by Jeff Wheeler
“Have you thought of a name for him yet?” Quion asked, bringing her a ladle with water from the pot they used to melt snow near the fire glyphs.
She accepted the ladle and drank from it, sipping the water and quenching her thirst. She was always thirsty now. Her body continued to shift and retract from the experience of carrying a child, but she had begun doing deep stretches again and meditation, recalling the forms she’d learned and preparing herself to begin training again.
“I’ve considered so many,” she said with a sigh, leaning her head on her arm. “I could name him Shulian after Rowen’s father. Or Juexin after his brother. Or Jiao after my grandfather. Or my father’s name. But none of those feel right, even though they are all honorable people.”
“So you haven’t decided yet?”
“No, I think I have. My mind keeps coming back to it, but I’m unsure of myself. I worry about what Rowen will think. Would he want his son named after him?”
Quion pursed his lips. “You’re the one who did most of the work, Bingmei. And he’s not here to offer a suggestion. Do you think he even knows?”
“He knows something,” Bingmei said. “He never shared all that he’d seen in his dreams. Maybe he already knows our son’s name.” She smiled at that thought.
“What is it?”
She gazed down at the face of her child. He’d been a very calm baby. Only whimpered when he was hungry or needed to be changed. They kept him wrapped in furs and extra clothes, and he seemed full of starlight when he opened his eyes and gazed somberly at her while suckling.
“When I went beyond the Grave Kingdom,” she said, stroking the edge of her finger lightly along the babe’s cheek, “I learned the Immortal Word for the concept of time. The word is Shijian. The glyph representing it enabled me to travel into the future, to go to the palace of Fusang when Rowen is king.” She remembered a moment she and Rowen had shared on the ensign’s first voyage to Fusang. He’d asked her to serve on his ensign when he became king. She’d thought he was speaking about the throne of Sajinau, and yet . . .
Had he known it was her back then? Had he known he was destined to rule Fusang?
One look at Quion reminded her he was still waiting for her to finish. She sighed. “But there is another Immortal Word that is very similar in sound.” The phoenix had been teaching them to her, one by one, throughout the cold season. “The word is Shixian.”
“Shixian,” Quion said, speaking the word with reverence. “What does it mean?”
“It is a word that empowers something to be accomplished. It lends strength to the one performing the task, allowing them the chance to achieve the unachievable. And when I look at this baby, and when I think of what he must grow up to be . . . to do . . . that word keeps coming to mind. I think his very name should be a word of power. It will help him shatter Echion’s control of the Grave Kingdom. My little Shixian.”
She smelled Quion’s approval and satisfaction at her choice.
“I’ve never heard of anyone named that before,” he said. “But it’s perfect for him. I don’t think Rowen would argue with you about it.”
“He can be stubborn,” Bingmei said, smiling. She grazed her fingers through the feathery tufts of hair inside the cradle. The little one squirmed and rubbed a fist into his nose. “That is your name,” she whispered, dipping her fingers into the ladle of water and touching his scalp with her wet fingertip. “I name you Shixian,” she said and drew the symbol on his head.
A gray dove flew into the phoenix shrine. Its sudden arrival startled Bingmei, and she sat up, watching as the dove lighted on the far edge of the cradle. It cooed its throaty sound, and she felt power tingling in her hand.
The dove hopped down into the basket, cooing softly, and nestled next to Shixian so that its body and feathers touched his skin. Bingmei looked at Quion in confusion, and he shrugged helplessly as the dove closed its eyes. The two of them watched, and she felt the tingles of power grow. Seeing the bird and her son nestled together, she felt strangely peaceful.
I have accepted the name, came the whispered thought inside her mind.
The peace she felt was shattered moments later when a strum of power ripped through the shrine. It echoed in her teeth, in her bones. It felt like a massive gong had sounded inside her head, only the oblivious look on Quion’s face indicated it had been silent. The dove startled and flew away in a blur of gray feathers.
“Did you feel that?” she asked. Although she said it aloud, the question was as much for the phoenix as it was for Quion.
“I felt nothing. What happened?”
The protection given to the shrine has ended. It was only to last seven days after the birth. Spring will come now in its regular course. Echion will soon be here to destroy us. You must go and protect us from him.
Bingmei’s heart began to beat faster with worry and fear. I’m still weak. I’ve not fully recovered yet.
I’m sorry. You must do your best. You must use your magic to protect and defend. That is when you will be your strongest. Prepare yourself. He comes quickly.
“Bingmei, what is it? You look frightened.” Quion reached out and touched her arm.
She gazed down at her innocent, helpless child, consumed by the knowledge that Echion would do everything in his power to destroy him.
“We have to go,” she said. The worry and alarm she felt for Shixian overwhelmed her. Upon learning her destiny, she’d feared she would never feel the mothering instinct, that she had, perhaps, been born without it. But she felt it now, more powerful than anything she’d ever experienced.
She would die before she let anything happen to her son.
For months, Bingmei had felt trapped on the rocky pillar in the middle of the valley of broken columns. Now that she’d been commanded to leave it, she didn’t want to. Would the birds continue to feed them, or were they now responsible for catching their own meat? She didn’t know. Snow still covered everything, which meant they’d be traveling in it to escape. She had the power to fly, but Quion did not. And she had no idea how long she could stay in the air. It would be hard to leave the glyphs that had kept them warm all winter, but now that she knew the words, they would always have warmth. The words usually lasted for a specific duration, the length of which was determined by the strokes used to make them. They couldn’t be overturned until the time had expired or the magic was countermanded by a more powerful glyph.
Quion spent some time making straps for the basket, designing them so the baby would be safe whether the basket was carried or worn on the back. He packed up his cooking supplies while Bingmei rolled up their bedrolls. After they were done, they hefted the stone lid of the sarcophagus back on top. They’d used it as a shield from the wind in the winter months.
Bingmei fed her son, then drew a glyph on each of them as a ward against the killing fog. The knowledge she’d gained of the words would help General Tzu and his army attack Echion’s forces.
As she wrapped Shixian up in blankets and bedding, she thought of the voyage ahead. If they left soon enough, they would be able to hide in the maze of the canyons. Echion would have to hunt them down. The thought of facing him soon made her stomach clench with dread. Her body had grown soft during the winter, and she still hurt from childbirth. But it didn’t matter—the time for waiting had ended. Any moment now, she might feel the approach of dragons.
Quion grabbed the rune staff, and Bingmei buckled the meiwood sword into its sheath. When they were finished, she waved her hand over the sigils she’d drawn on the four walls of the shrine. The heat vanished. Instantly, she felt fingers of cold wind intrude on the shrine.
She gazed around the shrine once more, grateful for the security it had given them. Wrapping her cloak around her pack, she took hold of Shixian’s basket and walked outside the shrine. The air was crisp and had a stark edge to it as it burned down her throat. Her boots crunched on the packed snow. The sun would be going down soon, but she couldn’t gamble with their lives by not lea
ving after being warned to do so.
She looked back at Quion and saw him holding the finished meiwood staff in one hand and the cricket in his palm. They’d agreed that she would fly down from the cliff with the baby, and he would jump.
Bingmei nodded to him and walked to the edge of the cliff. The trees crowding the shrine hunched with the weight of snow on their branches. She felt ice gathering on her lashes as she looked back and gave her shelter a final smile. Then she turned back to the edge of the cliff and stared down to the white canyon below. In her mind, she sensed the wings fixed to her back. Although they were invisible to the eye, she felt their power still. They unfurled with a flex of her shoulders.
“Meet you at the bottom,” she said to Quion with a grin and then leaned forward. Her mind and her stomach revolted from what she was doing. Yet, a fluttering feeling of excitement wriggled inside her as she began to fall. The motion made the baby squeal in panic. But the magic lifted her, and she soared up instead of down, which caused a coo of delight from her child. Bingmei tilted her face up to the sky, smiling as she rose higher and higher.
But she could feel the magic sapping her strength. Her body still hadn’t healed fully, and she knew she couldn’t remain aloft indefinitely. No, the two parts of her souls worked together. Her power of flight was connected to the physical strength of her body. She circled the column of rock, and as she swooped around the other side, she saw Quion leaping from a copse of trees lower on the rocky cliff. He landed in a drift that went up to his chest and started to clamber his way out as she slowly descended. By the time she reached him, he was on top of the snow again and covered in white powder.
He put his finger and thumb in his mouth and whistled loudly, and a few moments later, the snow leopard emerged from its lair and padded up to him. Bingmei held the cradle in front of her.
Quion stuffed the cricket into his pocket and then rubbed the snow leopard’s flanks. The animal gazed fixedly at the cradle and the little sounds coming from it. There was no growl, just a penetrating gaze, somber and quiet. Bingmei watched in amazement as the leopard lay down beside the cradle as if to protect it.
Quion looked at the mess he’d made in the snow. “We’re not going to be that hard to follow,” he said worriedly. “Remember when we tried to get away from Liekou after leaving the caves? He just followed our footprints until we reached the valley on the other side.”
That would be a problem. The dragons might not be able to see the footprints from the air, but she knew they had the ability to transform into humans they’d tasted. If they came to the rock and found no one there, they would search for tracks.
Bingmei furrowed her brow and thought, Is there a word that can conceal our tracks?
An image of a character surfaced in her mind. The word was Wuxing. It meant something without shape. Unseen. She set the basket down in the snow.
“Let me see your boots,” she said, squatting before Quion. He took them off and handed them to her, and she drew the word on each of them. “Now walk around,” she said, handing them back.
He put them back on and did as she’d asked. With each footstep, he trampled snow, but the snow immediately filled back in. Bingmei grinned at him as he ran in a circle, his smell giddy with relief, and she bent to draw the same symbols on her own boots.
They walked away from the pillar of stone, tromping through the snow. She glanced back from time to time, but she saw no evidence of their footsteps in the fading light of the day. As they continued to march, their feet growing colder and colder, she was struck by the realization that nothing guided them now. Before, she’d felt the phoenix shrine beckoning to them in the distance; now she felt nothing.
The basket seemed heavier and heavier as they went along, and Quion offered to take it. She helped him strap it to his back, above his pack, and they kept going. Shixian started to whimper, which made the snow leopard growl. They were all getting tired and hungry.
Just as the sun set and she saw the first glittering star in the heavens, Bingmei felt the dragons coming. One, and then another. And then more.
“He didn’t wait very long,” Bingmei said, gasping as they trudged through the snow. They needed shelter soon. And heat.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The Death of Winter
They’d found a cave to protect against the chill of the night. It wasn’t a deep cavern, like the one her ensign had used for shelter in Dongxue, but it offered protection from the wind and the snow. Bingmei drew the glyphs for heat on the innermost jagged wall, and they huddled near one of them as it radiated soothing warmth. Even baby Shixian quieted once she started feeding him.
Quion set up their camp, left snow in a pot to melt, and rummaged for dried meat in their combined supplies. He worked so tirelessly, even though she could see the lines of exhaustion in his face. Bingmei felt her own eyes grow heavy as her son’s face softened with contentment.
A loud thump sounded in the snow outside the cave’s entrance. Her instincts perked immediately, and the snow leopard rose to a protective crouch and growled. She hadn’t sensed a dragon approach, although she could feel them in the sky above. Had snow fallen from a tree outside the cave? Quion immediately gave off a sour smell of wilting flowers. Worry. Bingmei was still in the middle of feeding the baby.
“I’ll go check,” Quion said, grabbing the rune staff, which he’d laid nearby. He could summon its power, just as she could, but he wasn’t very proficient. The leopard’s gaze was fixed on the opening of the cave, its head hung low as if stalking an enemy.
Quion started toward the opening, and the leopard followed. Bingmei gazed at them, sniffing the air, but she smelled no emotions other than Quion’s fear and the baby’s blissful joy and appreciation. The smell of an infant was so pure and unsullied by other emotions. She knew when Shixian was hungry or uncomfortable just from the way he smelled, which helped her know how to soothe him.
Then a new scent wafted to her from the mouth of the cave: gratitude. Quion grinned as he stepped back into view, holding a dead hare by its long ears. “When I picked it up, I heard a snow owl hoot and then saw it fly away. It dropped this here for us.” She saw the leopard’s tongue swipe at its muzzle.
Bingmei offered a silent thanks to the phoenix for taking care of them during their escape. Quion quickly went to work with his skinning knife and tossed the gizzards and entrails to the snow leopard while he skewered the flesh and set it by one of the heating glyphs. He used some wooden pieces from his pack to stretch out the pelt and set it by the other glyph to begin curing.
Shixian slumbered blissfully, and after the meat was cooked, Quion and Bingmei shared it, taking turns biting pieces of meat from the skewer. The glyphs gave off plenty of warmth, and they felt comfortable nestled in the cave. Quion sung a little fishing song to the baby when he came awake again, and Bingmei listened to the gentle tune and felt the love in her heart grow brighter. Even though the night was black, with only a thin sliver of moon, the shelter was sufficient for their humble needs. She gazed at the scene, soaking in the peacefulness of it, and felt herself begin to nod off.
She awoke with a keen feeling of danger.
The cave was black, except for the glowing red runes carved on the wall. She blinked quickly, taking in her surroundings. Quion lay next to the basket cradle, one arm drooped over it. The snow leopard was asleep against him, its eyes closed in slumber. Yet the prickling feeling of awareness could not be misunderstood.
There was a dragon flying nearby, much closer than the ones that had passed overhead earlier. Anxiety stabbed at her heart, and she quietly rose to a crouch. The sound of leathery wings penetrated the quiet of the cave. Bingmei groped in the dark for her short sword and hurriedly strapped it around her waist. Where was the rune staff? She glanced around until she saw it, propped against the far wall.
Too far for her to reach in time.
The sound of something huge and heavy crunched into the snow. Bingmei held her breath. She heard a clicking
noise from the dragon’s throat. There was no denying it came her way.
Protect us, she thought in desperation.
I can’t. It smelled the cooked meat and senses the heat from the glyphs. You must protect everyone.
Bingmei’s stomach tightened into a knot. During previous seasons of the Dragon of Night, she had spent the dark months training. Her reflexes were not in peak condition. She wasn’t ready to fight anyone, let alone a dragon.
The snow leopard lifted its head and let out a little growl.
In the end the fact that she wasn’t ready didn’t matter—whatever her chances, Bingmei had to protect Quion and Shixian. She mastered her fear with determination and moved stealthily forward. A shadow blotted the cave’s entrance. She saw the dim moonlight caress the dark scales. It was not Echion’s smell, thank goodness, but it still reeked of death and hunger, seasoned with the anticipation that it might have found what it was hunting for.
The dragon couldn’t fit inside the cave, and she watched as it shifted and compressed until it stood in the form of a man in a silk jacket, a fur coat, and rugged boots. She didn’t recognize him, but he smelled more human now. His excitement increased as he cautiously crept into the cave, anticipating that he would catch them unawares, asleep.
“Bingmei?”
It was Quion, who had awakened.
The dragon-man felt a thrill of discovery, and that’s when she jumped at him. She leaped with a flying kick, trying to knock him in the head, but he ducked. As soon as she landed, she felt his leg sweep around and knock her down. Her reflexes were terrible! Pain spiked through her as she struck the stone, but she flipped backward to dodge a blow from a hand splayed in the dragon-claw pose. She deflected another blow as soon as she landed, then cocked her elbow and struck him in the chest with her palm.
He grunted in pain, then kicked at her knee, striking it viciously. The pain made her gasp, but she blocked a second kick with both arms before lunging at him. They exchanged a series of blows and blocks as she drove him back toward the snowy outdoors.
