The Skyfall Era Trilogy: Books 1-3

by Matt Larkin

  Bendurana shook his head, stood looking over the rail as the next of the Maitian islands approached. “Ah ladies, where’s your sense of adventure? The hero can’t give up before the end.”

  “What if Chandi’s right?” Landorundun said. “We have no idea what’s happened in Suladvipa. We haven’t even been in the Skyfall Isles in months.”

  Their search in the Spice Islands had turned up few leads. So they’d gone on to Irian. There, locals spoke of the witches of Mait. Supposed experts in curses, spirits, and all things Kahyangan. But searching Mait for witches had worn on everyone’s nerves by now.

  “One more witch,” Ben said. “Because this one is it. I can feel it. I have a great sense of timing, you know.”

  But when they made port, he kept staring at the other captains. “I’ve seen some of them before,” he said at last. “Pirates. Don’t like the way they’re looking at the Queen.”

  That was all the reason Chandi needed not to practice her Maitian anymore. “So let’s go home.”

  “You two go meet the woman,” he said. “I’ll watch the ship. A phase. That’s all you need, then we go home heroes. We defeat Ketu, save the islands, everyone eats nagasari. Smiles all around.”

  Landorundun pulled Chandi away. “Let’s just get this over with.”

  Chandi sighed and hurried down the gangway. The sun would set soon. She planned to be back aboard before that.

  Men and women in bright clothes clogged the docks. Pushing, shoving, and more than a few snatching purses. Chandi tightened her grip on her own money purse. Her supply of Solar pearls and silver coins had dwindled to almost nothing.

  As they delved deeper into the city, they passed people playing stringed instruments. Chandi recognized neither the instruments nor the songs.

  Landorundun had played her flute on the ship, sometimes. Not often, but Chandi recognized the song. Naresh had said she wrote it when they were at the Academy together.

  Really, he’d always had more in common with Landorundun, hadn’t he? Chandi sighed. Was Naresh just too different from her? He could have Strode to the dhow before it sailed away. He could have stopped her from leaving, but he didn’t.

  Landorundun had gotten better at discretion, after a few lectures from Chandi. She kept her enquiries about the witch from drawing too much attention to them.

  An old man sitting on a stool nodded in the direction of a hut on the edge of the city.

  Chandi followed Landorundun inside the hut. It smelled of incense, and underneath that, something foul, decaying. Chandi hoped that smell wasn’t coming from the old woman wrapped in the shawl.

  Landorundun sat on the mat in front of the woman. “You’re the Mangkukulam?” she said in Maitian.

  The woman leaned forward. She wasn’t as old as Chandi had first thought. All this time around these foul odors must have wrinkled her skin. Chandi felt dirty just standing here.

  The woman stared at her, so Chandi sat beside Landorundun. Naresh wouldn’t have believed in any of this, would he? If he were here, he’d scoff at the witch. Chandi could almost see the look in his eyes.

  “We want to know about Kahyangan,” Landorundun said. “We need to summon a spirit.”

  The woman slid a clay bowl forward. Chandi dropped a pearl from her purse into the bowl. The woman stared at her. With a sigh, Chandi dropped a heavier pearl in the bowl. The woman drew it back, then.

  “Dangerous business, summoning,” she said.

  Landorundun nodded. “We know. But the Skyfall Isles are beset by supernatural danger,” Landorundun said—or Chandi thought she said, she couldn’t be certain. “We need supernatural aid.”

  “What kind of spirit do you seek?”

  “Nyai Loro Kidul, Queen of the South Sea,” Chandi said.

  Landorundun scowled at her a moment before looking back at the witch.

  “Starting big, eh?” the witch said. The woman shook her head. Was that pity on her face? “Big. Small. Spirits have no form here.”

  Chandi wasn’t sure she’d understood. They carried on more about offerings, and appeasement, she thought. Landorundun waved her silent when she tried to ask about it. “How do we call her?”

  The witch slid the offering bowl forward again. The pearls were gone. Chandi glared. She hadn’t seen the woman remove them, and she had fast eyes.

  She put her last heavy pearl in the bowl. The woman stared at her.

  “Rangda’s scorching kitchen,” she mumbled. If anything, the witch’s glare deepened. Chandi emptied the rest of her purse into the bowl, making a show of shaking the empty bag up and down. A handful of silver coins and a few small pearls now sat in the bowl, mocking Chandi.

  The witch withdrew the bowl and turned back to Landorundun. “Signs for each spirit,” the witch said. She started showing Landorundun some kind of glyph, but never all at once. She scratched out the first part of each glyph before drawing the next.

  Chandi couldn’t understand what else the witch said. She rocked back on her heels and looked around the hut. Pots lined the shelves. The Moon God alone knew what the old woman kept in those.

  The witch glanced at Chandi, then said something else she couldn’t understand. Chandi swore the two women had started talking faster just so she’d lose the conversation.

  “What?” Chandi said.

  Landorundun pointed her finger at the old woman, called her something Chandi thought meant dugong. Then the Guardswoman rose. Chandi followed her out of the hut.

  “Well, that was a waste of money,” Chandi said.

  Landorundun didn’t answer for a long time. “I don’t think it was,” she said at last, and patted Chandi on the shoulder.

  Chandi followed as Landorundun led her back to the ship. What had happened with the Solar? Would she ever understand Solars at all?

  Honor and duty seemed to come before anything else. She could never believe she’d made a mistake with Naresh. Never. Her heart felt it could rupture at the thought, and when Landorundun jerked, Chandi realized she clutched the other woman’s arm. Tight enough to leave a mark.

  But … Lunars and Solars were so different. Did he even miss her? A year together. Sometimes she knew everything he was thinking before he said it. But sometimes, she never understood what went on inside Naresh.

  The Queen of the South Sea left Mait, returning at last toward the Skyfall Isles. The place that should have been her home, but had somehow stopped feeling like it.

  And Chandi didn’t even know if her husband still waited for her there.

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINE

  Ratna stumbled backward over a rock when Mahesa entered the courtyard. Another half foot and she’d have fallen in the fishpond. Her mind wouldn’t work. She wanted to say something clever to save face after her fall, but nothing came to mind.

  And then Mahesa was there, helping her to her feet. His arms wrapped around her elbows, he pulled her up. Grinning, laughing. Before she could stop herself, she kissed him.

  He grabbed her shoulders, clumsy but very receptive. Ratna pulled him into an embrace. “I thought you were dead.”

  She couldn’t lose anyone else. She’d wanted to be more romantic about this. Wanted to lure him into making the first move. When had she become the kind of person that threw herself at a boy? Rahu’s daughter should be more dignified than that.

  “A few adventures, but otherwise unharmed,” he said. “I’ve got some good stories to tell you.” The boy thumbed his golden earring. He’d found that out with Ratna and Chandi. They’d hiked into the mountains, must have been ten years ago now. Chandi had insisted they sneak out while Malin was occupied with Rahu.

  The tiger had hardly let them out of his sight since their mothers had died. Ratna frowned. Back then, Malin had been so faithful.

  Mahesa had scampered up the mountain like a macaque, but he’d missed a jump between rocks. He disappeared. Ratna ran to him, scraping her knees along the way. Little Mahesa had fallen into a hole—a natural cave with only a vertical entrance.


  She called his name again and again, but the boy wasn’t hurt. “Come down here,” he said.

  And Chandi, too brave for her own good, lit a torch and climbed right down. They could be so stupid. Ratna braced herself against a rock and slid down into the darkness. Torchlight flickered below. She’d be fine, Chandi was there.

  Ratna’s sandal slipped off the rock. Something scraped her elbow as she tumbled down. She landed face-first on the slick rock ground.

  With a grunt, she pushed herself up. Mahesa scurried over and grabbed her arm, helping her stand. Chandi stood in the distance—holding their only light—leaning over something perched against the wall.

  Spiders skittered away at her approach. Disgusting. Years of dust covered whatever it was Chandi was looking at. She blew on it, throwing a cloud up into the air.

  That was… a human skeleton. Ratna’s scream echoed through the cave.

  “Maybe he was a pirate,” Mahesa said. He sorted through bones with little thought.

  Ratna felt sick, and turned away.

  “Look!” Mahesa said after a moment. In his grimy hand he held a golden earring.

  Later, he’d begged Ratna to pierce his ear.

  Ratna smiled. She’d refused, of course. And sweet Chandra, had the boy howled when Chandi did it. When Malin found them, he had thought Chandi was torturing the poor Mahesa.

  Ratna shook her head and embraced him again, then pulled him down to sit beside the fishpond with her. “Malin’s forces had been all over Puradvipa.”

  “Yes. Made moving about more difficult. I had to hide out in a village for a while.”

  “And did you find it? Do you have the book?”

  Mahesa sighed and unslung his shoulder satchel. “Ratna, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  “You have it?” She snatched the bag from him.

  The book was there. Old, musty. She ran her fingers over the unmarked cover. Cracked leather. Probably once crimson, it now looked muddy brown. The pages had yellowed and the edges crumbled as she turned them.

  Her mother’s handwriting filled some pages, though parts had been written by at least two other hands. And Glyphs. Strange signs that swam before Ratna’s eyes. These were the Spirit Glyphs she’d read about, the ones Tanjung had promised her.

  “Gives me a headache to even see it,” Mahesa said.

  “Yes. It’s wonderful. Can’t you feel its power?”

  Mahesa sighed. “Empu Baradah had a son, Empu Bahula. Living on Puradvipa. The late First of the Arun Guard had given the book to his son for guardianship. From what I can tell they weren’t close, but the Solars used him to handle special situations.”

  “What situations?”

  “Your mother wasn’t the only witch the Lunars ever turned on the Solars. It’s rare to find one whose power is more than tricks, but it happens. After Calon, I guess the Ministry of Information assigned a few people to deal with the situation quietly. Empu Bahula was one.”

  Ratna scoffed. “The Ministry of Information ran the Academy. What would they know about assassinating witches?”

  “The Ignis I spoke to claimed the Ministry distributed information. But it also suppressed information they found dangerous. Like knowledge of Kahyangan. Kind of scared me how much the Ignis know about the Solars. More than I think the Solars realize.”

  Ratna smiled at him, and rose, then hurried from the courtyard to her private room, book tucked under her arm. Mahesa followed her inside as she sat upon her mat.

  “I can find Revati with this. There must be some spirit that can tell me where the Stranger took her.”

  Mahesa sat down across from her, arms folded. “You don’t want to do it like this. Let the book go.”

  “Let my daughter go? You don’t understand, Mahesa. If Revati was your daughter, nothing would stop you.”

  Revati should have been his daughter. Ratna had wanted to marry him, back then. Would have, if not for Kakudmi’s offer of peace. Strange, that if Anusapati had not murdered Ken Arok, Ratna might have had a happier life.

  And where would they be now? Living in a little cottage on the beach, overseeing fishermen, probably. Revati would be three now. They might even have another baby. They’d be trying for one, at least.

  “What are you smiling at?” he asked.

  Not anything she was about to admit to him. “Please, Mahesa. You’re the only one I can trust. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.” Ratna said, flipping another page. “I can’t ever repay you for this.”

  “There might be something,” he said, his voice muffled.

  “Name it.”

  He hesitated. Ratna waited until he spoke. “Burn it. Burn the damned thing.”

  “You risked your life for this, Mahesa.” Ratna resumed reading.

  “I did,” he said, his voice shaking. “I saw enough of Calon’s book to know she almost worshipped Rangda Demon Queen. Either it offers no real power, and you waste your time, or the power exists, and we don’t want to know the price. Please, don’t do this.”

  “My mother didn’t worship Rangda. She just appreciated the power of Kahyangan. It’s all about control. I’ve been taking control of the Moon Scions here. I’m good at it, too.”

  Ratna flashed him a smile. She’d eliminated Malin’s spies, struck back against his forces. The letters Ketu had sent almost beamed with pride in what she’d done. He might not really be her uncle, but he seemed to want to be her father. Which would be charming, if he wasn’t destroying their people in his arrogance and neglect.

  “All I have to do is find the right spirit to tell me where my daughter is. Then we go and get her.” And kill the Stranger. “And this will be over.”

  Mahesa sat watching her, not moving. She resumed reading, but she felt his eyes on her.

  At last, he leaned forward, spread his palms over the book. She looked up into his eyes—eyes that wouldn’t release her.

  He reached for her shoulder. She let him pull her forward and kiss her again. Her body tingled with the energy of it. His hand tangled in her hair, pulling her mouth closer and closer. She wrapped her arms around his neck and back and pulled him down on top of her.

  Why had she not married this boy, instead of Kakudmi?

  She unlaced her baju.

  Too long she’d been alone. She’d lost her father, her daughter, her cousin. Even her husband. She hadn’t loved Kakudmi. She told herself again and again she hadn’t loved him.

  And looking in Mahesa’s innocent, excited, frightened eyes, she knew she loved him. Had always loved him.

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TEN

  When Ratna woke, the sun had long since risen. At first, she snuggled against the comforting warmth around her. Then she started. Mahesa. Still asleep, his arm draped over the small of her back, her head on his chest.

  Never, in the three years she’d been married to Kakudmi, never had she awoken in his arms. Never had he spent an entire night with her.

  Mahesa’s even breathing was like the whisper of the tides, answering Chandra’s call.

  Her chest seized up again. What if she’d gotten pregnant?

  But then, did it really matter? She could have another child. One to raise properly, with a proper husband. Yes, she would marry Mahesa soon, as she should have done long ago. And once they had Revati back, they would raise their family together, with a new child of their own.

  Ratna rubbed her belly. Another daughter, or a son, perhaps? A son that might one day rule the Lunar Empire. No. That was Revati’s birthright, and Ratna was going to find her daughter.

  The book still lay by the side of her mat. Calling her, beckoning her to its faded pages. Those Glyphs swam in her mind, offering the world, if she could just look a little deeper, study a little harder.

  Had Rangda saved Tanjung from death? If so, surely a lesser spirit might restore Revati to Ratna.

  Ratna eased Mahesa’s arm off her and crawled over to the book. Her fingers brushed over its leathery cover. Her mother had held t
his before she died. Now she had two things left from her.

  Inside, on the first page, her mother’s words spoke to her. Beyond the Earth, beside it, is another realm. A realm not of physical beings, but of thought and passion and energy. Though the true nature of these alien entities will forever elude mankind, by unlocking glimpses of their secrets, we can empower ourselves on Earth. Because our realms are forever entwined, just as our bodies house our souls. In death, our souls are drawn into Kahyangan, the Spirit World.

  “I did a lot of things I’m not proud of,” Mahesa said. Ratna jerked and turned to him. “At Astral Shore, on Puradvipa, I did things. But I brought you that book so that you could make the right decision yourself. I brought it to you because I love you, and I know you’ll never let it go unless you’re forced to choose.”

  Ratna’s fingers trembled over the pages. No. She needed this. What did he expect her to do? She had no choice. The pain seized her again, and she toppled over, clutching her heart.

  And then he was there, pulling her into his arms, stroking her long hair. “Just breathe.”

  Ratna shut her eyes. Slowly, the tightness relented. She clutched his wrist.

  “What do I do, Mahesa?”

  “You’re the daughter of the War King. You faced every duty life threw at you with your head high. You, who went to Kasusthali, to live beneath the sea with our enemies. And you did it all bravely. Am I right?”

  Was he? She clutched his arm. But she had faced it all, had never backed away from duty to her family or her people. Ratna sat up. She was the daughter of Rahu. She grabbed her baju and slipped it over her shoulders. Black and gold, just like her father’s. Mahesa tossed over her sarong, then retied his own.

  “Send Tanjung away. Malin was right about that. He’s wiser than you give him credit for.”

  Maybe. Was he right about other things? Maybe she should have listened to him when she had the chance, but he’d crossed the line now, and she no longer could.

  Ratna rubbed her face. “Tanjung has been here for me. Acted like a mother to me. How can I send her away, cast her out?”