

  “I’ve never seen such wealth,” Kunmia said. “Not in all of my travels. This is more grand than the court at Sajinau. Even grander than Tuqiao.”

  “How did they build this?” Marenqo said. “These stones must be impossibly heavy. How were they moved?”

  “I don’t know,” Kunmia answered. “Why hasn’t it been found before? How could this place have remained hidden for so long?”

  Mieshi’s grief was still roiling inside her. She didn’t look impressed. She smelled of disdain as she beheld the opulence of the palace. “Whoever built it abandoned it,” she said curtly. “What good did it do them to create this place? It was folly.”

  “But think of how many lived here,” Kunmia said. “We can’t comprehend it. Yet it is still preserved. By magic.”

  Moving ahead, Bingmei approached the doors studded with knobs. The handles were too high to reach, but as she approached, the doors swung open of their own accord, pushing inward, revealing another huge courtyard followed by another palace, even larger. What they had seen wasn’t a palace at all, but an elaborate gate leading to another palace.

  Marenqo exclaimed in amazement as they stepped over the golden threshold and viewed the immense scene that lay beyond. There could be thousands of Qiangdao hiding there, but there was no evidence of smoke or noise. No evidence that anyone else was there at all.