The Immortal Words (The Grave Kingdom)

by Jeff Wheeler

  The wind was crisp against her cheeks as she soared overhead. She recognized the area just outside Fusang—the sandy shore where Keyi had docked his boat, and the waterfall behind which Muxidi and his Qiangdao had concealed themselves. But it was different now—there were roads and wagons, even houses built against the base of the cliffs. Everywhere she looked, there was evidence time had passed.

  Bingmei followed the river from above, looking for the splendid palace. As she approached it, she realized she no longer feared it. The energy had changed completely. And when she swooped down from the sky, she saw the massive marble slab separating the staircases to the Hall of Memory had changed. The artwork now depicted one phoenix and one dragon on each side of an orb. When had the carving changed, and who had done it?

  Bingmei knew where to find Rowen. She could feel him waiting for her, a persistent tugging at the line connecting them. He wasn’t in one of the major palaces but one of the smaller structures beside a garden.

  She felt like a bird coming down, half falling, half floating, until she settled on the garden path leading to the building. The air was fragrant with the smell of flowers and trees. And then, to her astonishment, she realized this garden was an exact replica of the hanging trees garden from Sajinau, the one in which Rowen had urged her to flee the falling city.

  When she looked down at herself, she was surprised to see her hair white again, white as snow.

  The smell of the flowers wrapped around her, intoxicating. It felt wonderful to smell something other than emotions, to inhabit her body again.

  Thank you, she thought to the phoenix. She didn’t sense its presence now. She felt that she was by herself. But hadn’t she been warned of this? Whether or not she could feel the phoenix, it was there. It was part of her.

  Bingmei walked to the small building with the sloping roof. A little siskin was sitting there, waiting for her, and it chirped excitedly. She smiled in greeting, sensing Rowen inside, waiting for her.

  When she reached the door, she pushed it open and stepped inside. The room had upper windows, open to the sweet scent of the flowers. She saw Rowen pacing by a large couch. His hair was longer than she remembered it being, tied back in a queue. How much time had passed? It was difficult to tell, for he had a youthful face still, clean shaven. He wore a silk jacket with colorful embellishments.

  When she saw him, she felt her heart erupt with so many pleasant feelings, those she had resisted for so long. She tried to speak his name but found herself unable to do so. Some unknown power prevented her, although it didn’t feel like a harmful force. Rather, it felt like this was part of her destiny. Their destiny.

  Rowen turned toward the doorway, his head cocked slightly. He didn’t look at her, and she realized, by his troubled, milky-clouded gaze, that he was still blind.

  His hand reached out and groped for the edge of the couch. “Is it you?” he asked, his voice nearly a whisper. “Is it?”

  She tried to speak again, but again the power prevented her. But it felt right. She stepped toward him, walking softly. He rested his hand on the couch, and Bingmei could see it tremble.

  “This is it, isn’t it?” he gasped. “It felt like it would happen today. Are you there? Are you a ghost? Tell me you are real. Tell me this hasn’t been madness.”

  She came up to him, feeling overwhelmed by the intensity of her longing. Knowledge flickered in her mind. This was the moment he had seen in a vision all those years ago. He had accepted his fate long before she had accepted hers. She wanted to ask him questions, to reassure him. But she still couldn’t speak. Instead, she put her hand on his atop the couch.

  “You are real,” he said with a gasp.

  She wanted to ask how they had come to be here. How they had defeated Echion. But it struck her that she could not, for the same reason Rowen had not been able to tell her what he’d discovered.

  He lifted his other hand, trembling, to her face. He touched her cheek, grazed her nose with the edge of his hand, then ran his fingers through her hair.

  “You are real!” he whispered thickly.

  She stepped in and embraced him, memories teasing her mind from the visions she’d had. Her glimpses of the future. He stroked her, shivering with anticipation.

  “Don’t wake up, don’t wake up,” he said to himself in a half-worried tone.

  And then she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. When their lips touched, it was familiar, yet new. She’d kissed him in that vision, but it had come and gone many months ago. Her heart became thunder and storm. She wanted to tell him her feelings, to assure him of her love, but she couldn’t speak.

  And not being able to express herself was its own kind of pain.

  He broke away, gasping. “Is it you? Is it really you? Tell me. Please tell me!”

  She buried her face in his chest, nodding, hugging him tightly as tears trickled from her eyes. He cupped her cheek, and she kissed his palm. But it wasn’t nearly enough, and so she wrapped him in her arms as tightly as she could and kissed him fiercely. He lifted her up as if she were nothing but wisps of air. She felt the strange wings on her back fold together, the ones that could not be seen in the mortal world but were there still. Every sensation felt new and glorious. But in a dark corner of her mind, she sensed the dimming of the glyph back in the crypt.

  When the light was out, it would pull her back through time. She would have to leave him again.

  Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies.

  —Dawanjir proverb

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Overshadowed

  The magic of the glyph had run its course. Too soon, it seemed. Too soon. She felt the rip of power, the inexorable pull that dragged her back through time’s vortex. And she heard Rowen yell in anguish and despair as the magic forced them apart. Bingmei fought against it, wanting to remain in this state of future bliss, but she was powerless against the command to return. She found herself, in an instant, back within the sarcophagus, panting and grieving and confused.

  A weariness she’d never experienced before settled over her, draining away her strength. It felt as if she had swum in a river, against the current, until her arms and legs were helpless and she knew she’d drown. Weakness sapped everything from her. She felt her head tilt to the side, and she passed out, the lethargy so great she couldn’t even move a wrist. As her consciousness flickered, she remembered how vulnerable Echion had become after using the words of power on one occasion. Some of them were more draining than others, it seemed. The darkness in the tomb closed around her, tangible but not oppressive, as if a thick mist had descended from the lid of the sarcophagus. It blotted out her mind, even her breath.

  As she fell beneath the thrall of the fog, she felt her spirit-soul slip away again. She was still tethered to her body—she could sense the thread of connection with it—but she floated away listlessly, drawn by a breeze that took her back toward the Death Wall. She could no more fight it than she could command herself to remain in place. The valley of broken columns of rock spread out beneath her. The skies were empty now, and she saw the sun begin to rise. How much time had passed? She had no idea how long she’d lain in her grave.

  The draft of wind continued to carry her along, and she felt small and light, like a siskin. And then she realized that her senses were not just drifting on the wind but were tied to a little bird, flapping its wings furiously, soaring over the lush forests and mountain crags. She was the bird and the bird was her. She could see from its eyes and experience the thrill of soaring through the air but not the cold bite of the wind. And then she passed it, unconsciously snatching up another thread, attached to a bird that was farther ahead. Bingmei realized in wonder that she was connected to ravens and sparrows, to siskins, and even to eagles. They were her eyes, her form, and she could follow their strands wherever they went.

  She flew from one to another, exploring this new power while crossing the world. It felt effortless and instinctual
, and she knew it to be a gift from the phoenix. How far could she travel this way? Where was Rowen? She still sensed him, but he was farther south. So she went from mind to mind, from bird to bird, flitting between them until she saw that her journey would end at Fusang.

  Where Juexin had told her the dragon was torturing her love.

  She saw the dragons as she approached. They were everywhere. They filled the sky, and some of them perched atop the parapets of stone and gold tiles. Others were hunting elk or bear in the woods surrounding the palace. The Fusang she’d just returned from, the one from the future, was so full of order and peacefulness. The contrast was jarring.

  Rowen, she discovered, was in the Hall of Unity. There was a small hummingbird at the upper window, and she could feel the wild beating of its heart as she entered it, seeing from its eyes. There were two men guarding him. One of them, she realized, was the very man who had killed King Shulian with his fist and a dianxue blow. She could smell Rowen’s despair as he sat on a couch, head slumped, unable to see.

  “Your father died in this place,” said the man who’d killed him. “Only fitting that his son should take his place. You will die here as well. Maybe as an old man, like your father? Or perhaps you will be devoured.”

  She heard the other guard snort. They clearly enjoyed tormenting Rowen, making him feel powerless and wretched.

  “I wonder if it hurts being eaten by a dragon,” sneered that other guard. “I imagine it does. At first.”

  Both men laughed, and Bingmei wished she could will the hummingbird down to soar into the building and strike at both of them with its fragile beak.

  Rowen lifted his head. “Is there a dianxue blow that can stop me from hearing? I may be blind, but I wish I were deaf.”

  The killer bristled with hostility. “Brave words from a soon-to-be eunuch. I’ll enjoy watching them spoil you.”

  Only then, as she waited for Rowen’s reaction, did she realize she couldn’t smell emotions in that form. Perhaps because it was merely her consciousness in attendance. Stripped of that sense, she could only observe the scene as it unfolded before her and guess at what people were thinking and feeling. If there was any worry or dread from Rowen, he showed none of it. “I’ll still be more of a man than either of you.”

  The other guardian’s face knotted with anger, and he took a step forward, but the killer held out an arm to stop him. “The master forbids it. For now.”

  “He acts like a prince still,” said the other in a rage. “He can lick my bare feet!”

  Rowen folded his arms. She could tell he’d enjoyed riling them, whatever it cost him. “Fetch me some medjool, will you? I tire of your conversation.”

  “You will eat dung!” shouted the other man, clearly losing his composure.

  “Let him taunt,” said the killer. “He will lose his bluster soon enough.”

  “I’m going to take a nap. Wake me when the dragon comes.” Rowen stretched out on the couch, hands clasped behind his head.

  The hummingbird felt a surge of powerful hunger, and it could no longer keep still. It zipped away from the window, toward the eastern gardens and the flowers it knew would be there. Bingmei felt powerless and wanted to go back to Rowen, but there were no other birds around the hall. She reached out and caught another strand, this one stationary, and pulled herself there.

  She found herself inside a cage, trilling sweetly as a finch. She was in Xisi’s chambers. She recognized it, and terror filled her as she saw Echion and Xisi in their human forms, each of them standing. Their stench was undetectable.

  “A drink of wine?” said Xisi, offering Echion a goblet made of gold and jewels.

  “You seek to poison me so soon?” he snapped, knocking the cup from her hand and spilling the contents on the floor.

  Xisi only shrugged and moved away. “To what purpose? What will we do now? She’s gone to the other side.”

  “We fight!” Echion roared, his face livid. “I won’t give up the Grave Kingdom so easily.”

  “I wasn’t suggesting surrender,” Xisi said calmly. “But you were defeated at Sihui. The spies told us General Tzu is gathering ships. He plans to attack us here. What if the other kingdoms begin to revolt?”

  Echion’s laugh had a bark to it. “I don’t fear General Tzu. He’s clever, but he hasn’t fought as many battles as I have over many lifetimes. The only reason he met with any success was because he found the old symbol of protection from the fog. That was luck. It won’t happen again. And with my spy at Zhumu’s court, I know his plans. He’s not a threat.”

  “Your pride blinds you, Echion,” she said darkly. “The phoenix will be reborn through her. We’ve stopped all the other phoenix-chosen who tried to make it to the shrine. She succeeded. She’ll learn the truth, and if we’re not careful, the child will be born this time.”

  “But how?” Echion snarled. “The princeling was there when she died. He won’t be there when she revives. How can he sire a phoenix egg once I’ve castrated him!”

  “She’ll choose another partner. The . . . the fisherman boy. He’s still there in the mountains.” Xisi’s expression of disdain for Quion made Bingmei furious. And yet, she was grateful for the little bird hosting her. Echion and Xisi both seemed completely oblivious to her presence in the chamber.

  “That fisherman is of no consequence whatsoever. She won’t choose him. It’s the prince she wants, and we control him. If we keep them apart, we’ll ensure she doesn’t rise to her true power. What does it matter if she discovers her true purpose? We can defeat the phoenix again and delay the Reckoning. We will win as we have in the past.”

  Xisi pursed her lips and turned away. “I don’t have your confidence. Your reckless ambition. I don’t want to lose all this.” She gestured to the finery around them. “Not after we’ve come so far.”

  “It’s your fault.”

  “Is it?” She turned on him, eyes blazing. “Was it not you who persuaded me to join your mad scheme?”

  “Hush. The servants will hear,” he snarled.

  “Then I will kill them and start over,” she shot back. “Tzu is a threat. Assassinate him. Now. Or have one of the men in your murderous ensign do it.”

  “If I kill him, someone else will lead his army. I want to defeat him, Xisi. The only reason Tzu won at Sihui was because we were hunting that pitiful worm in the mountains. Let his ships come. They have no meiwood weapons, or not enough to make any difference. The fog would kill them anyway. I’ve already changed the sigil. They cannot win, but it amuses me to let them think otherwise. They can conquer the shores and march on the palace, full of dreams of glory. And then our dragons will feast on his men. I will cut out Tzu’s liver and eat it before his eyes. They cannot defeat us. He will attack now because he thinks I am weak. He will fail.”

  “But what about the child?” Xisi asked. “The prophecy says there will be one. What if she conceives despite all expectations and bears the phoenix’s daughter? Your ancient enemy reborn. The empress in the flesh.”

  “There is no child now. There cannot be a child for months. Perhaps years! And I will do what I must. We know it will be a girl. Lest she try to hide her, every daughter born will be destroyed. It will be a curse to have a female. Mothers will weep at the ill luck of conceiving one. I will make it an Iron Rule for a season.”

  “My, my, aren’t you barbaric?” Xisi said with all the chill of a reptile.

  Bingmei was horrified to hear it. What effect would it have on the future if so many daughters were executed? She had to stop it from happening. The thought of so many innocent babies being ruthlessly killed horrified her.

  “But do you allow it?” Echion demanded. “It is your power that protects the offspring of our people. You must consent.”

  Would Xisi oppose him? Bingmei hoped she would. How could a woman agree to such a thing? But then, she’d seen ample evidence that neither had any compassion in their hearts.

  “It will mean fewer consorts for you in the near futur
e. That sounds promising.”

  “And yet, I will be sated. It’s just for a season or two.”

  A dark smile curled Xisi’s lip. “You are a monster, Husband. Yet I think your plan can succeed. I permit this slaughter. It will be an Iron Rule. For now.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t reject it just to spite me.”

  “I do spite you, Husband. I’d turn into my dragon and spit my freezing breath on you if I thought it would hurt you. But I dread the thought of the Reckoning even more.”

  “It will come, but not until the end of times. We will reign until this world crumbles to dust. If somehow Bingmei succeeds in ushering in a child, we still have time to destroy the girl before she comes of age. Or prepare to fight the great battle. Again. I will not surrender my empire. And if I come to believe the phoenix might win, I will unleash the killing fog and destroy every mortal who believes she is their savior. The world belongs to me and no one else.”

  “It is our world, remember. And I agree on what must be done. But we must conquer Sihui and the remaining kingdoms quickly. Or else there will be a haven for young women to come of age.”

  “I do not doubt Tzu will come for me,” Echion said with a smug look. “The taste of victory is too intoxicating. A man is easily drunk on it.”

  “You should know,” she scoffed. “What of the two members of Bingmei’s ensign that were captured and arrived here yesterday? I would like the girl, although she is dangerously pretty.”

  Bingmei’s bird host swayed back and forth on her perch, affected by her own joy. Mieshi. Bingmei had feared she and Marenqo were both dead.

  “Was she? I hadn’t noticed,” Echion answered, his tone aloof.

  “You lie, Husband. You don’t even know what is truth anymore. Yes, I would like to keep her, if only to deprive you of her beauty. You can have the man. Or kill him. I don’t really care.”