She limped to the rear of the chariot and started to push with all the strength of the one arm. The chariot was heavy for the Anatomist’s slight frame, and he could not run fast with the bad leg, but the large wheels sped up quickly, and very soon she was struggling to keep up.
The contraption raced off the edge of the landing and hovered for one frightening heartbeat. Ai Ling whispered a prayer, seeking aid from the Goddess of Mercy. And then a small breeze caught it and the chariot began to drift. The sound of the fifth gong echoed through the valley.
Chen Yong crouched over her body, a hand on her shoulder as if to keep her steady in the slightly rocking chariot. But his eyes were locked on the Anatomist. She needed to return to her body. A breeze swept through the valley and buffeted the chariot higher, out over a grove of strange fruit trees.
A thick arm snaked around the Anatomist’s neck, dragging him back. “Taking a trip? It is not authorized by the Chief.”
Ai Ling choked. The Anatomist choked. She wasn’t sure anymore. She released her hold on his being, cast herself out, and pulled along the invisible cord, riding a gentle zephyr toward the chariot.
There was a jarring snap, this time so violent she gasped. She gulped in short breaths. The world was dimmer, the colors dulled. But this sight was her own, this mind and this body her own.
“Ai Ling?” Chen Yong leaned over her, the sun catching the dark auburn of his hair. “Drink some water.” He cradled her head and lifted the flask to her mouth and cool spring water splashed on her lips and chin.
“I just need to catch my breath. . . .” Before she could finish, she lunged to the side of the chariot and retched over the edge. She collapsed against the chariot door, her arms draped over the side. Her head spun, and she forced her eyes shut.
The shrill screams of the Anatomist drifted to her on the wind. She opened her eyes to see him slumped against the bulk of Sentry Amber, jabbing a weak finger in their direction, his fury obvious even as the two figures dwindled to pinpricks.
“Will they follow us?” Chen Yong asked.
She shook her head, then immediately regretted it as the world tilted again. “We took the fastest chariot.”
Chen Yong knelt by her, wrapping an arm around her shaking shoulders. “Lie down. You need to rest.”
About twice the length of an individual sedan and oblong in shape, the uncovered chariot held a wide bench at one end lined with plump cushions.
She let herself be led there and laid her head down on a cushion. It smelled of strange and pungent herbs, but she didn’t find it unpleasant. Chen Yong arranged the other cushions and draped a blanket over her. She smiled weakly, but he did not see it.
“The valley has disappeared already,” he said.
“You steer with your destination in mind,” Ai Ling muttered. “That’s how it works.” She shut her eyes and fell into an exhausted sleep.
15
Ai Ling woke to find Chen Yong steering the pivot as if he’d done it many times before. She pulled herself into a sitting position and stretched. Her stomach churned, but her head did not spin like before.
The chariot flew gently above misty peaks. The scenery rushed past them at an unnatural speed—so fast that she could not look for long, even though the chariot itself did not seem to be racing, merely gliding on a soft breeze.
“Before I met you, I would not have thought steering a chariot with my mind possible. But now I think, what do I know?” Chen Yong turned and managed a wan, tired smile. “Are you feeling better? I don’t know how long you slept, but it seemed a long time.”
He sat down next to her and pulled something from his knapsack. “Let’s eat. We need strength.”
Her stomach grumbled. What she would not give for a large bowl of broth with hand-pulled noodles or steamed dumplings or cabbage and braised pork meatballs. . . .
Chen Yong handed her two biscuits and strips of dried squid. She gnawed on the squid, savoring the flavor. She wolfed down the biscuits, despite their stale blandness.
“If only we had some tea.” They spoke at the same time. Their eyes met in surprise, and they laughed.
“It’s good to see you eat. I’d be worried if you ever lost your appetite,” he said, dusting his hands of crumbs.
“Why do I feel like I should take offense to that?” Ai Ling laughed at the uncertain expression that flitted across his handsome features. She rummaged through her own knapsack, careful to keep her face composed, and pulled out an apple. Chen Yong sliced it with a small knife. But she was no longer hungry, and he ate the crisp fruit alone.
“I’ve been thinking of nothing but the Palace while you slept,” Chen Yong said.
“The Palace.” Would she have enough strength to defeat Zhong Ye and save her father?
“It was the destination in my mind as I steered,” he said, scanning the horizon.
The light faded fast, as if the day fled from them. The night deepened and a full moon rose. They discovered the chariot had a strong light in the front, illuminating their way. Ai Ling leaned over to investigate and discovered two round orbs embedded in the woodwork, forming the dragon’s eyes. She touched one eye with cautious fingertips. It was neither cool nor hot.
The interior of the chariot itself had the same orb carved into the woodwork of the floor panel. This light glowed softly and looked like a moon, rising large and full over carved hills and trees.
“Have you ever seen anything like it?” She traced her finger around it.
“The one-armed tribe was known for their mechanical and building skills. That much I remember from The Book of Lands Beyond,” Chen Yong said. There was a short pause in which only the sound of the wind rushing by filled the space around them.
She let out a breath that turned into a small hiss. “You’re right. They are both female and male—it explains their high voices and smooth faces.”
After all they had encountered, this realization still stunned her. They had visited a land, been captured by a people she thought to be story and myth. It was one thing to believe the Immortals were real—but people so different from themselves?
“You saved us,” Chen Yong said in a quiet voice. “What you did was beyond my comprehension. I don’t know how you took control of his body, much less acted like him so convincingly. I wasn’t even sure myself it was you.”
“I did what I had to do. I went into his mind and saw him thinking of . . . experiments he wanted to perform.” She looked down at her hands. She sounded like a monster herself. Some sort of demon. “I think my ability has grown stronger. I’ve seen through the eyes of the undead—the demon that carried your image . . . and the corpse monster . . . I killed it from within.”
“Within?”
“I went inside it to kill it.”
“Mother of the Heavens, I thought you slew it with the blessed dagger. It’s amazing, Ai Ling. It’s frightening. . . .” Chen Yong trailed off.
She clasped her knees to her chest. “I wish I knew more. I just go. I didn’t know I could take over the Anatomist’s body until I tried. I was terrified and couldn’t think of another way to escape.”
She shook her head. “Li Rong was right when he called it spiritual rape,” she whispered, her voice catching.
Chen Yong touched her wrist. Startled by his contact, her skin tingled.
“You saved our lives, Ai Ling. Thank the Goddess for your gift.”
She tried to smile, grateful for his kind words, but could not manage it.
She stood and looked out at the world far below. She could see trees and mountain peaks, lit by the moon—like ink washes she’d done for evening landscapes. The air was cold this high up, and the stars shone and glimmered. Ai Ling pulled on an extra tunic and tucked herself back on the bench, trying to find constellations she was familiar with in the night sky.
She must have drifted to sleep again. The glare of daylight beneath her closed lids roused her. She peered, squinting, and saw Chen Yong still guiding the chariot.