The Immortal Words (The Grave Kingdom), стр. 12

The rest of the afternoon was a monotonous, difficult slog through the chill water. By the time a path opened up along the wall to their right, their knees and ankles were tired from the constant pressure of the rocks beneath the surface of the river. Bingmei investigated it and saw it would be an easy climb. She wouldn’t even need to use the cricket.

“Do you think we can go that way?” Quion asked her.

She stared at it for a while, but she didn’t know. She only knew the shrine lay in that general direction.

“I think we should,” she finally said.

Grateful to be out of the water, they clambered up to the narrow path and began to follow it—until they reached a dead end. A wide grotto opened up beneath them with a pool of silver water. The pool had been shrinking over time, a fact revealed by the watermarks along the stone.

Out of the middle of the silver pond grew a tree with silver bark. It had blue leaves, unlike anything Bingmei had seen before.

“Look at that,” she whispered in awe, staring at it.

“I’ve never seen a tree with blue leaves before,” Quion said.

Nor had she seen a tree growing out of the middle of a pond. It didn’t make sense, especially given there were no other plants.

“Look . . . the leaves are rustling!” Quion said, pointing. “I don’t feel a breeze.”

Bingmei walked down the rounded slope to get a closer look. The water looked silver, she realized, because it reflected the walls of the stone grotto. Something about the tree drew her closer.

She heard the snow leopard growl.

“I wonder what kind of tree it is,” Quion said. He shuffled down the side of the basin as well. The snow leopard stayed put.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Bingmei said in fascination.

“I wonder if it has any fruit?” Quion said. He came to the edge of the water, his gaze intent.

Bingmei continued to circle the tree, wondering how it survived with so little light. Yes, the grotto was open to the sun, but cliffs surrounded it on all sides. How had it come to be so tall? It was probably three times her size. The branches didn’t sway, but the leaves wriggled. She gazed more closely.

“Those aren’t leaves,” she said. She blinked, trying to understand why her body had tensed with fear. And then the truth struck her. “They’re insects.”

She heard a splashing sound and saw Quion had stepped into the pool. He’d left the staff behind. The snow leopard growled again, louder. It padded down to the edge of the water and started pacing, its tail lashing with a frantic urgency.

“Quion, don’t,” Bingmei warned.

He ignored her, his eyes fixed on the tree. She saw him stumble on something beneath the water, but he still moved forward, his hand reaching out for the tree.

A single blue butterfly fluttered down from one of the branches, zigzagging through the air in a light, carefree manner. She watched it, mesmerized by its motion. A sickening feeling came into her stomach.

The snow leopard hissed, startling Bingmei. She blinked, noticing that several more of the blue butterflies were flitting about.

Quion was at the base of the silver trunk now, reaching up toward the branches.

“Quion. Quion!”

Could he hear her? She smelled his euphoria, the scent of bliss and tranquility, but it was too sweet. Too fragrant, as if it were concealing something rancid.

“Quion! Back away. Now!”

He was oblivious to her words. She saw one of the tiny blue butterflies light on his hair. Another landed on his wrist. She saw him reach up into the tree, as if to pick a piece of fruit, but instead his fingers pinched around one of the blue butterflies. He licked his lips.

Bingmei panicked.

This wasn’t normal. The tree wasn’t natural. She groped for the meiwood cricket in her pocket, summoned its power, and leaped across the pond to land beside him.

As soon as her boots splashed into the water, she felt an overwhelming urge to eat from the tree’s fruit.

“Get back! Back!” she begged, grabbing his arms and pulling him away. Fighting the powerful compulsion as she did so.

“No! No, Bingmei!” His face contorted with rage. He strained against her, trying to put the insect into his mouth. She kneed him in the stomach and smacked his hand, and he dropped the wriggling thing. His eyes went crazed as he bent over from her painful blow. He closed his hand into a fist and swung it at her jaw.

Bingmei blocked the blow, but he snaked an arm around her waist and threw her backward into the water. Pain instantly pierced her body. Although the water was shallow, she’d landed on some sharp rocks. She pulled one of them away, but by the feel of it, she could tell it wasn’t a stone at all—it was the bleached skull of some animal. The sticks poking her were bones.

Horror washed over her, and the enchantment lost any remaining hold on her. Her fear of the place, of what it was doing to her friend, had disintegrated it.

Quion had already lunged back toward the tree, but she couldn’t let him eat one of the insects. She knew what had happened to the others who’d fallen prey to the tree, because she held the results in her hand. Bingmei charged him again, grabbing his pack straps and yanking him backward. He turned on her in a fit of rage and backhanded her in the face, his knuckles striking her cheekbone hard. The blow dizzied her, and he shoved her down into the water, his hands fastening around her neck. She heard the leopard yowl just before her head went under, Quion’s fingernails digging into her skin.

What was he doing? This was Quion, her best friend! Only it wasn’t—the Quion she knew would never hurt her. Some cursed magic was at work here. Bingmei brought the heel of her hand up to his chin, striking hard, and flipped him over