by Matt Larkin
Dozens, maybe hundreds of Lunar ships clogged the harbor. The Radiant Queen stood upon a pier, glowing like the sun. As she stretched out her hand, the waters trembled. Waves rushed away in all directions and crystal spires hundreds of feet tall launched themselves from the bottom of the sea.
The spires ripped Lunar ships to pieces. Smaller spears grew from the sides of the giant ones. Chandi slipped in blood and fell to the pier, unable to take her eyes from the sight. The spears flew from the spires like arrows from gandewas, splintering even more ships.
As the awe passed, scores of Ignis rushed the Radiant Queen. The goddess would annihilate them with a thought. But Chandi saw fear flash over Aji Bidara’s eyes. She vanished, appearing a short distance away. Not far enough.
“Your Radiance,” Landorundun shouted, Striding to her side, sword in hand. The Ignis swarmed over the women. Landorundun cut down one, and another. She was gone. She was everywhere. With each Stride Ignis died.
Chandi forced herself to her feet and ran for them. Landorundun could never keep it up. An Igni clubbed Aji Bidara over the head. The Radiant Queen fell limp. Landorundun screamed. No longer Striding, she chased the murderers down on foot, hacking down one after another.
Lunar sailors had begun to climb from their wrecked ships onto the piers. Chandi knelt beside Aji Bidara’s body. Dead.
Chandi spun at the hand on her shoulder, grabbed the assailant by the throat. Kakudmi.
Chandi released the Solar emperor, who rubbed his throat. She raised her hands in surrender. How does one apologize for trying to throttle an emperor? And then her eyes narrowed. She owed this man no apologies.
“Why? Why did you trust the Stranger?” Chandi blurted. “Why bring such a man here?”
Kakudmi knelt beside Aji Bidara’s body and closed her eyes. “He knew this would happen, and he was right. It’s why I asked him to take Revati to safety.”
Chandi wanted to hate him for that. For sending Revati away. But he saved the girl’s life. And she found no words.
Landorundun returned and fell to her knees at the body. “I’ve failed her. I’ve failed in my duty as First of the Arun Guard.”
Bendurana had already boarded the Queen of the South Sea.
“We’ve all failed ourselves,” Kakudmi said, “and now we pay for our sins.”
“You told him to take away Ratna’s daughter?” Chandi said. “What on Chandra’s dark side could possess you to do that?”
Landorundun grabbed her arm and squeezed. “Speak with respect.”
Kakudmi rose, holding up a hand. “No, it’s all right, Landorundun. I made many mistakes, but this was not one of them. Even you can see Rahu had to die. War was inevitable from the time the Macan Gadungan sacked the Astral Temple. Maybe it was always inevitable and my own desire to restore the Pact blinded me.”
Restore the Pact? Joint custody of the temple for all three dynasties?
“You sound like Rahu,” Chandi said. “Nothing is inevitable. We create the world we live in. Right now, Naresh is on his way to Bukit, if he’s not there already. And I for one won’t give way to inevitability. I may not be able to help Revati, but I know where Naresh is.”
“Then you must find him,” Kakudmi said.
Landorundun waved her hand at the devastation. “Your Radiance, we cannot spare anyone for a rescue mission.”
“Naresh is the son of the Radiant Queen. With her fallen, it makes him a powerful symbol for our people.” Kakudmi paused, then looked Landorundun in the face. “He’s the son of Aji Bidara. And of Empu Baradah.” Landorundun started to sputter something, but he waved her to silence. “Naresh doesn’t know. I don’t think his legal father knew either. But I promised Empu Baradah I’d look after him. I ask you to keep that promise and help me uphold what honor I have left.”
Landorundun bowed, then left. Chandi remained a moment, meeting the emperor’s gaze. “I know who you are,” he said. “Before judging me, look to your own part in all of this.”
Once it would have surprised her that Kakudmi knew her. Now she too bowed and left. Landorundun cast a last look at Aji Bidara’s body.
“I won’t let her son share her fate,” Chandi said.
Landorundun boarded the Queen of the South Sea without a word. Chandi rushed up the gangway as the crew untied the last lines from the dock.
“And now ladies, you’ll see just how swift the Queen of the South Sea is,” Bendurana said from the poop deck.
His crew must have seen what happened, by the solemn look on their faces, but they handled the ship without faltering. Bendurana threaded the dhow through the Solar naval vessels moving to defend the harbor. Lunar ships approached.
“They won’t take time to consider we’re not military,” Bendurana said as Chandi and Landorundun joined him.
Sure enough, a Lunar dhow broke off to pursue them. Bendurana’s crew redoubled their efforts at his shouts. Men rushed about, while Chandi and Landorundun watched the approaching Lunar vessel from the rail.
“Ben, they’re gaining on us.” Landorundun started to draw her sword.
Chandi grabbed the woman’s arm. “No! If they know we have Arun Guard aboard they’re more likely to pursue.”
“Gandewas,” Bendurana called. A half dozen of his men rushed onto the poop deck and readied the Solar bows. “Let the moon fall from the sky.” Then he noticed Chandi. “Sorry about that, my lady.”
The crew loosed two volleys at the pursuing ship. Chandi watched, wishing she could help. Even if they closed the distance, she didn’t want to risk drawing her Moon Blessings. After a third volley the Lunar ship began to fall behind.
As the Queen of the South Sea turned with the wind she sped away from the slower ships. The crew let the support yards out perpendicular with the wind. Chandi had never felt such a sense of speed.
“They’ll want glory today in battle, not days chasing merchants,” Bendurana said as if she had asked. “Our bigger threat will come in the journey ahead.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
At night, Bukit was beautiful. Malin didn’t like cities, of course, but Bukit was far preferable to Kasusthali. Instead of crystal domes and the stifling sea, above him, the moon and a million stars. Without such a reminder of their place in the universe, the Solars’ decadence came as little surprise.
Two-dozen of the Macan Gadungan followed behind him, spread out in a fan, combing the streets. The wooden buildings and dirt roads were more natural, too, more natural than the grand architecture of Kasusthali.
Maybe when Chandi returned they could fix things. Despite everything, he couldn’t deny he still desired her. Despite her lies and betrayal. But how could she not lie and betray, given the Moon Scion who had raised her, who had sent her to Kasusthali to become spy and betrayer?
He signaled several of his people around the back of the Hill Palace. Its courtyard had long served as meeting place for Moon Scion councils. The palace was rectangular, with slanted eaves overhanging both the courtyard and the outside of the building.
Six of the Macan Gadungan followed Malin through the front door. One look at the weretigers, and the door guards made no move to stop them. Rahu’s dog growled at him. It always did. Malin’s stare drove it back into a corner, tail between its legs. Dog without a master. Perhaps it was luckier than it knew.
Naresh would be dead soon, and Chandi would have to reevaluate everything. Just as Malin had done. Just as they all were forced to do because of Rahu’s mad war. Everyone was better off before he came.
The sliding doors to the inner courtyard already stood open, allowing servants to bring in food. Those who saw the weretigers scattered, clearing the way. The inner courtyard was lined with bamboo trees and decorated with a fishpond. Ketu and a handful of other Moon Scions sat cross-legged on straw mats, drinking tea.
Ketu nodded at Malin. The others started, and several rose. Hand on the hilt of his keris, Malin walked up to Ketu.
“Enough debate,” Ketu said. “I shall claim my b
rother’s throne as War King. None of you has the strength to challenge me, and I won’t be undermined behind my back. I wish I could trust any oaths you swore, but we all know oaths sworn under duress are subject to waning.”
One of the Moon Scions broke into a run, leaping onto the wall. Before he had taken three steps toward the roof, Malin reached him. A single swipe of his keris knife hamstrung the poor bastard. The man collapsed back into the courtyard. Malin motioned to his men, and they surrounded the others.
With one hand he grabbed the fallen man by the hair and dragged him to the fishpond. At first, the man flailed as Malin held him under. But his limbs soon lost their strength, and his spasms became less frequent, until the bubbles stopped and he lay still. No one spoke.
Malin sent the Macan Gadungan escorting the others out with a tilt of his head.
“Make sure no one finds the bodies,” Ketu said.
Malin met his gaze, not bowing. “You will remember this.”
After a moment, he followed his people out into the rainforest. A family of nocturnal monkeys watched them escort the condemned. To their credit, the men didn’t try to flee. If they had, he’d have killed them right here. He would not risk his people to keep Ketu’s betrayal a secret. Perhaps two-dozen Macan Gadungan were more than even six Moon Scions wanted to face.
The rainforest smelled vibrant at night, energized. The Macan Gadungan sensed a shift in the air. Everything they had known was about to change. It began with Rahu’s murder. Or before that even, when he discovered the secret of the Amrita, though he had told no one.
“The Macan Gadungan will escort you across the island,” he told the Moon Scions. “You will not return until I send for you.”
“You’re letting us live?” Sangkuriang asked. “Why?”
“Because things are changing. One day I will call upon you. You will remember this,” he repeated.
Malin stalked through Bukit, unnoticed by most of the night guards. He would help Ketu rise to power, as he’d promised Chandi. But the priest’s reign would be brief.
Malin twitched, part of him wishing he’d shifted, killed Ketu now. But doing so would have meant civil war. Not while the Solars remained a threat.
No one stopped Malin from entering the guard house, or descending through the tunnels beneath Bukit. Rats scurried away from him as he drew near Naresh’s cell. The cells stank of mold and human waste. At least Solars didn’t cage their criminals—Malin had to give them that.
Though the only light came from a lantern down the hall, Malin could see clearly. Naresh seemed to have adjusted to the gloom, too, for he rose as Malin approached. The man had been seated in Kebatinan meditation, as though communing with his god might help him now.
Malin had made damn sure they kept Naresh out of sunlight, moved him only at night. He’d never recharge that damn Brand.
Malin strummed his fingers over the cell bars. “Mighty Arun Guard, hiding in a hole. I’ve waited for this moment.”
“And now you have it at last.”
“You’re just a man, after all.” An arrogant man, alone in the dark without his vile powers. “What does she see in you?” Malin pressed his face against the bars.
“Chandi?” Naresh didn’t step closer.
Malin snarled. “You’re not worthy to speak her name, Solar.”
Naresh smirked, took a step closer. “Maybe she sees the sunlight in me.”
“You’ll never see the sun again. You’ll die alone on this island. No friends, no powers, no god, and no Sun Brand.”
“And she still won’t love you.”
“Her eyes will open with your death.”
Naresh stood and raised his fists before him. “Then come to me, animal.”
Malin licked his lips. He’d taste the man’s blood. Restraint. “Soon enough you will have all the combat you desire. While Kasusthali burns. You’ll die before the Lunars, Naresh. And the death of a Solar champion will unite our people behind Ketu.”
Naresh closed the distance between them, glared at him through the bars. “Even if you kill me, you think you can assault an underwater city?”
“The Ignis have betrayed you. Your city is under siege, Guardsman, if it hasn’t fallen already. Your dynasty is falling as we speak.”
“Speak? All I hear is an animal baying.”
Malin grabbed Naresh’s baju, yanked him into the bars. A satisfying grunt escaped the Guardsman as he fell. Malin left the Solar groaning on the ground.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
