Curse of Witch and War

by Matt Larkin

  Calon narrowed her eyes, then shook her head. “I have a duty to my House, to my husband. We have the chance to make House Soma great.”

  So that was it. Politics. Damn her. She’d let her obsession with enhancing her earthly status make her turn to unearthly powers.

  And the woman had not heard a single word Tanjung had said. She never listened, did she? If Tanjung turned her back now, Calon’s quest—whatever it was she thought she was doing—would just continue to spiral out of control. Bukit, Swarnadvipa, the whole Lunar Empire would be caught up in the maelstrom Calon was creating. And nothing would ever be the same. Tanjung couldn’t physically stop Calon from using sorcery—and she’d been a fool to ever teach the girl—but if she could not dissuade Calon from further playing with Kahyangan, perhaps her only hope was to control the witchcraft.

  Control. The whisper made her cringe. Was it her mother? Chandra, she truly wanted to believe it. But sometimes, times like these, she wondered if she heard spirits talking to her from Kahyangan. An old witch had told her once that the veil between worlds was thinner in some places than others. That spirits waited, watching the Earth just beyond the realms mankind could see, looking for an opening. And some spirits might be beneficent, but many others were far from it.

  “Do not do anything else without me,” Tanjung said, forcing as much iron as she could muster into her voice. “Go back to your husband and try to control this Malin as best you can. And when we call any more spirits, we will be taking weak ones, not middlings as you call them.”

  “Tanjung, you should be happy—”

  “Go home, Calon!” she commanded.

  Tanjung spun, turning her back on her friend, and hurried across the slick stones toward the opposite side. Her heart was pounding against her chest and the voices at the edge of her awareness had become a cacophony, until it was impossible to make out any single word. As soon as she hit solid ground she broke into a run and dashed from the gardens back toward the palace.

  Trembling, she burst through the main doors and straight into her new husband.

  Sidapaksa swept her up in an embrace and held her close. “Playing out in the rain? Good way to catch a chill.”

  The power is there.

  She shut her eyes, wishing she could shut her ears. Tanjung laid her head against Sid’s muscular chest. The man was beautiful, with a clean-shaven face and bright eyes filled with a perpetual hint of mischief. He was everything she could have ever wanted in a man.

  Heedless of the servants watching, Tanjung kissed him, then bit down on his lip hard enough he lifted her off her feet, pulling her closer. And if he took her to his bed now, maybe it would be enough for her to forget the things she had unleashed.

  “I love you,” she said.

  Sidapaksa swept her up in his arms and carried her toward his chamber, paying no mind to a few servants who chuckled. He had carried her like this when they were wed some weeks back. It was perfect. It was all she needed to forget.

  Almost.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Beast.

  Hunt.

  Kill.

  Malin’s whole body trembled under the onslaught against his soul. How long had it been? A week’s travel south, perhaps. Longer? Hard to tell. Hard to say what thoughts were his own. What thoughts were its thoughts.

  Blood.

  Meat.

  He shook himself and shivered in the downpour, though not from cold. The moon was coming up. He could feel it. Offering him release, the chance to run. Run! Hunt, kill, mate. Malin growled at himself. No! He would not take another wife. He was Tioman’s, only Tioman’s. He had promised himself to her forever. They had planned to start a family and now …

  Mate.

  Crouched low in the mud, he snarled at the sky. Mere moments until the burning sun set. Until the moonrise freed him. Free to beast. He would beast. He needed beast. His fingers dug trenches in the mud.

  “Sweet Chandra,” Ketu said from behind him. “What have you done to this man?”

  “We’ve made a weapon,” Calon said.

  “You’ve made a lunatic,” Ketu answered. Ketu. House Soma. Married to Simhika, Calon’s cousin. And he claimed Rahu was his brother. But he wasn’t. Rahu was as foreign as Malin. Smelled wrong. A trick, a trick.

  Malin didn’t care about tricks.

  Calon patted him on the head like some dog, though he remained in human form. Not a dog. Oh, he could smell her. Sweet, succulent. He’d flip her over and fuck her brains out. Her and Ketu’s wife Simhika, too. They’d have so many cubs … he … cubs? No! He was a man. He loved Tioman.

  This thing inside was ripping him in half. It tore at his brain and savaged his soul and soon only it would remain.

  Malin rose to his full height, looked down into Calon’s eyes. Her pupils dilated when she must have realized what he wanted.

  “Malin,” Rahu said.

  Their leader. Malin spun on him and his rage cooled for a brief instant under Rahu’s steady gaze.

  Four Moon Scions. Two not-brothers and their wives. And Malin, their pet.

  Rahu pointed to the hill lands in the south. “It’s time to see just what you can do. Up on the tallest hill lies the palace of House Shravana. Enemies of our House, Malin. They burned our palace to the ground, destroyed our home. We seek justice. Go to their palace and kill them.”

  Kill.

  An entire House? So many people. He was not a murderer … Oh. He was a murderer. He had killed many people. He’d killed pirates preying on Balituk’s ship when he was but a teenager, in another lifetime. That was why the man had taken him on. Because Malin was just so damn good at killing.

  Kill!

  “Wait,” Ketu said. “Young children … spare any children.”

  “We cannot leave any survivors of that House,” Rahu said.

  Ketu shook his head. He smelled … afraid? Concerned? Guilty. “I don’t want them killed, Rahu.”

  Rahu grunted, then turned toward Malin. “Fine. Destroy the adults, Malin. All of them. We will be right behind you if you need help.”

  “Kill …”

  “Yes. Kill.”

  Malin’s heart surged in his chest. He didn’t want to … He had to kill!

  The moon rose.

  Malin dropped to his knees and roared. Bones popped and fur sprouted across his body. Hands became claws. Man became tiger. When the transformation was done he panted, then roared again, this time the sound echoing through the rainforest.

  Villagers below stared off into the night. No doubt wondering why a tiger should draw so near their settlement. In a low crouch, Malin stalked toward the palace on the hill.

  A single bound carried him to the eave of the lowest saddle roof. It creaked under his weight, tiles cracking. But his balance was perfect. He stalked forward, then peered into the inner courtyard. Men and women sat around a fishpond there, talking.

  Oblivious to the hunter.

  Death.

  A great leap launched him forward. His weight and momentum slammed a man to the ground. Malin bit out the dazed man’s throat before the others could even scream.

  A woman shrieked and ran for the doorway leading into the palace. Malin jumped into a tree and kicked off it, landing in front of his fleeing prey. A single swipe of his claws disemboweled her. Another human ran at him, keris knife ready. Superhuman speed.

  Moon Scion.

  Malin ducked his swipe and dodged away. His prey faltered, as if shocked a tiger would use such tactics. Malin jumped over the human and raked him with his back claws as he leapt forward. He landed in a sprint and dashed inside the palace itself, keeping to shadows.

  Kill.

  At long last he was free.

  From the shadows he brought down a pair of guards who never saw him coming. Around the corner, another Moon Scion rushed him. Malin jumped to a wall, kicked off it, and landed behind the Scion. His claws hamstrung the fool. Malin bit him, jaws crunching down on the man’s windpipe. Hot blood squirted over his face a
nd down his throat. The copper tang of life itself empowered him. More! His jaws closed tighter. Whiskers felt it as the man’s pulse dimmed.

  Room by room, corridor by corridor, he stalked. Children ran screaming. Small animals. Malin’s shoulders jerked from an involuntary reflex to chase fleeing prey. No! Not them. Not them. Not …

  Before he could stop himself he’d leapt atop a boy and ripped him to shreds. Blood and guts caked him, soaked his fur. Then he coughed. What had he done?

  Tiger!

  Hunt. Kill. Mate. Eat.

  Ragged breaths escaped him. Feed! He needed to feed on his prey. So many dead. Waiting to fill his gut.

  And then he would truly be an animal.

  He was a disgusting beast. Malin forced himself to run from the corpses, to run to a corner, an empty room. His future? Was this all he’d be now?

  Power. He’d wanted power. But this wasn’t even his power. The tiger roared as Malin pushed against it, grappled it. Its rage threatened to devour his soul. In his mind he wrestled the tiger itself, beating it down until at last his form began to shift again. Bones snapped back into place and Malin collapsed to the floor, stung by the pain of numerous small cuts. Compounded by the pain of the shift.

  Harimau Jadian.

  And he had become like a demon of Rangda’s frozen underworld.

  A tiger demon. There was no man left, was there? Malin stumbled from the room only to be charged by a guard wielding a yantok—toyak, they called them here. Malin dodged the strike with ease, muscles still moving faster than a human. He caught the man’s arm and throat and squeezed. Squeezed until the human stopped moving.

  When the prey was still, Malin realized he’d hefted it by the throat with only one hand. Crushed the life from it with one hand. The tiger demon was still in him. It was him.

  Grunting in disgust, Malin tossed the corpse aside. At least he no longer wanted to eat the body. Not much, anyway. And still, still he craved blood. It covered his naked form, painted him red and slick. So all could see him for the horror he was. And still it demanded more blood.

  This was his legacy. He had started his career with the blood of pirates. Now he’d reach its climax with the blood of innocent and warrior alike. Because he was a demon.

  And the demon stalked through the palace, continuing its rampage. Dimly, Malin saw Ketu and Rahu rounding up children. Hostages? The demon didn’t care. A woman tried to run. A single bound carried him to her. Malin grabbed her hair and slammed her head against a wall, punching right through the wood and splattering her brains.

  More and more. Guards. Scions. Cooks. Maids. The old. The young.

  He hadn’t even realized he’d resumed his tiger form until he felt claws ripping through a man. Malin wanted to weep. But demons did not cry. Demons killed.

  The whole palace floor had become slick with blood and gore. But nothing moved. Nothing but Rahu and Ketu.

  Malin collapsed in the courtyard, suddenly forced back into his human form. The tiger shrank away as the first rays of dawn snuck out. And finally, finally Malin could weep. Hukluban should have devoured his soul. He should have died on that ship with Tioman. His life had become a mockery, a nightmare.

  Limbs shaking with exhaustion, he crawled to the pond and sunk into it. Could he end it here, now, in these shallow waters? Malin held himself underwater and opened his mouth. Choking fluid gushed down his throat and reflex took over, forcing him to sit up. Fits of coughing expelled the water.

  Couldn’t even kill himself.

  In sunlight, the full horror of his crimes was illuminated.

  This garden was filled with death.

  That was Malin’s legacy.

  All a part of his mother’s curse? Much as he wanted to believe he had denied fate, was this the true horror she had wished upon him all along? Had he run from destiny only to crash headlong into it?

  His stomach clenched, and Malin bent over and retched, vomited until his stomach was empty. He crawled a few paces then fell into dry heaves. What had he done? What had he become?

  “Mother, please,” he moaned. “Please …”

  Tears streamed down his cheeks, mixing with the blood on his lips. He didn’t want to be this. It wasn’t what he meant. “I’m sorry.”

  And no one listened. No one ever listened.

  And the horror he felt now … It would go.

  One day, only the tiger would remain.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  By the grace of Chandra, Tanjung had not been forced to bear witness to the massacre in Bukit. But she had heard the tale a half dozen times before she even reached the capital. House Soma had come in and destroyed House Shravana in a single night. One of the four strongest Houses in the Lunar Empire, wiped out before it could muster a defense. Wiped out by Calon’s husband, Rahu.

  Except Tanjung knew damn well what had let him do so. The Harimau Jadian had done exactly as they had meant for it to do. No one had been prepared for a weretiger. Given time, the Moon Scions might have worked together and brought him down. But Jadian hadn’t walked in the Skyfall Isles since ancient times and no one was prepared. It’s why weremonkeys would have made such perfect assets. And Calon’s foolish hubris had ruined that.

  And now the spirit had done its work, and they would be left to bask in the aftermath. Malin had slaughtered men and women and even some children. Calon thought to make a race of these monsters?

  Call them.

  Tanjung grimaced at the voices. “Is that what you want? More breaches into Kahyangan?” Sweet Chandra, it was, wasn’t it? Perhaps her mother’s blood let her hear beyond the veil, but maybe it had never been her mother calling her. The spirits wanted her to call them, to let them loose upon the Earth. And like a scared little girl, desperate for a mother, she’d delved deeper and deeper into hidden truths, dragging Calon and Simhika along with her.

  She shut her eyes, trying not to think of such things. The rains had abated for the moment, but Tanjung could feel them waiting. There would be a heavy downpour this afternoon.

  House Soma had only a handful of servants and they were hard at work, washing the blood out of Palace Shravana as Tanjung approached. Vile job. Rahu should have burned the palace to the ground, as had been done to House Soma’s palace up north.

  Calon stood nearby, watching the work with folded arms. Her expression could have been pride in what her witchcraft had wrought, but Tanjung preferred to think her friend was concerned. Tanjung sure as Rangda’s icy grasp was. She wanted to tell herself this wasn’t her fault. She’d been a child when she began toying with sorcery, and a child when she introduced Calon to it. Oh, and toying was the word, wasn’t it? She had played with magic like it was a game. But like everything else born of Kahyangan, it was alien and powerful, and, ultimately, beyond human comprehension. A witch had told her once that all magic corrupted a human user. Tanjung had thought the woman just weak, afraid. Tanjung had been a fool. Sorcery had slithered inside Calon and twisted her soul into knots. And what of her own soul? She liked to believe her mother’s blood protected her.

  “Why clean this place?” Tanjung asked when she reached Calon.

  Calon started, then offered a small bow of respect. “I’m glad you’re here. We need the support.”

  Tanjung looked pointedly at Palace Shravana. Her presence here was not meant to symbolize House Janggala’s support of this, but some would take it as that. She never seemed able to escape politics.

  “Rahu thinks to repurpose it, to call it the Hill Palace. It will be a symbol of House Soma supplanting House Shravana.”

  One of the greatest Houses in Lunar lands was going to be replaced by a House with only four Moon Scions? “How do you plan to …” Tanjung shook her head. “Chandra’s dark side, Calon! After all this, you’re still thinking of making more of these monsters?”

  “The Harimau Jadian are our greatest asset. With them we can build our House. Rahu!” Calon shouted the last at her husband, who supervised the workers some distance away.


  He turned at her call and climbed down the hill toward where they stood. The only other time Tanjung had seen the man he’d had hair long as any woman. Now he’d cut it short in the manner of most Lunar warriors. There was something off about Rahu, and Tanjung couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. The voices in her head whispered whenever she saw him, whispered about a man who did not belong here.

  Stranger.

  “Satisfied?” Tanjung asked the Lord of House Soma when he drew near.

  “With the Harimau Jadian?” Rahu nodded, a faraway look on his face. “They will do. We’ll need an army of them, of course. I’m a little concerned about Malin, though. He seems … unwell.”

  “Of course he’s unwell,” Tanjung snapped. “His own mind and soul war with a spirit possessing his body. He just brutally killed dozens of people. Have you even begun to consider the toll all this will take on the man?”

  Rahu stroked his goatee, then shook his head. “Malin volunteered for this.”

  Tanjung raised an eyebrow. She sincerely doubted the foreigner had any idea what he’d been agreeing to.

  “And our point had to be decisive. We have to win over the Lunars without question.”

  Much as she hated both the action and the means behind, Tanjung could at least acquiesce that—if it was to be done, it was best done quickly. Maybe the other Lunar Houses would not now challenge House Soma and … Tanjung hesitated at the way Rahu was staring not at the palace, but over all Bukit.

  “This isn’t going to end here, is it?” she asked after a moment.

  Rahu shook his head, then pointed toward the harbor, or, perhaps beyond it to the South Sea. “Out there, on Puradvipa, the Lunars are handing over the Astral Temple. Letting the Solars take another year of custodianship. The birthright of all Lunars, in Solar hands. Is that acceptable? After all, they let our people guard it every other year. Yes, let us. Because while Lunars remain in isolation on Swarnadvipa and a handful of islands around it, the Solars spread, their power growing and growing. And here we sit, fighting petty squabbles among our own Houses. How long before the Solars no longer believe they have to grant us any special treatment?”