The Skyfall Era Trilogy: Books 1-3

by Matt Larkin

Tohjaya walked toward her. In an instant, Lembu Ampal stood beside him, mirroring his every step. If she had come here to harm the Spice King, the Guardsman would have been trouble. Something to remember. Always best to be prepared for allies to become enemies.

  “If I had such knowledge, why would I give it to you? What have you done for me, werecrocodile?”

  Besides help secure the Astral Temple from Rahu? She shrugged. “I have talents that have served several lords well. Perhaps you may find the Buaya Jadian useful allies.” And terrible enemies.

  Tohjaya glanced at Lembu Ampal, who shrugged. The king waved away his guards. When they had gone, the man pulled his keris. Long bladed, like a Solar keris sword, but undulating like a Lunar keris knife. Pohaci jerked back, her hand on the grip of her ekor pari. Just like that, Lembu Ampal fell into a fighting stance, his own keris sword in hand.

  But the Spice King brushed him aside, smirking. “Know what this is, Lunar? Of course you don’t. This is the sacred keris of Ken Arok, once great emperor of the Solar Empire. The very weapon your people used to murder the man, now in my hands. And with this blade we will still Rangguwani’s heart, and secure my position as Ratu Adil. And you werecrocodiles are assassins. Aren’t you?”

  “Yes.” Assassins, spies. Whatever the Moon Scions had needed. It was what they were trained for. Pohaci wasn’t proud of the lives she’d taken, but she wasn’t exactly ashamed either. She’d done what it took to survive. And Rangguwani, Lord of House Kshuparaka, had ordered more than one of those assassination jobs. The man was ruthless, clever, and probably a much better leader than Tohjaya.

  But then, what did she care about that? The Moon Scions had oppressed her people, forced her to become a monster. A certain irony presented itself here, and if Chandra offered her such circumstances, she could hardly refuse. A slight smile cracked her lips, and she didn’t fight it.

  “Go with Lembu Ampal and end the pretender to the throne,” Tohjaya said, sheathing the sword, then turning to the Guardsman. He handed Lembu Ampal the blade, and the big man took it with obvious reverence.

  “Return with his head and I’ll tell you where my spies said Malin went.”

  Pohaci bowed.

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-TWO

  Much as he disliked dealing with criminals, Naresh had to admit they had their uses. A scrawled note—unsigned, of course, though it must have come from the Igni smuggler—had found its way under the bowl of karedok Naresh had ordered for the lingsir kulon meal. A simple rumor of where Lang had last been seen, but if it was true, Lang would lead Naresh to Kertajaya. The former king had named Lang his heir, after all.

  Naresh glanced down at the note again, then wiped his lips. He rose without finishing the meal. Somehow, he couldn’t focus on it anymore. Karedok was nothing but a collection of vegetables: cabbage, legumes, and so forth. But with the spicy peanut dressing, it made for a fair midday meal. Even Chandi liked it. Sometimes she joined him here, at the teahouse near the palace where he usually took repast. He’d worked out an arrangement with the owner to keep the locals from fawning over him. It gave him one of his few sanctuaries in Daha, outside of the palace and his own home.

  His wife hadn’t come today. She hadn’t come at all in the week since she’d begged him to hide the Amrita. Much as he longed to spend every moment by her side, maybe she had to fight her way through this on her own. It had taken a lot for her to come to him, he knew that. He would not lose her to lunacy. He wouldn’t allow it. She’d fought so hard to make it so far, and Naresh would never allow her to fall. Never.

  If he finished this task for Rangguwani, if he found Kertajaya, maybe he’d take leave from the king’s service. Perhaps he could take Chandi somewhere. Maybe if they got out, alone on the sea, she could find herself. She seemed better already … but damn, she spent so much time in the house these days.

  He paid for the meal and left the teahouse, drifting through Daha, sticking to the alleys to avoid notice of the public. The eaves of the roofs gave him shade against the beating sun of the dry season, but these back allies were always clogged with dust, and Naresh fought the urge to cover his mouth. He had to pass through much of the city, back to the Cenrana District. The Igni’s note told him Lang had been seen with Hainuwele, so Naresh headed toward her house. Landorundun had lived there, with her parents. Naresh stood underneath one of the raised houses and sighed. He hadn’t come here since she died except for once, to pay his respects to Lambe Susu and Solokang, her parents. The place felt too empty without that haunting flute song.

  Hainuwele was there now, and her garden had grown. Once, Landi’s sister had tended only a handful of vegetables behind the house Kertajaya had given her family. Now, the cucumbers, basil plants, cabbage, and gourds had taken over all the space between her house and the next. She’d even managed to find room to plant flowers not only on her balcony, but on those of the neighbors. Over the garden, she’d hung a green bottle that sprayed water from small holes.

  From behind a stilt, Naresh waited, watching the woman. She wore a blue baju, and she had her hair pulled back into a ponytail, as Landi had done when working. Hainuwele was pretty, very pretty he supposed, but she had a rigidness to her features her younger sister had lacked. Surya, what was he doing? Dwelling on the dead would bring him no solace. Landorundun had been given her first three Selamatan. The last, the hundredth day anniversary of her death, was the only one he saw. He’d stood in the pouring rain throughout the rituals, not really hearing them. One more Selamatan remained, on the thousandth day anniversary. And then her soul would truly return to the Wheel of Life. She would be born again, live again, and Surya-willing, love again. Perhaps he’d even see her once more. But then, if he didn’t know it was her, would it matter?

  Naresh shook his head. When had he begun to believe all this religious doctrine? His mother would be proud. Maybe Landi would be proud of him, too. He hoped so.

  Hainuwele was humming. Surya, that was Landi’s song. Naresh rubbed his palms together. He didn’t need to hear this right now. But despite himself, he shut his eyes and swayed to the song. And then, at last, it stopped.

  “I’ve brought the greatest flower for the flower of my love,” Lang’s voice said.

  Naresh grimaced. What a line.

  “Puradvipan orchid, from deep within the rainforest.” Lang handed Hainuwele a pot with a brilliant pink flower in it. “Your garden seemed incomplete without it.”

  Hainuwele took the pot with obvious reverence and immediately began planting the flower in her garden. She flashed Lang a too-sweet smile over her shoulder while she worked. Whatever she said, Naresh didn’t catch it.

  Unbelievable as it sounded, Lang was dirty. If his baju wasn’t already black, it may as well have been from grime. When the man knelt beside Hainuwele, Naresh slipped out from behind the stilt and made his way over.

  Hainuwele looked at him first, gracing him with a smile that quickly turned to doubt when she glanced at Lang. The man looked at her, then turned to Naresh.

  “You!” he said, pointing a finger right at Naresh’s chest.

  “Where’s Pak Kertajaya?”

  Lang jammed his finger into Naresh. “Why should I tell you anything, traitor?”

  Naresh grabbed the man’s finger and twisted his wrist. Lang yelped in pain, turning with Naresh to avoid having his finger break. Naresh pulled the man’s arm behind his back, then leaned in close to Lang’s face. “Because refusing would hurt.”

  “Pak Naresh, please,” Hainuwele said.

  Naresh glanced at her, then shoved Lang to the ground. “Start talking, Pak Lang.”

  Lang rose, rubbing his wrist. “I have nothing to say to you, unless you’ve decided to bow before the rightful ruler of this island. Otherwise, you’re a traitor serving a Lunar over your own people.”

  The man had begun pointing at Naresh again. Naresh looked down at his finger, then back up at Lang’s eyes. The man dropped his hand to his side.

  “You will tell me, Lang.”<
br />
  The man glanced around, perhaps seeking a flame. There were none. Lang swung for Naresh, but Naresh caught his arm in the crook of his elbow and twisted, pulling Lang around again. He landed a hook to the man’s ribs. Lang stumbled, gasping and clutching his ribs before coming back up to a fighting stance.

  The Firewalker jerked a keris sword free, holding it out in front of Naresh.

  So be it. Naresh drew his own blade.

  Lang took a step toward him, looked down at the garden, then moved into the shadows beneath the house. Naresh joined him. If Lang wanted to spare Hainuwele’s plants, let him. The Firewalker lunged at him, leading with savage offense. Overreaching. The man was good, but he thought to overcome Naresh through sheer surprise and ferocity. Not likely. Naresh gave ground, letting Lang tire himself.

  Some part of him was aware of Hainuwele shouting for them to stop. But it was a distant part. A part buried beneath the tide of reactions, instincts. Parry, evade, counter. Their blades rang after each exchange. Harder and harder Lang pushed, seeking an opening he would never find.

  At last, Naresh parried Lang’s thrust on the outside and slammed his fist into the man’s jaw. Before Lang could recover, Naresh slashed open the man’s weapon arm. The keris fell from Lang’s grasp.

  Hainuwele’s shriek almost drowned out Lang’s own scream. She threw herself in front of the Firewalker. Naresh glared at him over her head. Lang looked up a moment, blood dribbling down his split lip.

  “Go!” she shouted at Naresh. She knelt by Lang, frantically trying to wrap the man’s wound with torn fabric from his shirt. “Just go, Pak Naresh, please.”

  Naresh shook his head. Damn. He couldn’t well beat the man into submission with Hainuwele like this. And, in truth, he had no desire to be the man who got what he wanted that way. That violence was always so close to him now … But there were other ways. He cleaned his blade, not taking his eyes from Lang, then sheathed his sword. “Rangguwani won’t let a challenge remain. As long as you’re here, you’re a threat.”

  He slipped into the shadows, away from Landi’s old house. His own home was nearby, but he didn’t head there, not yet. Instead he found himself drawn to the shore. Naresh walked down the beach, close enough so the water over his sandals tickled his toes.

  Empu Baradah had told him once that the rhythm of the tides mirrored the rhythm of the universe. He was right, of course. Lunars claimed Chandra controlled the tides, and, be that as it may, they still followed an endless flow. In and out, like a breath. You could fight them, or you could be carried away by them, but you couldn’t ignore them. Whether in acceptance or defiance, the flows shaped the lives of all.

  And for a long time, those flows had been pulling him down the path Chandi had called darkness. Violence. The same instinct he’d barely reigned in with Lang. Naresh had thought turning to Rangguwani, the supposed Ratu Adil, could change that course for him. But now, those tides had drawn him back in. And maybe he’d never be free of them.

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-THREE

  Chandi sat on the balcony, head leaning against the rail when her husband returned. His movements almost reminded her of the Macan Gadungan now, the way he stalked through the alleys with absolute confidence, yet still shunned the light of the main roads. Or rather, shunned the crowds that forever seemed to plague him these days.

  She jerked at the sudden hand on her shoulder. “Naresh,” she said without turning, “I prefer you don’t Stride behind me like that.”

  Her husband slipped his hands under her arms and pulled her to her feet. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders without turning her around. Chandi sighed and leaned back against his chest. “Are you feeling any better?” he said after a moment.

  She sighed. She wanted to say yes, but she couldn’t. “I’m working on it.”

  Naresh held her tighter a moment. “I have something you can help me with.”

  Chandi smirked. “You mean something to get me out of the house.”

  Naresh ran his fingers along her jawline, sending tingles all the way to her shoulders. “There’s that … and your talents are more suited for the task at hand than mine. My way would require me to take measures I’d rather not take. Yet.”

  What did that mean? She turned in his arms, looking up into his dark eyes. Something was going on behind them, something she couldn’t quite see. And Chandi did not like that at all. A slight tremor shook her. She’d worked too hard to hold on to Naresh to let him suffer his darkness alone.

  “Whatever talents I have are always at your disposal, husband,” she said, running a hand down his chest. They hadn’t been together since she’d told him about the Amrita. Chandi felt her pulse quicken at the thought. And the shivers had calmed. For the most part.

  Naresh took her hand in his own, stroking her fingers. His eyes darted down to her hand for a moment, then back to her face. He grimaced as though discarding some idea. “I wish we could … But I need you to follow Lang, and unfortunately it needs to be now. He might lead us back to Kertajaya, but not if he knows someone is trailing him. I want to put an end to this.”

  Oh. Chandi bit her lip, then shrugged. “So now my spying and sneaking are useful to you, huh?”

  Naresh favored her with an overwrought grimace, and Chandi smirked. He hugged her, then guided her toward the ladder. “He’s with Hainuwele. You need to hurry.” He lightly slapped her backside.

  And he’d pay for that later. Chandi scampered down the ladder, sent a mock glare at her husband, and hurried toward Hainuwele’s house. Odd that Lang still pursued the girl. Odder that Hainuwele allowed it. Once, Lang was heir to the throne of Suladvipa. He was Kertajaya’s cousin, which made him the king’s closest living kin. And when Kertajaya claimed to be the Ratu Adil, Lang had been a very important man. Now, though, Kertajaya was a fugitive hiding from the man who had usurped his throne. Which meant his heir could expect a short life with a violent end. What did she hope to gain by allowing this courtship? Or could Landi’s sister really care for the boor?

  Chandi sighed. Stranger things had happened, she supposed. In fact, she wished she hadn’t seen nearly as many strange things as she had. She shivered, despite the heat, but shrugged it off. She was in control of her life. She was in control. Not the Amrita.

  Lang was climbing down the ladder from Hainuwele’s house when she neared. Chandi threw herself behind a stilt and crouched in the shadows. Too close, and too easy for him to spot her. She needed an edge.

  She Glamoured herself to shift her skin and clothes to match the stilt, then turned to watch Lang as he hit the ground running. Before she could react, he fled almost right past her. At this distance, he should have noticed her. He didn’t even slow.

  Chandi glanced down at her skin and saw only the ground beneath her feet.

  What on Chandra’s dark side?

  She shut her eyes, shook her head, and opened them. Nothing had changed. She hadn’t just altered her clothes’ color, she’d somehow allowed her entire body to match the surroundings almost perfectly. When she moved she could see a slight shimmer. In bright light, someone might notice her, if they were close and knew to look for her. But she was almost invisible. Just like … Just like Rahu had done at the Astral Temple.

  And it had taken almost no effort. The Glamour was the most difficult of her Blessings. Drawing it at all, even changing her hair color, was like trying to wrestle a sun bear. It left her exhausted, sweaty, and mildly euphoric to have succeeded in any degree. But not this time. Except for the euphoria.

  Chandi stepped out into the light. Lang had already disappeared around the corner. She drew her Blessings to increase her speed, then took off after him. She dashed down one alley and another before she spotted him, heading down to the shore. Excellent. He’d never escape her like that.

  He continued on, past the wet rice terraces and into the hills. Here, there was enough high grass, enough trees she could go undetected without the Glamour, couldn’t she? But why take the chance? This was importa
nt to Naresh. Of course it was. He needed to find Kertajaya so they could return to normal lives.

  Chandi knelt in the tall grasses. Oh, sweet Chandra, what was she thinking? Was she really making excuses to use her Blessings? Again? She dropped the Blessing and its loss hit her like falling into an icy stream. Before she knew it, she’d drawn it again, and her skin had become as green as the grass around her. It was better … Easier.

  No. No, damn it. She had to beat this. Deep breaths. She released the Blessing again. The loss was less this time, just a piece missing from her heart.

  She crept forward. Lang had disappeared over the rise.

  Chandi followed, crawling on her stomach. This hill was almost tall enough to call a mountain. Atop it, a gaping hole opened up in the ground. A canopy of leaves shaded the hole, and you’d have to be close to notice it at all, though it was almost two dozen feet across. A man climbed down a rope hanging from the lip. He looked up at her. Lang.

  Chandi had thrown herself prone and drawn the Glamour before she even knew what she was doing. She peered at him. No way he could see her, right? He was looking up, but not at her. Then he turned back to his descent. Chandra, that had to be thirty feet down or more. Had Kertajaya really made that climb? What a hiding place. She crawled up to the lip and looked down.

  Someone lit a torch down the hole and slipped into a tunnel she couldn’t see. She forced herself to drop the Glamour again. That had to be enough for Naresh. Though she could climb down there—shift her gravity to the cave ceiling, and run down the wall. It wouldn’t be hard.

  She bit her lip. Chandra help her.

  She had to get back to Naresh. She had to get away from this place.

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-FOUR

  Naresh peered down the hole in the mountain, unable to make much out in the twilight. “Still hard to believe proud Kertajaya is hiding in a cave.”