by Jeff Wheeler
As they reached the far side of the courtyard, Bingmei glanced back. There was no sign of Kunmia.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Rise of the Dragon
The overriding emotion they all felt was utter terror. Bingmei could smell it in the air as she gazed back at the ancient tomb. She had unwittingly opened the cage of a monster. Suddenly, she felt a surge of power. Although she no longer wielded the weapon, she knew the magic of the Phoenix Blade had been invoked. Part of her mind blacked out, and she saw the pale-skinned ruler whipping it around with blinding speed. Kunmia parried it with her staff, but she was giving ground, driven back by the force of his relentless attack. The runes on the staff were glowing, but they seemed unnaturally dim, as if they had no power over this man. The look of calm was gone. He looked angry, malevolent, and he did not attempt to hide it.
The ancient ruler seemed to sense the intrusion of Bingmei’s thoughts. His eyes, which were the color of jade, seemed to see her through the walls of stone and the meiwood pillars. His mouth turned into a snarl, and he brought up his hand and drew another glyph, each stroke burning in the air like a shard of fire.
Kunmia fled during the moment of distraction.
A wrenching sensation twisted Bingmei’s gut.
“Bingmei!” It was Marenqo, shaking her, ripping her back into her body. She felt the cold tingling she’d experienced in her dream at Budai’s palace and then again at the tomb.
Lightning exploded from the meiwood pillars around them, arcs of energy striking the stone effigies throughout the courtyard. The air thrummed with power. Instead of destroying the stone, it seemed to awaken it. The stone creatures became animated and began to shrug and stretch.
The next moment, Kunmia came running out of the palace of tombs at a sprint.
“Hurry!” Mieshi urged. “We should never have come here!”
Blazing sigils appeared on the meiwood posts at the front of the palace, sizzling with energy and power. These glyphs were larger than the ones the revived ruler had drawn in the air, and there were so many of them.
A giant stone lizard scuttled up to Kunmia, but she struck it with her rune staff, knocking it away.
Magic crackled in the air, and blazing runes appeared along the support structures of the buildings at the edges of the courtyard. What were these glyphs, and what did they mean? There was no way to know, but the air had an acrid aroma from all the burning.
“We have to get out of here,” Bingmei warned.
They continued to run, hoping Kunmia would catch up with them. Again they skirted the largest palace, the one they’d circled around previously. But it, too, was reviving; the meiwood posts began to hiss and burn with the power of the glyphs hidden under the painted wood.
The aura coming from the huge palace filled Bingmei with dread. The ice overhead reflected the dancing lights that hung and shimmered in the air, giving the impression of thunderheads bulging with trapped lightning. Huge chunks of ice began to fall from the glacier, smashing all around them as they ran. They wove and dodged, trying to avoid getting crushed, until they reached the interim gate. It provided them with shelter briefly, but they raced through it, intent on their escape.
Bingmei had never been so afraid or felt so helpless. Even as she ran, she felt the presence of the Phoenix Blade behind her. She felt the power of the man who wielded it. The ruler had not yet followed them, although truly he didn’t need to follow them. He was still summoning his magic, but his power had already grown beyond her comprehension. If he wished to find them, he would.
That thought only made her run faster until she had passed Mieshi. The gate lay ahead of them at the top of a stairway, but their path was no longer clear. Men in ragged clothes descended into the courtyard in front of them, wielding tarnished weapons. The Qiangdao. There were at least thirty of them, waiting for the ensign to try to leave.
Muxidi grinned fiercely as he marched down the steps as if he were the master there. Oh, he had led them into a trap all right.
The other Qiangdao fanned out, leering at their quarry. The chunks of ice stopped raining down.
Muxidi raised his voice as they approached him at a full run. “The Dragon of Night, the mighty Echion, bids his new visitors to stay longer in his palace! You cannot leave after you’ve so recently come!”
The Qiangdao brandished their weapons, grunting and chanting as they did so. The sparks from the glyphs began to light the meiwood posts at the gate.
Bingmei didn’t slow down. She decided to try her cricket charm again, but before she could reach for it, she felt herself vaulting through the air, her legs still pumping as she soared over the first ranks of their enemies. Her heart shuddered in surprise. This surge of power hadn’t come from her charm. There was no time to think of it, however, for she came hurtling down into the gathering of Qiangdao on the stairs. They converged on her like rats on a piece of meat, some coming up the steps, others down. Bingmei struck out with her hands, feet, elbows. Ducking, dodging, weaving. Just as the men were about to overpower her, that same power hoisted her into the air, causing the Qiangdao to crash into one another. Some tripped and stumbled down the steps. She landed again, arms splayed, and attacked the nearest people. It was an unearthly feeling, a sense of weightlessness, as if she were nothing more than a ball of feathers. The angle of the steps made the whole courtyard seem off-kilter and wrong.
She flipped backward, landing a few steps lower, avoiding a cudgel coming straight for her head, and then jumped forward and smashed her palms into her attacker’s middle. A pulse of energy came from her, and the man flew backward, knocking down two other Qiangdao, who then tumbled down the stairs. Mieshi and Marenqo were fighting their way up toward her, but Bingmei was in the thickest part of the battle. Kunmia was still at a distance. In the shadows of the gate, she saw the door leading out begin to swing shut, the golden nobs glowing with power.
Muxidi stepped in front of her, trying to smash her like an insect. Trying to destroy her as he had failed to do all those years ago. A grimace of hatred twisted his face. She dodged his blows, then kicked him in the middle so hard that he, too, went sailing backward and landed on the sharp edge of the steps. His grimace of rage transformed to one of pain.
Kunmia arrived then, her rune staff blazing and hissing with steam. Sweat streaked down her face, but she batted down the Qiangdao around Marenqo, who had blood streaming from his eye.
Of the thirty who had attacked them, only a dozen were left, and they fled the scene.
A deep boom issued from within the lost palace. It rattled the very stones upon which they stood. More splintering sounds of cracking ice overhead made her heart plunge with fear. Would the entire glacier come down on them? She saw dozens of stone animals coming toward them, animated by the ruler’s power, intent on stopping them.
The doors were nearly closed. She rushed up the final steps and charged at the doors, which were swinging slowly toward her. The golden knobs flashed against the glossy red paint. She struck the doors to hold them open, but they were too big, too heavy for her to stop them. Mieshi reached the top of the stairs and ran to the other door. Their heels scraped against the stone as they attempted to push the doors, only to be shoved backward.
Kunmia came up the steps, gripping the bleeding Marenqo around the shoulder. They were close, but they wouldn’t make it in time. Outside the doors, Bingmei saw the two bronze lions on their perches. It felt as if she were shoving against one of those statues. Impossible.
Mieshi groaned in frustration as the doors continued to close against them. When Bingmei grabbed one of the knobs to better position herself, the metal burned her flesh, and she yelped in pain.
“It’s too heavy,” Mieshi grunted in anguish, then backed away. The doors were nearly closed. They’d have to leave right then in order to escape. But that would trap Kunmia and Marenqo inside.
“Mieshi!” Kunmia shouted.
Mieshi turned just in time to catch the rune staff, which Kunmia had t
hrown like a spear. Its glyphs still smoked with power, but the edges of the wood were blackened. Mieshi grabbed it in the middle and shoved it sideways between the doors. The knobs began to flicker as the staff drained their power. The giant doors slowed.
Bingmei rushed to Marenqo’s other side, and she and Kunmia helped him cross the stone tiles leading to the threshold where Mieshi grunted with the staff, trying to keep the doors apart. The staff was flexing dangerously, about to break.
They made it through the gap single file, and Mieshi followed them out, twisting the staff and pulling it with her. She stepped over the gold-plated threshold just in time.
The doors slammed shut behind them.
But they were not out of danger yet. Ahead waited the two lion guardians. Zhuyi’s body was gone.
“Where is she?” Mieshi said worriedly, and started down the steps.
“Wait!” Kunmia said, gasping for breath. “The guardians!”
Marenqo was trying to wipe the blood from his face. The cut seemed to be at the corner of his eye. A bruise was also beginning to form on his cheekbone. He looked dazed still, and slumped down onto his rump.
Now that the immediate danger had passed, Bingmei found herself thinking again of the ruler, of his inhuman stench. What had they unleashed on the world? Regret flooded her heart, making her want to start crying. But she steeled herself. How could they have known what awaited them? Any knowledge of the danger of Fusang had long been forgotten.
The sweat on Bingmei’s brow dribbled in her eyes, and she wiped it away. Kunmia was no longer staring at the lions. She was staring at Bingmei’s face with alarm. She smelled confused, concerned, like a slightly sour cucumber.
“What is it?” Bingmei asked in worry.
“Your hair has changed,” Kunmia said. She approached and began examining Bingmei’s face.
“Master,” Mieshi said with urgency. “We must flee! We’re not safe here.”
“I can stand, I think,” Marenqo mumbled. He got up, swayed a bit, but remained on his feet.
Kunmia frowned at Bingmei, not in anger but in apparent bewilderment. “We will solve this puzzle later. Mieshi, the staff. Help Marenqo. I will go first.”
Bingmei watched as Kunmia took the staff and quickly marched down the steps. The runes in the staff were fading, the blackened edges of the glyphs revealed as the light ebbed. Kunmia nodded to each bronze lion, but she had a wary pose, a posture of defense, ready to spring into action if either monster charged. They remained rigid and still.
“Bring him down. The three of you, come at once. Nod as you go.”
Kunmia stood between the lions warily, staff held at the ready. Trepidation made Bingmei swallow. So much had happened, her mind felt numb. Only through her force of will could she proceed. What had given her—?
“Concentrate!” Kunmia said. “Clear your minds.”
Bingmei was grateful for the reminder. She took some deep breaths, banishing her thoughts as if they were a swarm of butterflies, and focused on passing the sentries safely. Marenqo walked on his own, but he still cupped his wounded eye.
As Bingmei passed the lions, one of them, the one to her left, the one with a paw resting on the sculpted orb, swiveled its head to face her.
“The phoenix-chosen must return,” said the lion, his voice scraping like metal on metal. “The others may go.”
Bingmei halted, feeling her heart pound with fear. She wanted to fly away as she’d done on the other side of the wall, but as quickly as the power had come, it had forsaken her. What had felt completely natural to her within the palace gates was suddenly beyond her reach.
Kunmia looked at her and then at the lion. Was it warning they’d attack if Bingmei attempted to leave? “Mieshi, keep going,” Kunmia said. “Quickly.”
Mieshi nodded, pulling on Marenqo’s arm. Soon they were past both of the lions. Fear quivered in Bingmei’s stomach.
“Bingmei, go next,” Kunmia said.
“What if they attack?” she whispered, her voice trembling. She had no idea what power had overcome her earlier, but it was clearly gone.
“I am not leaving you here,” Kunmia said. Her tone brooked no argument. She did not give off any scent of fear, only the determination and tenderness a mother felt for her child. That sweet, delicious smell—of cinnamon porridge—had always made Bingmei long to be near her. Bingmei’s heart warmed with gratitude. After losing her family, her ensign, she’d feared no one would ever accept her for who she was. Finding a new home in Kunmia’s ensign, and the sense of belonging she’d craved, had felt like a double gift.
Bingmei opened her palm and gestured for her master to give her the staff. She looked into Kunmia’s eyes, silently asking for her trust. Kunmia pursed her lips, then cast a wary glance at the bronze lions. Finally, she gave the staff over. Bingmei gripped it, comforted by its reassuring weight in her hand, as she watched Kunmia walk away from the lions.
Bingmei felt weariness ripple through her, sapping her strength. If only this would be easy. She gestured for the others to step away, then tightened her grip on the staff and started to back away from the lions, away from the dreadful city. The other lion leaped off its pedestal and circled around behind her, blocking the way. The one with the orb joined it.
“Follow me,” grated the orb lion.
“Bingmei,” Kunmia warned.
“Go, Master,” Bingmei said. “Please.”
The two lions began circling her. She heard one of them issue a rattling growl.
“The phoenix-chosen will return,” said the mother lion. The door started to open again, making a grinding noise.
“Am I that?” Bingmei asked, glancing worriedly at the door. She turned around sharply, looking at the way out. The ice overhead tapered down as the path neared the caves. If she could make it over there, it would be too narrow for the lions to pass. She watched Mieshi help Marenqo through the rubble they’d crossed to get there. Kunmia hesitated, looking like she wanted to help.
Bingmei shot her a warning look and nodded for her to depart.
The orb lion behind her came forward and tried to butt her back toward the pedestals with its snout. Bingmei dodged it, shoving at it with the staff. The monster snarled at her but did not strike.
It occurred to her that she had one advantage. The lions clearly weren’t permitted to kill her. Suddenly, the mother lion came closer, trying to usher her along. They were herding her toward the steps leading to the glowing door.
She dodged one lion, only to find the other had switched directions to confront her again. The magic that animated the metal lions was powerful. They walked and crouched just like real animals. Their metal muscles rippled.
She swatted at the orb lion with the staff, and it struck with a hollow sound, like a giant bell.
And then she heard the flapping of wings coming from the ancient palace. A familiar awareness prickled down her back. The same sensation she’d experienced before with the invisible guardian.
“Run!” Bingmei screamed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Truth of All Things
Bingmei dodged the beasts, rushing away from them. The mother lion was about to snatch her in its jaws when she reached into her pocket and invoked the cricket. She was far enough from the walls that the magic worked, just as she’d hoped. Bounding high and far, she sprang like the creature whose likeness she held in her pocket until she’d outdistanced the lions. Then she ran as fast and hard as she could. Bingmei’s heart pounded until it hurt, her lungs burning with the exertion. The broken rocks spilled away, making the footing unstable. But still she felt the presence of the unseen guardian. She risked a glance over her shoulder and nearly tripped. Her vision doubled, and she saw something huge and black soaring over the walls. Something made out of nightmares.
She saw spiny wings and huge yellow eyes that burned like coals. Compared to this creature, the lion sentries were smaller than puppies. It squatted on the rooftop like a man, cords of muscle rippling beneath i
ts scales as it gripped the balustrade with two longer armlike appendages. It was wreathed in shadow that seemed to exude from it in tendrils like smoke. And then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, it blinked out of view. There and then gone and then there again, sniffing the icy air, staring at them balefully.
She knew it was a dragon, and yet it was nothing like the images she’d seen carved into stone. No craftsman could capture the malice. No artist’s skill could evoke such danger. She’d seen its huge shadowy wings hulking on its back. It blinked out of sight again, but she could still sense its presence.
They had awoken a dragon from the past. The certainty of it chilled her heart. The Dragon of Night was not just a season of darkness. It was darkness personified. And although she didn’t understand how, she knew in her heart it was an extension of Echion. That the two were inextricably linked.
She felt but didn’t see the great beast swoop off the roof toward her.
The panic that flooded her heart made her run all the faster. Kunmia and the others were scrambling toward the ice caves, spurred on by her urgency.
It was coming for her. She pumped her arms, racing against the inevitable. How could she outrun something that could fly?
And yet she reached the low-hanging shelf of ice. She plunged into the tunnel, her strength renewed, and felt the monster veer away. A wave of its stench followed her into the tunnel, and she recognized the smell as that of the man who had awakened from the sleep of death.
Bingmei stopped after turning the corner, huddling against a pillar of melting ice, and began to weep. She gasped for breath, trying to control the raw feelings that raged inside her like a storm, but it was impossible. Again she wondered what she had done. Was it her power that had awakened the monster? She’d drawn the glyph, hadn’t she? How had she even known it? Confusion, misery, helplessness, and despair all crashed within her like waves against a rugged shore.
