by Cindy Pon
Fury of the Phoenix
Cindy Pon
With Chapter Decorations by the Author
For my mommy, Margaret,
who showed me what it means to be a heroine
Contents
Chapter One
Chen Yong was already on board the ship.
Chapter Two
Every available space in the giant banquet hall was taken.
Chapter Three
Ai Ling followed Chen Yong through a cramped passageway into…
Chapter Four
Chen Yong was still asleep when Ai Ling was woken…
Chapter Five
Ai Ling’s eyes flew open. Chen Yong leaned over her,…
Chapter Six
Ai Ling was preparing for bed when she heard thumping…
Chapter Seven
They were taking the evening meal when a hoarse scream…
Chapter Eight
The next afternoon the crew gathered to resume their shuen…
Chapter Nine
It didn’t feel as if she had slept. She could…
Chapter Ten
Chen Yong was anxious. She could tell by the set…
Chapter Eleven
Dinner had consisted of creamy squash and potato soup, braised…
Chapter Twelve
Master Deen had invited Chen Yong and Ai Ling to…
Chapter Thirteen
Chen Yong wasn’t at the morning meal. Neither was Ah…
Chapter Fourteen
It was as if she had been thrown from the…
Chapter Fifteen
Ai Ling woke to a soft chanting. Peng. Her body…
Chapter Sixteen
Ai Ling set forth to the Palace of Fragrant Dreams…
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher
CHAPTER ONE
Chen Yong was already on board the ship.
Ai Ling stumbled when her spirit touched his, and she caught herself against a merchant’s bamboo stand. The old woman gave her a curious look as she set out eggplants and carrots. Ai Ling murmured an apology and veered off, the pungent scent of cilantro following her.
She couldn’t feel the spirits of others near the port yet. She was still too far away. But she was drawn to Chen Yong as if she had been starved for months for warmth and light. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to slow her racing pulse. His face filled her vision: his inquisitive amber eyes; the strong lines of his jaw and cheekbones; his mouth curved into a smile that made him look boyish.
She had to get on that ship. His life depended on it.
It was barely dawn, and the large seaside city of Yuan Hai clamored to life. As Ai Ling approached the harbor, the hubbub of vendors in the narrow streets was punctuated by the cries of seagulls soaring above. Boys darted like sardines through the crowds. Women dressed in the same grays and blues as the men chorused in singsong voices; hawking sticky rice filled with pickles and minced pork, candied yams, and hot soy milk to start the day and drive the cold away. Ai Ling’s stomach growled, but she didn’t stop.
Slipping from the labyrinth of buildings that leaned like haphazardly stacked dominoes, she finally stepped onto the broad main street. The seafront shopkeepers had already laid out their merchandise: embroidered handkerchiefs and slippers, fans adorned with lotuses and dragonflies, gold earrings and jade bangles. She smelled dumplings and custard buns steaming, scallion flatbreads being fried.
The sight of the massive port took her breath away. Ships larger than Ai Ling could have imagined swayed like giant monsters, creaking against the gentle lapping of the sea. Smaller boats bobbed in their shadows. Triangular pennants in a rainbow of colors fluttered above ocher sails, as the sun rose like a ripe persimmon on the horizon. Men shouted at one another while they unloaded cargo and checked lines that were as thick as her wrist. Tasting the sea’s salt on her lips, she hurried toward the water.
Ai Ling, clutching her satchel to her side, maneuvered among the sailors. She had limited herself to a few changes of clothing, a light blanket, and dried foods. Also her sketchbook, which she couldn’t leave behind. This time she had left willingly, with a large pouch of gold coins from her monthly widow’s allowance. It was a generous allowance, as Zhong Ye had been the highest-ranking adviser to the Emperor. Ai Ling’s scalp crawled, and she shivered.
She could almost see his pale gray eyes, felt as if it were yesterday their spirits entangled when she had killed him. No matter how often she tried to push Zhong Ye from her mind, he lingered, festering like some dark wound.
She pulled her square cap lower, her single braid tucked inside a slate blue tunic, and cast her spirit forward, let it skim over the merchants and sailors surrounding her. She imagined tenuous threads coiling from her navel, searching and connecting to hundreds of others. She had never opened herself so completely—she had shut herself away these past months, trying to control her ever-growing power. But today she wielded it as a master painter would a brush. And it was far too easy.
“She’s one hundred and fifty feet, made from teak and camphor wood,” a man called Tien An said. “This will be her sixth journey to Jiang Dao.”
A boy, Xiao Hou, exhaled, wide-eyed with wonder.
They both were out of earshot, but Ai Ling gathered their conversation and feelings as easily as plucking peach blossoms in bloom. A brush of the shoulder, a graze of the arm were like leaping into someone else’s skin. She hummed tunelessly to quiet her mind, concentrated on the giant sails snapping like dragons’ jaws. Stopping just short of her destination, she tilted her head back. The Gliding Dragon’s rounded bow was hewn with images of the Immortals and swallows. Giant eyes were carved on the prow, and the three huge sails flapped in the breeze. Magnificent. No wonder the boy had gawked.
Tien An and Xiao Hou were carrying chests and crates aboard, and she watched them from beneath the rim of her rough cap. The fragrance of sandalwood and jasmine drifted to her from the stack of cargo. More sailors disembarked to help, their brusque voices as loud as their thoughts. It was the boy’s first time traveling so far across the sea, and his excitement was a bright whorl in his chest.
Ai Ling threw her spirit aboard the ship. Thirteen men and two boys composed the crew. Chen Yong was there, and she avoided him. She had once trespassed on his most private dreams and had promised herself never to intrude again. And she would keep her vow. It was too humiliating not to; she knew he loved his childhood sweetheart still. He couldn’t know she was here. He’d send her home immediately, like she were an annoying little sister.
Ai Ling pressed her fingers to her chest, as if it would ease the dull ache. The Gliding Dragon would sail soon. Chen Yong was speaking to the captain and pilot inside the bridge near the stern. Anxious to glean the ship’s layout, she delved into the pilot’s mind. There were two different hatches that led to the compartments below. She would hide below deck until the ship sailed.
“Please, everyone, join me for the Gliding Dragon’s blessing,” the captain said. Peng was his name. Ai Ling held a light touch on his spirit, on every spirit aboard the ship. She saw Chen Yong through Peng’s eyes, so handsome in a deep scholar blue tunic, the stiff collar around his throat drawn closed with a single pearl button.
Someone grabbed her elbow and wrenched her around, twisting her shoulder violently.
“What’re you doing skulking about?” The brute squinted at her, his broad lips squashed together as if he had just sucked on a lemon. “A girl! You thinking of stealing?” His free hand slapped against her torso, her hips and breasts.
Her face flushed with anger. She tried to yank her arm free. Still connected to the men on the
ship, she could smell the sandalwood incense wafting over the small altar laden with fruit and cups of wine. A golden effigy of the Queen Empress of Heaven sat in the middle of the altar, a serene smile etched on her face.
“They don’t deal lightly with thieves!” He felt the hilt of her jeweled dagger beneath her tunic. “What’s this?”
“Let go!” Ai Ling tried to punch him, but he swiped her arm out of the way. They struggled as he yanked at her tunic. She kicked him hard in the shin, but his grip only tightened. Ai Ling released her touch on the crew and threw a coil from her spirit to her attacker’s. She possessed him instantly. His shin throbbed, but greed and excitement pumped through him. She enveloped his spirit in hers, forcing him to release her wrist.
Mouth slack, he stood motionless for a long moment. He had felt her intrusion. “Go away,” she said. “Or I’ll make you jump into the sea.” She unsheathed her dagger and pointed its tip at his throat. “And you can’t swim.” Surprisingly, her hand did not shake.
He sneered, even as the stench of fear rolled from him. “Sorceress!” He spit at her feet, then ran.
Ai Ling threw her spirit back toward the Gliding Dragon.
A sailor slit the throat of the chicken tucked beneath his arm and drained its blood into a silver cup. He paced the deck, chanting blessings.
Ai Ling ran toward the ship, but the gangplank had been drawn. Firecrackers popped above, the acrid smoke curling toward her. The ship slid from its berth as she watched, aghast, cursing the stupid oaf who had delayed her. Panic surged through her. Chen Yong would die if she didn’t get on board.
Her mind cast wide, she raced along the wharf and skidded to a stop in front of a small fishing boat with a single square cabin. Its wooden sides were so bleached by the sun they appeared white. A fisherman was gnawing on the end of a pipe as he watched the Gliding Dragon take to sea. He scratched his bearded chin, then glimpsed her from the corner of his eye. “She’s a beaut, yeah?”
“Can you overtake her?”
His bushy eyebrows lifted. “If we set sail now. Not once she gains momentum in the open sea.” He gave her the once-over. “Why?”
She took the pouch of gold coins from her satchel.
The old fisherman extended his hand, and she plopped it in his palm. He peered inside and whistled. “Stolen?”
“No.” She touched his spirit, knew his thoughts. His calloused hand bobbed, as he considered the weight. He would help her for that amount of coin—stolen or not.
“Hop on. We’d best move.” She jumped on board, and he pulled anchor. He acted fast, adjusting the single sail to harness the wind. “She isn’t full speed yet. Pray to the God of Luck we’ll catch her.”
“The God of Luck has mocked me all day,” Ai Ling said.
“Aiyo. The Queen Empress of Heaven will look after us.”
They sailed swiftly over the waves, but so did the Gliding Dragon. Ai Ling willed the tiny boat to go faster, even as she wobbled on unsteady legs. The larger ship left a trail of sea foam in its wake, and they chased it.
“Sit,” the fisherman said.
She thudded onto a hard bench.
“What you after?”
“A friend.” It hurt to say it. Her feelings for Chen Yong had not lessened during their time apart, as she had hoped. In truth, they had deepened with each polite letter she had received from him. And with all the ones she had written, divulging her feelings, her dreams, and her fears. Letters he would never read because she had never sent them.
He whistled again between his teeth. “Must be some friend.”
Ai Ling’s gaze never strayed from the Gliding Dragon. The wind whipped across her face, tearing strands of hair loose from its braid. “Faster,” she said under her breath, as if the gods could hear her. “Faster.”
As if they cared.
“Faster!” She shouted into the wind, and it swallowed her words. They slammed over a large swell, and the spray soaked her tunic. She wiped the salt water from her eyes as the fisherman chuckled.
They were gaining on the larger ship. Almost there. “They can’t know I’m coming on board. They’ll never let me stay, so close to shore.”
He snorted. “I can get you near the ship. But on board? I didn’t promise that. You’ll have to climb, and you’ll have one chance.” He glanced at her dubiously. “Your arms look thin.”
“I’ll manage.”
He huffed. She cast her spirit over the Gliding Dragon. Everyone was gathered at the stern, letting the giant sails catch the wind as the captain dictated his rules for the voyage. They—thank the goddess—appeared not to have noticed the little fishing vessel.
“Go to the front of the ship,” she said.
He mumbled something about half-mad girls but guided his small boat near the Gliding Dragon’s bow. The ship loomed over the fishing boat, and the fisherman deftly maneuvered the rudder so they could stay near the ship without surging in front of it.
Ai Ling glanced up and gasped. “How do I climb on?” Her heart was hammering.
The old man nodded to a thick length of rope coiled on the bottom, the tip ending in a sharp four-pronged grapple hook. “Throw that.”
“What?” She gaped at him. Her throwing was even worse than her embroidering. But she grabbed it anyway. The hook was much heavier than she would have guessed. She tossed it into the air, and it plunged into the sea.
“Aiyo!” the fisherman grumbled. “Try again. Quick!”
Ai Ling fished the hook from the water. She whispered a prayer, then threw the hook upward with a desperate strength she didn’t know she had. It traced an arc against the pale blue sky and flew over the ship’s railing.
She stared up at the Gliding Dragon. All was quiet. No one had noticed. The fisherman tugged on the rope and nodded. “I’m impressed.” A smile creased his sun-darkened face. “Climb fast. Go. Go!”
She gripped the rope, catapulted off the deck, and tried to haul herself up the side of the ship. She didn’t budge.
The fisherman growled. “Walk your feet up the side!”
He wrapped his arms around her waist and pushed her with astounding force. Ai Ling suppressed a cry and pulled with all her might, planting her cloth shoes firmly on the ship’s side. “Hurry!” He gave her rump a shove for good measure.
With trembling arms, Ai Ling took agonizingly slow steps upward. The ship rocked across the sea, riding over a large wave so its bow slanted to the heavens. Ai Ling was flung backward and dangled helplessly, the sky filling her vision, then was bashed back into the ship’s side. Unable to breathe, she squatted like a bruised toad against the ship as it slammed down, and the water surged up to meet her. Focus. One hand over the other, then shuffling with her feet. The rough rope bit into her slick palms. The crew would disperse soon. She began to shake with the effort and bit her lip hard. She would get on board this ship or die trying.
Mustering a final burst of energy, Ai Ling dragged herself over the side and somehow landed noiselessly, limbs askew. She stood and quickly saluted the fisherman, then threw the hook overboard, her arms feeling like overcooked noodles. She turned too fast and slid, landing so hard her teeth clacked. She rolled behind a rowboat and, when she rose to her hands and knees, discovered she was smeared in the fresh chicken blood that had been sprinkled to bless the ship. Ai Ling could almost hear the God of Luck laughing. She crawled to the hatch near the bow and crept below. Incredibly, no one had seen her. Her tunic wet from the ocean and streaked with chicken blood, she gripped the railing and scanned the darkness for a hiding place. She couldn’t come out until the evening, until they were well offshore.
She cast herself into Captain Peng to catch a glimpse of Chen Yong. They were studying the maps and discussing the journey. Chen Yong was taller, broader than she remembered, with the same intensity in his amber eyes. Her heart was in her throat when she forced herself to reel back. She had missed him so.
Throughout the day Ai Ling huddled below deck in one of the dark cabins and drank
warm water from her flask. The constant roll of the sea had robbed her of any appetite. Afraid she might fall asleep, she cast her spirit around the ship, learning what she could.
She fingered the jade at her neck and ran her thumb over the carved spirit character. Her father had offered to buy her a new pendant, as this one had clouded over. But she had refused. No powerful spirit sent by the Immortals protected her any longer, but she still felt an attachment to the piece.
What had her father thought when he found her letter? Her parents had not chased her. Two days into her journey, and she had still been able to sense their spirits. Her father sent his love and strength, touching her mind like shining pinpricks. It was impossible for her mother to rein in her anxiety and agitation, but beneath their nettle was a surge of love for her rash, stubborn daughter. Ai Ling smiled to remember it.
She jumped to her feet. Yen, the pilot, was climbing down the steps. He walked along the corridor, past her dark compartment. Her heartbeat pounded hard in her ears.
Now he was coming back, and the compartment door opened, bringing a whiff of the sea and a halo of lantern light into the cramped space. The small cabin had a wide berth, a rough square table, and a lop-legged stool. She pressed herself against the wall behind the door, cursing the God of Luck for his tricks. Maps were stacked high on the table, and Yen riffled through them, his muscular body seeming to take up half the cabin. She fought the urge to squeeze her eyes shut.
Finally finding what he had been searching for, he turned to leave. He froze when he saw her. The small lantern swayed in his hand. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
“Who are you?” He stared, his flare of incredulity almost pinning her against the wall. He had dropped the map, and a dagger had replaced it. Around twenty-five years, he had high cheekbones and deep-set eyes, his features emphasized by the fact that his head was shaved. He set the lantern on the table and reached over to remove her cap. “A girl?” He shook his head in disbelief. “You’ll have to come explain yourself to my captain.”
The sun hovered low on the horizon, but Ai Ling still shaded her eyes when she emerged from below deck. All she could see was a glittering, endless blue. She lurched on unsteady legs toward the stern, with the pilot close behind, and the crew gawked in astonishment. Captain Peng stood outside the bridge. Although Xian, he had his hair cut short at the ears and trimmed close to his neck in the back, a hairstyle Ai Ling had never seen. He also wore strange clothing: tight black trousers, a white shirt with billowing sleeves, and a black sleeveless tunic over it.
