by Jeff Wheeler
Bingmei needed a distraction. The birds had blinded him momentarily, but she needed something that would last longer.
Light.
Bingmei drew the sigil for light, summoning the bright light of the sun at noonday. She closed her eyes, and the light exploded around her. It was so bright it temporarily blinded her as well, even with her eyes closed. Bingmei drew on the instincts of a cormorant and plunged into the frigid waters. The roar of water filled her ears. The ocean was shockingly cold. She stayed underwater, letting herself sink lower and lower, looking up at the great white ball beyond the tops of the waves. Holding her breath for so long made her chest ache, but she focused on remaining still.
She sensed the dragon circling overhead, searching for her. Salty water stung her nose and eyes. The taste in her mouth was awful. She would drown if she stayed there longer. Bingmei brushed against a group of boulders along the shoreline. She clung to one to keep from drifting, her chest aching for want of air.
Air. What was the word for “air”?
Huxi. She saw the symbol in her mind, drawn there by the phoenix.
Bingmei used her finger and copied the symbol on the boulder. Large bubbles began to froth from the rock, heading up to the surface. When she put her mouth close to the bubbles, she was able to breathe, taking several gasps before the bubbles went too high and escaped her. She gripped the edges of the rock, sharp and slimy with seaweed, and kept breathing through the bubbles that appeared.
The current kept pushing her against the boulders, in the direction of shore. Her muscles strained and grew cold, but she continued to wait, sensing the dragon’s erratic searching growing more desperate.
He is not patient, she heard the phoenix whisper in her mind. She felt approval, contentment. Despite the odds, she’d outwitted the dragon again. Her hair swirled in the water around her, but she was too deep to be seen above the tumult of the waves.
Finally, when she felt she could wait no more, the dragon gave up the chase and left. It circled back once, twice, and then flew away.
Bingmei canceled the word of power by waving her hand over the sigil, and the bubbles stopped. She swam to the surface and found the cormorant waiting atop the nearest rock. It had ashy feathers, a mottled gray breast, and a striking yellow beak. It crooned to her, a throaty chuckle as it spread its wings and bobbed its head. It seemed to be gesturing to her. When she looked around, she saw a little fishing boat coming toward her.
Bingmei climbed up on the boulder, the cormorant moving to give her room, and waited until the fisherman arrived. Seeing the older man made her think of Quion. Her heart panged.
What had become of him? Was he safe?
The fisherman rowed closer. He mopped sweat from his wizened face. “You all right?” he asked her. She recognized the dialect. He was from Sajinau or Wangfujing.
“I think so,” she said, wrapping her arms around her knees. She was so exhausted the thought of flying made her despair. “Can you take me to Sihui, please?”
He sniffed and rubbed his nose on his arm. “You have the winter sickness,” he said. But she didn’t smell disdain. In fact, he smelled hopeful. “Are you . . . are you Bingmei?”
“I am,” she answered.
“I can row you to Sihui,” he said, gesturing for her to hop aboard. “You’re the one everyone is talking about. I will take you. No shells. It would be my honor to have a warrior like you in my boat.”
“Thank you,” she said, rising from the rock and carefully edging down it. The cormorant squawked at her, as if saying goodbye.
“Thank you,” she said to the bird and watched it bob its head as the fisherman rowed back to the city.
She was wet, cold, and desperate for warmth. But she was alive.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Dragon Form
Bingmei couldn’t remember the last time she had worn new clothes or eaten a meal that hadn’t been dropped off by a bird or caught from a frozen stream. The cuisine of Sihui was intolerably spicy, but the chefs who’d prepared food for her tonight had been raised in Sajinau. The expert blend of flavors appeased the deepest core of her hunger.
After arriving back with the fisherman, she’d flown to the palace and rejoined General Tzu, who had ordered her to rest and provided the refreshment and a change of attire. The meiwood staff had been returned to her as well.
The silk shirt she had been given felt pleasant, and the new clothes smelled fresh and clean. She examined herself in the mirror and wondered where the little girl had gone. As a young woman, she’d always been so anxious to conceal her white braids, to hide everything that marked her as unusual. Her feelings on the matter had changed, and she saw the strength in her eyes, the firm line of her mouth. It was her determination that had kept her alive during such difficult times.
A knock sounded on the door, and when she opened it, she saw General Tzu himself standing there. His stern demeanor was belied by a feeling of relief, which smelled like pine sap.
“Hello, General,” she said, inclining her head.
“Come walk with me to inspect the defenses,” he said. She caught the scent of Liekou and saw a glimpse of him farther down the corridor.
“Are you afraid we will be attacked?” she asked, even though he didn’t smell worried.
“What I know of our enemy tells me he would prefer to make a show of destroying us. Even knowing you are with us, I suspect he will maintain his plan. He will want us to come to Fusang—and there he will attempt to destroy us. No, I do not believe he will attack us here.” His lips twitched into something resembling a smile. “But visits from the commanding officer help ensure good discipline. People do not do what you expect them to do. They do what you inspect.”
Bingmei smiled at the sentiment. “Like old times, then.”
“Indeed. While the status of the defenses has no bearing on our survival at present, there are many rumors about you in the city right now. It will boost morale if you are seen walking among them. You chased off a dragon, after all.”
Bingmei snorted. “He chased me, as I recall.”
The general offered a smile, which showed he agreed. “People will believe what they want to believe. Come.”
She grabbed the rune staff and followed him into the corridor. Liekou kept a circumspect distance behind them, making their conversation private. As they left the palace courtyard, soldiers fell in around them to keep the crowds away. She glimpsed a few eager faces in the crowd. The scents of gratitude and respect mingled in the air. She didn’t know what stories they had heard that conjured such sweet feelings, but it was better than disdain and contempt. It was a heady smell.
The sunlight was failing, bringing dusk to the city. People had started lighting paper lanterns. While they walked, General Tzu described his fight against Echion’s army prior to the early winter. As he related the scene to her, she could picture the smoke and carnage in her mind. They had nearly lost, and if not for the sudden arrival of the other kingdoms coming to their aid, they would have been destroyed. The calamity had united the remaining kingdoms, which now faced a combined threat of the Qiangdao, Echion, and Xisi, as well as the dragon horde that had been searching for her.
“I’m afraid, Bingmei, that we face an unwinnable battle,” he said after they’d climbed to the middle of one of the defensive bridges. She stared down at the boats, which were gathering to carry the general’s soldiers to their enemy’s lair. The plan to attack Fusang was unchanged, except Bingmei had helped inform their strategy. “Even if we had all of our past strength, the full might of Sajinau, plus the assistance of the kingdoms east of here, which have fallen to the dragon, it would have been no assurance of success.”
“In other words, Prince Rowen was right all along,” she said, giving him a wry smile.
General Tzu pursed his lips. “He wasn’t right in how he went about seeking change. He would have started a civil war in Sajinau. One he would have lost.”
She ran her hand along the rough stone wall
and stared down at a fishing boat that disappeared beneath the bridge a few moments later. “You don’t believe we can win.”
“It seems inevitable that we will not.”
“Yet you prepare for war still.”
“A good general must,” he answered. “I cannot see a better opportunity than this. If we wait, then he will attack us here, and many innocents will perish. And more innocents will perish every single day that he rules over his dark empire. Every female child born to die. It does not take much imagination to envision the sort of world that will be spawned from that ruthless law. A world of men. Even if he lifts it after a season or two, it will upset the balance of things. We must fight to give the unborn a chance to live. I see no other way.”
Bingmei sighed. Her own child was being suckled by a concubine in Fusang—a woman who had lost her daughter to the Iron Rules. Grief ripped at her heart at the thought of all the mothers who had lost a child to Echion’s decree.
“His rule of madness has gone on for too long, General. We must find a way to stop it.”
“Yes, but how? I saw the arrow that Liekou shot at him. It pierced him, as you said it would, but he did not die. He did not even bleed like you and I would. The dragon cannot be killed.”
“He can,” she said, shaking her head. “He’s died many times.”
“He claims he did it voluntarily. To restart the cycle and regain control.”
Bingmei turned to face him. “No. He’s been murdered by his wife, Xisi. When Quion and I traveled beyond the Death Wall, we discovered a skeletal tree inside a chasm in the mountains. Instead of leaves, it was covered in strange blue insects. It was a powerful place, a place with deep magic. Those insects, I believe, are poisonous. Xisi came while we were there, and she took one of the insects. I believe she has used it to poison Echion in the past. There’s a history to that place that I don’t understand.”
“There is no history, Bingmei,” the general said, shaking his head with profound weariness. “We know nothing of the past.”
“For a purpose. It’s part of Echion’s plan to keep people in ignorance.” She pressed her lips together. “He seeks to remake the world in his own image, but every time he does, he fails. I suspect he’s already given up on our generation. His new rule proves that. And he slaughtered the army of Sajinau because he knew the men would remember the integrity of King Shulian.” She shook her head. “We have to stop them, General, before they end up destroying all life. Echion and Xisi cannot procreate together. Imagine the world in desolation, with only the two of them alive, clawing at each other forever. We have to stop them. Even if we risk losing.”
“Do you know where Echion is now?” he asked.
“I don’t, but I suspect he’s weary. No one can fly indefinitely. I’m still exhausted, but I can’t rest for long before I go back for Shixian.”
“I need you here, Bingmei,” he said. “If he comes back—”
“He won’t come back if you attack him. Take the fight to Fusang. You will be protected from the killing fog.”
“But not the dragons.”
“Do you have Budai’s cache of weapons? The ones he hid?”
“Yes,” he answered. “After a few days in prison, he gave us the location in order to be released. In return, we promised to give his nation back to him. We brought the artifacts in several ships back to Sihui. Only one didn’t return, due to the ferocious winter storms that came out of nowhere.” He gave her a sidelong look. “Well, now we know the cause.”
“You have weapons to help fight the dragons. What you need is more warriors, General. Ensigns willing to fight.”
“That’s why we need you. We have so few skilled fighters, Bingmei. Most have joined Echion.”
She remembered Zhuyi, her former bond sister. Without her emotions and empathy, she was no longer a complete person. She was a xixuegui. That was likely true of many of Echion’s and Xisi’s servants. They’d been stripped of an essential part of themselves, left with nothing but blind loyalty.
“I have to go,” she said, shaking her head. “I have to find my son. Bring your ships to Fusang.”
“You said yourself that he’s expecting that. Why not attack Sajinau and liberate it? Strike where he does not expect?”
She felt an ill omen at his words. It unsettled her. “No, General. We must attack Fusang.”
His mouth flattened. “The odds are against us.”
“Even still. I feel it is the only way to succeed. I must go ahead to rescue my son, the new phoenix, but I will come to you before you attack. I will be there to help.”
He sighed. “I wish I could see the future.”
“I have seen it, General,” she said emphatically. “We reclaim Fusang.”
“But how, Bingmei? How?”
She looked at him. “I don’t know. Just believe it will happen. Find a way to make it happen.”
While Bingmei slept, she sent her consciousness away and let it soar on the wings of birds. She shifted from one to the next, closer and closer to Fusang. Her awareness arrived there before morning, as countless birds trilled in preparation to greet the dawn. There were so many to choose from as she sought the siskin she’d sent on a mission.
Something in the grand courtyard before the Hall of Memory had attracted the birds’ attention. They watched from the rooftops, and Bingmei joined them, peering through the eyes of a blackbird.
The first blush of dawn crept into the sky, revealing a scene unlike anything she’d ever witnessed. It was a training yard full of ensign warriors . . . like her, only they were all male. There were easily two hundred warriors assembled, wearing black silk with red stitching. Echion himself stood at the forefront, and they were mirroring his pose. He grunted a command in a tongue she didn’t know as he shifted to another stance, letting out a measured puff of breath. The men copied him.
She had never seen this form before, but it looked strangely familiar. Echion’s hands were splayed like claws, and he did low blocking motions, shifting from one sturdy stance to another. The others mimicked him, already expert in the form. Stomps and grunts filled the courtyard.
Could this be the dragon form?
And that’s when she realized that the men in this group were his dragons, now in human form. They were training together, preparing for the coming conflict. As they moved, she felt the magic of the form building. It was giving them strength, just as the phoenix form did for her. Echion’s hands began to glow with power as he shifted from one stance to the next. Moments later, the same thing happened to his men.
Power thrummed inside the courtyard, causing little tremors within the stone itself. Each of the men followed their master, repeating the moves he demonstrated for them. Yes, it was the dragon form. It all fit—the proud nature of the stance, the heavy footsteps, even the way they tucked in their arms and flared their elbows out in a likeness of wings. She watched with mingled fascination and dread.
When the form was finished, each of the men cupped a sphere crackling with energy between his open palms. Echion rose to his full height and pressed the sphere to his chest. It absorbed into his flesh as he breathed in a final sigh. The others repeated the action. Bingmei could not help but think of General Tzu’s army rushing across the courtyard to fight them, only to be attacked with huge blue balls of crackling energy.
At least they would have meiwood weapons, and the protection of the fog. It would have to be enough.
Echion turned and faced his disciples. “They are coming. Be ready. Fight as one. Destroy them all. The season of dragons has returned.”
One by one, those assembled transformed into dragons and took to the skies. Some of the birds fled in panic at the startling metamorphosis. Bingmei kept her blackbird still, and when the sky was full of dragons, she saw Echion walking toward the Hall of Memory alone.
She tried to get the blackbird to fly toward the Hall of Memory, but it was still unnerved by the dragons. That trapped her for the moment, because no other birds were
close enough for her to reach. After a while, she felt the presence of the siskin coming toward her. Bingmei immediately leaped into it as it raced over the roof of the palace just as the sun began to gleam on golden spikes embedded in the walls. The siskin perched in a flowering bush in the concubines’ garden, and Bingmei watched as a woman beneath her cradled a baby in her arms. Her baby. The woman stroked the edge of her finger tenderly over Shixian’s little nose. Bingmei wondered what she was feeling, having so recently lost her own child.
“Good morning, baobei,” the woman crooned. “Good morning, little treasure. Your eyes are so bright today.”
Bingmei’s heart spasmed with pain at the sight of someone else holding her child. She wanted to hold her baby so much it burned inside her. Then Bingmei heard an intruder through the bird’s senses, and watched Xisi as she materialized out of the garden.
The concubine didn’t see that she was being observed by the queen, who frowned at the loving intimacy on display.
“You forget your place, concubine,” said Xisi.
The startled woman rose to her feet, holding the baby protectively. “I didn’t see you, Your Highness.” She bobbed her head in submission, over and over, but Bingmei could tell her heart was quailing for the child. For Shixian.
Bingmei glared at Xisi through the eyes of the siskin.
A little impatience will spoil great plans.
—Dawanjir proverb
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The Bond of Xieyi
The chirp of birds awoke Bingmei before dawn. She had arrived at the phoenix pagoda behind Fusang the previous night. Her body felt stiff and weary from the journey, but the rest had reinvigorated her. She stretched her limbs and performed the phoenix form to draw in energy and power, then ate a quick meal from the provisions she’d brought in her pack.
Before leaving the pagoda, she took out the wig she’d acquired in Sihui and quickly put it over her crown of braids, fixing it with pins. Wearing a wig had once been part of her daily routine, but it felt uncomfortable now. She avoided the urge to adjust it as she stepped out of the pagoda. The sky had changed from blue to pink due to the low-hanging clouds over the eastern mountains. Soon it would be dawn. She had to move quickly in order to sneak into the concubines’ area and steal her baby back.
