The Skyfall Era Trilogy: Books 1-3

by Matt Larkin

  “Does it bother you, Naresh? That you must have killed thirty people in less time than it takes to eat breakfast?”

  That, even with his still-injured leg, even fighting at less than his peak, he’d done more than a Moon Scion could do on her best day?

  His mouth hung open a moment, then he trudged through the river and onto the shore beside her. Water streamed down his chest and arms, glittering in the sunlight. When he sat, revealing the sunburst tattoo of the Arun Guard on his back, that too began to glitter. Storing just a hint of sunlight.

  A glorious mark, fit to adorn one with the body of a war god. But what if he really was a war god? Because, if he could destroy a small army while weakened, what could he have done at full strength? In her childhood, Moon Scion children whispered of the Arun Guard like demons. But she hadn’t seen bloodlust in the Guard. Not before today.

  Was she losing him to this? The rage in his eyes when he turned on her people could have frightened a leyak.

  “I don’t know,” he said after a long moment. “Should it? They burned our village, killed the people that sheltered us. It was our duty to avenge the wrongs the Lunars and Ignis committed.”

  “Our duty?” This again?

  “All these people died because the Lunars forced us into this. Even the Ignis wouldn’t have done this without provocation. Those on the island haven’t even fought the Solars. It’s our duty to avenge this attack. To bring down the people responsible for these deaths.” He took off back toward the front, trying to get the refugees moving.

  Chandi rushed to catch up with Naresh. “We brought this on them, when we hid among them.”

  Her husband ushered more people around a bend in the canyon, holding up a winding tree branch that hung down over the path. “All the more reason we’re honor-bound to act. Ketu could have let things lie, but he decided to force the war to continue. And it won’t end until he does.”

  Chandi threw her hands up. “He’s my father!”

  She had crossed him once, to save Naresh. But how could she possibly condone outright war against him? Much less allow him to die? He was her only blood relative left—Ratna wasn’t really blood, for all Chandi loved her. Or maybe Ketu could still be convinced to stop this.

  Naresh sighed and motioned for another man to come hold the branch. He guided Chandi away with a hand on her shoulder. “I know that, love. But if he’s not a lunatic, he’s close enough.”

  “He’s after you. We can run, we should have run. You think he’d chase us beyond the Skyfall Isles? We can go to Mait. I speak a little Maitian.” Actually, she’d scorned the lessons Malin had tried to give her in his mother tongue, but she’d pick it up. “We’d be safe there. And without us, these people would be safer.”

  Naresh dropped his hand from her shoulder. “Flee? Hide? Leave all these people to their fates? Leave them to the man who brought the eclipse, who destroyed Kasusthali, who slaughtered and burned a fishing village? I will not, and cannot abandon my duty to what remains of the Solar people.”

  Chandi kicked at the dirt. “Duty? I left my family, my people for you. Because I love you. Have you forgotten what I left behind?”

  Naresh put a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll never forget what you’ve sacrificed. But I can’t abandon my honor, my duty, because of my selfish desire to live in peace with you.”

  “Maybe your honor is your selfishness. You can’t bear to sacrifice it.”

  Naresh stepped away and glared. “Ketu is burning the Isles around him. It won’t stop while he lives. And I have to stop it, whatever either of us wants.”

  He walked away down the canyon, left her standing by the river.

  Her legs trembled so much, she stumbled and fell onto the sand of the riverbank. Naresh was going to kill her father. And she’d lose them both. The Ignis hadn’t just burned Cenrana. They’d ignited a spark within Naresh, a fire that could consume him.

  And Chandi had no idea how to extinguish it.

  CHAPTER NINETY-TWO

  On a clear night, all of Bukit turned out to sit beneath the moon and stars and share their stories. Bonfires littered the market, the northern highlands, even the beach. Malin stalked through Bukit, catching bits of stories or gossip here and there. Had to keep ahead of Ratna. For her own good.

  Her witches almost ran this city now. Maybe Ketu wouldn’t have a throne to come back to. If it were anyone else but Tanjung guiding Ratna … One day he’d kill the witch. Moon Scion or not.

  “They ask about you.”

  Malin’s hackles rose, but he forced himself not to reveal his surprise. So Pohaci could even sneak up on a Macan Gadungan. Good to know. As soon as he turned, saw her crouched in the shadows beyond the edge of the fire, he realized why. Smoke obscured her scent.

  “Who does?” He knelt nearby, watching the Buaya Jadian’s black eyes. Firelight reflected off them.

  “Your people. The Jadian. You spend so much time thinking of them, serving them. Working for our freedom. But are you one of us?”

  His Macan Gadungan could never doubt that. But perhaps he held the Buaya Jadian at arm’s length. Maybe as much as other Lunars did. The werecrocodiles were more brothers and sisters to the weretigers than either acknowledged. Bodyguards and spies, all slaves to the Moon Scions.

  Pohaci was like Chandi in that, too. The insight. Serving the Jadian meant more than just freeing them. It meant uniting them.

  “Come.” He hiked up into the northern highlands, where his people made their own fires. Though bound to Moon Scion Houses, on a night like this, the Macan Gadungan gathered amongst themselves.

  The strong, spicy smell of chilies and turmeric drifted from a massive stewpot hung over a cook fire, overpowering the scents of the other weretigers.

  Seven of the Macan Gadungan had gathered around the fire. Probably more than half the weretigers in Bukit. One, a youth named Sunten, waved him over as soon as he approached. “Malin! Join us. The fried rice is almost ready. Fresh eggs and chicken.”

  The others murmured their assent, scooting aside to make room for him.

  Malin glanced back at Pohaci. When they followed his gaze, some of them grumbled.

  Sunten glowered. “Should we get two bowls, Malin?”

  Malin watched the younger weretiger a moment. “No. Bring all the bowls. The pot too.”

  His people exchanged glances, but they obeyed. No hierarchy ruled the Macan Gadungan—or the Buaya Jadian so far as he knew—but he was the first, so his people followed him.

  “Where are we going?” Sunten asked. A pair of Macan Gadungan dragged the pot between them.

  “The beach. The Buaya Jadian hut.”

  “You want us to feed the werecrocodiles?”

  Malin glared at Sunten until he backed away. Good boy, but a bit dense.

  Pohaci walked by his side, a slight smirk on her face. She didn’t speak.

  Their pack attracted stares from the Lunars they passed. Malin fought the urge to smile. They made their way through the Loghouses. Malin wouldn’t take them through the marsh, not carrying the food, so the trek required winding through more foul alleys than he’d like.

  Sunten crept up beside him again. Eager to get back in his good graces, Malin guessed. “You heard about Bangdvipa?”

  Malin glanced at the youth.

  “Ratna sent one of her witches to run the island.”

  Malin growled. So she thought to control the Jadian home island? The arrogance would cost her.

  He expected Pohaci to hurry ahead to her people as soon as they spotted the Buaya Jadian bonfire. But the girl just walked by his side, kept pace with him.

  The Buaya Jadian gathered in a large congregation, at least twenty around the fire, telling stories. All talk stopped as Malin and his people approached.

  Malin motioned to Sunten, who sent the two carrying the pot forward. “Serve them,” Malin said to Sunten.

  “What?” Sunten glanced around at the werecrocodiles. They were all in human form, of course, but they held
so still. Watched it all, unblinking.

  Malin leaned in close to Sunten. “Stick a bowl in the rice and fill it up. Give it to someone. Repeat.”

  The youth took a step back, but did as he was told.

  “Pohaci. Make sure the Macan Gadungan get served, too.” Malin sat beside the Buaya Jadian that had been speaking. A middle-aged man. Older than most Buaya Jadian. Actually, Pohaci couldn’t even be thirty, and she was among the older generation. Rahu had taken young volunteers for the Buaya Jadian. Those with nowhere to go. When a life of spying became a step up.

  “Please continue the story.”

  The man licked his lips and ran a hand over his short, scraggly hair. “You know the story of Prince Panji? His father had arranged his marriage, but before marriage, Panji went to Puradvipa to study.” The man waved a hand at Malin. “This was before the Fourth War, of course.”

  After everyone had a bowl of rice, Pohaci sat beside Malin and handed him one as well. He dipped his fingers in. Still warm enough. Well-cooked, excellent spices.

  “Panji visited the Astral Temple, then the ashrams. He was heir to a Moon Scion House—no one remembers which anymore—and he knew knowledge of the spirit outweighed knowledge of war. And so he studied night and day at these ashrams. Many pilgrims did. Solars, even. One such Solar was the girl, Dewi Anggraeni.

  “Panji made the mistake of thinking he had something to learn from her, as well. He forgot that even in peace with the Solars, danger remains. Worse still, he fell in love. With a Solar.”

  Pohaci had finished her fried rice and leaned forward, arms on her knees, watching the Buaya Jadian speaker. Malin caught himself leaning forward, as well. Once he’d have called such a thing unlikely.

  “He told her, if you say you love me, before these people, we will be wed. I will take you home with me. She was frightened, of course, to come to Lunar lands. The Lunars allowed no foreigners on Swarnadvipa in those days. But her heart burned fiercely for Panji. He was a charming, handsome young man, and any young woman would feel his pull. But some say his very soul called to Dewi Anggraeni.

  “So she told him, ‘I love you,’ in front of the whole ashram. Any Lunar there could attest that was a real marriage. Well, when Panji took his new bride home, his father was not pleased. Panji had broken his arranged marriage with another House—House Janggala one version said, but I can’t speak to that.”

  “It was House Janggala,” Sunten said.

  Malin jolted, then glared at the youth. Everyone stirred a bit, drawn out of the speaker’s spell.

  “House Janggala it was, then,” the storyteller said. “Well, House Janggala, they threatened war with Panji’s house if he didn’t put aside his wife. But Panji, he loved Dewi just as much as she loved him. He swore he’d never leave her, so he couldn’t marry the Janggala princess, Kirana.

  “Panji’s father grew desperate, and he was a wily Moon Scion, so he pretended to agree. And he told Dewi to go and hide in the rainforest east of his lands, while he and his son talked things out with House Janggala. Panji’s father sent his house soldiers to protect her, so Panji felt secure.

  “Of course, the soldiers’ real orders were to murder the Solar. Now Dewi, she found out the truth. But she also learned that if Panji didn’t marry Kirana there was going to be war. Even though she was a Solar, she still didn’t want that on her conscience. So she went with the soldiers, anyway, and they did their grisly deed.”

  “They killed the girl?” Pohaci asked.

  “Yes. But sadly, that’s not the end of it. Panji went berserk, lunatic some say. He turned on his father, on his own House, and sundered it. He became a bandit, preying on the wealth of his father’s House and that of House Janggala.

  “And poor Dewi Anggraeni, murdered and left to rot in the jungle, found no peace. Neither Solar nor Lunar rites sent her soul on. It didn’t find a home in Kahyangan. It lingered, torn with rage and grief and Chandra-only-knows what else. And Dewi came to House Janggala, which she saw as the cause of her misery.

  “Bodiless, powerless to enact her vengeance, she slipped through the walls. Watched in the shadows of night, as House Janggala fell prey to Panji’s lunatic raids. Saw the grief of Princess Kirana, who felt responsible. And for three nights, Dewi drew closer and closer to the princess, feeding on her sorrow. That sorrow fueled her rage and drove Kirana beyond the breaking point. And when the weakened princess could take no more, Dewi Anggraeni entered her.

  “The princess’ fragile human mind and soul were no match for a being that had touched Kahyangan. Now, Dewi had a body. Now she could be reunited with her lover. So, Kirana—Dewi, that is—disguised herself as a man and escaped the palace. And for weeks she searched for her lost husband.”

  The speaker paused for a draught of water.

  “And?” Pohaci said.

  “And love does harsh things to a mind. Death does harsher. What goes to Kahyangan is not meant to come back. Dewi found Panji and tried to save him from his lunacy. But she couldn’t let go of her own maddened grief. Together they preyed upon their former Houses, and then, finally, on any travelers they found.

  “But after many years, Dewi couldn’t stand the thought of being separated from Panji. So she convinced him to kidnap a young man. And she told him to take his own life, and then take over the boy’s body. And they would live together forever. So Panji, he took his keris, and he slid it into his heart.

  “Now maybe Dewi forgot it took her time to be strong enough to possess a body. Or maybe Panji found his way to Kahyangan and left her alone. But when nothing happened, she despaired. Just left the boy, who escaped to tell the tale. Some say she still hops into the bodies of young women stricken down by grief, still wanders the hills, searching for her lost love.”

  Malin folded his arms. Not the best ending he could imagine to a Solar and Lunar romance.

  No one spoke for a while. Malin watched the fire as the talk began. The Macan Gadungan murmured to each other, the Buaya Jadian whispered among themselves.

  After some time, the middle-aged Buaya Jadian cleared his throat. “So what brings you Macan Gadungan down to us? You have our gratitude for helping Pohaci—”

  “And for the fried rice,” someone said.

  Malin rose, walked among them. Eyed each of the Jadian, werecrocodile and weretiger alike. “A year ago, the Ignis rose up and shattered the Solar Empire. They were tired of being oppressed by the society their labor upheld. We thought them weak. Perhaps there’s something we should learn from them.”

  The Jadian watched him.

  “If you are tired of serving, the first step is unity. When there is trust between us, we can force Ketu and Ratna to acknowledge us. Or our bloodlines can live apart from each other, tell our stories, and forget we are all as much Lunars as they are. Forget that Moon Scions are no more perfect than the rest of us.”

  Malin didn’t want to know how they’d react if they learned he was a Moon Scion, too.

  He watched each of them, especially the storyteller. But that man seemed to look to Pohaci. She wasn’t the oldest or first or wisest, but her ordeal must have made her a symbol among them.

  “Choose your future,” Malin said. “We can be slaves, or we can be kings.” He turned about and trod away. Let them murmur. Let them ponder. Let them act.

  Pohaci followed him as he left the beach camp. “I have something to tell you. I wanted to tell you before, but it was difficult.”

  “You don’t seem the type to hold back.” Malin wound his way back through the alleys of the Loghouses. This late at night, he had to watch his step. Even his night eyes might miss something he’d rather not step in.

  “Not here. Too many ears.”

  Malin nodded. “Come.” He led her back to his house. He opened the door for her, and she slipped inside.

  Malin didn’t bother to light a candle. Both of them could see in the dark well enough.

  Pohaci stood very still, in just the spot where Malin’s tea table had once sat. “Ratna cau
ght me spying. Demanded I report to her about you. She said if I didn’t she’d lock me so deep in the Bowels even you couldn’t find me.”

  “And do you believe her?”

  “I believe she might try.”

  Malin stepped closer to her. “I promise you, you will not go back to that place. There is nowhere so deep I can’t find you.”

  He pinched a bit of her hair between his fingers. Soft, clean enough she must have spent phases working to get it that way. “Did you betray me?”

  She shook her head. Had to be telling the truth. He could feel it. Smell it.

  “You’re not angry.”

  Malin shook his head. “I’m not that surprised. She’s clever, when she wants to be.”

  Pohaci grabbed him by the shoulders. Startled, Malin didn’t resist as she shoved him against the hut wall. She pressed her body against his. Her breasts pushed against his ribs. So warm.

  Pohaci rubbed her neck against Malin’s. He shuddered at the strange feeling. Soft, silky, but so strong. Her lips found his, filled his mouth with an exotic salty taste. She bit down a little.

  She wasn’t Chandi. Malin cursed himself for thinking of her. But she’d crawled into his mind and he couldn’t get her out.

  He pushed Pohaci back by her shoulders. The girl didn’t look hurt. Frustrated, perhaps. Hungry even.

  Malin gripped her cheek with his palm. “Go. Rest.”

  Pohaci smirked and bowed before she left.

  Malin collapsed onto the mat in the corner, blowing out a deep breath. His heart pounded. It had been too long since he’d taken a mate.

  Pohaci’s warmth lingered on his skin long after she’d left.

  CHAPTER NINETY-THREE

  Maybe Ratna should have kissed Mahesa while he was here. She’d asked herself over and over if she loved him. No answer came, except that she needed to find out. He’d been gone less than a month, but she’d already sent sailors out asking after him. At least to know where he was.