She realized that all she needed to do was touch Echion with that glyph and he would die.
Unless he killed her first.
Bingmei and her companions strode down the stone steps leading to the main courtyard in front of the Hall of Memory. As they did so, her eyes shifted to the great building, to the marble tablet with the dragon design embedded in the middle of the staircase leading up to it. To their right, on the other side of the courtyard, was the Hall of Unity where Rowen was being kept. Like the other buildings, it was elevated atop a stone staircase, but it wasn’t quite as high.
As they continued to make their way to Rowen, she saw soldiers walking with spears and swords across the courtyard, not in orderly rows but in masses. They stank of murder and greed—the smell of the Qiangdao. There were thousands of them. Soldiers patrolled the walls as well, monitoring the progress as the Qiangdao army streamed around the Hall of Unity toward the front courtyard, guarded by the stone lions that had crushed Zhuyi all those months ago.
As Bingmei stared at it, she remembered the first time they’d run from the palace. The glacier had hung overhead like milky clouds. She remembered how that frozen sky had broken when the meiwood pillars ignited, and the chunks of ice that had rained down on them. The memories made her heart skitter with anxiety. They had barely managed to flee, and there’d only been a small contingent of Qiangdao to stop them. This was an army. And she only had three companions with her.
“What do we do?” Mieshi asked as they reached the bottom steps.
“They don’t know who we are,” she answered. “In the confusion, I think we can make it there. The doors leading to the hall have gold knobs on them. You have to touch all nine knobs in a row in order to have the strength to open the door.”
Bingmei’s stomach fluttered as she sensed the presence of dragons. She glanced up and saw a horde of dragons flying into the air like a flock of many-colored birds. A sense of dread overcame her. They were flocking together to destroy General Tzu’s army.
Oh, General, she thought. I hope you are ready for them.
“We’re going to die,” Marenqo whispered in dread. His fear wasn’t feigned. She could smell it from all of them.
Mieshi put her hand on his shoulder, trying to exude confidence and the honey-sweet smell of hope.
They watched as the dragons lumbered overhead. Even the Qiangdao crossing the courtyard seemed afraid of them. They glanced up in worry, as if afraid one of them might come swoop down to snatch a man in its jaws.
But the dragons weren’t interested in this prey. They flew away from the palace, heading toward the bay where the ships had come. Soon they were all gone, the sky blue once again, but Bingmei didn’t feel a twinge of relief. The monsters had flown off to attack the army that had come because of her. Lives would be lost, and the dead would be trapped in the maze of the Grave Kingdom. Unless that door could be opened once more.
But she’d done what needed doing. It had begun. The balance was shifting, its chains groaning with the weight of the ages. Bingmei started forward again. It was not the time for running. It was time to face her enemy. She sensed the Phoenix Blade caged within the Hall of Memory. It sang to her. It summoned her.
Go.
She felt the whisper from the phoenix. If her friends came with her, they would all die. She felt the certainty sink inside her bones.
I will, she answered immediately, her heart wanting to respond, to accept whatever fate lay before her.
“Go free Rowen,” she told the others. “Get him out of here.”
“What are you going to do?” Mieshi asked worriedly.
“What I must,” she responded, unfurling the invisible wings on her back.
The dragons were gone. All but the darkest of dragons, the dragon of smoke and shadow. In that crowd of menace she hadn’t seen the beast with the glowing yellow eyes.
Bingmei handed the staff to Marenqo and then soared into the air, headed for the Hall of Memory. As she flew over the carving of two dragons facing off over an orb, she remembered what the carving had looked like when she’d visited the future version of Fusang. It had been changed to a phoenix fighting a dragon. The hope of victory lifted her higher. She still didn’t know how it would happen, or if she’d made the decisions that would ensure it did happen, but she knew one thing.
The time had come.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Death’s Sting
Even through the thick meiwood doors, Bingmei could smell the stench of him, the horrible essence of a man who had committed unspeakable acts far beyond the lifespan of any ordinary mortal. But something new festered in the smell: fear. It wafted through the doors as Bingmei approached.
A huge golden lock was affixed to the doors, preventing anyone from entering. It had not been there before. She quickly found the glyph carved into it—the Immortal Word for “locked”: Suo.
Bingmei stared at the word, wondering why he had locked himself inside during an important battle. But the answer was obvious. He was in a weakened state. He didn’t trust his own ensign of dragons or his servants. And he especially did not trust Xisi.
Fear and doubt wrestled inside Bingmei. She was young and had not fared well in her previous battles with Echion, but she had been chosen anyway. And so she steeled herself to confront him. The Phoenix Blade was inside that chamber, and it belonged to her.
These doors belong to you. Open them.
The faint whisper in her heart compelled her forward. She raised her hand and traced the glyph Kai in front of the word Suo. The two words together created the Immortal Word for unlocking that which
