by Jeff Wheeler
Damanhur groaned again. He turned to Mieshi, his eyes desperate. “Leave me!”
“I won’t!” she said, tears running down her cheeks. She smashed at the dragon’s snout again and again.
Damanhur couldn’t free his arm. The one arm he had left. He looked at Mieshi, stricken, devastated. “If you love me, go!”
Rowen gaped at his friend. His heart panged with pity and throbbed with respect. He didn’t want to leave, and neither did she.
Some of the members of the ensign had already fled out the doorway, but despair held Bingmei still. When she’d fled Fusang before, she’d led the way, sprinting as fast as she could to save her own life. This time, the thought of leaving anyone behind agonized her.
A shadow blotted the noonday sun.
Echion was here.
They were too late.
The beast transformed into man as he landed in the thoroughfare, the impact sending shock ripples through the stone. His jade eyes met hers, and she saw the smile of a man ready to eat her whole. Power radiated from him, nearly blinding her with its intensity.
“Go!” Damanhur sobbed.
Bingmei was sick to her stomach, but she would die fighting as Kunmia had. She began to twirl the rune staff in double circles, advancing on Echion. The look of amusement on his face spoke for itself. He knew that she couldn’t beat him—that there was nothing but death awaiting her—and he savored it.
A complicated scent washed over her, one she remembered from Prince Juexin’s execution at Sajinau, as a blur of shadows filled the air. Muxidi appeared, shrieking in challenge as he launched himself at Echion and struck at him with Damanhur’s fallen sword. The warm fragrance of his self-sacrifice was so powerful, it even eclipsed the stench of the murderous dragon.
Surprise overpowered every other sensation for a moment, but only a moment. His intercession would not buy her much time, so she forced herself to act quickly. Grabbing Mieshi by the arm, she pulled her toward the gate door. Quion still hunched against it, straining to keep it open, his own strength accentuated by the magic of the knobs. Jiaohua beckoned her to run, his face a mask of terror. Rowen held back, watching the scene in horror.
Why did her legs feel like lead in such a moment? She ran, pulling Mieshi away from her lover, and raced to cross the breach before Muxidi fell—the conclusion of the fight inevitable. After they passed it, she couldn’t help but look back. She was relieved to see Rowen coming after her with Jidi Majia and Eomen.
Behind them, Echion dodged the former Qiangdao’s attack with inhuman speed. The sword was sent flying away, landing far down the alley with a clattering noise. Bingmei saw him transform into the shadowy dragon once more, his slathering fangs biting into Muxidi’s middle and hoisting him off his feet. Muxidi’s look wasn’t one of pain but ecstasy. He arched his back as his soul was literally ripped from his body. It remained suspended in the air like a leaf held aloft by a breeze, before his body was thrown mercilessly into the nearest building, where it struck and then slumped to the stone.
Muxidi’s soul hung in the air for a moment before it was sucked away to the north, toward the Death Wall. It struck her that she’d only ever seen one soul rising from a corpse, yet Zhuyi had told her Echion had only brought one of her souls back.
What happened to the other soul?
The dragon’s head pivoted, its cruel, reptilian eyes piercing her through the gate.
Outside, they encountered a thin stone path carved through dense vegetation. Trees of every shape crowded around the passageway, which led up a steep hill directly ahead of them. She saw a slanted-roof pagoda atop the hill, high enough that it broke through the trees. When she saw it, it looked as familiar to her as her grandfather’s quonsuun. An inner assurance awoke within her that the pagoda would keep them safe.
“To the shrine!” Bingmei called out in warning, her heart in her throat.
She let go of Mieshi and turned to find Quion and Jiaohua rushing from the gate, which slammed shut behind them. Both of their faces dripped with sweat, and they raced from the palace in terror. Bingmei pointed to the pagoda and waved at them to go. As she did so, she caught sight of Rowen, Eomen, and Jidi Majia . . . they were already heading up the hill. In despair, she wondered how many of them would make it.
Come to the pagoda, she heard in her mind. Come!
The dragon leaped up onto the wall, its huge wings fanning out, writhing with smoke. It let out a roar of frustrated rage, a roar that split her ears and stabbed her mind with daggers of pain. Bingmei had done everything she could. If they stayed together in a mass, they would all die.
She felt a tingling run down her back as the phoenix magic swept through her. They were not running through a wilderness but a refuge, a park, a place for solemnity and tranquility. Paths crisscrossed up the entire hill, converging at the top. Some had benches for resting. She knew this because she’d been there with Rowen. They’d hiked it hand in hand. The certainty of that struck her like a whip. From the pagoda on top, it was possible to look down and see the entire domain of Fusang. It was the perfect garden, a sanctuary of peacefulness.
The dragon roared again and then launched from the wall, swooping down to snap her up in its jaws. Smoke billowed from its wings, from the maw lined with dagger-tip teeth.
Running wouldn’t have saved her. It would have been impossible.
So she flew.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The Smell of Fog
The magic enveloped Bingmei, lifting her into the skies, bringing her above the tree line like a soaring bird. Exhilaration gushed within her, but it was seasoned by fear. She felt the dragon’s eyes on her, sensed the blot of its presence at her back. She gripped the rune staff in her hands, the wood warm from the thrum of magic that still pulsed within it.
She flew up toward the pagoda atop the hill, swooping around the taller trees as she gained height. There was no sensation of flapping wings, like a bird, but she felt the rushing ebb and flow, like the tide when it smashed against rocks. She poured her determination into going faster still. But it wasn’t fast enough. The rustle of leathery wings filled her ears, and then the shadow of the dragon passed over her.
Her instincts screamed at her to twist her shoulders and dive, which she did, and suddenly she was rushing toward the trees, her stomach lurching up into her throat. She banked away from a tall cedar and came perilously close to its branches, but the sudden move brought her away from the plummeting dragon. She heard its steamy hiss of fury as she continued to bank around the hill, trying to reach the pagoda. The red meiwood poles framing the square pagoda gleamed in the midday sun. Three curved roofs with flaring, pointed tips crowned it. It was built on a base of stone slabs with stairs on two of the four sides. A crooked cypress tree graced the top near the pagoda.
She was almost there. Bingmei fought to ride the wind up to the top, and she quickly began to gain height again. Looking down, she saw members of the ensign scrabbling up through gaps in the trees, struggling to reach the top of the hill.
Suddenly, the dragon was in front of her, wings flapping fiercely, yellow eyes hungry for her death. It came straight at her. She barely had time to swerve to the side, its stench engulfing her, before its jaws snapped at her—and missed. One of its wings buffeted her as she went by, sending her spinning out of control for several perilous moments before she righted herself.
Weariness began to ebb her strength. She felt sweat oozing from her pores. If the magic failed her when she was still higher than the trees, she’d plummet to the ground and die. Unwilling to consider that possibility, she soared up higher, coming around the hill, which tapered the closer she came to the top. She hit a sudden updraft of air and was flung into the sky, rising high above the hill.
The air was cooler at this height, and her insides churned with delight from the incomprehensible view. She could see not only the hill but all Fusang as well. The majestic structures of the Hall of Unity, Hall of Memory, and many other gold-tiled roofs rose above
the watchtowers. She also could see the receding glacier and the waterfalls caused by the melting ice. Just to the north, she saw dozens of streams converging into a single valley of pulverized rock, the massive falls smashing into the valley floor.
Echion, who’d been circling the hill beneath her, spotted her at last, and the dragon beat its wings and charged up at her. She banked hard to one side and then twisted to the other. The dragon leaped at where she had feinted and snapped its jaws at her again.
Glancing down at the pagoda, she saw Marenqo reach the top of the hill and run into the shelter it offered. The dragon’s long neck wrenched around, and its jaws tried to bite at her again. Bingmei willed herself to move faster, dropping toward the pagoda.
Which was when she saw the white dragon rushing toward her.
You’re always so reckless, Husband, Xisi thought with disdain.
The white dragon was leaner but longer, its scales just as hard, and its teeth just as pointed. A ridge of thorny spikes came from its crown down the length of its back. It looked majestic, graceful, deadly.
Xisi feinted toward her, and Bingmei dropped her shoulders and plunged, hoping her smallness and speed would help her escape. Those qualities were her only advantages. With two dragons chasing her, she wouldn’t last long.
Her dive helped speed her past Xisi’s snout, and she felt a spurt of anger from the white dragon. Bingmei swooped low, spying Quion laboring up the slope of the hill. And that’s when she saw the wave of fog coming around the other side. There had never been any fog within Fusang, but they were outside its walls now. Echion had apparently tired of the chase and summoned it in a wave to finish them off. Her friends were racing for their lives, struggling up the incline. She circled around the hill and saw the fog had already encircled the lower slopes. The creeping mist snaked through the woods, sniffing at trees, hungry to unleash the kiss of death on its victims.
It had been so long since she’d seen the killing fog that she’d forgotten the terror it always inspired. The fog curled and sucked away at everything. She saw three stags racing up the hill, only to be snagged by an octopus-like tendril. All three beasts collapsed instantly.
Echion dived down at her, smoking wings billowing like storm clouds.
None of your companions will escape my wrath! came his thoughts at her. They will all die for trying to aid you.
Feverishly, Bingmei tried to escape the massive dragon’s lunge—and ended up in the trees. She dropped into a stand of cedar, and the trees’ massive branches cracked and came smashing down as the dragon collided with them. Black smoke churned in the air as the sound of snapping wood filled the grove. Bingmei glanced down the hill at the fog creeping up toward her and saw Jiaohua struggling to outrun it.
He was looking back as he ran, arms pumping, one hand holding his blowgun. Then he glanced forward, and his eyes found her—she wished to help him, to warn him, to do something, but there was nothing she could do as a snaky coil of the fog wrapped around his ankle. He fell against the earth, his mouth contorted in fear, and the magic snuffed his life away before her eyes. His anguished expression slackened, and he slumped into the posture of repose, as if the weariness of his run had robbed all his strength. But his shoulders didn’t move with breath. She knew he was dead, and her heart mourned his loss. His deceitful ways had made her distrust him initially, but they’d been used to support his king and then her. His loyalty had been proven. Her heart ached at the sight of his body.
“You cannot escape me!” Echion said, emerging from the plumes of smoke in human form, the Phoenix Blade in his hand. “Come and die, little bird! You are no phoenix!”
She would die if she faced him. She knew that. To her right, she saw Jidi Majia struggling up the hill with Eomen. They both wheezed with the effort.
Was it futile? The fog would climb until it reached the top, until there was nowhere left to hide. The thought of losing all her friends struck her with exquisite dread. Could she save them? She could hardly save herself!
With the fog still creeping up the hill, Bingmei jumped into the air. To her relief, the magic had not abandoned her yet—it lifted her higher. She banked to the left, away from Jidi Majia and Eomen, and Echion leaped too. He swung the Phoenix Blade at her, and she blocked it with the staff. It came again, and again she blocked it as she gained speed. Echion’s face twisted with hatred and revenge as he flew after her, transforming before her eyes into the beast.
Xisi swooped down at her from above, gleaming white, a silent menace. Bingmei tried to swerve and felt the daggerlike teeth pierce the meat of her leg. Without thinking, she jammed the end of the rune staff into one of the dragon’s eyes. Xisi shrieked in pain and let go, then hissed in outrage.
Bingmei was free again, her wound bleeding freely, and she continued to rise when another updraft caught her, sending her vaulting further into the skies. Both dragons were behind her now, and Echion charged at her, trying to close the distance.
Bingmei saw Mieshi reach the pagoda and dart inside.
Come, my chosen. Come to the pagoda!
This thought was not from her enemies. It felt warm and caring.
The updraft ended, and she once again found herself far above the hill. None of the fog had entered Fusang, but it swarmed the hill and the woods beneath it. Focusing on the pagoda, she swooped down toward it, racing the black dragon. Her leg thrummed with pain, and a quick downward glance revealed her garments were drenched in blood.
Echion’s shadow stretched over her. He was going to catch her, she knew, unless she changed her tactic. Bingmei squinted, quelling her fear, and shot straight at Echion as if to attack. The dragon’s wings splayed wide, its claws grasping for her. Bingmei broke suddenly, confusing him, and then swept around him toward the pagoda. The dragon screamed in frustration at having missed her again.
Finally, Bingmei reached the top of the pagoda.
The pinnacle of it was a huge golden knob with an iron spike poking from the center. All the stays of the roof sloped up to that point, and the knob was as big as a person. Bingmei hooked her arm around the iron spike and then slid down it to land on the other side. Her leg throbbed with pain as it hit the surface. She pulled the rune staff against her chest and lay back against the rooftop, her pack against one of the meiwood stays. Her lungs burned for air, and she gasped in desperation. She’d made it to the pagoda, but if the dragons flew over her, there would be no hiding.
Looking over the edge of the roof, she saw Jidi Majia and Eomen panting as they tried to reach the building. She heard the clanging of pots, the familiar sound of Quion’s pack, and then she heard it thump to the ground in silence. Had the fog caught him? She grieved at the thought. She’d done her best, and it hadn’t been good enough.
The flapping of wings filled her ears, and the shadow of the dragon loomed over her. Bingmei was exhausted, her strength spent. She’d tried to escape and failed. Hanging her head in defeat, she pressed her cheek against the roof shingles and quietly cried. It would be over soon. Her struggle had been in vain. The two dragons would rule for another age until the phoenix chose another or sent Bingmei’s soul back into the world to be reborn again.
Nothing happened.
As Bingmei waited in suspense for teeth and claws to destroy her, she felt the urge to hold absolutely still, to relax her weary muscles, to release the sadness and let it go. She gave herself over to the tranquil calm that caressed her cheek like the breeze.
As she lay on the rooftop, facedown, she saw the tendrils of fog creep over the edge of the roof. They came swirling up the tiles toward her feet.
Where is she? It was Xisi’s voice.
I don’t see her in the fog. The reply was from Echion.
A little trickle of hope came from deep inside her. She sensed the dragons above her, could hear their thoughts and feel the wind of their pulsing wings, but they could not see her.
Find her, commanded Xisi. It could be a trick.
It is a trick! Where is she? She
was on the roof. Now she’s gone.
Find her!
Bingmei felt herself lulled to sleep. She smelled a cinnamon-porridge smell that wafted over her.
Mother?
It was Bingmei’s last thought before she fell asleep.
When she awoke, she was still on the roof, the sun beating down on her. She sat up, feeling her strength had returned—and was shocked to discover her leg was no longer in pain. It felt perfectly fine, although the torn and bloody leg of her pants attested to the wound Xisi had given her. The rune staff sat next to her.
The killing fog was gone.
Bingmei heard footsteps from below. She rubbed her eyes and tried to understand what had happened.
“Do you see anyone?”
It was Cuifen’s musical voice.
“The killing fog must have got them,” Liekou replied. “Like it did the Jingcha man we found lower down.”
Bingmei heard their steps as the two approached.
Scooting down to the edge of the tile rooftop, she saw Liekou and Cuifen down below, approaching the summit. Walking hand in hand.
Maybe everyone else was dead. Instead of feeling sadness, she felt only peace and comfort. From the edge of the roof, she saw dead animals everywhere. Birds lying in the tall grasses. She saw several more deer had perished and even a fox cub.
“Up here,” she said, swinging her feet over the edge. She did not feel the magic of the phoenix anymore. If she wanted to get down, she would have to climb.
“Bingmei!” Cuifen called in surprise.
Liekou looked up at her in amazement. “You survived?”
Bingmei nodded. “I need to climb down. Give me a moment.”
“Wait,” Liekou said. He approached the bottom of the pagoda. She looked down at him curiously as he pulled something from his pocket.
“I’ll throw this up to you,” he said. He pitched a tiny object up to her, and she caught it, gazing at it with relief and awe. Her grandfather’s meiwood cricket. Tears of joy stung her eyes. She rose from the edge of the roof and then rubbed her thumb along the cricket’s back. Its magic sprang to life, and she felt safe to jump down to the ground, which she did.
