The Buried World (The Grave Kingdom)

by Jeff Wheeler

  A servant shoved his way between them. Bingmei sensed his contempt—they weren’t from Sihui, and so he considered himself above them. Rowen glared at the man, but he motioned for her to continue walking.

  “Where are we going?” she pressed.

  “Anywhere but here,” he said.

  She stopped, and he kept going a few paces before turning back to look at her.

  “I’ve been gone all afternoon,” she said. “I need to help smooth over the ill feelings in the ensign. Can we not talk later? Please?”

  His lips pressed tightly together. He looked down, breathing out roughly, and said, “And what about my ill feelings?”

  “What do you have to say?” she said, smelling the bite of jealousy again.

  “You know all of our hearts. You already know,” he said, coming closer. Someone nearly collided with him but veered away in time.

  She looked him in the eye. “I know, but why shouldn’t you say it? I can tell you’re jealous but not why.”

  “You truly don’t know?” His voice and his grunt betrayed his disbelief.

  It struck her that she’d smelled jealousy on him once before, after she’d spoken to Quion by the fire. She looked at him incredulously. “You’re jealous . . . of Quion?”

  As soon as she said it, the smell grew a thousand times worse. His emotions flared inside him.

  Her own feelings began to churn, anger and self-protection and resentment. “He’s my friend, Rowen. My friend.”

  “I know,” he said, his voice nearly biting in its intensity. “But you will not let me get that close to you.” He took a small step toward her as he said it.

  “How can I?” she replied. “He doesn’t make any demands on me. Doesn’t try to compel my affection. He offers friendship. Your feelings come with other expectations.”

  “You’ve never given them a chance. You’ve spent your whole life dealing with other peoples’ emotions, but you bar your own. What I truly feel would frighten you,” he whispered, “if I let it show a little more.”

  “Oh?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Prove it.”

  His emotions flared again, but he shuttered his expression, and the scent seemed to drift away on the wind. His forbearance was maddening. He was proving her point, but she didn’t say so. “You have no idea, do you? No idea at all what it means to be one of the phoenix’s chosen.”

  “You’re talking in riddles again,” she answered. “But I know one thing for certain: I’m the phoenix-chosen, not you.”

  “I know who you are. And I can’t understand how that’s so.” He turned and walked away without her, leaving her in the crowded corridor even more perplexed than when she’d entered it with him.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Darkness Comes

  Wounded feelings prevailed in the ensign, and not even Marenqo’s humor could lift the darkening mood. Bingmei tried to offer a sense of calm, but she was unable to shift the tide, even after two days. Mieshi and Damanhur had not spoken to each other since the outburst, which Bingmei came to learn was about more than the words that had been spoken. Damanhur’s injury had damaged more than his flesh, and as much as he loved Mieshi, there was some kind of tangled knot in their relationship. She made sure that they were not assigned guard duty together, but that did little to help.

  The conflict between the couple had also worsened Mieshi’s grief for Zhuyi. The scent of her suffering was as familiar as the smell of the spicy cooking that occurred day and night in Sihui.

  Rowen had kept his distance from Bingmei since their confrontation in the hall, although he seemed to be getting along well with King Zhumu. He was called upon to discuss matters with the king while Bingmei, as leader of the ensign, was not. That rankled her, but she chose not to make an issue of it. General Tzu walked the defenses daily to inspect the progress, and sometimes he would invite her along to discuss the latest news.

  On the third day following their arrival, he reported that ships had been sighted at anchor in Renxing, Echion’s westernmost stronghold. Which of the western kingdoms he’d strike next was still up in the air, but the news of a fleet had been brought by no less than five fishermen.

  “Where do you think Echion will attack next?” Bingmei asked. “Do you believe he’ll strike here?”

  The general pursed his lips, his eyes gazing down the hazy river. “Tuqiao is the most vulnerable to a sea attack,” he said. “The island can be surrounded on all sides, and while there is a rib of mountains in the middle of it, those can be crossed as well. King Zhumu has received offers of aid from other kings should we be attacked—in return for his promise to come to their aid should they prove to be the target. Sihui does not have a strong merchant fleet. We’d be at a disadvantage if we have to go to their assistance.”

  Bingmei nodded in agreement. “But we can learn much from a battle.”

  “Indeed,” he answered. “All the kingdoms he’s conquered so far have been through trickery and cunning. Those are the weapons we must use against him. I advised King Zhumu that if another kingdom gets attacked, we can learn much if we try to aid them. I support it.”

  “We should. Why do you keep bringing me on these walks, General?” Bingmei asked.

  He gave her a sidelong look. “Kunmia Suun entrusted you with her staff, and you also hold the Phoenix Blade. When Echion’s forces strike us, we can anticipate them attacking with meiwood weapons. I’ve also heard that you are quite . . . nimble. That you have a magic that enables you to fly.”

  Yes, he did know a lot about her. The question was: Who had told him?

  “I have a magic that I got from my grandfather. It’s a little cricket made of meiwood, and yes, it enables me to leap distances. But the magic of flight is not something I can control. It comes and goes as it pleases. I can’t command it.”

  Still leading the way, he climbed up the arch bridge that was done, the one that overlooked the other bridges downriver.

  “It would be helpful if you did learn how to control it,” he said.

  “I agree,” she answered. “But I can’t rely on it.”

  “A pity,” said the general. He folded his arms as he gazed toward the defenses. “After all the bridges are done, we will start building walls along the river’s edges. There and there.” He pointed with two fingers. “Every day we aren’t attacked gives us more time to ready our defenses. This is time we didn’t have before. If we can last through the Dragon of Dawn, then the weather will once again become our ally.”

  A familiar prickle went down Bingmei’s spine. She stiffened.

  The dragon was close; she knew it.

  “General,” she said urgently, touching his arm. She stared at the crowds of people thronging the streets, her eyes searching for anything out of place.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  Gooseflesh danced down her arms despite the oppressive heat.

  “He’s coming,” she whispered, still searching the crowd. There was no smell yet, nothing else to alert her.

  “Who?”

  “Echion.” She planted her palms on the edge of the railing and leaned forward. She took a deep, long breath of the swampy air, but there was nothing out of place.

  General Tzu raised his hand to shield his eyes from the sun and stared downriver. “If any ships were coming, we’d be told of it in advance. I have spies all along the shore.”

  “I promise you, General. He is coming in person. I feel it.” Her voice trembled as she spoke.

  “Behind us? Where?” he said, turning around, looking back toward the far bridge where Quion was still encamped.

  Bingmei raised her hand to her eyes, trying to block out the sun so she could better see.

  A shadow fell over them.

  Which was when she realized that the danger was coming from the one place they hadn’t considered: above.

  “Jump!” she shouted to General Tzu. She heard the leathery rustling of wings and a reptilian hissing as something enormous blotted out the sun and swooped do
wn toward them. Looking up, she saw the hulking beast, the dragon made of shadows looming above them, its gaping maw lined with razor teeth. One of its claws was reaching, reaching . . .

  Bingmei dug her hand into her pocket and stroked the meiwood cricket, the magic filling her legs just before the dragon’s claws caught her. She heard General Tzu splash into the water at the same instant her own feet landed in a crouch on the cobblestone street.

  Screams of terror erupted from the citizens of Sihui. Bingmei paused, one palm touching the warm stone, the other gripping the rune staff. She felt the urgent need to do something. To help. And yet, she remembered what Muxidi had said—if Echion captured her, he would force her to awaken the other dragon.

  She couldn’t let that happen.

  The dragon let out an ear-splitting shriek that made her very soul tremble. Roused to action, she lunged through the crowd. They were all facing the bridge she’d just left behind, many of them cowering in terror.

  The wings sounded like the sails of a fisherman’s boat. She looked over her shoulder, saw it crouching atop the bridgework, the muscled torso hunched over, the huge wings fanning out. Its fiery eyes searched the crowd, and trails of smoke came from its reptilian nostrils.

  In this moment, nothing about the dragon was smoky or ineffable—it was a colossus, the danger real and terrifying. Still, the stone arch held.

  Bingmei’s heart hammered violently behind her ribs as she bolted back toward the palace, her feet pounding the cobblestones. Those who weren’t petrified with fear were now running with her.

  Soldiers holding spears ran against the crowds, shouting for everyone to move out of the way. They were brave souls, but the dank, terrible smell of their fear permeated every gulp of air she took as she ran.

  She looked back and saw the dragon open its maw. It spewed out a plume of black smoke, swiveling its head as it did so. The smoke didn’t dispel, rather it grew thicker once it met the air.

  Did this creature breathe out the killing fog? Were they all about to die?

  Bingmei tried to outrun the black fog, but it quickly engulfed her. It didn’t smell like anything, but once it struck, she couldn’t even see a hand in front of her face. It was like being in the darkest cave in the depths of the Dongxue.

  Bingmei staggered in the darkness, trying to feel her way back to the palace. She’d been bumped into multiple times. No one could see anything, and the air was filled with sobs of fright and the pained cries of those who’d stumbled and fallen. The darkness was absolute. They’d all become blind.

  Only through her gift of smell had Bingmei made it this far, for she knew when someone was before her or about to collide with her from behind. She walked with her staff held out, sweeping the air in front of her to avoid stumbling into inanimate objects.

  She hoped she’d reach the end of the unnatural darkness, that she’d be able to see again. But it didn’t seem to end. Finally, a familiar scent reached her—the food stands she’d passed after leaving the palace with General Tzu.

  She kept going, the crowd becoming thicker and more panicked as she went. People sobbed in despair. Some cried to Zhumu to save them. The sheer terror in the air was almost as bad as the darkness. Her heart cringed with worry. They had not expected this. Nothing had prepared them for the dragon’s coming.

  Bingmei tried to summon the power of the rune staff. It was capable of dispelling magic, but it used magic to do so—enough that it could summon the killing fog. Still, she felt she had no other choice.

  She felt the power of the staff as she invoked it, but nothing happened. It was powerless against the darkness.

  Bingmei released her command, and the power drained from the staff again.

  She bumped into several carts as she walked, hearing fruits thump to the stone ground. The caretakers had already fled. Carefully, she continued up the street, trying to judge how far she was from the gates. A few more steps, and she heard soldiers barking orders. Another few steps, and she reached the gates, her fingers closing around the metal. Other citizens were next to her, clamoring to be let in.

  “No one may enter!” said a gruff voice ahead of her.

  “I am Bingmei, servant to King Zhumu. Let me pass.”

  There was a pause, and then the man muttered, “Hurry. We can’t let the others in. Come inside quickly!”

  When the gate groaned open, Bingmei heard a stampede of steps as others tried to crowd their way into the palace. She was wrenched inside—one hand on her arm, the other behind her neck—and the gate was slammed shut behind her. The citizens continued to clamor, to shout and plead, speaking a language she didn’t understand.

  “You are Bingmei?” said the soldier holding her arm.

  “Yes,” she answered.

  “Where is General Tzu?”

  “He’s in the river. Echion’s come. Bring me to the king.”

  “I will.”

  She could smell his worry and fear, but he was a soldier and knew how to follow orders. They went together, walking along the path, and every so often he called out in the language of Sihui. She smelled others gathered there, heard the clank of weapons. But what could they do? What could they fight?

  In the dark, they were just as likely to attack friends as they were enemies.

  Although she’d learned to navigate the caves in the dark, she was still new to Sihui. The journey in utter blackness had her totally turned around, but she felt the change in the stone as they entered the palace, and all the natural smells were replaced by fear. It was so heavy and oppressive it made her eyes water.

  Eventually, after dodging several servants, they reached the throne room.

  “I have Bingmei,” said the soldier.

  “Where are you?” shouted King Zhumu in confusion. “Bingmei?”

  “I’m here,” she said.

  “What is this darkness?” demanded the king. “Not even the sun can penetrate it.”

  “It comes from the Dragon of Night himself,” she answered. She tried to smell who else was present, but raw fear pervaded everything. “Echion has come. He landed in his dragon form on the bridge, and this darkness came out of its jaws.”

  “Father?” Princess Cuifen said, her voice trembling.

  “Then we evacuate the city,” Zhumu said. “I will not allow my daughter to be taken as one of his thousand concubines! Go, Daughter. You will flee.”

  “But how will we escape? We cannot see!” she said.

  The helplessness of the situation pressed in on Bingmei. “General Tzu was with me when the dragon attacked. He jumped into the river.”

  “He will live or die, then,” said Zhumu. “We cannot help him. Bingmei, please take my daughter away from Sihui. I order your ensign to escort her to Dawanju. You must leave at once. Perhaps the entire world is smothered in darkness. But you have survived in the wilds. If anyone can help her, you can.”

  “Father, no!” Cuifen pleaded.

  “Obey me, Daughter. I will not forsake my people. But you must survive. I will not have you become victim to Echion’s cruelty.”

  “Great king,” said Budai in a sniveling voice. “Command her to bring me as well.”

  Now that she heard his voice, she detected the lemony bite of his greed. Of course Budai was only interested in his own welfare. She didn’t doubt he’d sell one of his souls to Echion if the price were high enough.

  “He would not survive the journey,” Bingmei said.

  “It is not your privilege to command here,” snarled Budai. “I beg you, my lord!”

  “No,” said Zhumu. “You will face the same fate I do. You said a relic protected you from your fate in Wangfujing. I’ve seen your meiwood turtle. Give it to my daughter.”

  “It is mine!” Budai shouted angrily.

  “Take it from him,” ordered the king.

  Bingmei shook loose the guard who’d guided her here, then followed Budai’s lemony scent. She grabbed his hand, torqued it quickly, and he was soon on his knees, writhing in pain.


  “I swear I’ll be revenged on you, Bingmei,” he seethed.

  Ignoring the threat, Bingmei set down her staff and quickly searched the former king. She checked his pocket first but found the turtle hanging around his neck on a braided silk rope. She pulled it off and then shoved him away from her.

  “You’ll regret this,” he said dangerously.

  She picked up her staff. “I don’t think so,” she replied. “Your Majesty, I will do as you command.”

  “As will I, Father,” said Cuifen. “But I would rather stay and face the same fate as my people.”

  “You are my heir and must survive,” said the king. Bingmei could smell his despair, his growing sadness.

  “Come, Princess,” she said. She reached for the girl’s arm and, after fumbling a bit, found it. “Lead me to your room. You need clothes suitable for a journey. And wear this for protection.” She put Budai’s pendant around her neck.

  “I will guide us there,” the princess said, taking her hand.

  Together they left the throne room, and Bingmei struggled against the constant feeling that she was about to walk into a wall. Once they were in the corridor, she caught scent of Rowen following behind them.

  “Are you coming too?” she asked.

  “Who?” Cuifen said.

  “Of course I am,” he answered. “I can find you in the dark, Bingmei.”

  Because of the Phoenix Blade. They walked a ways and then reached the princess’s chambers. The sulfurous smell of the bathing chamber wafted toward her as she opened the door.

  “We must be prepared to enter the mountains,” Bingmei said. “Silks will not do. You will need something heavier, something warmer.” And so would she. Although the clothes she’d worn on the journey to Sihui were in bad condition, she’d prefer to wear them than the wispy silks.

  “I know,” said Cuifen. “I’m not a simpleton. Let me find something.” She began to rummage in the dark. “There,” she said after a moment. “I can wear these. Let me change.”

  There was no need of a changing screen now. Bingmei folded her arms, listening as the princess began to disrobe.