by Matt Larkin
A snarl ripped out of Malin’s chest before he could stop it. Bangdvipa. How dare they! Bangdvipa was sacred, the only refuge of the Jadian. Malin had cubs there, mates, his people. He leapt to his feet and took off toward the harbor.
“Protect my wife, Malin,” the War King shouted after him. “I will lead this battle. The Solars have overextended, attacked too close to our center of power. We can destroy the Arun Guard and break them, even without you.”
In the Hill Palace, behind those walls, Calon vied with that damn book. She wasn’t going to stop. Wasn’t going to leave the Solars be. And they would slaughter all the weretigers on Bangdvipa to find the Lunar witch.
A tremor seized him, rumbled through his chest until he could barely stand. His muscles itched, demanding he become the tiger. Protect. The tiger protected and avenged. The Solars were killing his people. The Macan Gadungan were what remained of his family.
No. He was no Hidden Knight, no savior to them. But he would protect them as fiercely he protected his charges.
Malin spun on Rahu. “I’m going.”
Rahu jerked to a halt. Of course, Malin had never openly questioned him before. Never defied him. But the shock on the War King’s face passed. Maybe he saw wisdom in taking his bodyguard for such a battle.
“Best way to protect your wife is to kill the Solars,” Malin said. “End this war. I’ll make damn sure they never come to our island again.”
Rahu smiled. “Very well, Malin. Show the Solars what you’re best at.”
Yes. Best at killing. But not an animal.
“Bintang!” Malin shouted, knowing she would hear him wherever she was in the palace.
Moments later she rushed out, toyaks in hand as though expecting an attack. If he told her the truth about Bangdvipa, she’d insist on going there, insist on going to save her children herself. “I’m going to battle. Protect the girls and … the witches.”
Bintang nodded. Thankfully not questioning him.
Rahu said little on their way to the harbor. They took the cliff-side path down from the city, gathering Moon Scions and weretigers in their wake. Word had already spread about the battle, but, with luck, the dhow would be away before Bintang heard the rumors. The Moon Scions came for glory. Malin’s Macan Gadungan came for vengeance. This time, Solars had attacked their home.
And Malin was going to make them regret it.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
From the harbor they took a dhow toward the island. A few phases at sea gave Malin too much time to think. Pity. Good only came from actions. But then, so did evil. The smell of rot that had permeated Bukit of late was borne from Calon’s black magic. The curses of Kahyangan could bring suffering to your foes. But not only to foes.
Darkness had fallen before they reached Bangdvipa. Better. In moonlight, he could be the tiger. In moonlight—freedom.
Solar dhows surrounded the harbor. Rahu had brought three ships with him, but not enough to face the five the Solars had. Malin ran to the prow. Focused on the lead Solar ship. Only a skeleton crew. He smiled. “Board them.”
The War King ordered his men to sail up beside the Solar dhows.
Yes. They’d unloaded so many soldiers onto the island, they hadn’t left enough to defend all their ships. Malin leapt onto the rail, then hesitated. So many on the island …
Where his people were.
Rainforest covered most of Bangdvipa, but there, on the rocky shore, rose the temple. The Moon Scions lived there, training their weretigers. Training their future protectors. And all of them, Macan Gadungan and Moon Scions, were prey for the Arun Guard.
Malin ripped off his baju and dove into the sea. Fresh brine and seaspray washed over him, refreshed him, though the sand clogged his sinuses. Yes. Let it free. The tiger tore through him, raging, clawing its way through his soul. His muscles shifted and warped with that spirit, taking its form.
The tiger had webbed feet, making him an even faster swimmer. The waves crashing over him barely slowed his approach, and soon he reached the shore, then shook the salt water from his fur. His paws kicked sand through the air in his passing. Let the Moon Scions fight off the Solar dhows. The island was for the Macan Gadungan.
Screams echoed from the temple above. Malin dashed up the rocks, leaping from one to the next. Wet sand caked them, made them slippery. Humans would struggle to climb this way. Malin’s claws found purchase with little effort.
Atop the rocks he climbed onto the land bridge and sprinted for the temple. Solar soldiers rushed from the temple, charged him. Malin’s claws tore them to pieces. The tiger snarled, clawed, bit. It savored the blood. Just the tiger. Not Malin. Not an animal.
Then a man stood in front of him, long Solar keris sword at the ready. Malin knew him. Not his name. But this man led the Arun Guard. The Guardsman’s people were in the temple, killing Moon Scions. Maybe Macan Gadungan cubs. Maybe Malin’s own offspring.
The tiger in him roared. Malin roared with it. He leapt at the First of the Arun Guard.
The man vanished.
Malin’s claws scraped rock. He spun, tried to move, but the Guardsman had already appeared behind him. The man’s sword bit into Malin’s flank.
The tiger spirit tried to drown the pain in his mind. Didn’t do much, but did enough. Malin kicked his rear claws back, scraping along the First’s shin. A satisfying scream escaped the man’s throat.
The Guardsman vanished again. Damn Sun Stride let him appear anywhere. At least his screaming and panting made him easy to track.
The temple.
Malin ran—tried to run—but the gash in his flank made it impossible. He slipped, his back leg giving out. Blood made the land bridge slick. The blood of a pair of dead Solars. The blood of an overmatched weretiger, trickling down his own leg.
“Come, Malin,” Rahu said.
It shouldn’t surprise him the War King had made the climb so soon. He was the most powerful Moon Scion, after all.
Rahu grabbed the scruff of Malin’s neck and yanked him forward, helping him along. “We’re not finished with him yet.”
Malin followed Rahu into the temple, passing the bodies of dead Lunars. There, lying amidst a pool of her own blood, lay Padmawati.
The woman was surrounded by the bodies of young Jadian. Malin crouched by the body of his son, nuzzled it with his nose. It didn’t move.
The tiger didn’t want to care. But Malin was not just the tiger. He could not weep in this form, so he roared.
No, they weren’t finished with the First of the Arun Guard just yet.
The timbers in the roof burned, filled the air with choking smoke, ash. The scent of so much blood, the sounds of so many screams—Malin couldn’t track the First. And then the man was beside them. The Sun Brand that let him appear anywhere also made him fast, faster than either Moon Scion or Macan Gadungan.
The Guardsman’s sword darted for Rahu before the War King knew what was happening. Malin lunged for Rahu, hurled him to the ground. The Solar’s blade ripped through the War King’s baju and into his shoulder. Malin’s claws probably did as much damage. No time to consider.
He spun, swiping at the Solar. The Solar vanished again appearing a short distance away. He spun quickly, lunging for Malin. Not as fast as before—he was running out of sunlight. Malin leapt to one side, forcing the man to use more of his sunlight and chase him.
As the man appeared beside him, Malin reared up on his hind legs and landed on the Solar. His fangs caught the First’s throat as the man tried to free his sword. The Guardsman Sun Strode, carrying himself and Malin across the room.
Malin reeled from the sudden change in orientation. Shut his eyes against the shift, bit deeper. Dug his claws until the thrashing stopped.
Malin spat blood, then resumed his human form. His arms and legs ached, the shift of bones and muscles leaving them like water. The cut on his hip and thigh had begun to scab over, but blood still oozed from it. Naked, he dragged himself to his king.
“My lord.”
>
Rahu choked, gurgled. The First’s keris still impaled his shoulder. Malin’s claws had torn deeper gouges than he’d known. Not good. Moon Scions healed better than humans, but not as well as Macan Gadungan. Such wounds could kill even Rahu.
“My lord. I’ve got to remove the blade.” When Rahu grunted, Malin jerked it free. The War King gasped, then lay still a moment. “Your injuries are severe.”
Rahu struggled until Malin helped him sit. “I have something … a tonic on the ship. Could help heal me … If I take it, though …”
Malin couldn’t contain the snarl. “More magic?”
“No choice … Take me to the ship.”
Protect.
“Yes, my lord.”
Rahu was his to protect, but the dead Jadian demanded vengeance. In the distance, a woman screamed. The sound of a Macan Gadungan dying. Without the First of the Arun Guard, the Solars would break, but not soon. So many of Malin’s people dead already. His mates, his cubs. Gone! And more would fall before the Solars withdrew. And for what? Calon’s black magic had driven the Solars to desperation. Driven them to throw away their lives in the hopes of taking Lunars with them.
Every muscle in his body itched as he paddled a canoe to carry Rahu back to the dhow.
Avenge!
Yes. Avenge them. Better than face the emptiness left behind.
Rahu insisted Malin leave him alone in his cabin. So be it. Malin curled up on the deck. A slave brought him clothes and he tied the sarong around his waist but ignored the shirt and slumped against the rail. Walking no longer hurt much, but he had no desire to stand. A great victory, killing the First. Great honor for House Soma. All hollow. All because of Calon’s Rangda-damned magic.
Because it had cost him so many of his people. They looked to him. Bintang thought him some kind of savior. And he had done nothing. No, he was no Satrio Piningit. He was a broken shell pretending at greatness.
And he was a fool.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Tanjung woke in a cold sweat, shaking from the screams of the damned filling Rangda’s underworld. They set her heart racing. And then it skipped a beat when another scream echoed while she sat, wide awake. She could hardly swallow, could barely breathe. Her head pounded as she rose. She had returned to the traditional home of House Nishadipathi, little more than a hovel compared to the Hill Palace, and empty save for her. It sat in the highlands outside Bukit, but close enough she was certain the scream had come from there.
As she rushed into the night, another followed and another. A pit opened in her stomach. Whispers in her mind confirmed it. The Solars had somehow figured out that Calon had sent the plagues among them and they had come for her. Come for her while the Macan Gadungan were away on Bangdvipa. It had all been a diversion to catch Calon defenseless. Except she wasn’t quite defenseless. Tanjung was here and if she had to, she’d rip the Solars apart herself.
She touched a Glyph on her arm. “Anggraeni!”
She had bonded the ghost for dire circumstances. This qualified. The air shimmered, just a hint, as the spirit passed by her. A normal person might never have even seen it.
“Go, distract the Solars!” Tanjung commanded.
The spirit’s face pushed against the air for a moment. Then it vanished, Tanjung hoped, to do as she had bid.
She drew her Moon Blessings and took off at a dash. Once, she had feared her Blessings. Now, she merely needed to conceal their extent, make sure the others saw her as no stronger than any other Scion. Rangda would probably save her from lunacy, but the Demon Queen was also queen of secrets and she had taught Tanjung well. She would use Chandra’s gifts, but with care.
She sprinted past the Anuradha Theater and into Bukit. Flames spread among some of the palaces, and a small force of Solar troops engaged Lunar war bands. Tanjung raced past them toward the Hill Palace, which too had caught fire.
The Macan Gadungan Bintang charged out, slamming into a Solar and sending him flying. She shifted into a tiger and pounced on the downed man. But even if the few Macan Gadungan who remained in Bukit fought off the Solars, the whole damn city was going to burn.
All her life she’d feared revealing her heritage. She could feel it, sense it long before a storm came. Powerful storms like cyclones, those she could feel days ahead, like a thrumming passing through her chest.
More screams escaped the city as the flames rose.
Tanjung had embraced Rangda herself to escape her fate. It was time she accepted the other parts within her. Maybe someone would see her, would understand. But if she did nothing, all she had worked for might burn away. All Tanjung’s work to shape Calon for the glory of Rangda would mean nothing if the Solars destroyed Bukit, or worse, killed the witch.
She sunk to her knees, heedless of the chaos around her, and pressed her hands together, shut her eyes. And she felt the sky. Her soul reached out to the clouds—reached out and grabbed them and squeezed. That thrumming in her chest began to build, the warning of a storm. A big storm. She fed the vortex opening inside her, fed it her rage and pain and fear. Fed it her very life-force.
With an agonized cry she jerked her hands wide and opened her eyes. Lightning streaked down and crashed into one of the houses. The flash left her seeing spots of white that blurred the battle. The roar of thunder deafened her, blocked out the sound of her own screaming. An overpowering smell of burning air filled the night, washed away an instant later as the clouds rent asunder and vented a downpour over Bukit.
Tanjung crashed to the ground, barely catching herself on her palms. Monsoon rains drenched her long before she could even rise back to a sitting position. She had done this. She had commanded the sky itself. She blinked, trying to regain her vision. A high-pitched whine still filled her ears, preventing her from hearing anything else.
She was the child of a goddess. She was like a goddess herself! The thought made her actually giggle as she finally climbed back to her feet. The world swayed beneath her and she slipped back to her knees. So she had poured rather a lot of herself into calling the storm. After a few deep breaths—and finally blinking away the afterimages of the lightning—she tried to rise again, then stumbled toward the Hill Palace.
The rains had begun to extinguish the flames there, and at least slowed their spread through the rest of Bukit. Calon rushed from the palace entrance, her ten-year-old daughter clutched in her arms. Tanjung turned to watch as the woman ran toward her cousin, who likewise held her own daughter.
Tanjung ambled toward them, pausing to catch her balance twice along the way. Calon spun to face her before she had even reached them.
The other witch left Ratna with Simhika and rushed to Tanjung. “What happened? Are you injured?”
Tanjung shook her head, then felt dizzy. Calon grabbed her under her arms and guided her away from the fighting.
“I thought they were here for you,” Tanjung mumbled. If Calon had been killed Tanjung suspected Rangda would have been quite displeased. Tanjung didn’t know why the goddess had chosen her childhood friend, but she clearly had a plan for the woman. The voices in the back of her mind had demanded she give the grimoire to Calon, which meant there was something special about her.
“They attacked, but … something … stopped them. A ghost seemed like it tried to cross into our world. The Solars ran screaming. With the fire we had a hard time escaping until the rains came. They’re early this year. Chandra must have been watching over his children.” At that, she turned to look back at her daughter.
The rains were early indeed. Tanjung didn’t bother explaining the downpour or the ghost. It was better if Calon didn’t know too much anyway, at least not until she had fully dedicated herself to Rangda.
Calon hugged herself, her golden kembaya now plastered to her form, though the rains had already begun to abate. Tanjung just didn’t have the strength to force any more from the clouds. Some houses still burned, but the people would have to deal with those fires the old-fashioned way.
Moon Scions
and the few Macan Gadungan had begun driving back or killing the last remaining Solar invaders. This was over. They had gambled a great deal to attack Bangdvipa, to draw Calon’s guardians away. And they had failed. As if further evidence of Rangda’s glory was needed—clearly Calon’s curses had begun to wear away the Solar resolve. With the grimoire they could push even harder, deny the Solars sustenance long enough, and they would break. Ketu and the other moon priests might think that would open the way for an empire of Chandra, but Tanjung had another deity in mind once the Solars had fallen.
She smirked. Really, this couldn’t have gone better. Now they only needed to punish the Solars to prove the point. “Bring the tome,” she said. “I have something special in mind that will ensure they never try this again.”
“I-I left it in the palace. I had to get Ratna.”
Tanjung spun on Calon, working her jaw. “Go. Get. It.”
Calon frowned, perhaps at being so addressed, perhaps at her own foolishness. Tanjung didn’t care. It was unlikely flames could hurt the book of Rangda, but Calon should have known better than to leave it in a burning building. By the frozen underworld, she was going to have to have a long talk with Calon about priorities.
The other witch rushed off back toward the palace, doing as Tanjung had demanded. Tanjung followed more slowly, choosing her steps with care. She needed a good night’s sleep before trying any sorcery, but a point had to be made. And Calon was still fresh enough.
The other woman met her at the palace entrance, eyes wide and face ashen. “It’s gone …”
“Gone?”
“My chambers were ransacked.”
Tanjung shut her eyes and clenched her jaw. Thrice-damned Solars. And she was the greatest fool of all. They didn’t need to kill Calon—they just needed to take away her power! Calon was so busy worrying about her idiot child she didn’t guard her most precious asset. And Rangda … Tanjung tried to swallow but couldn’t over the lump in her throat. They had lost the tome of Rangda. If she didn’t get that book back she didn’t even want to imagine the Demon Queen’s fury.
