by Jeff Wheeler
“I don’t think so,” Jidi Majia said, shaking his head. “A dragon seeks to rule others.”
Juexin held up his hand. “I have disagreement among my advisors. General Tzu says we should begin evacuating Sajinau at once. Jidi Majia counsels caution. He fears we will be playing into Echion’s hands if we empty the city for him. He suggested we send a team of Jingcha and ensign folk with Bingmei to the Death Wall at once. Master Kunmia, I would hear your advice if you’ll give it.”
“If we stand around too long debating,” Jiaohua said with a nasty frown, “we may not have time to do anything. Let me hunt the Qiangdao leader first. If I put a reward on his head, every thief and qiezei will take a shot at him. Give me a thousand cowry shells, and he’ll be dead before dawn. Why go to the Death Wall unless the girl is willing?”
“Be quiet a moment,” Juexin said with a scowl. “I would hear Kunmia’s advice.”
Jiaohua scowled and gritted his teeth, his long mustache quivering with barely suppressed anger.
“It takes time to evacuate a city,” Kunmia said. “And where would they all go? Enough food and supplies would need to be gathered first, or they’d starve. We need time. We must stall our enemy.”
“You have faced Echion in the flesh,” Jidi Majia said. “You said he claimed the right to rule the people. Do you think it’s his intention to destroy everyone with the killing fog?”
“I don’t,” Kunmia said, “but while he professes benevolence, he seems to have no tolerance for opposition to his authority. He’s very proud.”
“Perhaps we should feign weakness,” General Tzu said. “Pretend inferiority. Encourage his arrogance. You could offer to swear fealty to him, my lord?”
Juexin shook his head. “My father would not do that, and neither will I. I won’t give up Sajinau without a fight.”
“But what if this is a fight you can’t win?” Rowen said. “We need more time to prepare. To learn his weaknesses . . . if he has any.”
Juexin darted an angry look at his brother. “I won’t surrender what Father has spent his lifetime building. I won’t walk away.”
Rowen’s cheek twitched, and Bingmei smelled the fury concealed beneath his outwardly calm demeanor. “Of course you won’t.”
“This is not the time to argue,” Eomen said, trying to play peacemaker. Bingmei sensed this was likely a familiar role for the princess.
“You’re right,” Juexin said. “It’s time to lead. So, Master Kunmia, I understand from you that you don’t think evacuating the city is the right course?”
“I don’t. It would cause panic and a host of other ills. We don’t know when Echion himself will arrive, but we can prepare for it. There is only so much time that he has to wage war before the season of the Dragon of Night comes again. He may not be mortal himself, but his army is. They can freeze to death.”
“Do you know that?” General Tzu said, his brow wrinkling. “What if he has an army of xixuegui that can fight without sleep? That are impervious to cold? We don’t know what we are facing. And that, I fear, is why we will lose. If we feign submission, we’ll buy ourselves time to learn more. Then, perhaps, we can discover how to defeat him.”
“The general speaks reason,” Rowen said.
“But reason alone won’t save us,” Jidi Majia said. “We must also decide with our hearts. And my heart tells me the outcome will be the same no matter what we do—enslavement and death. There is only one hope to defeat Echion. The phoenix showed me this in my vision.” His eyes shifted to Bingmei, imploring her to listen. “You must save us from this fate. You were the one the phoenix chose to bear this awful task.”
A sickening feeling crawled inside Bingmei’s belly. Everyone was staring at her, their expectations weighing her down.
“You cannot force her,” Rowen said, his tone fierce. “You said it was a sacrifice. Only she can decide whether to do it.”
“What did you think we were going to do, Brother?” Juexin said hotly. “Tie her up and throw her over the Death Wall?”
Bingmei felt a shudder ripple through her. She sensed the presence of the blade coming closer to the palace. Maybe it would be best if she left Sajinau after all, just like she’d planned. The Qiangdao would follow her.
But would the prince and the others even let her go? She looked from face to face and felt a throb of anger at the unfairness of her situation. She was a warrior, trained to survive. The phoenix had chosen the wrong person. Bingmei didn’t want to save the world. It was an impossible task.
“Please,” Jidi Majia implored, the smell of his sorrow overpowering her.
“My lord,” Jiaohua begged. “Give me a thousand cowry shells. My plan is the only prudent one.”
Bingmei whirled and walked away, wiping her eyes as she went. They let her go, and she stormed out of the council chamber. She found Marenqo and Quion being held at bay by the guards, forbidden entrance into the chamber.
“What’s going on in there?” Marenqo asked, quickly joining her. Quion followed him, his look worried. “The whole palace is in an uproar. Is Sajinau being invaded?”
“It’s only a matter of time,” Bingmei answered. “They’re preparing for war.” She pressed her lips, trying to quell the bitterness in her heart. “One they can’t win.”
It was almost midnight. Bingmei was in bed, but she couldn’t sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she sensed the Phoenix Blade. It was somewhere to the west of the palace. Near, but not yet within the palace walls. Muxidi was biding his time. The constant awareness of it felt like the dull throbbing of a headache. It beckoned her to come, to claim it.
She sat up in bed, hugging herself, feeling her situation was beyond piteous. A small oil lamp burned on the table on the other side of the room. Kunmia and Mieshi were both asleep on the other beds, and Bingmei could hear the soft rhythm of their breathing. The rune staff leaned against the bedpost. Bingmei stared at the rugged meiwood that had seen so many battles. The glyphs and sigils were nicked and scarred. It held the power to drain the magic from other relics, but it, too, conjured the killing fog. All weapons of power did that. And the killing fog destroyed every living being it touched.
Until now.
Bingmei crossed her arms over her knees and sighed. Why couldn’t she sleep? But how could she when it felt as if the weight of the world were crushing her shoulders? Staring at Kunmia, her master and friend, she felt a twinge of envy. Why hadn’t Kunmia been chosen by the phoenix? She was just the kind of caring person who would have gladly sacrificed herself to save the world.
Her own smell made her sick.
Bingmei had always desired to emulate her master—except in that aspect. Kunmia had widespread respect, martial skill, good judgment, and loyal disciples. Her own quonsuun. Bingmei had hoped, with time, to establish those things for herself. She wanted to be so highly regarded that people would not think of the winter sickness as a curse but as something that made her unique. One day, she would be hired by the rulers of Sihui, Tuqiao, or Renxing to go on missions and defeat their enemies. The mere thought made her swell with ambition.
The other things a young woman might want had never appealed to Bingmei. She didn’t want to marry, although perhaps part of her hesitation was that she didn’t really think it possible. Who would want a wife who suffered from her condition, one that could be passed on to their posterity? Bingmei was fortunate that her own family had loved her in spite of it. Besides, she did not wish to bring an innocent life into the savage world.
No, she wanted only to be a warrior, a leader of men and women, but Jidi Majia’s prophecy had taken her dream from her.
She wouldn’t do it. No matter how Jidi Majia pleaded. Not even if every citizen in Sajinau prostrated themselves on the ground. She would not die so that people could go on robbing and deceiving each other. If the others could smell people like she could, no one would even suggest it. They’d know what she did—that most people were petty and jealous and small.
Her eyes drifted t
o the lamp’s flickering flame. A feeling of dread bloomed in her breast, an instinct of warning that something was wrong. She sat up and slid her legs out from under the sheets, setting her bare feet on the floor. A prickle shot down her spine. A feeling of urgency tickled inside her. Without understanding why, she knew she had to hurry.
She walked across the floor and set her hand on the lattice of the screen door. The urge to open the door was strong. It didn’t make sense in her head. But her heart screamed at her to listen to it instead. She tugged on the door, careful to make as little noise as possible, and gazed into the dark corridor of the palace. In her mind, she questioned going back for her boots, but the frenzied feeling of panic urged her to proceed without them.
She caught a whiff of sour-smelling air. Glancing both ways, she saw nothing. It felt as if something gave her a nudge from behind and pushed her into the corridor. The last time she’d felt such a strong nudge, it had been in Fusang. Dread filled her to bursting. What was happening? She looked back, expecting to see someone, but no one was there. A shiver tore through her. She was about to turn and close the door when the sour smell turned rancid. The smell came from the corridor behind her. She turned, looking into the gloom, and saw nothing.
But that smell was unmistakable. It was Muxidi.
Bingmei started to walk in the opposite direction. The smell grew stronger, wafting up from behind her like the wind. She could still sense the presence of the Phoenix Blade outside the palace walls. It hadn’t moved or changed position. Then she realized, with horror, that the Qiangdao had left it there to distract her. To make her feel safe. He’d come for her without it.
Terror surged in her breast. She walked quickly, turning the corner. Pale moonlight spilling in from the upper windows was the only light. Her heart raced in her chest. This wasn’t a nightmare. She could feel the weave of the rug on the soles of her feet.
When she reached the end of the corridor, it was a dead end. A set of heavy doors barred her path. She grabbed the handle and pulled, but it had been secured on the other side. Panic spasmed inside her. She could smell him following her.
The door wouldn’t open.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Hanging Trees
She had to hide because going back was unthinkable. He didn’t have the sword with him, nor did he possess Bingmei’s sense of smell, so he shouldn’t have a supernatural ability to track her. When Bingmei turned, she saw a set of huge bronze decorative vases, each as tall as her. Two rings hung from the jaws of the beasts engraved on the sides. There were also the rafters above, but she didn’t have the cricket charm with her.
She felt a little shove against her back toward one of the vases. Whatever force compelled her, she responded to it, because it had also warned her about the arrival of the Qiangdao. As quickly as she could, she climbed inside the nearest one and crouched within. It smelled musty, with a metallic tang from the bronze. Part of her wanted to stand up and face her enemy, but the instinct to hide had overpowered her. She waited, trying to calm her breathing so she wouldn’t reveal herself.
The hideous stench slowly began to leach through the gaps in the bronze work. She bit her lip, staring through the small openings in the metal to see down the hall.
Three men appeared, walking quickly toward the doors. They were wreathed in smoke, which alarmed her. It was magic, pure and powerful, and the sight of it made her blood tingle. She recognized Muxidi in the forefront, but not the two dark-eyed men flanking him.
They reached the double doors and stopped, little curlicues of black smoke wafting from their bodies.
“I swear I saw her,” said one of the men. They all reeked of murder. The smell made her gag.
“Maybe what you saw was a ghost,” said the man she hated so much. Muxidi gazed at the door and then pulled the handle. It didn’t budge for him either.
“She was in the corridor. I saw her turn down this way.”
“I believe you,” said Muxidi. He sniffed the air, wrinkling his nose. Bingmei quit breathing, gazing at him through the small gaps in the vase. “Where are you, little ghost?”
“She can’t be far,” said the other. “If we don’t seize her before the Dragon Emperor’s ships arrive, we’ll be done for!”
“She’s here,” said Muxidi. “There are only so many places to hide.”
She watched one of the men walk over to the other vase and look down inside. Apprehension rippled through her. Should she cry out for help? She was an able fighter, but she had a sense that the leader had brought some of his best men to abduct her. Three against one. She stared at him, trying to banish her fear with anger.
“She went through the door,” said the other man. “Then she barred it. I think she knew we were following her.”
Muxidi wrinkled his mouth into a frown and nodded. “You’re right, I think. She’s close. Come.”
The Qiangdao leader bowed his head, and she saw the rippling smoke around him thicken. Then she watched in amazement as he walked through the closed door. Like he was made of smoke himself. The other two followed, the smoke dissipating after they had left.
Relief washed over her, relaxing her muscles. She hung her head a moment, grateful for the reprieve. It dawned on her that these Qiangdao were using magic artifacts without paying the death price. Echion controlled the killing fog, and he was rewarding his servants with magic. It was an unfair advantage. But now that she knew the extent of their power, she realized that she wasn’t safe in the palace at Sajinau. If she stayed, it would only be a matter of time before they found her.
After waiting for a while to be sure they didn’t come back the same way, she slowly climbed out of the vase. The metal vibrated when her foot struck it, and so she squeezed the material to dull the sound. There was some moonlight, enough for her to see the design on the bronze work. The elegant form of a phoenix in flight. A strange sensation shot down her back and nestled inside her stomach. Had the vase protected her somehow? How could that be?
She smelled the scent of smoke just before a hand grabbed her arm.
Bingmei whirled, thrusting the edge of her hand into Jiaohua’s throat. He blocked it with his other hand and tightened his grip on her arm. She sidestepped around to lever his leg and flip him, but he moved in the opposite direction, putting them back to back. His reflexes were quick; hers would need to be quicker.
She drew her hand back to punch him in the stomach. He released her arm to block the blow, then stepped closer, his breath nauseating her, and gripped her wrist.
“Hold. I’m not your enemy,” he said in a whisper.
“You attacked me,” she said through gritted teeth.
“You mistake me, girl. You’re a warrior. I was only defending myself. I was following three Qiangdao down the hall when I saw you jump out of the vase.”
“You saw them? Or did you let them in?” Bingmei accused. “Let go of me!”
He pursed his lips and chuckled low in his throat. He gripped her wrist for a second more and then opened his hand. “See? I’m not a threat. Although it’s insulting you’d accuse me of betraying King Shulian for you.”
The smoky smell carried a tang of disdain.
“Then why not stop them?” she challenged, rubbing her wrist.
“They’ve already killed six of my guards tonight. And two soldiers patrolling the wall. They move like smoke and shadow. Looking for you, I imagine.”
Bingmei could never trust someone who reeked of dishonesty. But there was also a smell of valor in him. Of bravery and cunning. He might look like a spider, but he could be an aggressive ally. One that bit with poisoned fangs.
“They were,” she added.
“I heard them murmuring as I approached, but I couldn’t hear what they said. Did you hear them?” It was a lie. Blatant. Maybe he was testing her.
“Echion is coming,” she answered. There was no need to disguise the truth. It was frightening enough. “By sea.”
Jiaohua nodded his head, and his emotions r
elaxed a bit. “Good. It’s foolish to attack Sajinau by sea. They will lose many ships before they get near. I’ll warn General Tzu.”
She nodded and started walking away, but he walked in the same direction and kept the same pace. “What do you want?” She made no attempt to disguise her annoyance.
“The same thing everyone wants,” he said. “The same thing you want. I want to live. You won’t go to the Death Wall, will you? You’ll run away and save yourself.”
He was trying to provoke her into revealing herself. Bingmei felt his words like blows, but she didn’t answer him.
After waiting a moment, giving her the opportunity to say something, he continued. “My duty is to protect Sajinau and the royal family. To keep peace in its streets. It’s not easy. People steal from each other. Cheat. They kill out of anger. They abandon children. Someone has to deal with these tragedies. That is the role of the Jingcha. That is my role.” He grabbed her shoulder once more, turning her around to face him, and raised a finger. “I will do anything to protect them. Don’t try to escape Sajinau, young Bingmei. I’m watching you.”
She struck him, palm first, in the gut, moving so quickly he didn’t have the reflexes to block her move. His face wilting with pain, he removed his hand from her shoulder.
“Don’t touch me again,” she warned and then walked away.
When dawn arrived at the palace, it found Bingmei in the training yard. She worked with every weapon they had, exercising her skills and testing her limitations. Every stance, every form blurred together. She relished the freedom her body gave her. Her muscles were honed and hard, her face dripping with sweat, but she continued to execute the forms with precision, flowing from one to the other, pausing to exchange a spear for a saber and then a chain. She’d practiced for hours, determined to calm her mind and decide what to do.
