The Buried World (The Grave Kingdom)

by Jeff Wheeler

  Marenqo shook his head. “It must be deafening down there. You’d have to shout to be heard.”

  Jidi Majia wiped a sheen of sweat from his brow. The labors of the walk had been rigorous for him, but he’d surprisingly managed to keep up.

  “I’ve ventured to many distant lands,” he said. “But I’ve seen nothing like this.” He held out his hand and gestured to the scene. “Everything has been carved by nature itself. I will never forget this place.”

  “Should we name it?” Marenqo suggested.

  “Could a name capture such a vista?” Rowen asked. “If only others could see this.”

  Quion smelled of wonder as he stood next to Bingmei, his thumbs hooked in his belt. “It won’t be easy getting around it. We’ll have to cross some of those rivers. They’ll be cold and dangerous.”

  “You’ve done it before,” Liekou said, giving Bingmei a cunning look. She knew they were both thinking of the way he’d chased them from the mountain caves where they had spent the winter. Not a fortuitous start, but there was no denying he’d made himself useful since joining them. Although she’d distrusted him at first, he never smelled of dishonesty, and his regard for Cuifen had only grown stronger.

  “I think Marenqo Valley has a nice sound to it,” Marenqo said thoughtfully.

  Mieshi gave him a withering look and continued to walk. “We should keep going.”

  Marenqo sighed with mock humility. “I like the sound of it.”

  They decided Quion was right—trying to cross the rivers leading to the crescent range of waterfalls would be too dangerous—so they went east to try to cross farther upstream. Which was when they discovered the area was heavily populated by bears.

  Mieshi stepped in bear scat, and soon after, they noticed tracks crisscrossing the land ahead of them. If they encountered an angry bear, it would be a vicious fight.

  Deeper into the afternoon, they found a passable part of the plain, where the water only went up to their knees at the deepest part. And it was there that they discovered dozens of brown-furred beasts roaming the shore to feast on the trout that were as plentiful as the waters.

  Mieshi, who’d spotted the bears first from behind a series of boulders, had warned them to approach quietly. Thankfully, the noise from the rushing falls, which nearly surrounded them on all sides, made it so the bears could not hear their approach. But they could be smelled.

  “I think that one of them knows something is here,” Mieshi said after they joined up. She pointed to a particularly huge one with thick brown fur and a blunt face. It lumbered one way, then another, but kept looking up the slopes where they were concealed.

  The smell of fear came strongly from Eomen. “What do we do?” she asked, sidling closer to her brother. He gripped the hilt of one of his blades defensively.

  “Stay out of her way,” Marenqo said.

  “How do you know it’s a her?” Mieshi asked.

  “No man could be that ugly,” he said with a smirk, then waved a hand as if to bat away the remark. “I’m joking. Don’t you see the cubs near her? I’ve seen bears before. Many times. They’re protective of their young.”

  “I’ve never seen this many,” Rowen said, gazing down at the scene. “It’s ripe with fish, so it makes sense. If we try crossing here, some of them are bound to notice us.”

  Bingmei agreed but wasn’t sure what to do. “Maybe they’re so full of trout they won’t bother us?”

  “But if we seem like a threat,” Jidi Majia opined, “they’ll attack.”

  Bingmei sighed. They watched the scene for a while, trying to see a way out of the dilemma. She was grateful for the nest of boulders that Mieshi had found, which provided some cover. Once they reached the plateau, they’d be exposed to the bears. There were dozens spread out across the plateau in front of them. The bears lumbered from stream to stream. A trout leaped from the water, and in a brilliant display of dexterity, a bear snatched it up midleap.

  “They don’t sleep in the river,” Quion said, rubbing his mouth. “They must have dens nearby. Maybe we wait until nightfall?”

  A prickle of dread went down Bingmei’s back. It was an awareness, a presence like she’d felt before.

  “Hide!” she ordered, and her ensign obeyed rapidly, each person choosing a boulder to crouch behind and beneath, trying to get as low as they could. She joined Mieshi, the two of them barely fitting. From the far side of the boulder, she could see the streams, which would converge farther downstream.

  Down below, she saw the massive bear suddenly rise on its hind legs. It was huge, bristling with fur, and seemed to be watching their agitation. Had it heard them? It dropped down on its forepaws and began lumbering toward them.

  “What are we hiding from?” Mieshi whispered. “Do you smell someone?”

  “No, I feel it. A dragon is coming.”

  The sensation that went down her back grew so intense she thought she would pass out from fright.

  A dragon swooped down from the sky. Mieshi gasped, and she and Bingmei watched as it snatched up a bear in its massive jaws. The beast was too big to be eaten at once, but the dragon killed the monstrous bear in a single thrashing of its swordlike fangs. This dragon wasn’t Echion or Xisi. This one had marbled flanks the color of violets with trailers of yellow and orange along its flanks. It didn’t blend into the scenery—its scales made it stand out like wildflowers against the rocks. A spine of pointed bones came down its back, and it shook its head savagely before slamming the bear back into the stream. Lifeless, the bear lay still, and while Bingmei and Mieshi watched in horror and fascination, the dragon proceeded to devour it.

  The other bears, which had been in the stream seeking their own food, beat a hasty retreat, abandoning the surplus trout to save themselves. The colorful dragon nestled into the waters and picked at the bear with its pointed snout, its long tail lashing in ecstasy as it fed.

  Bingmei felt the dragon’s presence, that tingling sensation down her back, and quieted her breathing in the hopes it could not sense her. She and Mieshi flattened themselves beneath the boulder, trying hard to remain still.

  Over the roar of the falls, Bingmei heard the keening of the bear’s cubs as they watched their slain mother be devoured. The dragon could not be bothered away from its meal. The cubs then fled.

  The dragon finished its bloody meal, then rose on its haunches and spread its massive blue wings. It lifted into the air, leaving the carcass behind.

  They watched it circle the valley awhile before it followed the river to the west.

  Bingmei sighed in relief. It hadn’t found them. Her own instincts had saved them. Rising to her feet, she bid the others to come. One by one they did, their faces tight with fear, an emotion that they all shared.

  “What . . . was . . . that?” Marenqo asked.

  “That was a dragon,” Bingmei said. “Echion is black. Xisi is white. I didn’t know there were others.”

  Then she remembered the colors they’d seen in the sky each night. The Woliu had been opened. All her life, she had heard the various myths about dragons, but no one she knew had ever seen one before. They were just the carvings left on pottery or sculptures.

  Had they all gone into the Grave Kingdom before Echion and Xisi shut the gates? A feeling of dread quivered in her heart. The world was changing, and even the bears had something to fear.

  They crossed the icy streams as quickly as they could. Quion gazed longingly at the fish that were so abundant he could have grasped them with his hands. Before they reached the other side, carrion birds had begun to gather around the carcass of the mighty bear. But none of the bears had returned to the river.

  They crossed the valley and then started climbing the mountain on the other side. Bingmei realized that without her instinct, without that preternatural warning, the dragon might have spotted them hiding amidst the boulders. Had it been hunting for them, or was the encounter only happenstance? She had to believe it was no coincidence. Echion and Xisi would marshal their
forces to find her. And kill her. There was no need for them to drag her back to Fusang. She’d supposed that hunters would be dispatched to try to follow their trail.

  She had been wrong to assume they would be human.

  The mountains on the other side of the valley were even steeper than the one they’d descended. Their boots crunched in the snow, making an easily traceable trail. But would a dragon from the heights be able to see it? Was that how the dragon had come so close to their location?

  They labored up the slope, trying to reach the neck of the mountain before the daylight left. The air became colder as they went, and despite frequent stops to rest, it felt like their strength was failing more rapidly. Eomen and Cuifen were not used to such hardships, and Bingmei watched them both shivering, even though they were wrapped in clothes that were designed for such a journey, clothes shared with them by members of the ensign. Cuifen, especially, suffered from the cold. The climate in Sihui was much warmer.

  Building a fire was out of the question, so she pushed the ensign to continue their hike after the sun sank over the peaks late in the day. Each step made her grateful for her martial training, but the pace was agonizing and slow. The afterglow of the sun never truly faded, although stars came winking into view, and the colorful whorl of heavenly lights began to illuminate the sky to the south, indicating the location of Fusang. It was a reminder of the colorful dragon they’d seen earlier in the day.

  On they marched, grunting and sweating as they climbed the snowy ridge. Even Bingmei’s feet were numb with cold, but stopping to rest could be fatal. If anyone fell asleep, they might not awaken. She smelled their various levels of exhaustion, despair, and morose thoughts. Fear underlaid everything. Would another dragon come for them in the night? Would the violet dragon return? She kept her mind focused on moving forward.

  At last they reached the crag they’d aimed for. Eomen sagged to her knees in exhaustion and relief. Liekou put his arm around Cuifen as she buried her face against his chest, weeping softly from the ordeal. Jidi Majia was the last to reach the summit, his wheezes a constant reminder that he was the oldest among them.

  Looking up, Bingmei saw the constellations. It was after midnight. She would give them a reprieve, but they wouldn’t sleep, no matter how tired.

  “Mieshi,” Bingmei said, panting. “Don’t let anyone fall asleep. It’s too dangerous. We’ll rest a little while, then we must keep going. We have no cover up here except the darkness. We need to be down the other side when the dawn comes.”

  “All right,” Mieshi said, bobbing her head. Her heart was in pain still from losing Damanhur. But her determination was just as strong, and Bingmei respected her for it. She had no doubt Mieshi would fulfill her duty no matter what.

  Just as Bingmei knew she must fulfill hers. She’d been shirking one of her duties, and she felt it keenly as she breathed in Mieshi’s grief. Rowen still didn’t know about his father, and he deserved to hear the truth from her. Turning to him, she said, “There is something I must tell you. Before we go any farther.”

  He tilted his head and then followed her away from the others. She smelled a little cinder of hope flare in his chest. She gritted her teeth, determined to do her duty as well.

  “We didn’t have time earlier,” she said softly. “But I wanted to be the one to tell you. You decide when to tell your sister.”

  “Tell us what?” He looked worried.

  She could think of no way to soften the news, so she didn’t clothe it in empty platitudes. “Your father is dead, Rowen. I was there . . . when Echion ordered one of his ensign to do it. Your father gave me a little bit of hope that it wasn’t too late to heed the summons of the phoenix.”

  As she spoke, she smelled his grief and regret rise like twin waves ready to drown him. A strong undertow of guilt lurked beneath those waves. He stared at her, his lip twitching with inner pain. Then he looked down at the ground, shocked into silence.

  “I’m sorry, Rowen,” she said, gently touching his arm. “I know the two of you never resolved things. He was a brave man. A true king.”

  Rowen gazed at her and then nodded. His emotions roiled through him, his feelings a violent storm washing over her.

  “If I tell her, she’ll resent me even more,” he whispered, glancing at his sister. “But I’m grateful you told me, Bingmei. I’m sorry you have to . . . endure my feelings on this too.”

  She squeezed his arm and offered a consoling smile.

  “I will tell her. Just not now. It’s too much after all we’ve been through.” He was about to depart, so she released his hand, but then he caught it and squeezed it. “When you go to the Grave Kingdom. If you see my father . . .”

  His voice choked off with grief. Releasing her, he raised his fist to his mouth, trembling. Then he shook his head, unable to speak the words of apology, and walked away. He knelt by Eomen and gave her a comforting hug before shifting to look at Bingmei one more time.

  Rowen’s feelings for her, although battered by her rejection, hadn’t altered. In fact, he cared for her even more. She could still smell his regard, and he still took no effort to conceal it.

  She stood alone for a while, and then Marenqo joined her.

  He took a long drink from his water flask. “Is that the sun rising already?” he blurted out.

  As she squinted, she saw what he meant—a long, thin horizontal line of glowing light that seemed to mimic the sun at the horizon. It was still too early for it. And then she blinked and shook her head.

  “No, Marenqo,” she said. “Those are torches.”

  He gave her a baffled look. “Torches?” His eyes widened with understanding. “Oh.”

  “What is it?” Quion asked, coming up to stand next to her.

  “It’s the Death Wall,” Bingmei said, her stomach clenching with dread and anticipation.

  “Bingmei,” Liekou said, stepping away from Cuifen and approaching. He pitched his voice low, for her ears only.

  “What is it?” she asked him, smelling his worry.

  “There are torches in the valley behind us as well,” he said. “They’re coming for us.”

  She turned around and looked back down at the valley floor. She’d been so focused on the colorful lights in the sky and the endless climb up the slope that she hadn’t bothered looking back until now.

  Torches. That was the only explanation for what she saw. Hundreds of torches.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Yanli

  They’d all reached the point of exhaustion before arriving in the valley, long after the sun had risen to reveal them. Bingmei was weary also, but the danger and threat from ahead and behind made her push everyone farther and farther. If they didn’t find shelter soon, they risked being trapped on the valley floor. At last, Marenqo and Mieshi returned after scouting out a hiding place where they could obtain some much-needed rest.

  Bingmei took the first watch, even though her muscles ached and her sore feet complained. The shelter was a patch of scraggly pine trees studded with boulders and cut through by a stream of cool water. The area had an ample supply of elk scat, and some of the trees looked like they’d been used to toughen antlers. Within moments, the others had fallen asleep, clustered in little groups, despite the coming day. Using the meiwood cricket, she bounded atop one of the largest boulders so she’d have a good view of anyone approaching, either from the Death Wall or the mountain pass they’d crossed in the night.

  The boulder was rough against her skin, with sharp angles not quite worn off. It had clearly broken loose from the mountain above and ricocheted off the slope on its way down before shattering into several smaller boulders. What a sight it must have been, tumbling down the mountainside, crushing the trees to splinters. The top of the boulder was so uncomfortable that she didn’t fear falling asleep herself. She crouched low, the rune staff before her, watching . . . waiting.

  The sun felt warm against her neck, although the breeze still had a touch of winter to it this far north
. She slipped some dried meat from her pack and chewed it slowly, savoring the spicy flavor, wondering how long their food stores would last. There were no cities this far north. Only the barracks within the Death Wall itself would have some provisions, but the soldiers who lived there were Echion’s minions. And building fires to cook and stay warm would reveal them to their enemies.

  Time passed slowly, and the drowsiness of inaction weighed on her. She knew she should wake someone else to take a turn. Her mouth watered at the thought of curling up in the brush and falling asleep. She’d wake Marenqo next . . . or Mieshi. They were both used to the hardships of travel.

  Movement.

  At first she thought it was an elk, but it was much smaller. She flattened herself against the boulder and cautiously peered in the direction of the movement. After a few tense moments, she spied someone slinking through the woods, holding a hornwood bow with arrow nocked. Bingmei squinted, seeing that he wore a silk jacket and pants decorated with the dragon symbols. His hair was tied back in a queue. This wasn’t an ordinary woodsman or hunter. He was part of Echion’s ensign.

  Bingmei pushed herself slowly away from the edge, ensuring the boulder blocked his sight of her. She hadn’t smelled him yet because he wasn’t quite close enough. After retrieving the staff, she came over the edge and then triggered the meiwood cricket to leap soundlessly down off the boulder. She went to Liekou, who slept near Cuifen, and shook him awake.

  His eyes opened immediately, and he rolled to his feet, smelling of concern. His brow furrowed, but he said nothing.

  Bingmei bent close so that she could whisper in his ear. “A hunter is coming with a hornwood bow. He wears silk, like the members of Echion’s ensign. He’s stalking us in the woods. That way.” She pointed in the direction she’d seen him come.

  Liekou nodded. “That is Yanli. He can kill a man from atop a tower at a great distance. No doubt he’s leading other men to us.”

  Bingmei breathed out slowly. They had only been sleeping a short while. It would be difficult to flee again so soon.