The dove hopped down into the basket, cooing softly, and nestled next to Shixian so that its body and feathers touched his skin. Bingmei looked at Quion in confusion, and he shrugged helplessly as the dove closed its eyes. The two of them watched, and she felt the tingles of power grow. Seeing the bird and her son nestled together, she felt strangely peaceful.
I have accepted the name, came the whispered thought inside her mind.
The peace she felt was shattered moments later when a strum of power ripped through the shrine. It echoed in her teeth, in her bones. It felt like a massive gong had sounded inside her head, only the oblivious look on Quion’s face indicated it had been silent. The dove startled and flew away in a blur of gray feathers.
“Did you feel that?” she asked. Although she said it aloud, the question was as much for the phoenix as it was for Quion.
“I felt nothing. What happened?”
The protection given to the shrine has ended. It was only to last seven days after the birth. Spring will come now in its regular course. Echion will soon be here to destroy us. You must go and protect us from him.
Bingmei’s heart began to beat faster with worry and fear. I’m still weak. I’ve not fully recovered yet.
I’m sorry. You must do your best. You must use your magic to protect and defend. That is when you will be your strongest. Prepare yourself. He comes quickly.
“Bingmei, what is it? You look frightened.” Quion reached out and touched her arm.
She gazed down at her innocent, helpless child, consumed by the knowledge that Echion would do everything in his power to destroy him.
“We have to go,” she said. The worry and alarm she felt for Shixian overwhelmed her. Upon learning her destiny, she’d feared she would never feel the mothering instinct, that she had, perhaps, been born without it. But she felt it now, more powerful than anything she’d ever experienced.
She would die before she let anything happen to her son.
For months, Bingmei had felt trapped on the rocky pillar in the middle of the valley of broken columns. Now that she’d been commanded to leave it, she didn’t want to. Would the birds continue to feed them, or were they now responsible for catching their own meat? She didn’t know. Snow still covered everything, which meant they’d be traveling in it to escape. She had the power to fly, but Quion did not. And she had no idea how long she could stay in the air. It would be hard to leave the glyphs that had kept them warm all winter, but now that she knew the words, they would always have warmth. The words usually lasted for a specific duration, the length of which was determined by the strokes used to make them. They couldn’t be overturned until the time had expired or the magic was countermanded by a more powerful glyph.
Quion spent some time making straps for the basket, designing them so the baby would be safe whether the basket was carried or worn on the back. He packed up his cooking supplies while Bingmei rolled up their bedrolls. After they were done, they hefted the stone lid of the sarcophagus back on top. They’d used it as a shield from the wind in the winter months.
Bingmei fed her son, then drew a glyph on each of them as a ward against the killing fog. The knowledge she’d gained of the words would help General Tzu and his army attack Echion’s forces.
As she wrapped Shixian up in blankets and bedding, she thought of the voyage ahead. If they left soon enough, they would be able to hide in the maze of the canyons. Echion would have to hunt them down. The thought of facing him soon made her stomach clench with dread. Her body had grown soft during the winter, and she still hurt from childbirth. But it didn’t matter—the time for waiting had ended. Any moment now, she might feel the approach of dragons.
Quion grabbed the rune staff, and Bingmei buckled the meiwood sword into its sheath. When they were finished, she waved her hand over the sigils she’d drawn on the four walls of the shrine. The heat vanished. Instantly, she felt fingers of cold wind intrude on the shrine.
She gazed around the shrine once more, grateful for the security it had given them. Wrapping her cloak around her pack, she took hold of Shixian’s basket and walked outside the shrine. The air was crisp and had a stark edge to it as it burned down her throat. Her boots crunched on the packed snow. The sun would be going down soon, but she couldn’t gamble with their lives by not leaving after being warned to do so.
She looked back at Quion and saw him holding the finished meiwood staff in one hand and the cricket in his palm. They’d agreed that she would fly down from the cliff with the baby, and he would jump.
Bingmei nodded to him and walked to the edge of the cliff. The trees crowding the shrine hunched with the weight of snow on their branches. She felt ice gathering on her lashes as she looked back and gave her shelter a final smile. Then she turned back to the edge of the cliff and stared down to the white canyon below. In her mind, she sensed the wings fixed to her back. Although they were invisible to the eye, she felt their power still. They unfurled with a flex of her shoulders.
“Meet you at the bottom,” she said to Quion with a grin and then leaned forward. Her mind and her stomach revolted from what she was doing. Yet, a fluttering feeling of excitement wriggled inside her as she began to fall. The motion made the baby squeal in panic. But the magic lifted her, and she soared up instead of down, which caused
