The Skyfall Era Trilogy: Books 1-3

by Matt Larkin

  Except she needed to know if he felt the same. If he’d awaken and find her missing and go looking, or if he’d be so caught up in his need for revenge against her father he wouldn’t even notice. Was she being unfair to him? Maybe.

  The rains had abated last night, but this morning they had returned in force. She rubbed the goosebumps from her chilled arms. The wind whipped her hair about her face, kicked about her sarong. The sky over the horizon had turned almost black. It was the rainy season, but this looked like a storm right out of Rangda’s underworld.

  Or more than a storm. Chandi didn’t like the way the winds drove the waves into a frenzy against the shore. She scurried to the edge of the roof. It would take too long to climb down. She could use her Blessings … No. She’d resisted the temptation for a year. She wouldn’t undo all that.

  Her husband was awake, walking the beach and rubbing his face. “Naresh,” she shouted. The wind was starting to batter her, stripped her words.

  But he turned, looking around. She waved her arms and shouted for him again. Then he stood beside her, his balance precarious on the roof.

  She pointed to the distance. “That looks like a cyclone.”

  “Can’t be. It’s too early in the season for that. It’s just a thunderstorm.”

  “I don’t think so. I think we’d better get everyone secured. That’s coming inland. Fast. Very fast, Naresh.”

  He grabbed her and Strode them both to the ground. “Get everyone into shelters,” Naresh said. “I have to find Landi. People are going to need us if you’re right.”

  Chandi raced across the beach. Many of the refugees had been awakened by the wind and rain, but most stood around looking confused. “Go, now!” She pointed toward some of the few completed community shelters, praying they could withstand the winds.

  Rain plastered her hair over her face. It soaked through her kemban, chilled her.

  Lightning lit the sky, cast the city in silhouette for an instant. The thunder left her ears ringing. A young girl cried out from under a house. Chandi ran to her. An Igni. She swept the child into her arms and dashed toward the community shelter.

  A Solar crossed her path. Large man. “Take her to the shelter,” she said. The man hesitated, looking at the Igni child like she was a snake. “Sweet Chandra, she’s just a child. I have to help everyone else. Take her now!”

  The man did as he was bid, rushing off. Chandi headed back into the city. More people were running for the shelters now. The peals of thunder came back-to-back.

  Leaves and debris and dirt swirled in the air along with the rain.

  The pounding the elements delivered grew worse with each passing moment. Chandi covered her face with her arm in a vain attempt to shield her eyes.

  By the third trip helping the people to safety, the wind threatened to tear her sarong off, to throw her from her feet. Debris stung her eyes. A thousand needles on her skin. Something scraped her cheek. Her hand came away bloody when she touched it.

  She had to get to the shelter herself.

  Someone screamed. Chandi ran toward the sound. Debris had ripped through the roof of a house. A woman stood at the door, shrieking.

  Hainuwele. The fool woman just stood there, clinging to the doorframe as the wind tried to tear her away. Why hadn’t she run to a community shelter? The larger supports might withstand the winds, but the smaller houses never would. Chandi was too turned around to even know if this was Hainuwele’s house. The woman shouted something Chandi couldn’t hear over the wind.

  Chandi waved Hainuwele to her. “Come to me!”

  The Solar trembled, shaking her head.

  Rangda take her. It would serve her right to leave her here. But Chandi was already running for the ladder, arm held before her face against the wind.

  Mud squelched beneath her feet, flowing over her sandals. Her foot slipped. Chandi fell, but caught the edge of a support post. Gasping, choking on rain and dust, she pulled herself up.

  Something pounded into her back as she tried to climb the ladder. Her muddy, bloody hands couldn’t grip the rungs. She tried to use her elbows to heave herself up.

  She needed Naresh.

  No, he wasn’t here. She had to do this.

  Something cracked above her. One side of the ladder had torn free of its bindings. Her perch swayed in the wind.

  Chandi screamed. Chandra help her.

  She drew her Potency Blessing.

  So sweet. Beautiful vigor filled her, the strength to almost fling herself up to the porch. The power of the Moon God surged through her veins.

  Hainuwele clung to the doorframe, still. Chandi yanked her away with one hand and threw the Solar over her shoulder. She leapt off the porch and shifted her gravity to a support post. Ran down it.

  Something smashed through the house. Chandi didn’t look back. She drew her Blessings harder. She was alive. So alive. She ran faster through the rain. The woman on her shoulder felt like no more burden than a child would.

  She ran.

  Moving so fast, she almost felt she could see each drop of rain. Feel every perfect step as she flew across the yard to the community shelter.

  This was it. This was what she’d been missing. She was a fool to think she could leave it behind. She was a Moon Scion. It was part of her. It filled her and made her whole.

  And that was the problem. She dropped Hainuwele in the mud before the shelter. Let the Blessings go. Her heart fell so fast she wanted to weep. But she was not a lunatic. Still Chandi.

  She hoisted the Solar to her feet. “Climb.”

  Hainuwele grabbed the ladder, but shrunk away from the pounding wind and rain. Landorundun was there, then, a hand on them both. Then they were on the landing of the shelter. Landorundun ushered them inside.

  Chandi looked around the shelter. “Where’s Naresh?”

  Landorundun shook her head.

  Chandi grabbed the Solar. “Where’s my husband?”

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWO

  Naresh Sun Strode aboard the Queen of the South Sea. The ship was headed upriver through Daha, so Bendurana must know the cyclone was coming, but maybe Landi was still aboard.

  “Naresh!” Ben hurried over, seemingly unfazed by the turbulent waters.

  “Ben, where’s Landi?”

  The captain steadied himself on the rail. Probably a good idea. “She went to help the refugees get to safety.”

  “Good. I have to get back to Chandi.”

  “No!” Ben grabbed him before he could Stride away. “Naresh, the storm is coming too fast. We’ll never get her tied down without your help.”

  Naresh gripped the rail tighter. Landi would be fine, but Chandi had no defense against this weather. And Ben was right, it was coming in fast. His wife needed him.

  He looked back at Bendurana. There was no way this crew would abandon the ship, and they could all die without him.

  Naresh grit his teeth and clapped Ben on the arm. He wouldn’t leave him.

  The deck swayed under them as they made their way up a narrow creek. Rain had long since drenched Naresh. Ben handed him a line. “We have to tie her off.” The captain indicated trees on either side of the river. “Leave enough slack; the water is going to rise.”

  Naresh Sun Strode to the largest tree as the crew rowed toward another. He circled the tree three times with the line before tying it off.

  He Strode back to the dhow. The roar of the wind whipped the sails the crew desperately tried to lower. One line tore free, and a sail ripped from the mast. Ben dashed to him with another line, pointing at another tree. Naresh couldn’t make out the captain’s words, but he could see the man shivering in the wind and rain.

  Naresh Strode toward the next tree. Tied it off. A third tree. By the time he returned to the deck, the rain was almost blinding. His hair stung his eyes, and chills ran through him. Naresh rubbed his arms, trying to get the feeling back in them.

  “Tighten that line!”

  Naresh rushed to follow Ben’s orders.
The rope rubbed his palms raw as it slid through his hands. The ship bucked under him.

  Again and again he rushed about, Sun Strode when he dared, trying to keep the dhow secured.

  The ship lurched, tossing a crewman off the side. Naresh Strode to the place where the man had stood. He had to shield his eyes against the rain.

  Long as he searched the churning waters, he saw no sign of the missing man.

  “He’s gone,” someone shouted.

  Another man fell at some point. Naresh lost any sense of time. They must have spent phases trying to hold the ship together. Naresh vomited. He couldn’t catch his breath. Naresh dragged himself along the deck, back toward the lines.

  A crewman waved him off, gave him moments to rest. Surya preserve them. Cyclones over Kasusthali had been an inconvenience. Here, he felt like an insect at the mercy of a cruel child.

  And then the rain began to abate, almost too quickly. The howling wind ceased. Naresh slumped against the rail of the Queen of the South Sea. His raw, rope-burned hands gave him new appreciation for Bendurana’s crew.

  “Surya’s sweaty back,” the captain said as he approached. The swaying deck didn’t seem to bother him, though he kept glancing at the ropes tying the ship to the trees.

  “Some would smack you for that blasphemy,” Naresh said, without moving.

  “And yet, the son of the Radiant Queen is not one of them. I’ve probably got almost as much faith in Surya as you, Naresh. Maybe more.”

  Naresh didn’t answer. Bendurana took too many liberties. It didn’t matter that he was mostly right. Instead, he forced himself to his feet.

  So much debris clogged the river. A tree trunk floated by them. Bodies of anoa. The body of the first crewman. The one Naresh had not been fast enough to save.

  The sun peeked out from behind the clouds. By the time they had untied the lines, clear skies had returned. The blue sky seemed to mock the savaged land, which, if anything, looked more clogged than the river. Whole trees had been torn down, and palms covered the land as far as Naresh could see.

  Naresh grunted as he tried to clench his hands. The rope burns stung like Rangda herself had spat on them. Ben must have noticed his discomfort, because the captain appeared with a balm that eased the pain.

  “I have to find Chandi.”

  “Ah Naresh, it’s the day after my wedding. Don’t you think I want to see my wife just as much?”

  The rising waters had turned the river into a wetland. Navigating back would be near impossible. He didn’t have enough sunlight to Stride far. Wouldn’t get him back to her much faster.

  Bendurana glanced at him, then they both climbed the rail and leapt into the water. Naresh splashed down, covered to mid-thigh.

  “Well,” Ben said, “the good news is that the storm probably drove any crocodiles or water snakes into hiding. And after so much sweating last night, we both needed a bath, anyway. Sweating from all the dancing, I mean.”

  “Of course you did.” Naresh cursed under his breath as he slogged through the marsh. The nearby wet rice terraces had drowned. The crops floated past him in the waters.

  “Sweet Surya’s blistering gaze,” Ben said, as they approached Daha.

  The cyclone had torn the city to pieces.

  Chandi was there, clearing away debris from what remained of Cenrana District. The cyclone had undone most of the work they’d completed since arriving in Daha eight days ago.

  “Chandi,” he called, surprised at how raw his voice sounded.

  She turned at his voice, hand over her heart. She ran to him, embraced him. He blew out a hard breath. Whatever pain she’d been through, this had reminded them both what really mattered. Naresh’s heart leapt in his chest, faster than he expected. Chandi was well. Thank Surya, she was well. He held her for a long time, rubbing his palm against her back.

  “Our house survived,” she said.

  Naresh laughed. He helped her try to repair the damage done, for as long as his strength lasted. Then he collapsed on the mat in the private area of their home.

  Chandi sat beside him and stroked his hair, brushing it from his face. After a little while, she rose to cook something for him.

  Naresh must have slept, because Chandi shook him awake by the shoulder. “Huh?”

  She handed him a steaming bowl of nasi goring.

  Naresh laughed. His mother had made that rice curry for breakfast almost every day of his childhood. At least until the assassination of Mpu Gandring had made her the next Radiant Queen. Almost ten years ago, now.

  If Kebo Ijo hadn’t killed the old Radiant Queen, Naresh’s mother would have remained a curate. And maybe she’d still be alive. Landi had begged Naresh’s forgiveness for failing to protect Aji Bidara. But he couldn’t blame Landi for anything. Maybe he blamed his mother, a little, or himself.

  Or everyone and no one. Either way, she was gone.

  He closed his eyes as he took the first bite of nasi goreng. Almost like his mother made. Maybe she’d found peace in the underworld. Whether with Naresh’s father or Empu Baradah didn’t matter. Maybe she’d find it when the Wheel of Life gave her another chance.

  Considering neither of them knew much about cooking when they’d arrived in Cenrana a year ago, Chandi had become quite the chef.

  “Thank you,” Naresh said, waving at the food. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was.

  Chandi nodded. “I invited Ben and Landorundun for tea tonight.”

  Naresh grunted. No one needed tea tonight. But he wouldn’t deny Chandi anything right now.

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THREE

  “It’s my father,” Chandi said, breaking the silence. No one had touched his or her tea. “I think he used the Astral Temple again. He’s targeting us.”

  “We don’t know that the temple can do that,” Naresh said. “You told us it was controlling the heavens. How would he use it to create a cyclone?”

  “A cyclone came up out of nowhere, off season, and then dissipated far too quickly,” Landorundun said. “Is it so hard to believe it wasn’t natural?”

  “I don’t know how he did it.” Chandi sipped her tea. Even if no one else would, she’d gone to the trouble of making it, so she was going to drink it. “Or what would have driven him to it. But it did happen.”

  It seemed almost lunacy that he would turn a cyclone on an island. More than a dozen refugees were missing, and little hope remained of finding them now.

  “If Ketu has the power to throw cyclones at us, turn day to night, and Surya knows what else,” Naresh said, “how do we face him? Storm the temple?”

  Landi shook her head. “With two Arun Guard, a Moon Scion who no longer uses her Blessings, and some well-meaning Solar soldiers? I think he’ll have the Temple secured against that. Assuming he can’t use the Ttemple itself against us. Not easy to attack by sea if he can create a cyclone.”

  Naresh folded his arms. “He must have known we were trying to reunite the people of this island. He fears that. All the more reason we have to stand together. Now.”

  Ben sighed. Everyone looked at him. “Well … If Ketu has that kind of power, we can’t fight it. Not with what we have now.” He turned away for a moment, and continued only when Naresh cleared his throat. “We need to find the Queen of the South Sea.”

  “Your ship isn’t lost, Ben,” Naresh said. “It will be fine with minor repairs.”

  “Ah, Naresh. The real Queen. The one the ship’s named for. Nyai Loro Kidul.”

  Naresh scowled. “Ben, now is not the time for more myths.”

  Chandi tried not to snicker, and Landi shook her head.

  Ben just shrugged. “Myths? Ah, Naresh, you forgot? I told you I was rescued by a mermaid. Off the Spice Islands.”

  “Wait,” Landi said. “Now it’s not just a mermaid that saved you? It’s the Queen of the South Sea, herself? Queen of mermaids, ruler of the seas? A goddess?”

  Ben wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Exactly the one. I’ll bet she could stop Ketu.”
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  “You’re serious?” Naresh said. “Even if this spirit existed—and she doesn’t—how would we convince her to help us?”

  Chandi rose to refill her tea. “We’ve all seen some strange things in the last year. What if he’s right? If we could find the spirit, maybe she’ll aid us. I imagine she’s not thrilled with my father throwing cyclones up across her sea.”

  Naresh glowered. “We can’t go gallivanting around the Spice Islands,” he said. “We have to unite Suladvipa. If we run off now, the island will fall to the Lunar Empire. Ketu will have gotten exactly what he wanted.”

  “Naresh is right,” Landorundun said. “He needs to stay here.”

  “What do you mean I need to stay? We all need to stay.”

  “No. You’re a symbol to the people. Even the king fears you, I suspect. If Pak Kertajaya didn’t, he wouldn’t be playing these posturing games with you.”

  “I’m no one’s symbol.”

  Chandi bit her lip. Was Ben right? Naresh never really believed in the powers of Kahyangan, but Chandi had heard the rumors about Ratna’s mother. If her power was real, it had to come from somewhere.

  She could help Ben … But then, if she was finally finding Naresh again, how could she leave him?

  “Maybe you need to be a symbol,” Landorundun said. “People need hope.”

  And yet, after all she’d done, this still wasn’t her home. They hadn’t accepted her. Naresh had, and Ben and Landorundun. But it wasn’t enough. She had to win the rest of the people to her, because, if Naresh wouldn’t leave the Isles, then she needed to spend a lifetime here.

  Naresh shook his head. “You’re going to get yourselves killed over a foolish story.”

  Chandi’s chest shuddered. Could she do this? “It’s all right, my love …” She had to. “I’ll watch over them. If this spirit is out there, we’ll find her. And then we’ll come back to take on my father together. This …” she waved her hand to indicate the city outside their home, “this is going too far. All Suladvipa is probably in chaos. Hundreds or more could be dead. Because he wanted to hurt us.”