ALSO BY JEFF WHEELER
Nonfiction
Your First Million Words
The Grave Kingdom Series
The Killing Fog
The Buried World
The Immortal Words
The Harbinger Series
Storm Glass
Mirror Gate
Iron Garland
Prism Cloud
Broken Veil
The Kingfountain Series
The Poisoner’s Enemy (prequel)
The Maid’s War (prequel)
The Poisoner’s Revenge (prequel)
The Queen’s Poisoner
The Thief’s Daughter
The King’s Traitor
The Hollow Crown
The Silent Shield
The Forsaken Throne
The Legends of Muirwood Trilogy
The Wretched of Muirwood
The Blight of Muirwood
The Scourge of Muirwood
The Covenant of Muirwood Trilogy
The Lost Abbey (novella)
The Banished of Muirwood
The Ciphers of Muirwood
The Void of Muirwood
Whispers from Mirrowen Trilogy
Fireblood
Dryad-Born
Poisonwell
Landmoor Series
Landmoor
Silverkin
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2020 by Jeff Wheeler
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by 47North, Seattle
www.apub.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and 47North are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781542015073
ISBN-10: 1542015073
Cover design by Shasti O’Leary Soudant
To Isabelle
CONTENTS
MAP
GLOSSARY
In warfare nothing...
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
Being deeply loved...
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Love is composed...
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
Coming events cast...
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
A little impatience...
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
A bird does...
CHAPTER FORTY
EPILOGUE
CHARACTERS
AUTHOR’S NOTE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
GLOSSARY
Baobei——term of endearment for a beloved child
Dan——the Immortal Word for protection
Diyu——afterlife of darkness and shadow, ruled by the dragon
Dianxue——a long-rumored skill of rendering killing/paralyzing blows by touch
Dongxue——series of caves where the Qiangdao had hidden
Ensign——a band of trained warriors for hire
Hongshui——flood
Jingcha——the police force in Sajinau
Li——an approximate unit of measurement, less than a mile, used to estimate
Meiwood——rosewood, a hardwood used for magic and construction
Mudi——the garden of bones beyond the Death Wall
Namibu Desert——a coastal desert far to the south
Ni-ji-jing——killer whale
Qiangdao——roving bandits
Qiezei——a thief, cat burglar, picklock; professional criminal
Quonsuun——a temple, fighting school
Shijian——the Immortal Word controlling the concept of time
Shu——the glyph that protects one from the killing fog
Sudu——the Immortal Word for speed
Taidu——one’s attitude, demeanor, bearing
Taoqi——disobedient child
Tian——the afterlife of light, ruled by the phoenix
Tianshi——angelic beings from the Grave Kingdom
Tianxia——the mortal world
Weili——the Immortal Word for might
Wenming——culture, civilization
Woliu——the vortex separating the Grave Kingdom from the mortal world
Wuxing——the Immortal Word for the unseen, invisible
Xidan——port town on trade route to Namibu Desert
Xieyi——the Immortal Word that forms a formal pact, agreement, a sealed bond
Xixuegui——the undead
Yongqi——the Immortal Word for valor
Zhu——the Immortal Word for death (a dianxue glyph)
In warfare nothing is too dishonest.
—Dawanjir proverb
PROLOGUE
The Last Sunrise
General Tzu knew they would lose. There really hadn’t been much of a hope for victory anyway. The sky roiled with smoky fumes, and a bloodred sun had ascended over the expanse of the Death Wall. At least the darkness had lifted and they could see the rubble in the shattered streets of Sihui. The dragon had, perhaps, wished to show them their doom. The general knew another attack would come soon. And this one would spell the end of Zhumu’s reign. After he fell, only three independent kingdoms would be left. Or had some of them already fallen? They’d received no outside news since the first day of the attack.
One of his underlings approached hastily, soot sticking to the sweat on his brow.
“General, the third bridge has fallen,” he said with panic in his voice. “It crumbled into the river during the night.”
“Draw our forces back to the final bridge,” General Tzu replied coolly. “That is where we will make our final stand.”
“But will it be enough?” asked the desperate underling. “Can we hold back the Dragon of Night’s army?”
“Oh, we will,” the general replied with bravado. “We will hold it with every last man. Today is the day that Echion’s army will retreat. I’ve received reports that some of his ships are full of disease. Yes, we will win this day. Gather to the final bridge.”
The man’s face brightened. “We’ve nearly won?”
“One last push,” General Tzu said confidently. “We’ve lasted this long. It’s almost over.”
“Thank you, General! Thank you! I’d nearly g
iven up hope.”
General Tzu clapped the man on his armored shoulder and turned to walk to the palace. Everything he’d told the man was a reassuring lie. Under Echion’s rule, the Qiangdao were more united than they had ever been, and they were chafing with impatience to loot Sihui. Just as he’d done in the other kingdoms, Echion would choose loyal governors to administer the Iron Rules once Sihui fell. King Zhumu would be executed. His daughter had already been abducted and spirited away to the dragon’s palace at Fusang. An ensign had been sent to free her and the phoenix-chosen, Bingmei, but no word had ever returned. General Tzu might lie to his troops to bolster their morale and courage, but he’d not lie to himself. Bingmei and the rest had probably died before they completed their mission. Which meant there was absolutely no chance of victory at all. Sihui would be destroyed like the other kingdoms. And there wasn’t anything in the world he could do to stop it from happening.
As the general rounded the corner of the rubble-strewn street, he saw the palace ahead and dreaded the news he would bring Zhumu. Clenching his fists as he walked, he thought about the defense of Sihui and was amazed they had lasted as long as they had.
All winter, he had prepared for the siege. He’d allowed his countrymen to be practically enslaved so they might build the complicated, layered bridges that were central to his plan. He’d hoped they would repel the huge ships Echion had used to destroy his people at Sajinau. In the end, Echion himself had arrived in the form of a giant dragon made of smoke. He’d tried to snatch General Tzu with his claws, but Bingmei had shouted a warning just in time. The general had jumped into the water moments before the great dragon opened its maw and spewed an impenetrable darkness. For three days, the entire city lay under a shroud so dark that not even a single flame could be lit.
The darkness had caused terror and despair. It had blinded the Eagle Throne. And that was when General Tzu realized the reason for it—Echion was planning to attack from the rear, not from the sea. Despite the darkness, the general had marshaled his defenders to the swamps behind Sihui and hidden them in the woods. He’d put fake armor on ordinary citizens and sent them to man the bridges. If he had guessed wrong, they would all have died.
But when the darkness had finally lifted, the army of Qiangdao was spotted coming in from behind. His troops lay in wait for them and ambushed them when they reached the river. It was a slaughter on both sides, but his strategy had worked, and they’d sent the invaders fleeing into the wild.
On the second day of battle, the killing fog came.
But General Tzu had already learned one of the fog’s secrets from Muxidi, a Qiangdao who had shifted his allegiance. In battling the first round of invaders, the general’s men had discovered sigils written in blood on their backs. It was this sigil that protected them from the fog. General Tzu had ensured every soldier and citizen had the mark before the next attack. On his instructions, his soldiers had dropped to the ground, one by one, as the fog touched them, pretending it had done its evil work. But that trick could likely only be used once, for Echion could change the sigil and had done so in the past.
When the Qiangdao arrived on their ships and began to enter the streets, General Tzu gave the command to fight. The dead sprang to life and attacked, surprising Echion’s army and winning the day.
The taste of victory was sweet. But General Tzu had known even then that each day would bring its own challenges. Past success meant nothing about the future. While the armies of Sihui rejoiced, he paced and worried. His concern was well founded.
The enemy wasn’t disheartened at all. In fact, they were enraged. The next day, they attacked on both sides at once. The first bridge came down, and the second crumpled quickly thereafter, opening one side of the river. All the survivors had been evacuated to the palace side of the river, but many innocents had perished due to the brutality of the Qiangdao.
General Tzu had been wounded on his thigh during the fighting that day, a wound that still grieved him days later. He felt it now, in particular, as he arrived at the palace. The building swarmed with soldiers and townsfolk. People shouted at him, demanding answers, the fear in their voices scraping down his spine. Guards with spears pushed the swelling crowds back, allowing him to pass.
The captain of the palace guard, Captain Shan, reached him through the masses. “What news, General?” he asked. The rust of blood was still on his armor. He was a huge man, one of the strongest in the city, and had joined in the fighting at critical moments.
“We’ve lost the third bridge,” General Tzu said curtly.
Captain Shan’s face darkened. “Is it the end?”
“Hush, man. Too many ears. Bring me to the king. I’ll give you both the news.”
The interior of the palace smelled of sweat and cinders. When General Tzu had first arrived as a refugee, he’d been impressed by the splendor of Sihui’s wealth. But such things mattered very little in the thick of war. Gold couldn’t delay a sword thrust. And silk didn’t mop up blood very well.
When they reached the throne room, he saw Zhumu dressed in his ceremonial armor, a two-handed blade strapped to his back. The usually confident king looked rattled. His eyes were feverish with worry. Despite the crowds elsewhere in the castle, he was alone.
“Well, General?” he asked. “Has there been any word yet? Any word at all from my daughter, Cuifen?”
“None, my king. Getting word through the defenses would be difficult. Do not succumb to fear.”
The king gave him a haughty look. “I already know I’m a dead man, Tzu. But my heart groans for my daughter. I’d rather her drink poison than become one of that foul monster’s concubines.”
General Tzu clasped his hands behind his back. Captain Shan shut the door. “We’re alone. What news, General?”
“Today we fall,” he said solemnly. “I’ve done everything within my power. We’ve lasted longer than any of the other kingdoms. But our fate was assured as soon as Echion revived. We’ve prolonged our fate. But we cannot prevent it.”
Zhumu frowned. The gray streaks in his black beard had become more plentiful in recent days. “I will not concede defeat, General. We must prevail. You must find a way.”
General Tzu’s shoulders sagged. “I have done all that I can do, my lord. It is a simple deduction. If we had banded together all of the kingdoms, as King Shulian had suggested, we would have had ten times the resources. Instead, each kingdom has defended itself. Even with the men I brought from Sajinau, we cannot match the number of soldiers that Echion can throw against us. Right now, I have more wounded men than hale ones. Yet still they fight on, knowing most of them will be executed if we fail.”
“Then we cannot fail!” Zhumu barked.
Captain Shan looked at his king worriedly.
“My lord,” General Tzu said, stepping forward. “There is nothing more I can do but rally the soldiers and defend the city to the last man. This is it. It ends today. When they attack us, we will all die. We cannot leave the city, for they’ve trapped us from behind. Every effort to break through their ranks has killed more men. There is nowhere left to go. Nowhere to hide. We fight and we die in Sihui. Come, my king. Fight with us. It will embolden the men.”
One of the muscles in Zhumu’s cheek twitched. General Tzu stared at the king hard, trying to will him to make the right decision.
And he did.
When the enemy came, they arrived in wave after wave like the surf hammering the rocky shore during a storm. General Tzu watched as his wounded brothers fell and died, taking as many enemies with them as they could. Corpses floated down the river beneath the bridge. The last bridge was the final defense. It prevented the enemy boats from docking directly at the city, forcing the invaders to attack them across its narrow length. There were still attackers striking from the rear of the city, which meant there was no possibility of retreating into the hinterlands. As men died, their bodies were thrown over the walls to clear the path for more warriors. King Zhumu’s sword was streaked in red. H
is presence on the bridge, along with Captain Shan’s, had indeed increased the vigor of the defense. And Zhumu was highly skilled with his sword.
Each rush of Qiangdao had been repulsed, but more kept coming. General Tzu gulped for air. He wondered why Echion hadn’t arrived in person. Every day, they would all look to the skies in fear, wondering if the Dragon of Night would return to lay waste. He dreaded that moment, knowing it would herald his death. Or, worse, he would be compelled to serve the monster.
Screams of rage sounded as another rush of enemy soldiers stormed up the bridge. General Tzu watched as Captain Shan met them himself, battering them back with a meiwood glaive. The Qiangdao who made it past him were cut down by King Zhumu, who led the surviving guards. An enemy struck Captain Shan in the leg, and General Tzu watched the big man sag to one knee, still fighting. They battered his helmet and shoulder armor, shrieking in glee as their enemy foundered. General Tzu rushed forward, ignoring his own injury, and invoked the power of his meiwood weapon. They needn’t fear the killing fog—each of them still wore the protective word. The sword lifted out of his hand, spinning on its own and attacking those who crowded around Shan. King Zhumu attacked, slicing through armor, causing death with every stroke as he fought to free his honored captain from the Qiangdao.
This is it, General Tzu realized, holding out his hand. The hilt of his weapon came flying back into it as if bound by an invisible rope. This is the end. He could feel the ridges and swirls of the glyphs under his fingers, and it struck him that he had never known, and would never know, what they meant. Were they some archaic words from a dead language?
The general’s mind was sluggish with fatigue. An enemy rushed at him, and General Tzu dodged to the side, bringing up his blade and disarming the fellow in one move. The man howled in pain, backing away.
The only laws Echion cared about were the Iron Rules. The ones that he had deemed fit for the people. Surely there were better laws. More just ones. King Shulian had been a just king. His laws were merciful. But where had that gotten him?
“General! General! Look!”
He turned around, seeing a soldier pointing downriver. Dread licked up his spine. Were the ships finally coming, then? He forced himself to look. Haze obscured his vision. Sweat stung his eyes. He wiped a gloved hand across his face, trying to understand what he was seeing.