by Matt Larkin
He trudged on. Had to pass through the fields to reach the shore. Farmers scattered at his passing. Malin didn’t spare them a glance. If he caught Calon and Simhika before they found the Guardsman, he’d thrash the witch. Or Rahu would, when he found out.
The wet fields sloshed as he passed through them, slowing his steps. Too much. Even the air burned his lungs. His ribs hadn’t fully healed. His chest heaving, he leaned his arms on his bent knees. Couldn’t catch his breath. Rangda take witches.
Three, four deep breaths. He pushed himself up and trod on, broke through the fields onto the shoreline. The water no longer dragged at his legs, but still his steps slowed.
Bintang lay on the beach, face down. Her blood had stained the sands in a wide circle around her. Malin rushed to her side and dropped to his knees. No. Not her too. Hadn’t he lost enough this day? Slowly, hesitantly, he turned her over. Her eyes had gone blank, staring at nothing.
Malin shook himself, unable to weep for her. She had been his mate. Had he loved her? No, he supposed he was no longer capable of love. But she had mattered. And she had believed in him, more than he could ever believe in himself.
He shut his eyes. “Are you happy now, Mother?”
There was more blood on the wind. Malin rose, scanning the beach. Beyond Bintang’s corpse lay two more bodies. Malin trudged toward them, feeling numb. Didn’t need to see them. Couldn’t look away. He knelt beside Calon and Simhika’s bodies. Cut open with a sword. Calon’s golden kembaya was now soaked with the tide and dirty with sand. The waves had washed the blood from half the dress. Malin pulled Calon away from the waves, then almost dropped her when she stirred.
“The Moon God wasn’t saving us,” she said, her voice raspy. “I thought Rangda … She could offer power. I thought what Tanjung taught me …”
Malin cradled her head. “You thought it wouldn’t have a price?”
Blood trailed from her mouth as she turned her head, turned to see her dead sister-in-law. “Protect our daughters, Malin.”
“Forever.”
It was all he had left. Protect them. Protect the children from the ravages unleashed by their parents. And maybe, just maybe, they would be his one redemption.
Malin held Calon’s hand until her grip loosened. Nothing else he could do. Maybe Rahu’s tonic could have saved her, but the War King was in Bukit. Malin shut the witch’s eyes, then pulled the bodies further up onto the beach.
Both women had known Silat. But not enough. Not enough to fight an Arun Guardsman.
Malin, though, he knew enough. He’d killed Guardsmen before. After killing the First, another Guardsman would be easy prey. He’d spared the man’s son. The boy had done nothing but try to end the black magic. The father, though, had murdered Bintang and Malin’s charges, both. And the tiger could never forgive that. Protect. And avenge.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Deep breath. Salty sea air stung his eyes and lungs. The taste of blood filled his mouth. The tiger shifted beneath his skin, aching to escape, denied by the cursed sun overhead. So be it.
He followed the footprints in the sand. The tiger demanded vengeance. It would have it. Protect and avenge. He’d failed in the first. Not in the second.
Half a phase he walked, keeping low to the tall beach grass. Stalking prey that would never escape. There, just beyond the shore, a Solar dhow drew near. On the beach, priests and soldiers waited, here, on the Lunar homeland.
And why not? If the soldiers had to go after a witch, they’d want the blessings of their god. Meaningless wards against black magic. Malin would show them how fragile their protections were.
Only three soldiers on the shore, with a priest and a priestess, camping beneath a palm tree. A small party to avoid attention while the battle raged at Bangdvipa. Malin’s people made into targets so Solars could hunt down Calon. And it had worked. They’d fallen for it every step.
He could slip up to them silent as a whisper. End half of them before they knew he was there. But something in him craved more. Craved the fight.
So he stood, revealing himself and stalking right into their camp. One soldier shouted and charged him, sword drawn. The man swung. Malin caught his wrist and twisted, making the Solar drop the blade. Malin shoved him away as another soldier rushed in. He caught the new attacker and flipped him over his shoulder, slamming him headfirst into the palm tree. The entire tree shuddered from the impact, and the man crumpled to the beach.
The third soldier approached with caution. Malin continued his momentum, spun and jumped, landing with one hand on the ground. The other closed around a coconut that had fallen from the tree. He came up spinning and smashed the coconut into the attacking soldier’s head. His skull crunched under the impact, spraying blood and brains over Malin.
The priest screamed and took off running. With a single bound after him, Malin flung the coconut. The improvised missile cracked the priest’s skull and he dropped to the ground. The first soldier’s fist caught Malin in the jaw. The blessed pain barely slowed him. He blocked attack after attack from the Solar, caught the man, twisted him back over his knee, and slammed his fist into the man’s sternum. The Solar’s chest caved in from the blow.
The priestess was on her knees screaming. Young, less than thirty. Pretty, probably refined, when she wasn’t terrified out of her mind.
“Where is Empu Baradah?”
“Please,” she said. “Please, I’m a mother.”
Malin knelt over her, leaning close to look in her eyes. “So were the three women he killed. Where is the Guardsman?”
The woman glanced at the ship, then flinched, like she hadn’t meant to give it away.
“Should I kill you, then? There are two girls back in Bukit without mothers. Ten years old, and no mothers, priestess.”
The woman’s trembling subsided. “Committing more wrongs won’t solve that. My son, Naresh, he’ll be twelve soon. Would you leave him without a mother, too?”
Malin snarled. “I—”
The sudden appearance of a Guardsman to the side cut him off. The Solar swung his keris. Malin dodged, caught the man in the ribs with a right hook. Satisfying crack.
The Solar staggered, clutching his side, but didn’t drop the keris.
Malin advanced on the Guardsman. The man bore a clear resemblance to the boy he’d spared. Empu Baradah, his father. Murderer. “I’m not so easy prey as those women.” He lunged.
The Solar vanished. Predictable. Malin dropped to his knees, spun as the man appeared behind him. He took the slash to his shoulder. Fire bit through him, but he’d heal.
He slammed his fist straight down onto the Solar’s thigh. An agonized roar ripped out of the Guardsman as the bone snapped.
Malin rose, swinging in an uppercut that sent the Solar sprawling. He advanced on his fallen prey, then pounced. He hefted the man up by his baju and pressed his face close. And he roared, teeth bared and wide as he could make them in human form. Tiger demanded to be free. And Malin wanted to let it out.
“I’d enjoy sinking my teeth in you, but beating you to death will do, murderer.”
The Solar shook his head, spitting blood. Malin shoved him away. Yes. Savor this vengeance. He would beat the man to a pulp.
Again the Guardsman Sun Strode. Fool.
Malin swung his legs behind him. Hit only air. The Guardsman had appeared near the priestess. Had a hand on her. She clutched onto him, desperate for her life. For a moment, Empu Baradah’s eyes met Malin’s. Then he and the priestess were gone.
On the ship. Malin could hear him shouting not to bring the dhow to shore.
No. Rangda take them all. “Come back here! I’ll hunt you down, murderer! I will hunt you to the ends of the Earth! No matter how long it takes, those women will be avenged! I will burn your empire to the ground!”
Malin didn’t know if human hearing would let Empu Baradah catch his words that far out at sea. Nor did it matter. He hurled a rock from the shore at the dhow, though even his strength wouldn
’t let him throw that far.
The fade of adrenaline reminded him of the pain in his shoulder. He took two steps, then wobbled. Lost more blood than he’d thought. He crashed down onto the beach. And he screamed.
He had not protected.
He had not even avenged.
Two phases, maybe more, he made his way along the shore. Bringing the women’s bodies, with his torn shoulder, it was too much. And he had no choice but to leave Bintang behind, to return for her later. Again and again he had to stop and rest. Stop and think. Malin hated being alone with his thoughts. He had far too many. Because things Calon had said, they made too much sense. And he wouldn’t believe it.
Moon Scions came to take the bodies when he returned to Bukit. News spread like the plagues Calon had wrought. When Malin found Rahu, the War King stood waist-deep in the fishpond, head in his hand, weeping.
He looked up as Malin approached, his eyes red.
“I hadn’t thought I would love her, Malin.” He paused, then walked from the water, to stand next to Malin. “You failed … You failed to save her?” He said the last almost as a question. Like the man couldn’t believe he would lose someone in all this as well.
“Yes,” Malin said. He had failed. But he was not the only one culpable. “Did you tell her to start this madness? To raise unholy spirits from Kahyangan? To bring forth worse than the thing she put inside me?”
Rahu laughed. “She put inside you?” With a trembling hand he unbuttoned his black baju—still torn—to reveal his chest. To reveal Spirit Glyphs branded into him like tattoos. “This is your mark,” he said, pointing to a Glyph near his heart. “This is the Glyph for the spirit I put in you. Calon only showed me how.”
Malin gaped. Couldn’t find words. Rahu had been the one he thought he could trust. The one offering him purpose. He didn’t stink of witchcraft. He wasn’t, couldn’t be …
“I offered you power, meaning to your life. You never stopped to ask where it came from. You didn’t care back then. Why now?”
For two breaths Malin shut his eyes. No, he hadn’t asked. Hadn’t asked the price of what he was offered. “Eleven years I served you. I never questioned. Now I question. Why? You started this war with the Solars, destroyed centuries of peace. For what? Years of war and chaos and blood. Your wife is dead. Your sister-in-law dead. My children and mates are dead! Why?”
Rahu turned, looked far away for a moment and tapped his upper lip with his finger. “He’s coming. Coming after me. I have to control the Isles. Have to have power to face my foes. To crush him …”
A growl slipped from Malin’s throat. “You’re nothing but a paranoid madman. You didn’t have any enemies before you made them.”
The War King spun on him. “You forget your place, tiger. I made you a god.”
“You made me a slave!” The words escaped him before he knew he’d thought them. Before he realized Bintang had been right all along.
Like lightning, Rahu’s hand shot out, grabbed Malin by the back of the neck. “Then serve.”
Malin struggled in the War King’s grasp, but the Moon Scion was too strong.
“You failed me. Now you question me. Learn your place.” Rahu flung him.
Malin hurtled through the air before colliding with a palm tree. The wind blew out of him and he landed hard on the ground, couldn’t brace against it. Agony shot through his spine like tendrils of lightning. He tried to rise.
Rahu kicked him in still-tender ribs. The force lifted him, threw him into the pond. Sputtering, Malin dragged himself to the far side. Water streamed down his face as he stumbled to his feet.
The War King circled the pond. He took another swing at Malin. Once, twice, Malin blocked the blows. Then one landed on his jaw, sending him sprawling.
Blood seeped from his face, staining the sand around the fishpond. Malin didn’t move.
“Never forget your role, tiger. You serve my House. It’s the price for your power.”
When Rahu had gone, Malin rolled over onto his back and shut his eyes—let his nature begin to heal his wounds. The damage to his body would be gone in a day. But some things had been broken he couldn’t heal.
Bintang had been right. She had been right all along. The Macan Gadungan were slaves. He’d thought Rahu more than his master, he’d fooled himself into thinking the man was his friend. Maybe there never was and never would be a Satrio Piningit. Malin didn’t feel like any kind of knight. Or maybe … Maybe that was why it was called the Hidden Knight.
That was what she’d wanted. She wanted him to become a symbol to the Jadian. Not merely the first of them, not a leader by default, but a leader in fact. A voice to speak for them. To lead them to freedom. And that would be a long, long road. Between here and there, he still had charges in his care. Those who could not defend themselves. And he had made a promise he would never break.
At last he rose.
For a long time he walked. Walked until he found Chandi and Ratna on the cliff above the harbor, clutched in each other’s arms, sobbing.
Malin knelt beside the girls. Put his arms around them.
“It’s time for you two to master Silat.” Time to make damn sure they could defend themselves against the Solars. Against anything.
Malin had failed their mothers.
He’d never fail these children.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Langyaxiu was just one of numerous city-state kingdoms littering Malaydvipa. To the uninitiated it might seem no different than any of the others. A ramshackle collection of shanties and whorehouses making up the slums on the outskirts while the nobles lived in palaces in the center of town. But Tanjung had spent enough time here to know this place well. Like all Malaydvipans, they both feared and worshipped ghosts and other spirits of Kahyangan.
Tanjung passed through the streets, reveling in the stares of common folk and nobles alike. She had, after all, donned a golden headdress and a matching Tianxian cheongsam for just such a reason. The form-fitting gown accented her curves and the golden silk suggested majesty—the air she needed for this to work.
What set Langyaxiu aside from the other petty kingdoms here was its king, a man supposedly lost in the depths of despair over the death of his only son in war. And, more importantly, a man seeking the solace of any witch who could contact his lost loved ones. By all accounts, this king was weak, failing, but in command of vast wealth he all but threw away to any offering him glimpses of the other side.
Tanjung could offer so much more than a glimpse.
She strutted toward the palace like she belonged there and the guards flung wide the gates at her approach, not even questioning her regal bearing. A doorman threw open the front entrance at her approach and she continued on without pause, into the great hall where the king sat on a throne. His eyes had glazed over, and he stared at a woman sitting crosslegged before him. She mumbled nonsense and swayed back and forth.
Tanjung had tried the subtle approach in her homeland. She had tried to build the kingdom of Rangda by manipulating Rahu and Calon. After all, no matter how great her own power, she was no match for an army of Moon Scions and the Rangda-damned Macan Gadungan. The gall of Malin, to dare command her to leave! As if he could banish her, a Moon Scion. A priestess of Rangda! Had she had her full strength, she might have killed the Jadian for it. But she needed to prove herself to the goddess, not waste her energies on petty revenge.
And here, with no Moon Scions or Arun Guard, here in the hall of a weakling king courting witchcraft, she need not be so subtle. She swept an elegant bow and rose, a knowing smirk on her face. “My king. I hear you seek knowledge of the worlds beyond our own.”
The other witch stiffened and turned to glare at her. “The king already has his advisor on the occult.”
“Anggraeni,” Tanjung whispered.
The ghost would do her this one last favor, and then Tanjung would free her. At Tanjung’s call, the spirit brushed through the chamber, never appearing, but her presence was enough to s
end a chill down the spine of every person in the throne room. Even the other witch, whose eyes widened.
“What do you know of the Spirit Realm, girl?” Tanjung asked, then approached the throne. “My king, I am Tanjung, a princess of the Skyfall Isles and a sorceress of the highest order. I have traveled far to heed your call.”
The other woman climbed to her feet and moved in on Tanjung, spurting indignities. Tanjung drew her Moon Blessings and grabbed the pretender by the throat, then flung her aside. A murmur ran through the onlookers at her display of strength. The woman landed on her ass and scampered away, not even bothering to rise.
Almost. She almost had them all. She drew her Glamour Blessing, not disguising herself, but intentionally making the air shimmer and distort around her as she took the final steps toward the king. A collective gasp ushered through the hall and the king’s eyes, first wide in shock, filled with excitement.
Tanjung allowed herself a small smile. Ingratiating herself into the man’s bed and then his heart would be a small task now. A few simple conjurations to string his hopes along—whether his son’s soul lingered here or not was immaterial—and she was quite certain he would ask for her hand. She would be a queen of this little kingdom.
But the glory of Rangda demanded far more than that. Once her power here was secure, they could begin expanded outward, taking the rest of Malaydvipa, and then, one day, beyond. Rangda would still have her domain on Earth, but it would be born here rather than the Skyfall Isles. And one day, when she had grown strong enough, Tanjung would return to her homeland.
Return, and claim it for the goddess.
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