The Immortal Words (The Grave Kingdom), стр. 27

CHAPTER TWELVE

Cry of the Phoenix

Bingmei slipped out of her body, shedding it like an unneeded skin. As her soul began to lift away, she gazed into Echion’s blazing eyes, taking in his contorted mouth and the dark flames of hatred seething in his countenance.

She felt strangely calm. Although she’d seen the souls of the dead being pulled toward the Grave Kingdom, she felt no otherworldly current.

In a fit of terrible rage, Echion lifted the spear higher, gripping it with both hands. Flares of magic erupted down its meiwood shaft, and the sigils carved into the meiwood glowed. He thrust the spearhead toward her chest. He looked at her floating soul as he did this, one final act of revenge and desecration. He would mutilate her body.

As the spearhead plunged toward the tomb, she felt a thrum of power come from inside the crypt. White light exploded from it, propelling Echion out of the shrine as surely as if he’d been tossed by a giant. The light was brighter than the sun, robbing the night of darkness for just a moment, but it did not hurt Bingmei’s eyes. She felt no pain.

A piercing cry came from the sky above, and in her ghost form, she stepped away from the sarcophagus, leaving her body behind. Although she didn’t understand why, she still felt connected to it. They were tethered in some way.

As she stepped outside, she saw Echion rise to his feet. Rowen was on his knees, wrists bound with leather straps. He did not look wounded, although his eyes stared at the ground. With the dusk, she could barely see his face, but she felt him.

Rowen.

His head jerked up, and a smile of triumph brightened his face. She smelled his love, his pride in her. The smell was even stronger now, mixed with the relief that she’d succeeded. His eyes were cloudy, like milk spilled into soup.

Echion looked up, and his face transformed into terror. It was the first time she’d seen him look afraid. A piercing cry rent the air again, and when Bingmei looked up, she saw the sky was teeming with giant birds attacking the dragons. But the largest bird, the one whose plumage was the most colorful and lush, let out another piercing scream and swept down toward them, its huge wings spread wide.

Echion transformed into the dragon, whirling black smoke exuding from his scales. His yellowish eyes fixed on the creature diving toward him from above. Rowen struggled to rise and toppled over. Bingmei went to help him, but her hands passed through him.

With a fearsome roar, the dragon launched up from the stone pillar, flapping its massive leathery wings. It attacked the phoenix before it could reach him, and the two clashed with wings and claws.

Rowen pushed himself up on his wrists and crawled toward the shrine. His bound hands reached forward, groping for the tomb. Only, he’d turned in slightly the wrong direction. He was close to the edge of the cliff.

Rowen, no!

“Guide me,” he panted. “Where is your body?”

Follow my voice.

The way his head instantly angled toward her assured her that she had been heard. She glanced up at the sky, at the vicious fight between the dragon and the phoenix and their followers. Cries and roars and the clash of heavy, armored bodies filled the air.

Bingmei turned from it and retreated back to the shrine.

This way.

Rowen followed her voice and bumped into the side of the stone wall. She felt pain for him, worry about what he was going through. She wanted to know how he’d been captured, what had happened to him these past days.

Grunting in pain and surprise, he felt for the edge of the doorway and tumbled inside. With his hands bound in front of him, he couldn’t use both arms.

It’s right before you. What are you doing?

He pulled himself up on the edge of the tomb. Reaching inside, he found her face and cupped her cheek. It felt as if he’d touched her ghost form too, proof that she was still connected to her body. In her mind, she heard Echion scream, Xisi! Come! It will take both of us to defeat her!

She glanced up, watching the two mythical beasts attack and claw at each other, but her attention was drawn back to Rowen.

He found her waterskin, still strapped to her waist, and used it to splash water on his hands. Some must have splattered her physical clothes, for she could feel dampness.

Rowen knelt at the edge of the sarcophagus and, lifting a finger, began to trace a glyph on its wall. She watched the wet marks linger on the stone as he moved his hand swiftly. A few drops of water fell.

Rowen!

“Goodbye, Bingmei,” he said as he drew the lines. “Goodbye, my love. Nothing can break the bond between us. Not even death.” As he finished the last mark of the glyph, he rose and backed away from the sarcophagus, smelling relieved that he had accomplished it.

And then she felt it. The tugging sensation she’d always felt when leaving her body, only this time it wasn’t a