The Skyfall Era Trilogy: Books 1-3

by Matt Larkin

  Lang patted Hainuwele on the shoulder, earning a glare from both Naresh and Landorundun. “Very well, my lady. You make a convincing argument. I will speak to the king about finding some emergency housing on the beach for your …” he looked around at the refugees, “village. Remain here until I return.” The man bowed and marched off with his soldiers, back into the city proper.

  Bendurana grinned. “Who’s hungry?” Shouts, cries, and commotion among the refugees answered him. People stumbled all over themselves toward the captain. “The Queen of the South Sea is ready to save the day. As always! Ah, my fellows, have a seat, relax, and I’ll return with food.”

  “You heard him,” Landorundun said. “All of you sit down. Stay calm and we’ll get through this. Everyone will get their fair share.”

  “If they’re in a hurry, you could Sun Stride me to the ship,” Ben said.

  “Go, Ben,” Landorundun said. “We’re all hungry.”

  “Ah, my love, as you wish.” He bowed and ran off towards a pier, scattering angry kingfishers as he barreled past them.

  Chandi sat down, legs folded beneath her. Her stomach growled. Maybe Landorundun should have Strode Ben to the Queen.

  Naresh sat across from her. “I’m sorry.”

  She shook her head.

  “Chandi, I can’t run from this. I owe these people my service.”

  She reached up to stroke his face. Beautiful, dark eyes. They still had the spell, but something else clouded them. “Why do you owe them service? They’re not your family.” Chandi was his family. Didn’t he owe her more? Didn’t he need her more?

  She’d asked him how he saw her. “The moon and stars, held forever in the instant before dawn.” Was she still?

  He held her hand in his, running his rough fingers over hers, then shut his eyes for a moment. “Why can’t you understand? This is who I am. You always knew that, Chandi. You want to take responsibility for your life? It means you have to accept it when it is given to you. You have the strength to fight for these people. Don’t you have the courage to do so?”

  Courage? Chandi pulled her hand away. Courage was diving into the coliseum beneath Bukit to rescue the man she loved, not standing up for a people that were not her own.

  “Do you believe in me?” she asked.

  Now he placed his hand on her forehead. “More than you’ll ever know.” He leaned in and kissed her brow, then stood. “It doesn’t mean you’re always right.”

  CHAPTER NINETY-SIX

  Much as Lang seemed to dislike Naresh, the man had invited all of them to his home. Or maybe it was because he disliked Naresh. He did, after all, live in a wing of the palace.

  The Iron Palace, the locals called it, Ben had said. Not so much because of the massive iron gates one had to pass through to get past the two-story-tall wall, but because Kertajaya had gotten rich off iron exports.

  Lang led them past an artificial fishpond that probably stretched a thousand feet or more. Perch swam about beneath the lilies, and Chandi spotted more than one frog as Lang led them past it. Palm trees dotted the edges of the pond, even shaded a few benches here and there.

  “We seek Kebatinan here,” Lang said to Hainuwele.

  Landorundun’s sister had taken the Suladvipan’s arm and clung to him like a boat in a stormy sea. The two of them led the way, with Chandi, Naresh, Landorundun, and Bendurana following behind.

  The alabaster-painted palace reflected the light of the setting sun, stinging her eyes. The king had had his entire palace painted white, save for the massive saddle roof. Igni-forged ironwork outlined the rims of the roof, drawn into curls, spirals, and leaf-like designs. Some of the metal leaves featured so much detail they could pass for real foliage, if the color were different.

  Lang made sure they noticed the intricate Igni ironwork by pausing at the pond and staring up at it. Chandi rolled her eyes. She’d seen the majesty of Kasusthali. She’d seen the dome of the great hall, beneath the South Sea. She’d walked the Circuit and seen mantas swim by.

  And she’d seen the rest of Daha. The wealthy had their own small palaces near the Iron Palace, but Kertajaya left most of his people in relative squalor. Tightly packed houses lined most streets, with ladders to climb to the house, since there was little room for stairs.

  And while she appreciated the bright green grass and palm trees scattered about the city, the unpaved roads had covered her sandals and sarong in dust. Dirty people clogged the streets doing laundry—they all wore black for some reason—that would surely get caked in that same dust as it hung to dry. And animals freely roamed the streets. Not just the kingfishers, which Ben said Dahans called good luck, but even water buffalos and chickens. Why couldn’t this king spend his money to care for his city, instead of covering his roof with ironwork?

  The interior was predictably decadent as well. Igni-carved furniture and woven wall hangings lined the halls, and servants bustled about. Lang led them to the east wing, into a comfortable sitting chamber. Plush crimson cushions formed a circle around a tea table. Lang reclined on one and waved for the rest of them to do the same.

  Chandi turned to take in his quarters first. No bed, so he must only use this room to receive guests. A bamboo door led into another chamber, probably his private rooms.

  A half-dozen ivory statues of kingfishers sat on a table against the wall. Chandi strolled over to them. “What are these?”

  “Commemorations of Sepak Takraw tournaments,” Lang said. “I was a professional player, before Pak Kertajaya named me his heir. We even won a tournament in Kasusthali last year.”

  “Ah, I saw that,” Ben said. “I didn’t recognize you at first, my good man. Quite a kick you have there.”

  Lang nodded once. “It was a tight game. The stadium in Kasusthali was a feat of engineering. I’ve been telling Pak Kertajaya to attempt something like it—he loves to watch the game, of course—but he worries that now is not the time for indulgences. But then, maybe now is when the people need their indulgences most.” He smirked at Hainuwele, who had sat down beside him.

  Chandi knelt next to Naresh and patted him on the arm. “What are we doing here?” she whispered. “I thought you wanted to stay with the refugees.”

  Naresh leaned in to her ear. “I do. But Pak Lang has the ear of the king and knowledge of the outside world. We need both. If he knows anything about the rest of the Arun Guard, we must learn it.”

  “You trust him?”

  “Not really.” He leaned back as servants deposited a pair of teapots and several teacups on the table.

  “You were saying, Ben?” Landorundun said when the servants had left. “About the duyong?”

  Ben waved his arms about. “Ah, my dear, I assure you, mermaids are quite real.”

  Naresh grunted. “Surya save us. Is this really the time for such nonsense?”

  Ben shook his finger at Naresh. “Indeed. Or at least it was the time. You see, there I was, lost at sea. Adrift, without even my boat anymore. And what’s a captain without so much as a boat? Ah, well, he’s Nirrti’s new toy, that’s what.”

  “Nirrti?” Chandi asked.

  “What we Serendibians call the queen of the frozen underworld. Ah, what was I saying? Yes, the sea was tossing me about, trying to pull me under. And I thought to myself, ‘this is it, Ben, you’ve sung your last song, had your last adventure, and wooed your last maiden.’ I was—”

  “Wooed your last maiden?” Landorundun said. “Really? Maybe we should hear more of those stories.”

  “Well now, my dear, if it had really been my last, none of us would be here having this conversation, would we? No. Because mermaids saved me. Pulled me to safety, so that I could be here with you today. Ready for more heroics.”

  Chandi sipped her tea. “Is that true? You really saw a duyong?”

  Naresh folded his arms. “I’m sure some part of it was true. The part about wooing maidens, probably. Can we address the real issue?”

  Landorundun laughed and smiled at Bendurana.
He stroked her hand with his thumb.

  “Indeed.” Lang set his cup down on the table. “What we need is a Ratu Adil.”

  Naresh chuckled. “More myths. Wonderful.”

  Ratu Adil?

  “We’re agreed that Ketu won’t leave us in peace?” Naresh said.

  Chandi shrugged. “He’ll see the Arun Guard as a threat. We all grew up hearing horror stories about the merciless Guard that serve the Solar elite.” Landi glared at her. “Sorry,” Chandi said.

  “Oh, it’s all right. We grew up hearing stories about the merciless Macan Gadungan,” Landi said. “Guess Solar stories have more truth.”

  Naresh squeezed her hand. So be it. Once, after Bukit, she’d thought she could bond with Landorundun. It hadn’t lasted.

  The woman had darkened with each day here, smiling only when around Bendurana. Her parents refused to accept the man she loved, her emperor had died, her city had fallen. Even the Radiant Queen had been lost, right in front of Landorundun.

  But Chandi had been there, by her side. And if even Landorundun couldn’t accept her, how could anyone else? Naresh said she wasn’t always right. Well, she was right about one thing. These people were never going to give her a home.

  “If the Moon Scions plan to seek out the Arun Guard, we should be doing the same,” Naresh said. “How many of us are left?”

  Landi brushed her hair from her face. “Besides you and me?”

  “Ah, Naresh,” Ben said, “is it wise to divide our resources searching for people that may or may not live? I mean no disrespect to your compatriots. But any that survived Kasusthali have probably gone into hiding.”

  “Making the same mistake we did,” Naresh said. “We have to draw them out, unite them. They are our brothers and sisters, and our greatest assets.”

  And the easiest way for them to kill her father. To slaughter more Lunars. Like radiant, pitiless gods of war.

  “You want to unite people,” Lang said, “we need to set up a Ratu Adil.”

  “Do you have anything useful to add, Pak Lang?” Naresh said.

  “Now, Pak Naresh,” Hainuwele said. “At least hear out our host.”

  Chandi snatched her hand away and slapped the floor with both palms. “Rangda’s evil gaze! Would someone please tell me what a Ratu Adil is?”

  Naresh seemed to hide a chuckle, which only made her glower more. Even Landorundun and Hainuwele were smiling. Rangda damn it all. Why did they all know more than she did? Damn Solars.

  Now even Naresh sided with them.

  “I’d like to know that, too,” Ben said.

  “There’s a legend,” Naresh said. “During the Pact one Just King was able to unite all three dynasties. Not just in peace, but under a single ruler, against a great threat. Take it from someone who spent more than a single year at the Academy, Lang. It’s just a story.”

  “Doesn’t matter if he really existed.” Lang said. “He’s a symbol. And if we could set up another one? Unite the dynasties under a single ruler? Do you have any idea how many Ignis live in this city alone? What if we could win Lunars to the cause? We have one already.” Chandi didn’t like the way he kept pointing at her. Someone should have told him it wasn’t polite. Besides, winning her to the cause? They might have to treat her like a person for that.

  “You’re insane,” Naresh said. “And the Ignis are more dangerous than we ever realized.”

  “The Firewalkers. Yes, we heard.”

  Firewalkers? Was that what they called themselves? Chandi had had more than enough of Ignis for one lifetime. How had they concealed such power? No. If they’d had it all along, they would have used it, wouldn’t they?

  And to try to unite Solars and Lunars under a single ruler … Naresh was right. It was insane. Uniting them in marriage was difficult enough. Kakudmi and Ratna had been a disaster. And even she and Naresh … No, they were fine. But if she didn’t have a single friend amongst all these Solars, how could they expect entire nations to live and work together?

  “We need to know if there are more Arun Guard in the Outer Isles,” Naresh said.

  Lang shifted.

  “What is it?” Chandi asked.

  Lang eyed her before looking to Naresh. “There’s a rumor the Ignis might be holding an Arun Guard.”

  Naresh smashed the table with his fist. Teacups overturned, and Chandi jumped back to avoid being splashed. “And why didn’t you tell us this before? How long have you known one of our brethren might need aid?”

  “Not my brethren, remember? It’s just a rumor, anyway.”

  “Where?” Landorundun asked.

  “There’s an Igni town beyond the wetlands. Pottala. Could be there.”

  Naresh nodded. “Will you take us there?”

  Lang just shrugged.

  “Good.” Naresh hesitated. “They were part of the Solar Empire. If we can drive them from the Lunars…” He clenched his fists in his lap. “Whatever they’ve done, we have to try to reach an understanding.”

  Chandi stood. “You can’t be serious. These people destroyed our home. Twice! They are treacherous, and more powerful than we ever imagined.”

  “They were oppressed.” Naresh looked up at her. “You were right, way back then, and I didn’t see it. I can’t forgive what they’ve done, but I can understand it. We need to show them we’re better than Ketu. We know, no matter what, he’s never going to stop coming after us.”

  “My father didn’t start this war!”

  “No, Malin did. At Rahu’s bidding, I assume. Do you imply your father will make peace now? Do you think he’ll stop with Suladvipa? Even with the Skyfall Isles?”

  Lang pointed his finger at her. Again. “She’s Ketu’s daughter?”

  Chandi threw her hands up and stormed out of the room. First Naresh wanted to hunt down her father. Now he wanted to trust the damn Ignis. Chandi had seen where that led.

  Thousands of deaths and broken empires.

  And broken lives. Just as their lives were breaking at the seams. That fire was still burning away at Naresh, devouring him like so much dried tinder, until all that remained would be cinders.

  As soon as she exited the palace, she slumped against the wall, waving off the guards that came to check on her. Why? She’d married him, they loved each other, they had everything. Except a home.

  Except understanding. If such a thing could ever be found.

  She wouldn’t cry.

  She forced herself to walk out of the palace gardens, and into Daha.

  Stories said love was enough. But stories never spoke of the slaughter of nations or the weight of duty.

  Soon she was running through the city, the evening wind in her hair. She would run until sleep took her.

  But she wouldn’t cry.

  CHAPTER NINETY-SEVEN

  The jukung threaded through the river with ease. Chandi hadn’t realized quite how accomplished a waterman Naresh was. He’d spent his time fishing off a jukung this past year, so it shouldn’t surprise her.

  Lang sat at the bow, giving occasional directions. On the shore, a pair of anoa drank from the river. They were the first live lowland anoa Chandi had ever seen. The cattle seemed to have no fear of the boat.

  Soon, brilliant green and red foliage covered most of the banks. On the far side of the river, men rode a train of four elephants through the pale green water. The plants were so dense, they couldn’t travel any other way.

  “Ignis?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Lang said. “They’re probably trading with another village. They won’t bother us.”

  Chandi watched the train pass. The men—well, one was a woman—on the elephants stared at her, or perhaps at the jukung, without so much as a wave. But then, Chandi and Naresh were the intruders here.

  Theses waters weren’t the brilliant emerald of the Green River, but a soft green, like the grass just before the rainy season. Peaceful, slow. And so quiet. With the elephants behind them, the only sound she heard was the occasional rustle of the lateen s
ail as Naresh adjusted it, or the slight splash the boat made through the river. No, if she listened closely enough, she could hear birds in the distance, or the beat of insect wings.

  She shut her eyes, reclined in the boat, and let the sunlight warm her face. She hadn’t often gone sailing with Naresh. She should have done so more often. Drifting through the warm silence, there was a calmness that must have almost approached Solar Kebatinan.

  She glanced at Naresh. He was quiet, too, and still, watching the river. Chandi smiled, and shut her eyes again. Maybe all of it wasn’t so bad. He was still in there. And Chandi would never give up on him.

  “Look,” Lang said.

  Chandi sighed and opened her eyes with a stretch. Had she slept? Her gaze followed the direction Lang pointed. The foliage here pushed back from the shore, revealing a standing stone rising from the hillside. At least ten feet tall. Another followed soon after. The stones were too far away to see what the builders had carved onto them.

  “Why did your people make those?” she asked.

  “We didn’t. Neither did the Ignis. As far as we know they’ve always been here.”

  For some reason the thought made Chandi shudder. “The Astral Temple.”

  “What?” Naresh looked past the sail at her.

  Chandi shook her head. Could the same people have built these megaliths and the Astral Temple? Semar had hinted that Rahu’s people may have built, or at least understood, the Temple. But she had never made sense of that. The Temple had always been on the Isles.

  Like these stones.

  Things built by people so long ago no one even knew they existed. All they had been, forgotten. Their works attributed to the gods themselves. And why not? It was easier to imagine Chandra had built these things. Easier to consider that than a civilization with the power to build the Astral Temple vanishing.

  If their choices, their mistakes could erase them from history … Could their legacy do the same to the current inhabitants of these Isles?