The Immortal Words (The Grave Kingdom), стр. 16
The mother kissed her daughter several times, as if she couldn’t bear to let her go, then pulled back enough to ask, “Where is your papa?”
The little girl said sadly, “We cannot be with Papa now.”
The woman’s brow wrinkled in concern. “But we are family.”
“There are no families here,” said the little girl. “The dragon has broken them apart. I cannot stay with you.”
“No, little one! No! I won’t let you go!”
“I cannot stay. The magic of this place will force me away soon. But don’t worry, Mama. The phoenix is coming to save us. The phoenix will undo the spell cast on the Death Wall. It’s happening soon, Mama! We’ll be together again.”
“No,” said the mother, her grief swelling again. “No, it’s not true. The phoenix-chosen refused to help us in Sajinau, and then the dragon took her away. Will we be trapped here forever? I won’t let you go.”
“I cannot stay, Mama. But what I said is true. The phoenix is coming. Someone told me so.” The little girl looked at Bingmei with hopeful eyes and smiled.
The mother turned to Bingmei in surprise. Her eyes widened as they landed on Bingmei’s distinctive hair. In the haze of her grief, she hadn’t really looked at her. She’d seen only a face in the crowd.
And then the woman’s daughter vanished from her arms. The stench of unbearable grief came as she looked back at her arms, now empty, clutching no one. “Baobei! Baobei!” She scrambled to her feet, looking this way and that, nearly colliding with other passersby. Then she looked at Bingmei again and rushed at her in desperation.
“Please! Please! I beg you! You are the phoenix-chosen. Bring me back my daughter!”
The woman’s hands seized her shoulders, and Bingmei felt herself shaking.
Her eyes flew open. Quion was hunched over her, struggling to revive her from the death sleep.
“Bingmei! Please, Bingmei! Come back. Come back!”
She gasped in agony. Sunlight blinded her. Stinging nettles of pain tortured her legs and arms.
“You’re alive!” Quion said with relief, hugging her. “I was so afraid.”
“Ungh!” Bingmei moaned. He quickly released her, likely realizing he was hurting her, and she fell back onto the blanket in the marsh grass. It took longer for the pain to go away. Each time she experienced the death sleep, the time it took to recover had extended. She breathed in shallow gasps, trembling violently, and then—at last—the hurt began to subside.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Quion moaned, watching her helplessly. There were tears in his eyes.
“It’s not . . . your fault,” she managed.
“But seeing you like this,” he said, wiping his eyes on his arm. “I wish . . . I wish I could take the pain from you. I’m sorry it hurts so much. I’m sorry, Bingmei.”
Her heart was touched by his compassion. It smelled so good, like a steamed bun fresh from a heating basket. The kind that she loved to smell before plunging her teeth into the dough. She managed to raise herself into a sitting position and hugged him, pressing her cheek against his chest.
“It’s all right, Quion. I’ll be fine.”
He nestled his chin against her hair. The pungent tang of sorrow came off him in waves.
“I’m feeling better,” she said, patting his arm.
“I know. I keep forgetting that I can’t hide what I’m feeling. Not from you. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, Quion.” She pulled away and stroked his cheek. “Why are you so sad?”
He looked down, suddenly ashamed. “We’re almost there, Bingmei. Almost to the phoenix shrine.” He sniffled and wiped his nose. “I’ve tried not to think about it, but that’s where I’m going to lose you.” Fresh tears came to his eyes. He started to weep.
Seeing his fresh grief reminded her of the crowds in the Grave Kingdom, of each lost soul searching for loved ones. The little girl had said that Echion had destroyed families. Bingmei didn’t know what she meant, but everything she had witnessed in the Grave Kingdom indicated it was true. There were barriers that prevented families from finding each other.
Invisible walls had been erected. It made her think of the Death Wall itself. A horrible spell had been cast on it during its construction. Its power came from the deaths of the laborers who’d built it.
Bingmei took Quion’s hand and squeezed it. She sat there, listening to his tears, feeling her own begin to well in her eyes. Her heart wrenched painfully. It was impossible to describe the stew of their feelings. It was friendship, but it went deeper than that. There was a bond of loyalty between them. A deep and satisfying bond that was similar to the feeling of family.
“I cannot tell you how grateful I am to you, Quion,” she said. “That you came with me. Even after I tried leaving you behind.”
He chuckled, wiping his nose on his sleeve.
“I visited the Grave Kingdom again,” she said. “If I’ve learned anything since I was chosen, it’s that life doesn’t end with death. We still exist. It’s just different from how it is here. I don’t understand how it works, but Echion is using a spell to keep families apart after death. I mean to stop him, Quion. I mean to break his spell and defeat him.” She reached over and dug her fingers into his hair. “This I promise you: no matter what happens, I will make sure that you see your mother and father again. And I will find you there too. No matter what I have to do. We will see each other again. This I promise you.” She let her hand fall.
He looked at her with serious eyes. Then he nodded and rose and reached down to help her up. She didn’t need the help to stand, but she took it anyway. She hugged him again, giving him a kiss on his cheek.
“To the end,” he said