The Skyfall Era Trilogy: Books 1-3

by Matt Larkin

  Chandi leaned against his shoulder. “So let’s go dig him out.”

  He turned to her. “You’re staying here. It’s dangerous, and I don’t want you to have to use your Blessings. I’ll go in alone and bring them out.”

  Chandi raised an eyebrow and tapped the toyaks tucked into the back of her sarong. “I can fight without my Blessings.”

  “I don’t want you involved in this mess, Chandi.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Then you shouldn’t have involved me.”

  He hesitated. But with what she’d told him of the Amrita addiction, he shouldn’t give her any excuse to rely on her Blessings. “No. Too dangerous.”

  “And that’s why I’m going with you. You ought to know me better than this by now.” She grabbed the rope and began climbing down hand over hand.

  He’d tried. With a sigh, Naresh Sun Strode to the base of the pit. Almost immediately, a shout went up. A pair of ragged-looking guards charged him, one with a spear, one with a keris.

  Naresh sidestepped the spearman as he lunged, slammed his elbow into the man’s face, and swept his legs out from under him. No time to draw his own blade. The swordsman swung at his head. Naresh ducked and punched the man in the gut, then smashed his palm against the guard’s face.

  Chandi dropped down beside him. She turned around once, taking in the fallen guards, then folded her arms. “You might still need my help.”

  Naresh chuckled and drew his keris, then proceeded down the tunnel. The place was a natural cave, probably carved long ago by a now-dry river. By the smell and the piles of refuse, people had lived here for a while.

  Flickering light illuminated the tunnel, emanating from torch sconces bolted to the walls at regular intervals. The tunnel wound around two bends, descending ever deeper. He had to watch his step. The floor was slick. He glanced up. Water still dripped from the stalactites, albeit very slowly. In the torchlight, the stone had a faint brown-green hue that seemed to sparkle.

  “It’s beautiful,” Chandi said.

  And it was, though Naresh had no time to appreciate it with his wife at the moment. He tried not to grimace as her voice echoed through the tunnel. A few more paces and the passage opened into a wide cavern with a lake at its heart. The lake rested in a depression, probably a fifteen-foot drop down to it. Across the lake, a half dozen men had gathered, sitting down for a meal.

  Naresh started to edge around the lake toward the men when one shouted, pointing at him. So be it.

  He glanced back. Chandi was nowhere to be seen. Good, let her stay hidden.

  He Sun Strode amongst the men, kicking one in the chest as the soldier rose. The man staggered backward and fell into the depression, flailing his arms for the instant before he hit the water with a splash. In the confusion, Naresh Strode beside another and slammed the man’s head against a stalagmite. Two down.

  One man rushed him with a keris sword while another fled down a tunnel. Naresh parried the clumsy attack, then opened the man’s thighs with his own cut. The howling man fell, but he’d live.

  Naresh made short work of the remaining two men, careful not to kill them. Where had Chandi gone?

  A sizzling sound made him turn toward the tunnel. The man who had fled stood there now, Lang beside him. Flames leapt along Lang’s hands, encircling his entire body. A stream of fire leapt from that vortex and bolted for Naresh.

  He Strode to the side. The flames impacted a stalagmite behind where he’d stood, exploding over the cavern. Lang’s own men screamed, caught in the blaze.

  “I bet I have more fire than you have sunlight at this point,” Lang said.

  Time would tell.

  Naresh Strode again when Lang launched another volley of flame. Chandi seemed to appear from nowhere right behind Lang, almost as if she’d Sun Strode herself. She was on the ground, sweeping her leg in a wide arc. She caught Lang’s ankles and the man tumbled to the ground. The flames flickered out. Lang reached toward a torch with his good hand—the other now bandaged from where Naresh had cut him—but Chandi stomped on his fingers.

  His sunlight was running low, Naresh was sure, but he Strode over to his wife. Not that she seemed to need it. She parried the last man’s keris with one toyak and broke his ribs with the other. The man joined Lang on the ground, both moaning.

  Chandi looked at Naresh, then down at the two men she’d disabled, then back up at Naresh. She shrugged.

  Naresh tried not to smile. Of course he knew she could take care of herself. It wasn’t the point.

  “How did you get around behind them like that?”

  Chandi glanced down the tunnel. “I … I’m just good at sneaking around. It’s why you brought me, remember?” She spoke without looking at him.

  After a moment watching his wife, Naresh turned to Lang and hefted the man up. “Take us to Kertajaya and you can avoid getting any other parts of your body damaged.” Lang looked like he was about to snarl something at him, but Naresh had had more than enough of the man. “Pak Lang, I will kill you if you force me to.”

  Lang stared into Naresh’s eyes, then jerked his head down the tunnel. Naresh pushed the man ahead of him, careful to keep him within striking distance. If he so much as stretched toward one of the torches on the wall, by Surya he’d run him through.

  But Lang just led them into another cavern, this one decorated with a few cushions on the floor. Kertajaya sat on some of those cushions, his face drawn. Maybe it was the shadows, but the circles under the former king’s eyes had grown deep.

  “Why, Pak Naresh?” the king asked. “Why assault my men here?”

  The dirty baju Kertajaya wore might once have been a regal yellow, but now it was torn and bloodstained. It was almost enough for Naresh to take pity on the man. Almost. “Because you refused to flee the island. Because Pak Rangguwani demands it, to ensure the security of his rule. Because he’s right, and for the Isles to recover, we need stability, not more civil war.” Naresh knelt down, level with the man. “Or maybe this is justice, long delayed, for your crimes against Ken Arok.”

  Kertajaya’s eyes went wide for a moment. Then he laughed. Not the response Naresh had expected. “Justice? For Ken Arok? Do you even know who the man really was, Naresh? Did you really know him?”

  “I know he was one of the greatest leaders the Solar Empire ever had.” Ken Arok, Kakudmi’s father, had guided the Solar Empire through the Fourth War, despite Rahu’s surprise attack. He’d brought prosperity despite the hardships of war. And he’d pardoned Kertajaya, his treacherous cousin, for trying to seize the throne. Which made him more forgiving than Naresh would have been.

  Kertajaya rubbed his face. “You know Ken Arok had a famous keris, right?”

  “He was murdered with it.”

  Chandi came and sat beside him, her hand on his shoulder. Lang collapsed by Kertajaya, clutching his broken fingers.

  “Yes,” Kertajaya said, “he was murdered with it by a Lunar. But how did he get this sacred sword in the first place?” When Naresh didn’t answer, the king continued. “The blade was forged by Mpu Gandring.”

  Naresh frowned. The last Radiant Queen before his mother. She’d been assassinated, which had led his mother to take up the mantle.

  “The stories I heard, and I believe them, were that Ken Arok wanted a symbol, and thus demanded the finest blade ever forged. A symbol of mastery over the Skyfall Isles. And Mpu Gandring did it. I don’t know what she did, what powers of Surya she may have invested in that blade, but they said with it Ken Arok became a god on the battlefield.”

  Naresh shrugged. “And his attendant Kebo Ijo stole the keris and murdered Mpu Gandring with it. He tried to start a coup, but died in the attempt. I remember.” Eleven years ago, that murder had changed his life. It had changed his mother forever.

  “That’s what history claims,” Kertajaya said, “but it’s not exactly what happened. You didn’t know what kind of man my cousin really was. He loaned that sword to Kebo Ijo, knowing the fool would brag of it to all his fri
ends. And when Kebo Ijo had fallen asleep after a night of revelry, Ken Arok stole the keris back and used it to assassinate the greatest barrier to his complete rule of the Isles. Not a Lunar, but the Radiant Queen, the only person who might challenge the power of the Solar Emperor. She had time and again been a barrier to his plans. Of course, by then, everyone knew Kebo Ijo had the keris, so when they found it in Mpu Gandring’s body what would they think?”

  No. More lies. The man tried to twist the truth however it suited him. Ken Arok was the hero of the Fourth War. “Why should I believe this? Why didn’t you prove this at the time?”

  “How could I prove it? I’d heard the stories, but everyone I spoke to who might have known the truth kept winding up dead. I confronted Ken Arok, but he denied it. So what could I do? The man had murdered the Radiant Queen. I resolved to take the throne from him. But my forces couldn’t stand against the Arun Guard. Empu Baradah slaughtered so many. So when Ken Arok offered peace, like a coward I took it. I took the throne of Suladvipa as payment for my silence. If you want to blame me, blame me for that weakness, not for betraying Ken Arok.”

  If this was true … If Ken Arok had really murdered Mpu Gandring with that keris … Surya! If that had never happened, Naresh’s mother would still be alive. And Ken Arok, the great leader of the Solar Empire had been a murderer. But Kertajaya could say anything to get what he wanted. If he was the kind of man to turn on his cousin, what would a few lies cost his honor? Nothing.

  Kertajaya’s smirk, those damn mocking eyes, were almost enough to make Naresh haul the man to his feet and drag him before Rangguwani. “You need more convincing, Naresh?” the king said. “Find the sword of Ken Arok. The blade undulates like a Lunar keris knife, and along that path, on one side, Mpu Gandring etched the faint form of a dragon. For the blade was said to hold the power and fury and glory of the sea.”

  The blade might have such an etching. Naresh had never heard that, had never even noticed it when Tohjaya showed him the blade, but even if it did, anyone could have told Kertajaya of it. It didn’t prove that his story was true … But it was a start.

  Naresh glanced at Chandi.

  “You know Rangguwani would probably kill them,” she said. “This seems like a Solar thing, so I don’t want to tell you what to do … but it’ll be too late to change your mind if you hand them over.”

  Which could be the whole point of Kertajaya’s tale. Maybe he had spent his days down here, thinking up some plausible rationale he could feed to his opponents. Naresh wouldn’t put it past the man to try to justify his betrayal. But then, if it was true, maybe Kertajaya was the rightful heir to the Solar throne. If such a throne even existed anymore. Because, really, the Solar and Lunar Empires had both fallen. All that remained was Rangguwani’s Skyfall Empire.

  Naresh rose, pulling Chandi to her feet. “So be it, Pak Kertajaya. I won’t hand you over to Rangguwani. Not yet. But if I hear even a rumor of you trying to start war again, I will hunt you down. For the first time in a long time the Skyfall Isles have a chance at peace. And that’s worth more than your life.”

  Naresh stormed out, still holding Chandi’s hand.

  “Peace only endures under the right leader,” Kertajaya shouted after him.

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-FIVE

  The gates of the Iron Palace stood open. Maybe Pohaci could even walk right through, but the guards would surely notice Lembu Ampal. And his keris. Tohjaya wanted Rangguwani assassinated with that keris. But the symbol it represented made the task harder than it would have been otherwise.

  “I could Stride us up to the front door,” Lembu Ampal said. They stood around the bend of the wide wall surrounding the palace, out of sight of any guards.

  Perhaps the big man wanted to die fighting an army of guards that, if rumors held true, included Macan Gadungan. Pohaci had no desire to do so, though; all she wanted was to find Malin. “We wait for nightfall.”

  “You have done this many times?”

  Pohaci turned her head to look at the big Solar. She’d done it enough. “Let’s go.”

  Lembu Ampal shrugged and followed her. She led him to a teahouse, eager to pass the time until the sun set. The teahouse had a fishpond in the center, filled with carp. Probably nicer than most such places in Daha. A serving girl led them to a table sectioned off by bamboo walls, then poured them each a cup of tea. She must think they were here as a couple. Odd thought, a Lunar and Solar in a romance—even given Chandi’s love of that Guardsman.

  “We have fresh satay or rendang,” the girl said.

  Pohaci turned to her. “You have rendang?” The Solars were cooking Lunar dishes now?

  The girl nodded, smiling like a child. “It’s been popular since Pak Rangguwani came. You know, with all the Lunars living here these days.”

  So Rangguwani had really begun to succeed in merging the dynasties. It probably wouldn’t last much beyond his death.

  “Bring it.”

  Lembu Ampal watched the girl but said nothing.

  Pohaci leaned back against the bamboo wall and regarded the big man. “I’m sure she’d be flattered to know an Arun Guard was so interested. Perhaps you should mention it to her.”

  He sighed, rubbing that silver medallion he kept beneath his shirt. “A few more years, and my daughter might have looked like that girl.”

  The man had lost his child? It explained a few things, she supposed. “How long ago did she die?”

  “At Kasusthali.”

  A few months shy of three years, then. “Sorry for your loss.”

  “They say werecrocodiles were there, dragging down the survivors of the Solar navy.”

  She’d heard that, too. “I was imprisoned at the time. Rahu threw me in a dank hole to die.” After that, she couldn’t trust any king. Not Tohjaya, and certainly not Rangguwani. Malin had saved her. He was all she needed.

  The Guardsman said nothing else, but he seemed to enjoy the beef rendang when the girl brought it. Pohaci pretended not to notice how studiously Lembu Ampal avoided looking at the girl this time. The cook needed practice, but the rendang was a fair imitation. They even got the spices right, mostly.

  Pohaci wiped her mouth when she finished. “Your family knows you loved them. They’ve returned to the Wheel of Life, now, while you remain. You owe it to their memories to live again.”

  Lembu Ampal sighed. “Pak Naresh once said something similar.”

  Pohaci hadn’t gotten to know the other Guardsman well, but Naresh did seem intelligent. Brash, arrogant, and dangerous. But intelligent, too.

  “Rumors say Rangguwani has warriors from all three dynasties guarding him,” Lembu Ampal said, clearly changing the subject. If he didn’t want to speak of his family, it was no loss to her. And she’d heard about Rangguwani’s forces. Jadian, Firewalkers, Solars. Not a combination she relished facing. “How did he do that?”

  Pohaci shook her head. Rangguwani had a way of swaying people, of making them think he had their best interests at heart. But she’d done too much of his dirty work to believe he valued the lives of the masses.

  Neither of them spoke again until the sun had set. “It’s time,” Pohaci said at last.

  They left the teahouse and wandered the perimeter of the wall. The Guardsman seemed content to allow her to lead, which worked fine for her. She was the one who knew what she was doing. “Can you Stride us past this wall?”

  “Only at the gate. I have to see where we’re going.”

  Pohaci turned in place, taking in the city, then pointed to a three-story building. A guesthouse, perhaps. “Take us to the roof.”

  The Guardsman put a hand on her shoulder, then the world shifted. She felt her feet sliding along an incline and had to adjust her balance. Just like that, she was on the saddle roof, clutching its peak for support. She’d never get used to the Sun Stride. Lembu Ampal had done this with her before, when they fought Rahu—it didn’t get easier.

  She pointed down into the palace garden. “You can see the yard fr
om here.”

  Things shifted again, and Pohaci fell from the sudden change in her balance, landing on soft grass. The crocodile inside her grumbled, trying to crawl its way out and destroy the source of her discomfort. But she needed the Guardsman. She was not the monster they put inside her.

  Pohaci pushed herself up and stalked to the palace itself. The front was undoubtedly still guarded, but if they could sneak through the kitchens without raising an alarm, their odds of reaching Rangguwani—and getting out again—improved. Pohaci crept along the edge of the house toward a backdoor, grimacing with each of the Guardsman’s heavy footfalls. When she reached the door she tried it and found it unlocked. Good. The kitchen staff would still need to throw out the waste, she supposed.

  She slipped inside the door, followed by Lembu Ampal. A handful of servants busied themselves cleaning the cooking pit or storing the night’s leftovers. One man, sitting on a stool and eating a leg of duck, sniffed and turned toward them, eyes narrowed.

  She knew him. Sunten. Damn Macan Gadungan.

  He leapt from the stool and stalked closer, drawing everyone’s attention to them. So much for subtlety. “Buaya Jadian. Here.”

  “Malin made all Jadian brothers and sisters,” Pohaci said. “Don’t interfere with us, Sunten.”

  He tilted his head to the side as if considering it. “I wish I could, but Rangguwani has given us a place here. Why have you come?”

  Pohaci motioned Lembu Ampal to stillness. Fighting Sunten would bring half the palace here, and she didn’t really have anything against the weretiger. “I have a message to deliver. Why did you help us break free of the Moon Scions, only to enslave yourself to one here?”

  Sunten recoiled, scrunching up his face. “We’re not slaves here, we’re honored warriors.” He shook his head once, as though trying to dislodge the idea. “Come with me to see him. Bring the Buaya Jadian into the fold, let them join the Skyfall Empire. It’s Pohaci, right? Wouldn’t Malin want you to claim your rightful places?”

  “Do you know where he is?”

  Sunten shook his head. “But whatever you’re here for, only trouble lies down that road. Join us or become obsolete.”