The Skyfall Era Trilogy: Books 1-3

by Matt Larkin

  She sat in her mother’s old room. The open shutters let in a little light, and the sound of the rain. A candle on her low table illuminated the stack of papers that had piled up.

  She set the next paper on a stack for reading later. It was amazing the things people thought they could get away with. The things that turned up if you looked in the right places.

  Her door creaked. Malin stood there, in the shadows of the hall, watching her.

  “Did you know this palace used to belong to House Shravana before House Soma? One Queen Kencanawungu lived here.”

  Malin crept forward and knelt across from her desk. “Queen Kenya burned down the palace of House Soma when Rahu fought her for leadership of the Lunars. Her whole House died. We took her palace in compensation.”

  So Malin not only knew, he was there. All records seemed to indicate House Shravana had once been one of the four greatest Houses, an honor not bestowed on House Soma. At least not before Rahu became the War King.

  “I heard an interesting story last night,” Malin said. “Someone told me you sent a witch to Bangdvipa. Not Ratna, I thought. She wouldn’t make such a mistake.”

  Ratna waved him off. Maybe it was a mistake to send Mahesa away. Seeking Solar secrets … What if he was in danger? He could fight, and he was clever, but so young.

  “Are you listening to me, Ratna?”

  She sighed. “Not really. What do you want, tiger?”

  “The Jadian deserve an equal voice in running the Lunar Empire. We are every bit the children of Chandra you are.”

  Ratna rose. “How dare you? I have the blood of the Moon God in my veins. You are just servants.”

  Malin stared up at her a moment. “You don’t know. They never told you the truth.” The weretiger looked far away for a moment. “You should have been told when Revati was born. Why hasn’t Ketu told you?”

  “Why hasn’t my uncle told me what?”

  Malin rose. “He’s not your uncle. And you don’t have the blood of any gods.”

  Not her uncle? What was he carrying on about now?

  Hands on her hips, Ratna glared at the impudent tiger. “Just get out. When I need you, I’ll send for you.”

  Instead he stepped closer to her. “You can revel in your ignorance if you want. But I give you one last chance, Ratna. The Jadian are no longer servants. Help us show Ketu we deserve more.”

  His hot breath fell on her face. But if she backed down now, the tiger would think he could intimidate her. “You speak treason. Another word of it and I’ll have you locked in the Bowels.”

  His eyes narrowed and a growl leapt from his throat. “I held you in my arms, child. I cared for you when your mother died—”

  “You failed to protect my mother! Get out!”

  At last, Malin backed away, but he paused in the doorway. “You know nothing about your mother.”

  And then he vanished into the shadows. Ratna gasped at the sudden pain in her chest. Breathe. She had to relax. She stumbled over to her dresser, where her mother’s brush rested. She ran it through her long hair, forced out one shuddering breath after another. Slowly, the pain faded from her chest.

  Once, she’d depended on Malin. But he’d failed her mother. He’d failed Revati. He failed her father. Now he spoke as though he deserved reward for years of failure.

  He claimed Ketu was not her uncle. Could that be true? But then, he also claimed she didn’t have the blood of the Moon God, and she obviously did—her Moon Blessings proved that.

  Ratna rubbed her face. Malin had turned on her, hadn’t he? Chandi was gone, too. The only one she could count on was Mahesa. Why had she sent him away? Did the book matter more than his life? Or maybe she should have gone with him.

  She slunk to the floor and continued brushing her hair. Her chest seized up again.

  Mahesa had come to her in Kasusthali. He’d promised to stay as long as she wanted.

  But it never seemed to work out that way. Ratna set down her mother’s brush. He’d have stayed with her now. All he wanted was for her to send away Tanjung.

  But she had to find her daughter. She wiped angrily at the tear falling down her face. She did not cry.

  Only Mahesa had come to see her. And Malin had welcomed him there, maybe even sent for him. The Macan Gadungan had watched over her for her entire life, it was true.

  And she had cast him out. She wiped her face again. Well, she’d clean herself up, and she’d find him, after the lingsir kulon meal. What if he was right? Maybe his years of service did deserve recognition.

  Malin had stood by her side from the day she was born. Had stayed alone with her and Chandi in Kasusthali, though it must have pained him. Misguided though he was, he’d sent Mahesa to her.

  And once she had Revati back in her life, maybe she could have Mahesa, too. She rose and walked to her dresser, splashed water from the bowl there on her face. It wasn’t cold, but it helped refresh her a bit.

  Her mother’s brush remained on the floor. Had her mother been the vile witch everyone seemed to remember? Or had she been just like Ratna, trying to do what she could for her daughter?

  Tanjung had spoken of her version of events from back then. What tales would Malin tell, if she gave him the chance? He’d talked to Chandi sometimes. Maybe he’d always liked her better. Perhaps Ratna had given him reason.

  Malin was irritating, emotional, and arrogant. And loyal. Had he ever lied to her? She paced about her room, but nothing came to mind. Malin didn’t lie. Which meant he had reason to believe Ketu was not her uncle.

  And that Chandra’s blood didn’t flow through her?

  She had lost too much. It was time to gather her allies, her family. And if Ketu was not her family, maybe she should help Malin against him after all.

  CHAPTER NINETY-FOUR

  Rangda take that girl. Malin kicked a barrel in the street, crushing it. The owner, a mango vendor, shouted objections until he saw Malin’s face.

  Still, not the merchant’s fault. Malin dropped him a couple of silver coins.

  He’d given Ratna her last chance. He’d promised Calon to protect her. Well, now he’d protect her from her own arrogance and stupidity. She had no more right to rule than Ketu did.

  Children ran past him as he wound his way around the Loghouses. Lunar children, happy, playing in the rain. Splashing mud. If he did this, children would die, too.

  He’d spent a year trying to avoid civil war. Pointless, probably. But he had to give Ketu one last chance. To do what Ratna had failed to. To see the truth the child was blind to.

  The rain came so heavily now, the streets flooded faster than the grates could let the spillover into the Bowels. Malin found himself wading through ankle-deep, chilly water. Water and worse things.

  But the marshland would flood higher. Malin had no desire to swim to the beaches. All the filth in the water stank less than the corruption and madness that permeated Bukit. Perhaps it had been sick all along. Perhaps Rahu had brought this sickness.

  And Malin, a foolish young man of twenty-five, had joined the madman. “Come with me, and take the power to change your destiny,” Rahu had said all those years ago. And Malin had done so with relish. Mad with grief and guilt for the death of his wife, lost and bitter. Prey to the strong.

  Malin was prey no longer.

  He stalked onto the beach. Lightning crashed above, illuminating the afternoon sky. The Buaya Jadian had taken refuge from the storm in their hut.

  Malin ran toward it, clean wet sand clinging to his feet and tossed up in the air. Chest heaving, he stole into the shadowed community house.

  The Buaya Jadian congregation lay about, most half-clad, sleeping in close proximity if not on top of each other. Some watched him with one open eye. Pohaci and the storyteller among them.

  Malin had to pick his footing carefully to avoid stepping on any of the reclining Buaya Jadian. None moved to make his progress easier, though Pohaci sat up when he reached her.

  “Change your mind about my
offer?” she said.

  “I’m going to the Astral Temple. I will speak to Ketu. Will give him one last chance to recognize us, officially. We will join his government, or we will topple it.”

  The Buaya Jadian made almost no sound when they moved. But Malin could feel them all sit up. Now all watched him.

  “Tell me what you need from me,” Pohaci said.

  Malin thumbed her soft cheek. “We need to be ready. If he refuses us, we need to strike quickly. But wait for my signal before you act. I want the Buaya Jadian dispersed.”

  “What?”

  He looked around at the gathered werecrocodiles. All watched him, far too still. But they smelled … Eager.

  “A few at a time, slip throughout Swarnadvipa. Get in position to strike on all the Moon Scion Houses. All of them. Spread the word to the Macan Gadungan. I’ll have my people tell them to expect you.”

  Malin rose and turned, taking them all in with a sweep of his arm. “For almost twenty-five years the Moon Scions have used us. Tossed us aside. But they trained you exactly how to hurt a foe and slip away unseen. It’s time to hurt them. Soon.”

  Pohaci stood beside him. “We’re with you.”

  Good. The Buaya Jadian were scorned and hated for the very duplicitous actions the Moon Scions trained them for, demanded from them. But the Moon Scions had forged them into powerful weapons.

  “I’ll come with you to the Astral Temple,” she said. “I can help you.”

  “No. Pohaci, I need you to do something special. A year ago, I sent some Moon Scions to a village across Swarnadvipa. Men Ketu ordered me to kill. Find them. Look for Sangkuriang. Tell them they may be coming home. Bring them here, ready to infiltrate the Moon Scions in Bukit. They’ll be all too glad to bring down Ketu.”

  Pohaci turned, taking in her people. “And if Ketu agrees to your terms? What do I do with all these new Moon Scions?”

  Malin cracked his neck. “I’ll deal with it when I return. If they have to live out their lives in hiding, so be it.”

  The next time he saw Bukit, it would not be as a servant to a Moon Scion. Malin made his way from the werecrocodile hut out into the cool afternoon rain.

  Clean. Enough to wash away all that had gone wrong on this island. Swarnadvipa had long since become his home. And he intended to protect his home.

  “Malin!” Pohaci called. She ran through the rain toward him, chasing him as he hurried toward the harbor.

  He paused to let her catch up. In the darkness, she looked even more like Chandi, running along the beach. Chandi had run here almost every night, before she went to Kasusthali.

  The rain plastered Pohaci’s half-buttoned baju to her skin, revealing her form. Her hair hung limp around her face, obscured her eyes a bit, but she didn’t push it aside.

  “Watch your back with Ketu. I want you to come home to us. If he’s anything like his brother, you shouldn’t go alone. Whatever spirits he put inside us, Rahu was a true demon.”

  No. Rahu was a vicious bastard, but Malin had seen a real demon. Seen the leyak Calon and Tanjung had released possess a corpse and feed on anyone unfortunate enough to be caught alone. “Rahu was just a lunatic. Pray you never witness real demons.”

  The wind and rain whipped her hair and clothes about, but Pohaci didn’t move. Didn’t even seem to shift her weight from foot to foot like most people.

  “There are people here that care about you, Malin.”

  Malin shivered in the rain. The girl saw too much, sometimes. All he’d done for Ratna, and she’d never appreciated him. One look in Pohaci’s eyes told him that she would never take him for granted.

  “I have to go,” he said. “I want to be at sea before nightfall. Don’t worry, I’m coming back.”

  As he turned to run down to the harbor, he could still feel her watching him. If Rahu wasn’t already dead, Malin would kill him again for putting anyone in such a vile hole, much less someone like Pohaci.

  Malin raced through the harbor to reach his jukung. He’d bought the outrigger years ago, but mostly had to leave Mahesa to tend it. Puradvipa was a far sail on a jukung, but Malin could make it.

  He shoved off the dock and used the oars to pull out to sea. Storm wasn’t too bad. Little more out, then he could raise the lateen sail.

  The wind stirred up the waves, but not to dangerous levels. And then he was away, free from Bukit. Free from the corruption and stink and treachery.

  Let Ketu prepare himself. Reckoning approached.

  The tiger spirit within him growled.

  CHAPTER NINETY-FIVE

  “There,” Naresh said.

  Chandi followed his gaze. The city, Daha, rose up on the shore, a welcome respite after nine days’ hike with nothing but the occasional fishing village. Her stomach growled. What little they’d scavenged had hardly lasted the refugees.

  At the sight of the city, though, everyone’s pace picked up a bit. One family scampered past her, the father holding his daughter on his shoulders as they hurried forward. Would Kertajaya give them food and shelter? Surely the king couldn’t turn away his own people.

  Chandi hefted her bag higher on her shoulder and trudged on. She’d taken to carrying a pack for an old woman who couldn’t manage it. The woman didn’t wake up this morning. Chandi couldn’t bring herself to just throw the bag aside, though she didn’t even know what was in it.

  Daha was large, larger than Bukit, though nothing compared to the majesty of Kasusthali. Not that she had expected it to match that undersea wonder, but still. A long pier stretched out into the sea, in the midst of several smaller piers. Daha sat not on the Bone Gulf, but on the ocean side, which meant they’d had to trek across the southeastern peninsula. The old woman was not the only one they’d lost along the way, but as far as Chandi knew, she was the last.

  Kingfishers perched on almost every building in the harbor, walked the pier, and even followed people around. Occasionally, someone stopped and tossed them scraps.

  Almost as soon as Chandi and the others entered the bustle of the harbor, a band of men approached them. Soldiers, garbed in black-and-crimson bajus, led by a man a bit older than her. A few strands of hair hung down over his eyes and stubble covered his chin, but otherwise he kept himself neat.

  The man marched up to her and stopped, pointing a finger at her. “You lead this band?”

  Chandi shook her head. “I—”

  Naresh appeared beside her, sizing up the soldiers before starting. “Pak Lang?”

  The soldiers’ leader rolled his eyes. “Should have known.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I live here, Pak Naresh.”

  Enough dancing around. “How do you know each other?” Chandi asked.

  “He was a potential for the Arun Guard. He lost a match to—”

  “A match to that damn Spice Islander,” Lang said. “He didn’t even survive the ritual. I was denied my chance at honor because of his tricks.”

  “So you ran. You would have had another chance to prove yourself.”

  “I don’t have to prove a thing to you. Not to anyone. Pak Kertajaya made me his heir after his son died in the Fifth War. You’re looking at the Prince of Suladvipa. Feel free to grovel, if you like.”

  Chandi grabbed Naresh as he started to clench his fists. Not this time. “We need sanctuary. The Lunars attacked Cenrana village. Please tell Kertajaya—”

  “King Kertajaya has already heard about the fate of the village. He regrets that he cannot offer shelter, for to take in the Arun Guard would only bring Ketu’s wrath on Daha.”

  By now, the whole ensemble of refugees had gathered. Murmurs rippled through them, followed by angry shouts. Chandi tried to move back to calm them, but Landorundun pushed forward, followed by her family. Not that the people listened to Chandi, anyway.

  “Does the king fear the Lunars, Pak Lang?” Landorundun asked.

  “Well,” Lang said. “So you’re here too, Ibu Landorundun? Welcome to Daha. Now I’m afraid that—”<
br />
  “Landi!”

  Chandi knew that voice. Bendurana barreled through the harbor, stumbling and almost falling when he collided with a porter. He spun around the man with murmured apologies, hopped on one foot, then continued his run. And then Landorundun Strode beside him. She leapt into his arms and wrapped her own around his neck.

  Chandi grunted. So even Landorundun broke down sometimes. Good to know.

  “Well, that’s totally inappropriate,” Hainuwele said and brushed her hair back from her eyes. Dirty as her blue baju had grown over the long trek, the woman still managed to be beautiful. Just like her sister. Long silky hair, smooth skin. And too curvy. But where Landorundun’s face was almost sweet, Hainuwele’s eyes reminded Chandi of a tiger’s.

  Lang started to point a finger at Naresh, then took in Hainuwele, and bowed. “My lady.”

  “If you are a prince, I imagine it’d be no difficulty to convince the king to help us. We are a people in need.”

  Lang seemed to be taking another look at Hainuwele. Let him. Chandi pulled Naresh aside. “Maybe he’s right. As long as we’re here, we put everyone in danger. The refugees, everyone would be safer if we were gone. They’re hunting for the Arun Guard, you’ve got to see that.” And besides, she was still ‘the Lunar’ to these people. They’d never find a real home, here.

  Naresh shook his head. “Go where, Chandi? Flee to the Spice Islands? And when the Lunars take them in another year? Perhaps to Irian? Or do you still think we should flee to Mait? I’ve already told you, I’m done running and I’m done hiding. We regroup, and then we take the fight to them. If Ketu wants the Arun Guard, he’ll get them.”

  Ben and Landorundun returned to the group. Chandi would swear they both had tears in their eyes. Naresh stepped away from Chandi to cuff Ben on the arm.

  “Ah, Naresh, good to see you missed me, too. Maybe not as much as some.” Ben glanced at Landorundun. “Which is probably for the best, too. I couldn’t handle such a greeting from you.”

  Chandi liked Ben more than she’d ever admit, so she was glad her husband’s view of the captain had changed. The Serendibian had risked everything to save Naresh. They all knew it.