The Skyfall Era Trilogy: Books 1-3

by Matt Larkin

  “I could use a break, anyway,” Landorundun said, her smile dark.

  Hainuwele snickered. “So Naresh, I heard you went to see an Igni chief. Did you bring us to peace with them again? Are they going to return to their rightful places?”

  “No.”

  “Well,” she said, “I’m sure you’ll take care of it. Any idea when your diplomat might return?”

  Lang. Naresh shook his head. Soon, with luck.

  “Well perhaps, when he comes back, you could speak to him … About me. You were friends, weren’t you?”

  Landi grabbed Hainuwele and pulled her aside before Naresh could speak. “What in Rangda’s freezing underworld is wrong with you? Your husband’s been dead less than a year, and now you’re hunting another. And don’t think I never noticed the way you looked at Naresh before Lang came along.”

  Well.

  Naresh started to slip away, but Landi grabbed him. “No, Naresh. You stay. My parents want your blessing, so you’re going to give it to them. And first, the three of us are putting an end to this.”

  “You’re so used to getting your own way, aren’t you?” Hainuwele said. “You, who got everything. I was beautiful as a girl, but my little sister was radiant. I was a musician, but you were a prodigy. And that wasn’t enough for you. No, you had to go and become First of the damned Arun Guard.”

  Landi moved to slap her sister, but Naresh grabbed her arm. “I worked for everything I had,” Landi said. “I fought harder than anyone to be accepted to the Arun Guard. I had to beat Lembu Ampal in a fight. You were a musician? I practiced night and day for that, while you were off chasing boys, or sharing our parents’ wealth with everyone you met.”

  “Since when is helping those in need a character flaw?”

  “Since it brought our family low enough the Radiant Queen wouldn’t dream of joining our families.”

  “Landi—” Naresh began.

  “You had another chance to marry him,” Hainuwele said. “The most eligible man in the Isles, probably. Son of the Radiant Queen. An Arun Guard himself. And look at that body—”

  Naresh shuffled his feet and looked away. He definitely should have stayed on the beach with Ben.

  “And he still wasn’t good enough for you. You needed the excitement of a pirate. You ran off having adventures with the captain while my husband died in the Fifth War. A war I hear Chandi helped start. She is Ketu’s daughter, isn’t she?”

  “He disowned me, actually.”

  Everyone froze. Naresh blew out a breath before turning to face his wife, standing there in the shadows beneath a house. Even in the darkness, he could see anger in her jaw, and pain in her eyes.

  Naresh walked toward her, but she shook her head and slunk away. He glared at Hainuwele, who now seemed to find her sandals fascinating.

  “Let’s go,” Landi said after a moment.

  Naresh started after Chandi, but Landi grabbed his arm.

  “Please, Naresh. Help me.”

  Well, Landi and Ben were his truest friends, and they needed him. Naresh sighed. A long time ago, he’d loved Landorundun. Now, he could only see Chandi. And when he shut his eyes, he saw the pain in hers.

  But he let Landi lead him away. Because he had a duty to her. He climbed the ladder to Solokang’s house, leaving Landorundun standing in the shadow below. He shouldn’t even be here. There was nothing he could say to the man. Naresh had broken off the engagement with Landi, and that was that.

  And yet, the man bowed, and offered him tea. “Pak Naresh, please be seated.”

  Naresh took the offered cup and seat, and sipped the tea. Very hot, with a hint of cinnamon. “Ibu Hainuwele asked me to come to see you.”

  Solokang nodded, slowly. “My daughter wishes to marry that … man.”

  His wife sat in the back of the house, in the private alcove. She coughed loudly, but said nothing.

  “We do not approve. But if you can vouch for him …”

  “I can. But I don’t see why that matters. You don’t really know me, Pak Solokang. Trust your daughter. In all that happened, the one thing I learned is that you have to follow your heart. Anything that stands in the way of that will fracture and crumble, burned away to ash.”

  “You are the son of the Radiant Queen, Pak Naresh. I need not know you personally. Is he a good man?”

  Naresh sipped his tea. Bendurana had come for him, though Naresh had never given him reason to do so. “He has a good heart, and it loves your daughter. Everything else is immaterial. And in the end, if you stand between her and her heart, she’ll defy you and marry him anyway, or she’ll hate you for driving him away. Either way, you’ll lose her.” He set the cup down on the tea table and rose. “For whatever it’s worth, you have my blessing. Please excuse me.”

  He had matters of his own heart to tend to. He nodded at Landorundun as he passed.

  Naresh searched the city for Chandi, limping through Daha on his Rangda-damned leg, but the girl knew how to avoid being found. Three years as a spy must have taught her that.

  His wife needed him. But try as he might to tell himself nothing else mattered, he had a duty to the people of Suladvipa. They needed him, too. And they couldn’t come second to his own desires—he had to protect these people.

  The mistakes his people had made, their arrogance, their failures, had sundered their Empire. But he had to believe it could be restored. Starting with Suladvipa. This place was half Solar and half Igni. What better place to forge a new empire?

  After centuries of dominance over the Ignis, Naresh’s people might find treating them as equals difficult. And after what had happened at Kasusthali, he understood their cries for vengeance. He’d seen the simmering undercurrents here. The way old women hurried away when Ignis passed. The way young men stared hard at them.

  And the way the Ignis now trained with weapons. Mostly in their homes, but sometimes out in the open. A subtle defiance of the king. A reminder of what had changed, or perhaps a warning of what was to come. Maybe he could convince Kertajaya to reunite the people, but Naresh was loath to deal with the man that had already betrayed the empire once.

  Working on the houses kept his mind clear. He needed to focus. Bendurana was still there, hauling lumber, sweat staining his white baju.

  Ben ran over as soon as he saw Naresh. “Ah, my friend.” He clapped Naresh on the arm. “How’d it go?”

  Naresh shrugged. “I told them what I thought of you.”

  “Well. I was hoping for better. Maybe you didn’t cast me in the best possible light. I think my left side is probably the most stunning. Perhaps you should try again. But with singing, this time. Come on, I’ll help you write the lyrics.”

  Naresh snorted. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary, Ben.”

  Ben shrugged, jiggling those odd locks of his. He must have had a dozen of the things. If he untied them, his hair was probably almost as long as Landi’s.

  “Ah, Naresh, what is it that so bothers you?”

  Naresh scratched his chin. Hard to say where to begin on that one. That everyone he was sworn to protect and all of his family had died. That Malin had murdered Empu Baradah, and Naresh never killed the weretiger. Or that his wife’s father was doing everything he could to destroy them all, giving no care to who else died in the process.

  When Ben put a hand on his shoulder, Naresh spoke at last. Had to. “I don’t know … where I’m going.”

  Ben shrugged. “Are you sure you’re not already there?”

  “Surya! I hope not.”

  “Wherever you’ve come from, there’s no going back. So pick a direction and keep walking until you get somewhere you want to be. Me, I’m going that way.” He pointed at Landorundun.

  She wore a plain white baju now, but even next to it, her skin looked pale. She trembled a little. Ben rushed to her and clasped her hand.

  “What happened?” Naresh asked.

  Landi looked at Ben when she answered, trembling. “They set the wedding for two days from no
w.”

  Ben wrapped both arms around his future wife and lifted her off the ground. She laughed a little.

  Naresh smiled. Chandi should see this.

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED

  Chandi had invited Landorundun to use her house to prepare for the wedding. She owed her more than she could ever repay, and the things Hainuwele had said or done weren’t Landorundun’s fault. Besides, the Guardswoman’s sister wasn’t doing the things for her she should.

  Landorundun had shown up a phase before dawn, and Naresh had found somewhere else to be. He’d made an effort to talk to her, Chandi knew he had. But she didn’t want to dwell on what was said. Or maybe she just didn’t want to hear it? Was it his fault? Was it hers? Either way, it felt like he was losing himself, and maybe that meant she was losing him too.

  So many of the people she’d trusted had been lost to her, but then, she’d failed many of them, too. In Kasusthali, she’d thought Semar her friend. Maybe he had been. So many days, she’d visited the Rangda Teahouse for the lingsir kulon meal. Semar had first taken her there. Was she too hard on him? She’d made her share of mistakes back then. Did she bear as much blame as Semar?

  And if she judged him too harshly, then she had surely judged Naresh so, as well.

  The Guardswoman shivered a bit under her touch.

  “It’s all right,” Chandi said. “I did this for Ratna.” She’d brushed the woman’s long hair, trying not to be jealous of the way it shined. Now she wove jasmine into Landorundun’s locks while the Solar fidgeted.

  Landorundun kept knocking her palms on the table. Had the woman even smiled once? “My sister used to do this for me, too. She should be here now.”

  “Instead of me,” Chandi said.

  “I just don’t want any mistakes. Just a perfect wedding. Something I won’t disrupt … I want something that’s really mine. Something given to me.”

  Chandi pressed the Solar by the shoulders. “Be still. You are being given something. Bendurana is a good man. You talk like you’re some victim.”

  Landi shoved her away. “What do you know? Hainuwele did weave flowers in my hair, the day Naresh came to ask me to marry him. She came all the way to Kasusthali to take care of me. But it was taken from me.”

  “And are you sorry you didn’t marry him?” Chandi took a step toward the woman. She caught her hands as they started to rise into a fighting stance. “Do you want my husband, Landorundun?”

  “No. But that’s just my point. Even he was given to you. You’re as close as the Lunars have to royalty. Everything you’ve ever wanted was provided for you. And Naresh, son of the Radiant Queen. Even now people look to him more than me. First of the Arun Guard in name only. Between Aji Bidara and Empu Baradah, his whole future was given to him.”

  Chandi raised her hand to slap the woman. But Landorundun had rescued Naresh. And had defended Chandi against Hainuwele. “You callous bitch. Everything was given to me? Have you considered everything that was taken from me? What I had to give up to be with Naresh? I lost my people, my home, and my family. Even Ratna left me. She was my best friend and closest family.”

  Before the anger could control her, Chandi stalked to the other side of the room. “And you? The most beautiful woman in the Skyfall Isles and beyond. You think nothing was ever given to you? You think you never received special treatment? Are you so innocent of the world? Every man wants to please you, and every woman wants to be you. Your own sister, a lovely woman in her own right, is insane with jealousy of you.”

  Sweet Chandra, was that a tear running down Landorundun’s face? Chandi cursed herself for venting at the woman on her wedding day. What was wrong with her? Of course the poor girl felt insecure.

  “Sorry, Chandi,” Landorundun said. The Guardswoman looked into her eyes for a moment, then buried her face in her arms. “I don’t know why I’m so … Why I’m such a callous bitch.”

  Chandi winced to hear that line thrown back at her. She drifted to Landorundun’s side and put her hands on her shoulders. The Solar at last turned around to look at her.

  She’d lost a lot, too, hadn’t she? Pride, honor, it was everything to these people. And she’d failed in all her duties as the First, watched as her own village burned. Who wouldn’t doubt themselves after that?

  “No. Landorundun, I’m sorry. Really. You are a hero. I can’t ever forget what you did for Naresh and me. And here, these people do need to believe in Naresh. But Kakudmi made you the First for a reason. You do deserve it. And this is your wedding day. You deserve to be happy, too.”

  Landorundun pulled her into an embrace.

  Last night, Naresh had embraced her, too. As though nothing had changed. In fact, he’d been smiling, almost his old self since Landorundun and Bendurana had arranged their wedding three days ago.

  “Please try to understand,” he’d said. “I know you want to leave the Skyfall Isles. You think you can run from this, but you can’t. If we ran, it would haunt us forever. And one day, your father would send the Macan Gadungan after us. You know he would.”

  And what could she have said? That, in choosing to stay against her wishes, he compelled her to remain here? In a place that couldn’t become home, because no one but he—and maybe Landorundun and Ben—wanted her.

  So she’d said nothing to Naresh. And she needed to rectify that. Denying her heart had led to nothing but tragedy.

  They held the ceremony in the heart of the Cenrana District. A Curate from the Children of the Sun officiated it. Solemn, just as Ratna’s marriage to Kakudmi had been.

  The echoes of the Solar hymn had unnerved her in the Temple of the Sun, but she missed them now. In the open air, the song lacked the ethereal quality that had carried her into the dream of Kasusthali.

  How bitter she’d been then. How odd that she could now look back on those memories fondly. Sometimes she missed her life in the underwater city she’d tried so hard to escape.

  “I pledge my love until the dying of the sun,” Landorundun said, echoing Bendurana. Their kiss, at least, held far more passion than Ratna and Kakudmi’s had.

  When the Solar ceremonies at last concluded, they brought out the feast, such as it was. Naresh and Bendurana had gone out on the fishing boats yesterday, to catch the seafood that decorated the platters.

  Cooked, it didn’t smell that bad. They feasted, and they talked, and they feasted some more.

  Landorundun stood beside Bendurana, her expression dour. She kept looking at her parents, at their wan smiles. One guest after another brought her gifts to celebrate her wedding. She accepted each in turn, with a gracious nod.

  Chandi started for the Guardswoman. How could she talk to Landorundun without anyone overhearing? She tugged on her hand to pull her aside

  “What happened?”

  Landorundun shook her head, so Chandi squeezed her hand until the woman gasped and turned to her. “My mother was crying,” she whispered.

  “Mothers cry at weddings, I hear.” Not that Chandi’s mother saw her wedding, but maybe she watched from Kahyangan. Chandi hoped so.

  Landorundun embraced her again, and spoke into her ear. “They never wanted this. I think, whatever Naresh said, it left them feeling trapped. I wanted to marry Ben more than anything, but I’ve lost so much … How can I lose them, too, Chandi?”

  Well, Chandi had lost her father for Naresh. And was it worth it? It had to be. It was. Forever.

  A man approached dragging a cow by a rope. He offered the rope to Landorundun with a bow. The cow had been lamed in one leg and hopped its way toward Landorundun. Landorundun looked back and forth between the cow, its owner, and Chandi, clearly trying to keep a straight face.

  Chandi took the offered rope and thrust it at Landorundun. The Guardswoman tried to lead the lamed cow away.

  “Landi,” Ben said, pointing at the cow hopping behind his new wife. Landorundun shrugged, snickering. “We could name it Naresh,” the captain said.

  Chandi gasped, hand to her mouth. And then Landorund
un started laughing, a little bit at first, and then clutching her sides until she doubled over with it. Chandi couldn’t hear whatever else Ben said.

  Oh, Naresh. Thank Chandra he was too far to catch any of that. He sat there on the beach, watching the sea. Chandi strolled over and sat beside him.

  “Are you sorry we didn’t have all this?”

  He nodded. “Sometimes. Traditions matter.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  He took her hand, and she wrapped her fingers in his. “What we do for each other matters more. It’s not about living in the past, you know.”

  No. It was about their future. Because, no matter what, he was her future. “I pledge my love until the dying of the sun,” she said. She leaned her head against his shoulder, as he repeated the line. A phase or more they sat there, watching the tide, and then the sunset.

  When night fell, the dancing started. With the torch poles lit, the drums going, Chandi could almost pretend she was back in Kasusthali for the Harvest Dance. Bonfires dotted the beach, surrounded by the dancing throngs. Everyone trying to lose themselves.

  Chandi smiled and yanked her husband to his feet. The drumbeats had intensified. The flow filled her. They’d called the Harvest Dance a celebration of music and life. And they all needed that now.

  “Chandi, I can’t,” Naresh said, as she pulled him toward the other dancers.

  They hadn’t danced, really, since his injury. Had only ever had the one dance.

  Chandi pulled him closer. Savored his warm arms around her back. Though awkward at first, Naresh fell into a rhythm that kept the pressure from his left leg. They couldn’t keep the wild pace of the drumbeats.

  But it didn’t matter. Chandi rested her head against her husband’s chest and closed her eyes. Closed out everything else.

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED ONE

  Getting to the roof of the community house without using her Moon Blessings wasn’t easy. But it was quiet, and she couldn’t sit among the Solars right now. Naresh could reach her, of course.

  Not that her husband was likely awake yet. Half the Cenrana refugees slept on the beach after the wedding. Maybe she wanted him to seek her out? For one night, they’d danced and held each other. Resting her head on his chest as they swayed, and at last sleeping in his warm arms, was all she’d really needed.