The Immortal Words (The Grave Kingdom), стр. 6
She looked over and smiled at him. “I’m glad you’re my friend, Quion.”
He tugged at his collar and removed a bit of fishing twine. Fastened to it, she saw the little scorpion charm she’d bought in Wangfujing. After being shunned by those people because of her winter sickness, she’d ripped it off in disgust.
“I’m glad you didn’t throw it in the water,” he said. “At least I’ll have something to always remind me of you.”
Another of the walls guarding her heart fell down.
Eventually they reached the edge of the woods. Looking back, the forest blocked sight of the imposing Death Wall, but she knew it was there, hidden behind the veil of green leaves and pale bark. The ground dropped lower, revealing a lush valley thick with tall, straight trees. The branches swayed a little in the breeze. A hawk cried out in the distance. She heard a song and saw the pretty little siskin perched on a branch, trilling away. Although it seemed unlikely, she knew in her heart it was the same one.
“There’s that bird again,” Quion said. “Maybe it’s a good sign.”
“Look at those trees. I wonder what kind they are?” Bingmei said, pointing down at the valley. On the other side, she saw the jagged peaks of mountains. Beyond them, she knew, lay the maze of canyons and ravines leading to the shrine. If only she could cross the distance in the air like the hawk crying overhead.
Gazing up at the sky, she saw the great bird swooping lazily, riding the currents. A wistful feeling throbbed in her heart. It was followed by a tingle of danger. The siskin screeched at them, and Bingmei felt the presence of a dragon.
CHAPTER TWO
The Secret Grove
“Hide,” Bingmei whispered, pulling Quion’s sleeve. They raced deeper into the grove and watched as an enormous shadow roved across the fallen leaves. A turquoise dragon soared over the valley.
The hawk sailed overhead, giving a scree of warning. Which was when Bingmei realized it was much bigger than a hawk. It was bigger than a man. Twice as big. It tucked its wings and dived toward the canyons on the other side of the valley. The dragon plunged after it, flapping its wings.
Only then did she realize the truth.
That enormous bird was a phoenix—and it had drawn the dragon away from them.
The dragon let out a roar as it continued to hunt the massive bird. Bingmei, crouching amidst the aspen, watched the two flying beasts and willed the phoenix to outpace the dragon.
Save yourself! she pleaded in her thoughts.
Another earsplitting shriek rent the air, and a second dragon sailed overhead, joining the chase. Quion flinched. They hadn’t heard it, nor had Bingmei sensed it. Perhaps it was too high, or maybe she’d been distracted by the sight of the soaring phoenix. This dragon was a pale, pale green with vivid flecks of violet and rose.
Fly, she urged the phoenix, clenching her hands into fists. The great bird disappeared into the canyons, and the dragons soared after it, continuing the hunt.
“We’d better wait until sunset,” Quion whispered, gazing at her. “If we leave too soon, we’ll be caught in the open.”
The siskin let out a little chirp, as if agreeing with Quion.
“Thanks for the warning, little bird,” Bingmei told it, smiling.
They waited until after nightfall to leave the safety of the aspen grove and start down the hillside. The long grasses provided some cover, although they also concealed the broken rocks and small boulders that lay in their path on the way down.
Dazzling stars filled the night sky as they marched down the slope to the valley floor. Around midnight, the ghost-lights came, but they were farther south and to the east. Distant roars filled the air. Bingmei knew they were still being hunted, but the dragons had lost their tracks. They were searching in the wrong area.
They pressed hard to reach the trees she’d seen, but the night was short, and the forest was still a distance ahead of them when the sky brightened to the east. When the sun peeked over the eastern mountains, she felt even more exposed. They were in the middle of a bowl-shaped valley, surrounded by steep cliffs of jagged rock. There was nowhere to hide, so they kept walking quickly, glancing back at the edge of the valley behind them. Waterways crisscrossed the meadow, but the streams were narrow enough to jump.
“Bears,” Quion said, pointing to a mother and cubs across the clearing. They were huge grayish-white beasts, but they hadn’t noticed the humans yet. Hopefully, they would stay upwind from them.
When they finally reached the grove of tall trees, Bingmei’s worry began to ebb. Trees brought cover. As they walked into the woods, she stared at the peculiar trees. They were tall and slender, though some had thicker trunks. A few had lower branches that had grown into twin trunks, but most were straight and rigid, like the staves used in a quonsuun. Toward the tops of the trees, the branches forked upward and provided the thick canopy they’d seen from the other side of the valley.
Quion stopped at one of the trees once they were within the relative safety of the grove. He pulled out his knife, cut a slice of bark from it, and smelled it. His eyes widened with surprise.
“You recognize it?” she asked him.
He nodded and handed it to her. She took the pale fragment in her hand and held it up to her nose.
The scent of the cut wood was unmistakable: meiwood.
She looked around at the vast forest, filled with trees of various sizes. Her jaw dropped. Meiwood had been used to build palaces and cities. Weapons and relics that could be charmed with magic. But its source was treated as a mystery—no one she knew had ever seen a meiwood tree or even knew what one