Curse of Witch and War

by Matt Larkin

  Tanjung frowned and shook her head. “The truce has held for four hundred years. Don’t pretend to make this about the Solars. You feed your own lust for power. Save the propaganda for the masses.”

  Rahu sneered at Tanjung, and even Calon favored her with a withering gaze. Still, it had to be simply because they didn’t like anyone seeing through their facade.

  They both turned then, eyes locked on the ragged, long-haired man who approached. An undeniable energy laced his steps, a walk that promised sex and violence all wrapped in a single man. This had to be Malin.

  “What have you made me into?” Malin demanded. “What have you done?”

  Though she had to fight not to tremble at his rage, it was almost a comfort to see something of the man remained. He had clearly just washed, though some blood remained caked in his hair. His sarong was damp and he wore no shirt, exposing his powerful chest and Maitian tribal tattoos along one arm.

  Rahu held up a placating hand. “Malin, please—”

  “You promised me the chance to change my fate!”

  Oh. Was that what they had offered him? And what did he think his fate was that he would go to such lengths to alter it? Much as Tanjung condemned Calon for what she’d used Malin for, he was … fascinating. Using Tanjung’s knowledge, Calon had deliberately bonded Malin’s soul with that of a Jadian.

  “And we gave it to you,” Rahu said. “Are you not powerful?”

  “I am a demon!”

  A demon? Had Calon put a tainted spirit in this man? Tanjung glanced at her former student, who shook her head, looking confused.

  “Malin—” Calon began.

  “Why?” the Maitian demanded. “Why do this to me? To them?” He pointed at the palace as he shouted the last. “I am cursed! I am damned for what you have made me into!”

  Calon opened her mouth to speak again, but Tanjung put a hand on her shoulder. “Please. Let me talk to him.” Maybe she could fix this. Or at least control the situation.

  “Let her try,” Calon whispered to Rahu.

  Whispering was pointless, of course. Tanjung stood close enough to hear every word, and Malin could probably have heard the whisper if he still waited atop the hill.

  “Who in Rangda’s frozen underworld are you?” Malin demanded.

  “A friend.” Tanjung reached out a hand for Malin, trying not to let it shake. One could not show fear in front of Kahyangan, though there was so much there worth fearing. Moreover, this man needed to feel himself a man, not a demon to be feared.

  Malin looked at the proffered hand a moment before grabbing it in an ironlike grip. He leaned in close to her. “Toy with me, witch … Give me a reason …”

  Tanjung shivered despite herself. He knew she was a witch? Could he smell the touch of Kahyangan on her? It was in him now, too, of course.

  She led him a few steps away and bid him sit down on the grass. “It’s Malin, right?” she asked when he had settled across from her.

  The man just cracked his neck and scowled.

  “Malin, you called yourself a demon.”

  “A witch like you made me one!”

  Shit, he was one misspoken word away from attacking her. Part of her wanted to take Sid and just leave this whole mess far behind. But if she did … if Calon did create more like Malin, this would only grow worse. They would all take their lead from Malin.

  “You’re right about one thing,” Tanjung said. “I am a witch. And I taught Calon. I know … some of the truths of Kahyangan. And you are no demon, Malin. What they put in you was a Moon Spirit. You can feel it, right? When the moon comes out, it calls to the spirit in you. The tiger wants to be free to run?”

  “Free to murder? I am not a murderer. I don’t want to be a murderer.”

  “Then don’t.”

  “I cannot control what they have done. This Harimau Jadian they made me is an animal!”

  Tanjung nodded. “An animal, yes. But not a demon. Demons are far worse. Rangda Demon Queen rules the World of Mist. That is a world of demons, a frozen nightmare unlike anything you can imagine. The spirit in you is born from Chandra himself—it is a disciple of the Moon God. And like the phases of the moon, it is wild, savage—but not evil. And neither are you.”

  Malin shut his eyes and Tanjung dared to hope she was getting through to the man buried beneath the tiger. She had to. If Malin allowed himself to believe he had become a monster, then he surely would. And it would not take long before even Rahu and Calon could not control his rampages.

  The whispers in her mind had grown eerily quiet in his presence. Perhaps the spirit in him drowned them out. Though at the moment, she almost wanted their advice.

  A low growl built in Malin’s chest. For once, Tanjung was grateful for the Sun God’s cursed rays, preventing the Moon Spirit from manifesting inside Malin.

  “You are not a murderer!” Tanjung said. “What if … what if …” He was going to snap. Even in human form, he was strong, fast, and brutal. They were three Moon Scions, but neither Tanjung nor Calon were warriors. Could Rahu alone control this beast?

  Malin’s eyes snapped open and his growl deepened into a full snarl as he bared his teeth.

  “What if you didn’t have to be just Harimau Jadian, Malin? What if I could make you something else? Not a murderer … but a protector. A guardian in the night.”

  The snarl abruptly cut off. “You can change what’s in me? Can you take it out?”

  Exorcise the spirit. Doing so would test the limits of all she knew, but maybe she should try. The Jadian was not merely possessing Malin, though, it was bonding to his soul. Removing it might well destroy him, leave him a hollow shell.

  Before she could answer, Rahu spoke. “No. That’s not possible, Malin.” Tanjung cast a glare at him for eavesdropping, but he ignored her, continuing. “But you can be a protector. And more. Protect us and avenge our losses. You will always be a killer, but it is not murder when it’s justice.”

  Tanjung tried not to let the shock show on her face. Rahu was clever. Channeling Malin’s need for violence might just work. Trying to suppress it entirely could lead it to erupt like a volcano. Perhaps like this, he could be made into the obvious weapon Rahu wanted.

  “You can do that?” Malin asked.

  Tanjung nodded, slowly. “I’m a witch. I can do many things.”

  She spared a glance at Rahu and Calon, then slipped a keris knife from the back of her sarong, slowly, careful not to seem threatening. Tanjung opened her palm, then used the blood to trace a meaningless Glyph on Malin’s forehead. The Maitian held stock still, teeth clenched as if braced for pain.

  Tanjung mumbled under her breath, invoking the name of Chandra and Rangda, of Nyai Loro Kidul, and Agni, and every other deity she could think of. “Malin. From this day forward, you will no longer be merely the tiger shifter Harimau Jadian. You will be the protector and avenger, Macan Gadungan. You are forever charged with guardianship of the children of Chandra. Go now, and sleep. Wake a new man with a new purpose.”

  Malin’s mouth worked, but no words came out. Instead, he nodded curtly and rose, then stumbled away. He looked almost like he would weep. Relief? Tanjung hoped that’s what it was.

  Part of her felt responsible for him. Did the blame for what Calon wrought with sorcery Tanjung had taught her fall on her shoulders? The woman had made her own choices, but she had only learned witchcraft because of Tanjung.

  Tanjung too rose, shaking her head, and walked in the opposite direction, toward the Loghouses where the poor lived. There would be hot food soon for the lingsir kulon meal. She desperately needed a plate of rendang and a cup of coconut milk. Needed anything to calm her nerves and keep her mind off the Maitian killer who now lived in Bukit.

  Calon chased after her, but Tanjung didn’t look back. “Thank you,” the other witch said. “Now he’ll be under control.”

  “I hope so,” Tanjung said, still not looking at her former student. Calon was her best friend and she loved her. But today, part of her
hated the woman. It was unfair, perhaps, given that Tanjung had led her down this path. So desperate to find answers, to fill the hole in her heart left by her mother, Tanjung had damned Calon, hadn’t she? All because she was too afraid to walk this road alone.

  “You never taught me such a spell.”

  “Spell?” At that, Tanjung did stop. “Sweet Chandra, are you such a fool, Calon? I didn’t do anything, except put an idea in his head. If Malin manages to control himself, it will be his own doing. He had convinced himself he no longer had a choice. Chandra-allowing, now he will think he has no choice but to be Macan Gadungan instead.”

  Calon hesitated, mouth agape. “You painted a Glyph in blood …”

  Tanjung shook her head again. “Showmanship. The best witches know there is more than enough magic in belief and a few herbs. And you had better pray my display holds on him—take every opportunity to remind him he is a protector, not a murderer. Because the more you unleash the animal, the harder it will be to put it back in its cage.”

  With that, she left Calon standing and trod off alone.

  As expected, the rains came heavy all afternoon and long into the night.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “We can hardly refuse an invitation from House Rohini,” Sid said. “They’re one of the four—well, three now—greatest Houses.”

  Tanjung sat on a windowsill, half watching the rainfall outside, half watching her new husband. The man smiled placatingly, as if he knew she didn’t want to go. Besides the fact she was still settling in to this new palace and its wondrous gardens, House Rohini was far to the north. A week’s trek through dense rainforest, or even longer if they stuck to the coast as far as possible. That meant leaving Calon alone for at least two weeks.

  Tanjung’s childhood friend had proved mercurial enough before, and a few days ago she had admitted she was pregnant. The witch barely had control of her new Macan Gadungan army. In the past month they’d created what, ten of the monsters? Calon had taken to offering slaves freedom in exchange for volunteering to be weretigers. Freedom was the wrong word, given that these people traded slavery for eternal work as bodyguards. But she held her tongue and helped Calon do it, rather than let the other woman make a further mess of it herself. Even now, she bore three new Spirit Glyphs on her skin.

  And the rush, the power of commanding the spirits, was undeniable. She had never felt like such a goddess. Was that how her mother felt using her powers? But Tanjung was human, at least in part, and this road would lead to lunacy or worse. At least, unless she could find a way to reach her mother.

  Now, though, Tanjung could hardly leave Calon to her own devices. Chandra alone knew what the woman would come up with next. Calon had never had enough caution. Never. Tiny little thing that she was, she’d once punched an older boy in the nose for disrespecting her family. The boy had beaten her to a pulp.

  And Calon’s reaction to all that? Begging Tanjung to use her witchcraft against him. Tanjung had done so, driven a snake to bite the boy while he played. The child had lain on the edge of death for a week. And Tanjung had spent most of that week sick to her stomach with her own guilt.

  Sid sauntered over to her, face lit by a smile that would have spread the legs of a bidadari in a heartbeat. Tanjung felt herself flush, too, and looked out the window rather than admit it to him.

  “Come on, Tani,” her husband said. “A little trip after marriage can be good for a couple.”

  Tanjung tried not to smile, imagining what he planned. And Sid was right—one did not refuse House Rohini. Probably they just wanted to congratulate Sid on his marriage. Either way, they made excellent friends and terrible enemies. House Janggala had moderate power, certainly more than House Nishadipathi, Tanjung’s former House, but nowhere near a match for Rohini. Other Houses were constantly testing Janggala’s holdings, defenses, control. Rohini could change all that. With the backing of one of the three great Houses, Janggala, and by extension even Nishadipathi, might suddenly find itself exempt from raids and petty politics.

  Tanjung sighed, but nodded. It was all the invitation her husband needed. He slid a hand up her calf, gently brushing away the edge of her sarong as he traced a route up her thigh. Tanjung shuddered with pleasure.

  And then a servant cleared his throat. “My Lord. Calon of Soma is here for the Lady.”

  Sid’s face immediately soured, and he glared at the servant who remained in a tight bow, eyes studiously on the floor. “Your friend grows wearisome.”

  Tanjung could not dispute that. But then, true friends were hard to come by. And Calon had stood by her without fail since childhood, more than willing to delve into any danger to give Tanjung even the chance of understanding where she came from. That kind of loyalty was rare as dragons.

  Tanjung slid off the windowsill, straightened her sarong, and brushed Sid’s face with the back of her hand. A silent promise of things to come could keep a man under control—at least for a little while. “Tell Calon I’ll receive her in the atrium.”

  The atrium was open to the rain, but the roof overhung it, offering shelter from the elements. House Janggala often received guests there—when the water gardens were not practical—because the atrium served as yet another display of the wealth and beauty of their House. It was filled with exotic stonework said to be carved by Ignis in the days before the breaking of the Pact. The statues depicted various divinities, Chandra among them, but were now overgrown with ivy and jasmine and other fresh flowers. When the wind blew, it filled the entire palace with scents straight from the rainforest.

  The servant scurried off to inform Calon, and Tanjung lingered a moment. Perhaps keeping her friend waiting would serve as a reminder that Tanjung was not at her beck and call. For a moment, she even considered going back to her husband and finishing what they had started. Then she shook her head. No. She could hardly focus on enjoying herself knowing Calon was waiting a few rooms away.

  “Make it quick,” Sid said. Or purred.

  Tanjung fled then, before she had time to reconsider.

  She found Calon sitting on a bench under the overhang, sipping tea a servant must have arranged for her. As always, her friend wore the latest fashions—a gilded sarong, golden headdress, fine rings Rahu must have spent a fortune on.

  Tanjung sat down beside her and accepted a cup herself when a servant approached. She took a few sips, letting the warmth soak through her. It was laced with cinnamon and perhaps saffron from the Spice Islands. The aroma alone was relaxing, and she breathed it in deeply before speaking. “Everything well with the babe?”

  “Mmmm. She’ll be a girl, I can feel it. I dreamed it. I’m going to call her Ratna.”

  Tanjung sipped her tea without answering immediately. Could Calon truly have the Sight, or was that her own hopes at play? “A princess of House Soma, then.”

  Calon laughed like Tanjung hadn’t heard her laugh since they were children. The warmth of her smile filled Tanjung with a hope that things might truly be fine again. That the worst was behind them. But the voices in her head spoke otherwise. Whispers of something dark still brewing.

  Call us.

  She didn’t want to ask, but she had no choice, really. “And … Malin?”

  Calon’s face turned dark just as quickly and she groaned. “Your trickery keeps him in check. Is that what you want to hear, Tani? That’s the problem, really. And no, of course I’m not going to tell him it was a trick. But now he and all his Macan Gadungan are convinced they’re just bodyguards.”

  Chandra be praised for that. “Perfect.”

  “It’s not perfect. How in Rangda’s frozen underworld are we supposed to advance House Soma now? We need killers. Other servants to take on the unsavory tasks Malin now refuses.”

  Like the massacre at House Shravana. Tanjung set her tea down on the bench. “You sound like you’re about to repeat the same mistake you made with Malin.”

  “Mistake? Even as a bodyguard the man is an unmatched specimen. He’s perfect. You begged
me to promise not to do anything else without you. So now I’m asking. What else can we use?”

  Damn it. Tanjung had insisted Calon not act without her. And if she refused to help now, the woman wouldn’t trust her in the future. The only way to control the situation at all was to be part of it. Besides, part of her still thrilled in it. A part she would never admit to Calon, of course. “You can’t just go around massacring the great Houses. One, the others might put up with. But two becomes a pattern, and a dangerous one. You’ll find every Lunar House hunting you down and you don’t have near enough Macan Gadungan to handle such an onslaught.”

  Calon nodded, as if she’d already known what Tanjung would say. “We don’t need to massacre any more Houses. That was … well, the point has been made. Now we need merely prepare for conflict with the Solars. We need Jadian that can slip in unseen and bring back information.”

  “Spies?” Tanjung folded her arms. That was a little more acceptable, though she didn’t see why Rahu and Calon were so intent on the Solars in the first place. As long as it was done with caution, though, spies should not be a problem. “The monkeys would be perfect for that.”

  At that Calon sighed. “They may sometimes need to carry out … less savory tasks. And to defend themselves.”

  And now the truth came out. “You want assassins.”

  She had grown up hearing legends of Warak Ngendogs, dragon beasts native to Suladvipa. Some said the fearsome Arun Guard could even command those creatures. A Warak Ngendog, if roused to anger, became a destructive force of unparalleled devastation. Sending assassins among the Solars sounded a lot like antagonizing one of their dragon beasts. A risk only a fool would take.

  “If need be. Tani, please listen to me. We have to do this right, decisively. Half measures won’t work here. We need weapons that can be what the Macan Gadungan cannot.”

  Tanjung said nothing. Calon clearly already knew what she wanted. Let her admit it.

  “There are crocodile Moon Spirits, yes?”