The Immortal Words (The Grave Kingdom), стр. 15
“Maybe that’s why the phoenix chose me,” she said flippantly. “Because I didn’t want a normal life.”
Quion looked at her. “I think the phoenix chose you because you’re brave.”
Somehow he always knew the right thing to say.
“There’s one in your hair,” he said. Letting go of her hand, he reached out and plucked the dead butterfly from her hair and cast it into the water. The current took it away swiftly.
But as it disappeared, her thoughts turned to Xisi and how she had captured one of the insects to use against Echion. She had no doubt if one of them had gotten into her mouth or Quion’s, they would have died.
Would it turn Echion mortal?
If he could become mortal, he could die.
CHAPTER SIX
River Maze
The narrows seemed to go on forever. Bingmei’s legs and feet were soaked, and the constant treading over river stones had made her ankles ache. The chasm between the mountains continued on and on, bringing with it a feeling of helplessness and weariness. Even Quion started to smell of disappointment and worry. The monotony pressed in on them—the layers of color in the stone walls around them, the glimpses of sky, their wet and rocky path, the leopard’s lashing tail. The one time they reached a fork in the path, Bingmei followed the call of the phoenix shrine.
The utter vastness of the land beyond the Death Wall was shocking. How long ago had it been inhabited? Would it ever be again?
When night fell, they decided to keep going as they’d found no place to camp on the edges of the river. They gripped each other’s hands to keep from losing each other in the near total darkness of the chasm. They kept moving that way for hours. Bingmei’s mind was numb with weariness, but she felt the phoenix shrine, its presence ever closer. The darkness seemed to be lifting somewhat, and when she looked up at the ribbon of sky overhead, she saw countless stars. Then more. Then even more.
“Look up,” she said to her friend.
She smelled a little pine-sap smell of relief from him. “I think we’re leaving the chasm. I can see more of the sky.”
They had finally reached the edge of the mountains. The river slowed to a trickle, and soon they were walking through reeds that choked it.
They stopped, breathing in the fresh, clean air.
“The lights,” Quion said, pointing to the east. “The dragons are looking for us over there.”
He was right. Ribbons of color painted the sky in that direction. The Woliu had been opened by Echion and Xisi, allowing dragons and other mythical creatures to cross into the mortal world. Although beautiful, the lights were a sign of danger. They meant evil beasts were on the hunt—to the east. For the moment, Echion had lost their trail.
Making their way by starlight, they walked to the edge of the reed-infested stream and found some marsh grass to bed down in. They lay on their blankets, but before Bingmei fell asleep, she found herself reaching for the thread inside her, the one that connected her to Rowen. She felt him at the other end, a solid, reassuring presence, and a feeling of peace settled over her. Her eyelids closed with exhaustion, and she fell asleep.
Once again, she dreamed of the Grave Kingdom.
She recognized the busy streets at once. Towering buildings surrounded her on two sides, but she stood on a long, winding street, surrounded by crowds of anxious people walking and running, searching for their lost loved ones. There were iron ridges atop the buildings, perches for the dragons, perhaps, and the red windows were barred shut and displayed the symbol of the Dragon of Night. The sharp smells of worry and desperation filled the air. A frantic mother tugged on Bingmei’s arm. Her eyes were unfocused as she stared off into the crowded streets. “Have you seen my daughter? She said she would meet me here, but I can’t find her. She died in the river when she was a child.”
Bingmei’s heart ached for the woman. “I have not,” she said.
“Please help me,” the woman pleaded, tears in her voice. “I dreamed about her the night before the Dragon Emperor’s army attacked us in Sihui. She said she would find me when I got here. Please help!”
Sihui, the beleaguered city from which Bingmei had been kidnapped.
“You are from Sihui?” she asked eagerly.
“We were refugees from Sajinau,” the mother said. “We fled there when the Dragon Emperor’s army came. My husband said we should follow General Tzu. I was killed by a Qiangdao after he murdered my husband.” Her emotions smelled burnt, sooty and black. She was anguished by her death but even more so that she couldn’t find her daughter.
“Has Sihui fallen, then?”
“I don’t know,” the woman said. “The enemy conquered all the bridges save one. There was no more room inside the palace, so we were outside the gates. They slaughtered us. I must find my daughter. She said she would meet me here. That all would be well.”
“I’m sorry. I cannot help you.”
Bingmei heard the chirp of a siskin over the noise of the crowd. She looked up and saw the little bird on a piece of ironwork fastened to the stone wall. Its coloring was unmistakable. This was, somehow, the same little bird that had been guiding her since she crossed the Death Wall.
A child’s voice cried out, “Mama!”
The woman, still gripping Bingmei’s arm, whirled, her eyes widening with recognition. “Baobei? Baobei?”
“Mama!”
A little girl no older than five appeared through the crowd and ran to the woman, clinging to her legs. The smell of cinnamon porridge broke through the sharp smells around them as the woman dropped to her knees and embraced the child, wrapping the little girl in her arms.
“Oh, baobei! Baobei!”
Bingmei felt her eyes sting as she breathed deeply of the powerful emotions churning between mother and daughter. Witnessing such a