Dragonkeeper 2: Garden of the Purple Dragon (26 page)

“Who did this to you?” Tears were running down her face. She couldn’t speak without sobbing, so she said the words in her mind.

“Bad man,” Kai replied.

She knew who he meant.

There would always be those who sought Kai, whether it was for the properties of his body parts or his value in gold. Her job was to protect him from such greedy people. She had failed. She had believed she and Kai were safe. It hadn’t occurred to her until it was too late that there might be enemies within the walls of Ming Yang Lodge.

A feeling of dread struck Ping. She found it hard to breathe. She felt a prickling sensation on the back of her neck. Someone had come into the room. Someone who meant to harm Kai. She swung around, scanning the dim corners. She couldn’t see anyone. Hua made a sound, a squeal of warning. His fur was standing on end. He reared on his hind legs and launched a spitball. It missed its target, but in the brief flare of fire Ping saw what the rat had seen.

A snake with black and orange markings was slithering across the floor. Kai whimpered. Ping could feel his fear as if it was a solid presence in the room. The snake was more than six feet long and as thick as a man’s arm. It raised its head. It only had one eye. There was a scar where its other eye should have been. The snake’s one yellow eye glinted in the lamplight staring at Hua. The rat froze, his paws were stuck to the floor, and he seemed unable to drag his eyes away from the yellow eye. Ping had seen a similar yellow glint high on the cliff at Twisting Snake Ravine. It had had that same effect on her. The snake turned away from Hua and towards Ping, its forked tongue darting in and out.

The snake started to twist and shimmer. Ping felt her stomach heave as the snake transformed into a cloaked figure with a ginger beard, a tattooed face and a patch over one eye. He was holding a knife in one hand—a kitchen knife like the ones the imperial cooks used to cut up meat. In his other hand was the hacked-off
piece of liver still dripping blood. Ping had seen the necromancer taken away from Ming Yang Lodge in chains. Somehow he had got free and he and the Imperial Magician had banded together.

Without thinking Ping focused her
qi
on a large jar and sent it flying across the room. It hit the necromancer on the head and smashed to pieces. He sagged to his knees with a groan. Ping’s heart leapt. It was the first time she’d felt pleasure at hurting anything. His cloak slipped from his shoulders and she could see that he was wearing a strange vest. It was made up of flat squares of green jade. There were holes in the corners of each square and they were linked with what looked like gold wire. Liu Che had told her about the properties of jade. Important people were buried in suits of jade so that their bodies didn’t decay after they died. The jade shielded the corpses from forces trying to attack them. The jade vest had formed a shield which kept the necromancer hidden from her second sight until she was standing an arm’s-length from him.

Claw-like black fingernails reached out for Kai, just as they had grasped for the dragon stone in Wucheng. She held the dragon tighter and summoned her
qi
power again. Anger burned within her like a pool of molten metal. She had never been so furious in her life. Still on his knees, the necromancer raised the knife ready to throw it. Ping released a burst of
qi
power. The knife leapt from his hand and clanged against the wall behind
him. The tattoo on his face looked more like a tame cat than a fierce wild creature. There was fear in his one eye, instead of the hypnotic glint. Ping felt triumph swell within her.

She moved towards him, rejoicing in the fact that he was on his knees before her. She got ready to strike again. Her foot collided with something. She looked down. It was an arm. In the dim light, she hadn’t seen a body lying on the matting. In the moments that she was distracted, the necromancer picked up a bronze pot and swung it at her, knocking her sideways.

Ping hit the floor. It took a moment or two for her eyes to focus. She recognised the body on the floor. It was Saggypants. His face was white, his eyes wide and staring, but his skin was still warm. The Dragon Attendant’s jacket was pulled open and his saggy trousers slashed to lay bare his belly. His hands were bound above his head and tied to the bench leg. There was a large hole in the right-hand side of his stomach. Dark blood had formed congealed pools on the bamboo matting around him. Ping remembered the liver in the bowl. From the expression on his face, Ping was sure that the Dragon Attendant had still been alive when his liver had been cut out of him.

She retched, but her stomach was empty. Nothing came out but a trickle of yellow bile. Kai was making a high-pitched keening sound. It was a sound of pain, terror and desolation. Ping tried to get up. Barbed metal
discs spun through the air towards her. The barbs just missed her flesh, but pinned her sleeves to the floor so that she couldn’t get up. Her anger changed to fear, her own power had been smothered like a cupped flame.

The necromancer had the threaded needle in his hand. He turned away from her, so she couldn’t see what he was doing. She heard him groan with pain and hoped she’d hurt him. She had to refocus her
qi
while he was distracted, gather together every
shu
of strength and power within her. She wrenched her left arm up from the floor, ripping her sleeve. Then she pulled out the barbed discs that pinned her to the floor. She got to her feet. Ping had never felt such anger. She sent out a bolt of
qi
and it was strong, much stronger than anything she’d been able to summon before. The necromancer staggered when it hit him, but when he turned towards her, a sound like a crackling bark came out of his mouth. It was laughter. Bolt after bolt shot from Ping’s arm. They were useless. Just a few minutes ago, the necromancer had resorted to hitting her with a bronze pot and using barbed discs to disable her. Something had changed. Now power radiated from him like heat from a blazing fire.

She raised her hand again.

“Keep trying,” the necromancer laughed as he moved towards her, the knife was back in his hand. “You won’t be able to bend back my little finger.”

Ping tried anyway. He sucked her strength from her
before she was able to focus it. She couldn’t summon a single bolt
of qi
. His one eye stared at her. She looked away. She had to avoid his stare. She had to escape or she would end up like the unfortunate Dragon Attendant. She couldn’t help Kai if she were dead. What little strength she had left, she used to run to the door and didn’t look back. She ran down corridors, up stairs, turning this way and that in the vain hope that she would lose the necromancer.

She found herself outside the Emperor’s private quarters. It was forbidden to enter without being invited in by the Emperor, but the chambers were almost at the top of Ming Yang hill. There was nowhere else to go. She entered with the smallest hope that Liu Che might be there and would help her.

The lattice doorways leading to the balcony were all closed. The sky was overcast. The lotus patterns of light on the matting were only faint grey. No lamps were lit. The furniture was draped with cloths.

The feeling of dread hit her so hard, it knocked her off her feet. All hope drained from her. She turned around. The necromancer was standing in the doorway, his mouth twisted into a smile that had nothing to do with joy or happiness. Ping shuddered. His one eye glinted at her. It bored into her like a drill. She couldn’t tear her gaze away. She could see deep into his evil souls—and what she saw made her very afraid.

His eye released her, but she still couldn’t get up. All
she could see were the wooden floorboards squashed up against her face. The necromancer was still laughing, relishing his victory over her. He held the knife in front of him.

As she stared at the dark floorboards, something appeared through one of the knot holes. It was so close that she couldn’t get it into focus. Then she saw that it was a trembling pink nose. A set of whiskers followed, then two bright blue eyes and two ears, one with a chunk missing. Hua had recovered and found her. He somehow managed to squeeze his body through the hole. The sight of the rat helped her find a little strength—just a trace, like a drop of water in an empty bucket.

The necromancer walked unhurriedly across the room. He knelt down beside Ping and held the knife blade against her belly. An unlit lamp was the only thing in reach that she could use as a weapon. She grabbed it and struck him on the head. Oil ran into his eyes and onto his cloak. He swung the knife blindly at Ping. She rolled aside, but felt a searing pain as the blade slashed her right arm. There was a flash, followed a moment later by another. Hua was launching his spitballs. The necromancer’s cloak suddenly burst into flame. He let out a howl of pain and fear as the flames flicked up his face. He fought to undo the cloak’s clasp. His cries sounded like music to Ping.

The necromancer flung his burning cloak from him.
Flames spread to a cushion and then to a rug. The fire raced across the bamboo matting faster than a galloping horse. It flared up between Ping and the necromancer. Ping felt a wave of relief. He couldn’t get to her—but the fire also cut off any chance of escape. Through smoke and flames, Ping saw the necromancer turn and stride out of the room.

As she ran out onto the balcony, she could feel the heat on the back of her neck. Tongues of fire were already licking through the latticework of the doors. She looked around frantically. There was no escape. Behind her was the roaring fire. In front was a drop of four
chang
to the courtyard below. Hua clawed his way up the back of her gown. He knew what she had to do. She leapt over the scarlet balustrade. There was no other choice.

Ping fell headfirst. She could hear a tinkling sound over the rush of air. It was the waterfall that tumbled down the hillside into a pool far below. She felt a surge of joy. The pool would break her fall. She looked down. Her relief changed to panic. The pool wasn’t directly below her. She would hit the ground and break her neck. She closed her eyes. Something smacked into her, it wasn’t as hard as earth, but intense pain shot through her chest. She’d fallen into the branches of a willow tree. They didn’t break, but bent beneath her weight.

She reached out and wrapped her arms around as many of the tree’s drooping branches as she could. They slipped through her embrace, but they had
slowed her fall. She grasped hold of one strong willow bough. It didn’t snap; it bent and flexed like a length of rope and took her weight. She used the momentum of her fall to swing out over the pool. Then she let go of the branch.

The slap of the water was painful, but she was more concerned about drowning. She thrashed about in the water trying to keep her head above the surface. She sank down until she bumped against the slippery, algae-covered bottom of the pool. She didn’t allow herself to panic. She remembered how she had floated up through the green waters of the well with Kai. She pushed herself off the bottom and kicked her legs. As she resurfaced, she clutched a strangely-shaped rock that jutted out of the water. Hua swam up to her. She caught her breath and then splashed her way to the edge of the pool.

Ping dragged herself out of the water. Spots of blood were dripping into the pool. Ping ripped a strip from her sleeve and bandaged her arm as best she could with one hand. She had to ignore the pain. She picked up Hua and put him in her gown. Far above her the fire lit up the night sky. Orange flames were engulfing the balustrades of the Emperor’s balcony. She had escaped from the necromancer, but Kai was still inside the blazing lodge.

The pain in Ping’s chest made it difficult to run. She knew a little about the arrangement of bones in a body from butchering goats for Master Lan. One of her ribs had broken in the fall. As she stumbled towards the lower buildings of Ming Yang Lodge, her feet seemed to move in slow motion. Sparks showered down from the fire above. Other buildings had started to burn. If the servants and the imperial guards had been there, they might have been able to control the fire. But the flames were spreading unchecked—to the kitchens, to the
Princess’s chambers. Whichever way Ping turned, the fire kept driving her back. She couldn’t get near the Hall of Peaceful Retreat. The entire lodge, every building, every pavilion, every piece of furniture was made of wood. Like a ravenous monster, the fire devoured everything in its path. Nothing was going to stop it.

Ping’s mind was a chaos of nightmare images—of the dead Dragon Attendant; of the necromancer’s grinning face; of burning buildings; of Kai limp and bleeding.

She couldn’t find the end of the fragile thread that joined her to the dragon. Her second sight searched blindly, but found nothing. Ping felt in her pouch for the shard of dragon stone. It wasn’t there. Her silk pouch had been ripped, probably by the willow branches, and the shard had fallen out. She had only just come to understand its power to focus her mind—and now she’d lost it. She should have kept the sturdy leather pouch that she’d had since Huangling, instead of accepting the flimsy silk one. It was just another mistake to add to the long list of mistakes she’d made. Despair enveloped her like a black shroud.

She had no power over the five elements. She couldn’t fight fire. All she could do was watch the lodge burn. The smoke made her eyes sting; tears streamed down her face. The dawn light revealed a desolate landscape. The imperial chambers were reduced to blackened ruins. Flames still licked and curled around the lower buildings. The trees were bare of all but a
few scorched leaves. The lotus leaves on the ponds had withered. The smoke from the burning buildings had shrivelled the flowers. Not long ago, Ping had wanted the necromancer to die a horrible death, now she was praying he had escaped the fire. It was the only way Kai could have survived.

Ping crawled through the thick, black smoke that threatened to choke her as it had everything that had grown in the garden. She made her way down Ming Yang hill, past Late Spring Villa, until she found herself on the banks of the Yellow River. The river rushed by, eager to get to Ocean, unaware of the devastated lodge or her misery. Its muddy waters were as impenetrable as ever, stretching as far as she could see and giving no clue as to what lay beneath the surface. Ping drank some of the yellowish water and tried to wash the smoke from her eyes.