Authors: Cindy. Pon
Silver Phoenix (25 page)
S I LV E R P H O E N I X
She saw Chen Yong grab Li Rong by the arms and drag him away from the writhing beast. The serpent’s tail whipped toward her like an angry eel, knocking her off her feet.
Li Rong raced to Ai Ling, pulling her back. The demon lunged at Chen Yong. But he twisted out of the way. Chen Yong jumped forward and sank his sword into the thick body, right below its human face. The demon hissed and bucked as blood the color of pitch fl owed from the wound.
Chen Yong withdrew his sword and attacked again with a wide swing, and more of the thick ooze erupted as the head tottered on its thick coil. The demon shrieked in the throes of death, its mouth a red slash, the dark tongue lolling out.
Chen Yong raised his sword again, and the head thumped down at his feet. Dark blood splattered across the dirt.
The shrieking stopped, but a faint ghost ring reverberated through the night. The thing convulsed violently before becoming still. Ai Ling’s throat felt thick from the raw, potent scent of blood.
Chen Yong wiped his sword on the scales of the dead beast, smearing the brilliant red corpse with its own black blood. He turned to the fire and tossed the wood he had collected earlier that night into it. The flames leaped, illuminating the grisly scene. The serpent’s body stretched out the length of at least five men, its width as thick as a man’s torso. The powerful head with the porcelain face lay inert now, in a pool of black. The face was almost beautiful, if not for the forked tongue that hung limply from its mouth.
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“The heavens help me,” Li Rong choked out.
“What in the underworld happened?” Chen Yong asked.
“We were flirting. And kissed a little. Then she started moving lower . . .” He threw an embarrassed glance toward Ai Ling. She managed to keep her expression blank. “And the next thing I knew, there was a monster between my legs!”
Chen Yong snorted. “That’ll teach you to keep your bird to yourself.”
Li Rong’s mouth dropped. He closed it, then opened it again, like a gaping fish out of water. She looked from Chen Yong’s stern expression to Li Rong’s look of incredulity, and burst into laughter. She bent over and laughed until the tears ran down her cheeks. The two brothers joined in, and soon the night rang with their hysterical merriment.
Li Rong grinned at her sheepishly. “This would never have happened if you had accepted my affections in the fi rst place, Ai Ling.”
She threw her hands up in the air. “Don’t blame your failed romantic pursuits on me,” she said. “You’d be her evening snack if it weren’t for us!”
“You certainly know how to choose them,” Chen Yong said.
“When do women turn into serpents but in the old ghost tales?” Li Rong managed to look even more chagrined.
“Lao Pan tried to warn me,” Ai Ling said, barely above a whisper. “Perhaps the demons and monsters in
The Book of the
Dead
exist after all.”
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Li Rong shook his head. “I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen her change shape before me.”
“There isn’t much I wouldn’t believe after what I’ve encountered these past few days,” Chen Yong said, his sword still drawn.
They stood in silence, each staring at the carcass of the serpent demon. Then slowly, the crimson scales grew darker until they became ebony in color. The monstrous form collapsed on itself in a plume of black ash, leaving an outline of its length on the dirt. Ai Ling shuddered. They could have died this evening.
Something silver glittered in the ash. Her dagger. The blade was pristine, as if she’d never thrust it into the serpent demon’s neck. She slid the dagger back into its sheath, saying a small prayer of gratitude to Master Tan and Lao Pan.
“The hilt glowed while it was in the serpent,” Chen Yong said.
Ai Ling felt the excitement drain from her limbs. “I tried to remove it to stab her again, but I couldn’t pull it out.”
“Lao Pan’s blessings seem to have taken,” Chen Yong said.
“And thank the heavens for that,” Li Rong added. “I will raise a cup of wine to you the fi rst chance I get, wise seer.”
“You should thank Ai Ling fi rst,” Chen Yong said.
Li Rong dropped to both knees, his hands outstretched toward her. “You saved my life, beautiful lady.”
Ai Ling collapsed near the campfire. “It was probably my 135
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fault anyway.” She rested her chin in her hand and stared into the fl ames.
“How so?” Li Rong asked.
“These demons seem drawn to me. There have been too many attacks—and I’m always the target.” She wanted to articulate her jumbled thoughts better, but her tongue would not cooperate.
“But she attacked me, not you.” Li Rong rose and sat down beside her. “I only jested when I blamed you earlier, Ai Ling.”
She tried to smile, but could not manage it. “What if . . .
the demons are targeting my friends now?”
Chen Yong placed a light hand on her shoulder, nearly causing her to jump to her feet. “Rest, both of you. I’ll keep watch until light breaks.”
“You need sleep, too, old brother.” But Li Rong must have recognized the expression on his brother’s face, for he made no further protests and crawled under his blanket.
Ai Ling did the same. Sleep claimed her sooner than she expected, even as the image of the powerful serpent with a beautiful face haunted her.
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Ai Ling woke before daybreak, stirred by violent dreams.
It was as if she hadn’t slept at all. Feng was gone. Li Rong paced in frustration, pounding a hard fist in one hand. “I should have noticed last night. He must have been frightened out of his mind to bolt like that.”
“You wouldn’t have been able to find him in the dark. Let’s search now,” Chen Yong said.
The trio walked in wide circles, among the trees and along the path, calling Feng’s name, but to no avail. Li Rong’s shoulders sagged, his usual jaunty manner gone.
“He’s a smart beast. Someone will find and take care of him.” Chen Yong patted Li Rong on the back.
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They ate their morning meal of salted pork, dried banana, and biscuits, accompanied by hot tea, in near silence.
Chen Yong pulled out Master Tan’s map, which he had tucked in his knapsack, one finger tracing lines across the parchment. “We’ll need to continue through the Sentinels’
Grove to Bai Yun Peak. It isn’t a tall peak, and it offers the shortest path to the Palace.”
Ai Ling’s legs quivered at the thought of climbing a mountain, no matter how small. Chen Yong rolled up the parchment and met her gaze. The skin under his eyes was dark, as if faintly smudged with soot. Weariness from travel had sharpened his features, making his amber eyes deeper set, his jaw line and cheekbones more defined. She blinked and half turned, embarrassed, when she realized she was staring.
Ai Ling scuffled behind her companions, forcing her sore legs to move, dragging her blistered feet. The sun was mer-ciless. Each step brought her closer to the Palace, she told herself, and Father. She refused to ask for rest, willing herself to keep up. Finally, Chen Yong turned and stopped. The air hung still around them. Even the birds were too hot to sing. She took the opportunity to gulp down a few mouthfuls of water from her flask—it too was warm. She made a face.
“Do you want to rest?” Chen Yong asked.
Ai Ling shook her head, but something in her expression betrayed her misery.
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“We’re but a few hours walk from Sentinels’ Grove. It’ll be much cooler there,” Chen Yong said. “We can make camp early tonight.”
“Goddess of Mercy, what I wouldn’t pay for a sedan to tote me along this very moment,” Li Rong said, his face mottled from the heat. “With two women fanning me with palm leaves and another—”
“Save your breath, little brother,” Chen Yong said.
Ai Ling giggled and surprised herself, amazed she had the energy.
They walked on. Finally, she saw tall shapes ahead—
bamboo towering above them. They followed the path as it narrowed into the grove. A hush, punctuated only by the occasional twitter of unseen birds, fell over them when they entered the forest.