The Buried World (The Grave Kingdom)

by Jeff Wheeler

  She smiled at his words, because it had been many times already. Something inside her wriggled to get out, but she clamped down on it, refusing to let any fondness for him emerge. “I’ve lost count,” she answered simply. “But I don’t share . . . your feelings. I don’t want to care about anyone in that way. It would betray who I am, what I’ve trained to be. I’m a warrior, Rowen. Not a princess.”

  To her surprise, he grinned. “There’s no doubt about that. But you feel nothing for me? Not even enmity?”

  “Is that what you want me to feel?”

  He shook his head no. Quiet hung between them for another few moments, and Bingmei thought that perhaps he’d told her all he intended to share. When he spoke again, his voice was low, just above a whisper. “Damanhur and I used to be fascinated by the myths of Fusang. We sought out every rendition of the story we could and gathered them as if they were gold. I wanted to bring the Summer Palace back to its former glory. It sounds foolish now, but I thought I could bring all the kingdoms together against the Qiangdao. I thought I could rule the realms as Echion once did. I hate and fear Echion, yet I cannot help but be astounded by what he’s accomplished. He is molding the world into his image. His cruelty frightens me, yet the people obey him because of it. I could never rule as he does, yet . . . I have to admit it’s effective.”

  “Have you heard word from your father?” she asked. “Does anyone know where he is?”

  Rowen shook his head with a despondent sigh. “Echion has sent servants to find him. He brooks no rivals.” He gave her a solemn look. “I don’t know where he is.”

  “I hope he’s escaped to one of the remaining kingdoms,” Bingmei said, reaching out and touching his hand.

  He stared down at her fingers for a moment, then put his free hand on top of them. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  They waited in silence, resting and sharing a little food she had in her pack. It was a welcome, if temporary, respite from the conflict that had consumed the morning. Soon, the white walls of the snow cave began to turn a deeper blue and the daylight faded.

  Still they waited, not trusting the lack of sound. Eventually, darkness fell, and they could hear wind moaning through the camp. There was no noise, no clattering of pots or voices. It seemed truly abandoned. They waited longer still, until Bingmei thought it was dark enough outside to conceal them. She pinned her braids higher on her head, noticing that Rowen watched her as she did so, although there was barely any light. His gaze troubled her but not as much as his suppressed feelings.

  When she raised her hood to conceal herself, he hastened to say, “I’ll go first.”

  She watched him crawl through the small opening. After his boots disappeared, she quickly followed. Night had fallen, but there was enough moonlight and starlight reflecting off the snow for them to see quite clearly.

  As she’d suspected, the camp had been abandoned. Only the ruins of the fires remained, though nothing lingered but ashes. She smelled the air, trying to catch the scent of the Qiangdao.

  Instead, she smelled fish.

  She saw Quion and his snow leopard shortly afterward, searching the snow caves. The leopard caught their scent first and let out a little growl, making Quion look up hastily and draw one of his hunting knives to defend himself. She tromped through the snow and approached him.

  “Bingmei,” he said with relief. The snow leopard darted past her and circled Rowen, sniffing him and growling.

  Rowen stood stiffly, eyeing the beast with trepidation. “What’s this?” he said, but she could smell the fear roiling from him despite his calm voice. “A pet?”

  Quion hugged her in relief. She patted his arm.

  “Where are the others?” she asked him.

  “Waiting at the falls,” he said. “I came out to see if I could find any trace of you. After you flew away like a hawk, the Qiangdao went into a frenzy to chase after you. I think they’re halfway down the mountain by now.” He grinned at her. “You were hiding in one of the snow caves?”

  “Yes. I think it’s best if we try to get off the mountain after darkness falls. We’re more used to moving in the dark than they are.”

  “Of course,” he agreed. “Let’s go back to the others.”

  Bingmei nodded and started to go with him, then stopped when she realized Rowen wasn’t following them. He was looking worriedly at the leopard.

  “Come on,” Quion said, clucking his tongue. The snow leopard came to his side. The young fisherman eyed Rowen warily. “She doesn’t trust you,” he said, “which means I don’t either.”

  Everyone was surprised to see Rowen, and they were hungry for his news of the outside world. He shared everything he knew about Echion’s Iron Rules. Sajinau had become one of the main palaces from which the ancient ruler oversaw his growing kingdom.

  Jiaohua’s face looked impassive, but Bingmei knew better. His training had given him a talent for hiding his thoughts. He could not hide his smell from her, however, and she sensed his growing concern and anger as the tale went on.

  “Once the season ends, Echion will continue his conquest of the kingdoms.” Rowen looked from face to face. “He is only using half of his true power right now. If he succeeds in awakening his queen, Xisi, then we have no hope at all.”

  “We only have one hope,” Jiaohua said, giving Bingmei a look. “And she’s not willing.” If that hadn’t mattered, she had no doubt he would have dragged her to the Death Wall months ago.

  “We must keep Bingmei out of Echion’s hands,” Rowen said, ignoring the barbed comment. “Where were you planning to go after the snows melt? Did you intend to hide in these caves if you weren’t discovered?”

  Bingmei looked at him and then the others. “I was thinking Sihui,” she said. “We can continue to follow the mountains until we get there. Unless anyone else has a recommendation?”

  “The King of Sihui is Zhumu,” Jiaohua said. “He’s ambitious and resourceful. I think he would welcome us.”

  “Have you met him?” she asked.

  Jiaohua shook his head. “But I have a few Jingcha in his court as spies. I could seek them out once we get there.”

  Bingmei nodded and looked to the others to see if anyone else had any input.

  Mieshi hesitated, then shook her head.

  “Please,” Bingmei said, meeting her eyes. “What were you going to say?”

  Mieshi frowned. “Kunmia didn’t trust him,” she said. “There was some run-in between them in the past, but I don’t remember any of the details.”

  “If you remember them, let us know,” Damanhur said. “I’ve never been as far west as Sihui. Won’t we have to cross the glacier to get there? The one by Fusang?”

  “I think the glacier ends before the Death Wall,” said Marenqo, who looked unusually thoughtful. “And I would rather walk there than take a boat. No offense, Quion. I know you’re a fisherman and you probably prefer boats, but with everyone looking for Bingmei right now, it would be best to stay in the hinterlands anyway. The Qiangdao aren’t there anymore. The wall is guarded, but if we follow it at a distance, we will eventually get to Sihui. I think it’s a good plan.”

  “I like the idea of going to Sihui,” Bingmei said. “We can help them fortify their city so they’re ready to defend themselves against Echion. We know what to expect. And Sihui may not be as vulnerable to a sea attack as the other kingdoms. So . . . are we agreed?”

  They took a vote, and all were in favor of the decision. They finished their preparations for the long journey and left the caves, heading up the mountain in the moonlight, away from the trail the Qiangdao had taken. Climbing the mountain was rough work, especially through the deep drifts of snow, but they pushed on and managed to reach the peak before midnight. When the sun came up in the morning, they would be hidden on the other side, invisible to those hunting for them.

  The other cave entrance was to the east, and so they followed the ridge of the mountain down, heading toward the unpopulated valley.

  S
ince Bingmei had rested most of the day, she didn’t feel the effects of fatigue until the sky began to brighten. The snow on the slope was surprisingly shallow for the time of year, and she could see there wasn’t much at all in the valley below. It had already thawed, which meant Rowen was right. Summer was nearly upon them.

  Some of the servants and young students complained of being tired, but they were quickly hushed by the others, who reminded them it was the safest traveling at night, at least until they were a greater distance from their enemies. Bingmei used the staff to guide her steps and set a steady pace down the mountainside, avoiding boulders on the trail.

  The sun began to peek above the mountains to the east, and she could finally see the edifice of the Death Wall in the distance. She paused to gaze at it. The light stabbed her eyes, and so she shielded them with her hand and looked at the vast structure built so many years ago. They would have to be careful to avoid any guards Echion might have manning the walls.

  Rowen came and stood by her, also looking in that direction. With him standing by her, she thought she felt the tug of the loom threads he had mentioned earlier. She felt a peculiar coaxing feeling in her chest—an entreaty. The Death Wall was calling to her. She shuddered and tamped the feeling down. No, she would not go there willingly. Not if it meant dying. There had to be another way.

  She turned around to see the progress of the servants and younger students, who were still coming down the snowy slope.

  Which was when she saw the smudge of black on the ridge. Someone was following their trail down. Even though he was just a smudge in the distance, she felt certain it was Liekou.

  He’d found their trail.

  The lone sheep is in danger of the wolf.

  —Dawanjir proverb

  CHAPTER SIX

  Xixuegui Falls

  It was a game of hunter and hunted. Bingmei had thought they’d be safe once they reached the valley if they kept away from the shadow of the Death Wall, but the presence of the warrior stalking them could be felt in the air. For two days, nothing happened, but on the third day, one of the guards who had been assigned to watch over the sleeping camp was found dead. The other two guards quickly raised the alarm. His eyes were still open, his expression slack, as if he’d been struck by the killing fog. The lack of visible injury indicated he’d been killed by dianxue.

  Three nights later, Liekou killed again.

  The gap between the killings made Bingmei suspect that the warrior was trailing them alone. He was relentless, like a hungry wolf. So they moved into the plains, following the edge of the woods, and kept constant watch to see if he followed them. He never showed himself. Jiaohua set traps for him and grew angrier and angrier when they failed to trick or capture their nemesis. However, their enemy appeared to adhere to some kind of moral code. He never struck out at any of the children in the ensign, even if one wandered away from the group or lagged behind.

  On the seventh day, their movement was finally noticed by the guards on the Death Wall, and a group of riders was dispatched. This forced Bingmei’s ensign back into the wooded hills, where the landscape would make it more difficult for them to be found.

  Bingmei’s nerves were taut as she felt their enemies tail them. So far, they’d easily escaped their pursuers, but each time she saw one of the armored guards wearing the insignia of the Dragon of Night, she sensed the snapping jaws of the beast getting closer.

  “If we don’t get away from this place,” she told Marenqo and Rowen, “they’ll get ahead of us and enclose us.” The three of them were hunkered down in a gap beneath a fallen tree, waiting for their most recent pursuer to show himself.

  “They’re hunting for twigs in a vast forest,” Rowen said. “The odds are on our side.”

  “Still, they’re too close. And there’s a long way to go.”

  “I guess we could surrender,” Marenqo said in an offhand way, but Bingmei knew he was joking before he smirked. “But maybe that’s not such a good idea. I don’t want to work at the palace. I would prefer to keep my body intact.”

  They heard the clomp of hooves farther down the slope, and Bingmei smelled the rider and the steed. She twisted around and looked through the small gap between the rocks and the fallen tree. A rider sat astride his mount, his back to them as he gazed into the wilderness. One hand was on the hilt of his sword in a defensive posture.

  “He’s alone,” Rowen whispered.

  “We don’t know that,” Marenqo warned. “There could be another close by.”

  “Let’s wait it out,” Bingmei said.

  They looked on as the man maintained his position, watching and listening, turning his head in both directions. Bingmei knew she wasn’t the only one who’d lost patience when she heard the shrill little whistle from Jiaohua’s blowgun. The guard flinched from the sting and then toppled from his saddle a moment later. His horse grunted and started off, leaving its rider unconscious on the rocks.

  Jiaohua slipped down into the crack with them. “Twelve more are coming,” he whispered. “We’d better go before they arrive.”

  Bingmei nodded in agreement, and they clambered up out of the crag and followed the Jingcha leader into the woods. The rider lay still, unable to see them pass.

  In the days that had passed since leaving the caves, the air had grown increasingly warmer. Insects droned, and fowl began to fill the skies as they returned from their winter lairs, providing the ensign with another source of meat. But the warmer weather brought trouble too—as they pressed on, they discovered a swollen river blocking their way. It came from the mountains to the west, and it was ice cold, made of melted snow.

  They followed it down the mountain a bit to where it plummeted into a series of falls. Mist rose from the gorge, but Mieshi caught sight of some huge crooked-back brown bears at the base of the falls, looking for fish. Bingmei joined her and stared down at them, crestfallen.

  Jiaohua came up beside her, his scent acrid with bitterness and anger. He looked her in the eyes. “If we climb down there, we’re all dead,” he said. “We don’t have the right weapons for fighting bears that large, and there are too many.”

  She nodded in agreement. “And the riders and Liekou are coming up from behind. We can’t go back the way we came.”

  Damanhur approached. “Maybe we go higher up the mountain?”

  “The river may be even harder to cross up there if the rocks are jagged,” Jiaohua said. “We could be putting ourselves in an even worse position.”

  “Maybe it’s time to turn and fight,” Damanhur said grimly. “They’ve been chasing us for a long time. We can pick the ground to our advantage, force them to come to us.”

  “Or we can hide at the base of the falls. Maybe the bears will attack them instead,” Marenqo offered.

  “Too risky,” Jiaohua said. “If the bears hear us first, and they will, we’ll be dead.”

  Bingmei felt her insides squeeze with dread. They couldn’t afford to be indecisive. The longer they waited, the sooner the riders would arrive, trapping them against the river. She gazed at the young ones who stood huddled together with frightened faces. They looked to her for leadership and protection. It was her responsibility to protect them from becoming slaves at the Death Wall.

  Quion caught her attention then, mostly because he didn’t smell panicked or worried like so many of the others. He stood at the edge of the river, gazing at the other side.

  “What is it?” Jiaohua asked her.

  She left him and approached Quion from behind.

  “Quion?” she asked.

  He turned to face her. “I have an idea,” he said.

  She grinned. She’d been hoping he would say that. “Tell me.”

  Some of the others congregated around him, and she smelled his discomfort. He didn’t like being the center of so much attention.

  “Well, what is it? Can you get us across the river, boy?” Jiaohua asked.

  “I think so,” he answered. “There are many trees on both side
s. Sturdy ones by the looks of them. I have a lot of rope. We could tie off two lines, one to walk on and the other to hold on to. Two sets of ropes,” he continued, using his hands and feet to mimic the actions. “We could have the young ones hold on to our backs. We could cross many at a time, I think.”

  “But how do we tie the ropes on the other side?” Marenqo asked.

  “Bingmei can,” said Quion with a shrug.

  Oh. The meiwood cricket. She stared at the width of the river. It was not a short distance. She wondered if the magic would take her that far. One look at the young ones was enough to convince her.

  “It’s worth a try,” Bingmei said.

  “Can she leap that far?” Jiaohua asked.

  Quion looked at him. “We’d tie a rope around her before she jumps. I’m not stupid.”

  Jiaohua gave him a snort, hands on hips, then looked back the way they’d come. “Let’s get this crazy idea started. I’ll have scouts watch for our pursuers.”

  Quion unslung his pack and began rummaging through it. He produced two long coils of rope. Freeing one of the ends, he motioned for Bingmei to come closer.

  “I can tie the knots on this side to make the ropes very taut. But you’ll need to tie them on the other side.”

  “I can’t tie knots like you can,” Bingmei said.

  “This is a simple one. I’m going to teach you.” He took her to one of the nearby cedar trees and brought the rope around it. “Like this. Around, under, back, and through.” It formed a perfect knot. Then he undid it and demonstrated the technique again. “Around, under, back, and through.” He tugged it tight, showing her how to test its strength.

  She made a mess of it on the first try. He encouraged her to try again and showed her his method one more time. She blinked, trying to quell her fear that people would die if she did it wrong. Following his example, she tried again. And again. She got it right on the third try.