The Immortal Words (The Grave Kingdom)

by Jeff Wheeler

  In the end, the siskin helped her make her choice. She impressed upon it that she was looking for her baby, the phoenix reborn, and asked the bird to find him within the palace. Her little helper took off at once, carrying her on its wings. But the palace was large, and it would take time.

  Go, she heard the voice within her urge. I will be found by the bird you sent. They are all my creatures, and not one of them falls without me noticing. They have watched over me while you cannot.

  As the thought touched her mind, she felt a gentle peace spread through her, as if the phoenix had engulfed her in its soft wings. On their own, birds were small, almost powerless, but together? The phoenix was aware of every sparrow, every raven, every snow owl, every eagle. It saw everything, and its mortal form would be protected by those same birds. The basket that Quion had woven out of river reeds was Shixian’s nest. Her heart burned with longing for her child, yet she knew what she had to do. So Bingmei returned to her body at the pagoda.

  As she rose, she inhaled the scent of the pine trees and noticed all the little finches that had gathered around her as she’d sat still in her meditative pose. Bingmei’s rising didn’t alarm them. None fled from her. In fact, she felt their desire to serve her.

  She left the pagoda and performed the ritual of the phoenix form, drawing energy from it. Magic seeped into her legs, spreading up her hips and down to her fingertips. Her body felt stronger when it was done, her mind more alert. Grabbing the meiwood staff, she did another form, one that Kunmia had taught her. By the time she had finished her practice, she was invigorated from head to toe. She stood panting, feeling the sweat trickle down her ribs, and enjoyed the feeling of confidence it gave her. Then, still holding the staff, she unfurled her wings and flew.

  As Bingmei soared through the mountains, she connected her senses with the eagles. Soon, several joined her flight, coming up to glide with her through the canyons and passes. Sometimes the wind shifted direction and blew against her, but she changed her course and found another breeze willing to carry her on. She remembered all the times she’d traveled on slow, cumbersome boats. Many of those journeys had been with Rowen.

  It hurt to think of all Rowen had endured in his captivity. Echion had probably killed him multiple times and brought him back, just as he’d done with her, except for him, the torture had gone on much longer. He’d always been fascinated by the legends of the Dragon of Night. Now that he had endured the man’s teachings firsthand, she imagined he no longer respected him. She had changed too, and she longed to tell him that her heart had opened to him—that she wished to be with him, and only him, and raise their child together.

  Her heart clung to one thought: if Rowen had lied to protect knowledge of her whereabouts from Echion, then he still cared for her. She had known that he must—she’d visited him in the future, at a time when they were married, but her heart had quailed at Echion’s hideous lies. Also, a part of her feared that perhaps the future she’d seen was but one possible future, and that the decisions and choices they made now might change it or prevent it from coming to pass.

  Which made it all the more important that she beat Echion to their destination. She hoped he was prideful enough to think he needn’t hurry.

  When night came, Bingmei flew higher in the sky, until the flickering light from torches on the Death Wall could be seen in a glimmering line all along the northern horizon. Weariness plagued her, but she kept flying. She had learned enough about the constellations to navigate westward, keeping along the coast.

  After dawn rose, she saw the shattered bay of Renxing. As she passed over it, she noticed the ships gathered in the harbor and knew they would be used to invade Fusang. Sihui lay beyond the mountains on the far side of Renxing, so she soared over them and then across the lush green valley fed by rivers that led to Sihui. The air was warmer on that side, and the snow had all melted away from the valley.

  As she approached, she saw the bridges had been rebuilt during the winter months of cold and darkness. The bay was thick with ships of different sizes. Everywhere she looked, there was evidence General Tzu was preparing for his attack.

  As Bingmei flew toward the city, she wondered how she appeared to them below. There were no shouts of warning. Perhaps she was so small, they mistook her for a bird of prey? She swooped down toward the Eagle Palace in the western part of the city. The sight of the palace filled her with relief. Echion had tried to defeat it and had failed. He was not infallible.

  There were soldiers patrolling the walls, but they seemed oblivious to her until she landed in the middle of the courtyard, holding the meiwood staff.

  As soon as she appeared in their midst, she started walking toward the doors. A commotion broke out, with people shouting at her and each other. Many languages were spoken simultaneously, but she heard a few people speaking the tongue of Sajinau as they gasped in shock, many of them recognizing her despite the change in her hair color.

  “It’s the phoenix-chosen! She’s returned!”

  “Go tell King Zhumu—hurry!”

  No one denied her entry. In fact, they hastened to pull open the doors. Crowds of people fell in around her, nearly choking her with the intensity of their feelings. They were all pleasant feelings—relief, surprise, and hope—but the onslaught was overwhelming, particularly since she’d been around only Quion for so long. She felt weary to her bones.

  She recognized one of General Tzu’s officers, a man named Pangxie, pressing through the crowd. His eyes widened with shock and recognition.

  “It is you!” he called out, grinning. “Out of the way, you fools! Clear the way for her! Move!”

  As soon as they were together, he shook his head in wonderment.

  “Hello, Pangxie,” she said. “Is the general still here?”

  “He is, and he won’t believe you’re here! We had no hope at all that you’d return. After Liekou arrived with the princess—”

  “Liekou is here?” Bingmei asked, interrupting. “And the princess?”

  “Yes! They arrived not long ago. They had to winter in caves in the mountains, but they trudged through the snows the best they could. They last saw you on the steps leading up to the Death Wall. Everyone worried the dragon had found you before you made it across. Come with me! We must hurry!”

  They pressed through the crowd, Pangxie leading the way, and then entered the throne room she’d seen in her vision and had visited in person.

  When she stepped inside, everyone gawked at her in astonishment. General Tzu was the first to recover. He barked orders to send out everyone but a select few, to limit the commotion. People from all over the palace had thronged the hallways to see her, and guards had to push them back physically before barring the doors. The noise from outside still spilled in through the gaps between the doors.

  King Zhumu started pacing before the throne, something he’d been doing before she entered the room. As she strode forward to greet him, she caught a whiff of disappointment and surprise. She bowed before him, wondering at the source of his feelings. Was he upset she’d returned?

  “I’ve returned, King Zhumu,” she said. Then, rising, she turned to General Tzu. “General, I came back as soon as I could after fulfilling my promise to the phoenix. I wasn’t required to sacrifice my life in the way that I thought.”

  “They said you dropped into the palace courtyard like a bird,” the general said. “You eluded all of our defenses. How? And how can I be sure it is you and not an imposter?”

  “You know I have the ability to divine the truth,” she said. “Tell me something that Echion or his minions wouldn’t know, and I will tell you whether it is true.”

  “Her hair is different, but she certainly looks like Bingmei,” said Zhumu, shaking his head.

  “Yes, but as we’ve learned, the dragons can steal the form of their victims.”

  The sharp, lemony scent of greed caught her nose, mixed with the bitter bite of resentment, and she glanced back to find Budai was also in the hall.
When he saw her looking at him, he scowled but didn’t turn away.

  “The general is right to be distrusting,” Bingmei said. “Make your claim.”

  “King Zhumu’s daughter has returned to Sihui,” the general said.

  “That is true, although Pangxie told me as much in the corridor on the way here.”

  The general frowned. “Did he also tell you that she is with child? Her time in the mountains with the renegade ensign proved . . . fruitful.”

  There was no lie in his smell. She hadn’t known it, but it didn’t surprise her. She knew they had feelings for each other.

  “I did not know this,” Bingmei said. “But it is no lie.”

  Zhumu scowled at the statement, and his scent of disappointment sharpened. His daughter, Cuifen, had been a bargaining ploy, and he’d wanted to marry her off to increase his power. Now that possibility had been stripped away. It also explained Budai’s smell because he had wanted to marry her.

  “Are you satisfied, General?” Bingmei asked. “I bring news of great importance.”

  “Where have you been, Bingmei?” he asked her.

  “I’ve been beyond the Death Wall. I’ve been past the Grave Kingdom. I have been where no mortal has gone in a thousand years. I understand my destiny now, General. I was chosen by the phoenix, but not for the purpose I supposed. I died when I went there, but my death was not intended to be permanent.”

  The general looked confused. “Jidi Majia was adamant that you needed to sacrifice yourself.”

  “And I did,” Bingmei said. “But not in a tomb. I was chosen to become the mother of the phoenix reborn. Others came before me, chosen for the same destiny, but none managed to fulfill it. I have a son. But the dragon Xisi has taken my child.”

  She looked around the room. There were only men there—men like Tzu, Budai, Zhumu, and some of the trusted counselors and rulers from the allied kingdoms. No women were in the room, other than herself.

  “I did not know this would happen when I crossed the Death Wall,” she continued. “I lost everyone from my ensign except for my faithful friend, Quion. But he is not the father of my child. That knowledge must remain secret. King Zhumu, you have at least one traitor among you. Spies for the dark lord. They tell him your plans. So I ask each of you, in this room, to declare your loyalty to General Tzu. I know you have all taken an oath of loyalty. Speak it again now. I will know if you have betrayed him.”

  She stepped up to the first man, a ruler she didn’t know.

  “You . . . you are suggesting that I am the betrayer?” he demanded in outrage. She felt nervousness coming from him.

  “Just say the words,” she replied. “I will know.”

  “I-I am loyal,” he stammered. “I am the son of Mingzhi, king of Tuqiao.”

  “Yes, you are loyal,” Bingmei said, already stepping up to the next man. “And who are you?”

  “I am Naruto, the king of Dawanju,” he replied stiffly. “I swore an oath, and I will swear it again. It would dishonor me and my kingdom to betray this cause in any way. I am loyal to my oath.”

  She smiled at his sincerity, which came off him in the fragrance of juniper leaves. “You are, my lord.”

  As she came closer to Budai, the smell of his resentment grew stronger, making her nose twitch. She approached him next. “And you, Budai? Are you loyal?”

  “No matter what I say, you will not believe me,” he responded, his lip curling.

  “You do not trust yourself with honesty?” she answered. “Or are you incapable of speaking it?”

  “Insolent,” he hissed, taking a threatening step forward and curling a fist. She didn’t flinch. With her staff in hand, she was ready to defend herself. She met his gaze.

  “Are you loyal, Budai? I know that you refused to take the oath at first.”

  A few gasps came after her words.

  Budai’s nostrils flared. “How . . . how could you know this? You weren’t here.”

  “Are you loyal?” she asked him again.

  His gaze flitted from face to face. Great drops of sweat formed on his brow.

  “Budai,” Zhumu said warningly.

  “Of course I am!” Budai said angrily. “You promised to give me back my kingdom! Not even Echion would promise that. I am loyal. Tell them, Bingmei. I’m not lying.”

  He had the look of a guilty man, and the guards started to encircle him, prepared to take him into custody. But he was telling the truth. As the guards moved in, Bingmei smelled the hint of relief from someone else. Someone who also bore the scent of dishonesty. He was a thin man, one who had been the chancellor of King Zhumu for a long time and still wore the finery of his office. His name was Kexin.

  Bingmei lifted the staff and pointed it at him. “Take him instead. Budai was telling the truth.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Darkness Comes

  Commotion broke out after Bingmei’s accusation, but General Tzu took immediate action and ordered Kexin’s arrest and interrogation.

  “I am innocent!” Kexin shouted, his emotions and terror boiling over. The reek of his dishonesty made Bingmei crinkle her nose. “Your Highness, Your Highness! Please!” He reached out for King Zhumu as the guards began to drag him to the doors.

  Bingmei watched for Zhumu’s reaction. His expression didn’t give anything away, but his scent was a dissonant soup of surprise, betrayal, and uncertainty. He didn’t intervene, however, and when Kexin saw his master’s cool expression, his shoulders sagged, and he went as pale as death.

  General Tzu strode past Bingmei. “Follow me,” he ordered curtly.

  She did, keeping pace with him until they reached the back doors of the audience room. The guards pulled the doors open for them, and they entered a different corridor, this one empty. She had no idea where he was taking her.

  “General, I must warn you—”

  “Not yet,” he said, cutting her off.

  Just behind them, she smelled a familiar scent. Liekou joined them, holding the bow he’d taken from one of the members of Echion’s ensign who had hunted them following their escape from Fusang. He was agitated, but he didn’t look surprised to see her.

  “Liekou is my bodyguard,” the general said. “He had an arrow trained on you while you spoke in the audience hall.”

  Bingmei hadn’t smelled his presence. He must have been keeping a discreet distance.

  “Liekou and I know each other well,” Bingmei said, nodding to him.

  “I doubt ten masters trained in a quonsuun could defeat Echion in hand-to-hand combat,” General Tzu declared. “We must even the odds where we may. Liekou’s orders are to keep watch for danger and take action if he sees fit. If he thought you were a threat, he would have shot you in the back.”

  “You’ll need him,” Bingmei answered. “Echion is coming for me.”

  The general stiffened but didn’t slow his pace. “Wait until we have some privacy, please.”

  They rounded the corner and approached a set of doors. There were no servants or passersby in this corridor, just soldiers guarding the room. The doors were opened, and the three of them entered. When the doors closed behind them, the general turned and gave her a suspicious look.

  “You know more than you could have known for someone gone so long,” he said bluntly. “You could not have known about the oath of loyalty. You speak of spies from the enemy, but are you one yourself? Are you in league with the Dragon of Night?”

  “No, General.” She glanced around the room and determined it was the general’s private quarters. She saw a small bed, a rack with his armor, as well as many leather-bound chests with buckles. There were no windows in the space and no luxuries. Hanging from the armor stand was a broadsword with a meiwood hilt.

  “Explain yourself, then,” he said.

  Liekou was studying her too, waiting for her answer. He’d always been poised and decisive. He didn’t smell like a threat to her, but he was alert and vigilant.

  “I know about the oath because
I was here when it was made, General. This secret is probably best kept as one. When I died, I entered the realm of the phoenix. It is also called Fusang. The palace we discovered beneath the ice was originally created by disciples of the phoenix. I bonded with her, and she gave me certain gifts. I can fly, which is how I arrived here undetected. But I can also commune with all birds. Although until recently I’ve been physically confined to the phoenix shrine, my consciousness has traveled throughout the kingdoms on the wings of birds. There were birds here in Sihui that I used to see what was going on. I knew you were about to attack Fusang. Echion knew as well and was prepared to destroy you, but I couldn’t communicate to you. I couldn’t warn you. The birds obey me sometimes. But they are small and are limited in what they can do.”

  The general lifted his eyebrows in amazement, and she smelled the same emotion coming from him. “You are a spy,” he said. “For us!”

  Bingmei nodded. “Queen Xisi keeps finches in cages in her palace rooms. I can travel there and see what is happening. I can go anywhere there are birds. The phoenix has also taught me the Immortal Words. They are the glyphs you see engraved in meiwood weapons, each one demonstrating a power. Most of them only work when carved in meiwood or invoked by those who have authority to use them, but some can be traced on the flesh. You know these as dianxue. In order to stop you from attacking Fusang too soon, I summoned an early winter. The snow came because of me.”

  Liekou snorted, raising his eyebrows. “It was the sudden storm that prevented us from returning to Sihui months ago. You nearly killed us.”

  Bingmei looked at him. “Yes,” she said. “After I summoned the change in season, I learned that many people died because of what I did. But a much greater number of lives were saved.”

  “You can summon winter?” General Tzu asked. “What about storms?”

  “Yes,” she answered. “And so can Echion. We cannot undo each other’s work. But we can balance it.” She held out both of her hands, palms up, like two scales. “I have just come from Fusang. Prince Rowen is there, a prisoner to Echion’s torment.”