The Skyfall Era Trilogy: Books 1-3

by Matt Larkin

  “You delve deeply. Almost seems like you seek Kebatinan in my chambers.”

  Naresh looked up at Lem. “Sorry.”

  Lem nodded and looked out at the sun. “Where did this sword send you, Pak Naresh?”

  Far away, it seemed. “It’s possible I’ve misjudged a great many people.”

  “Haven’t we all?” The big man shrugged. “It’s almost time. The king will arrive in the great hall soon.” He wrapped the sword back in its bundle.

  “So you think it’s better to make a choice and see it through, no matter the consequences?”

  Lem sighed. “I don’t know. I realized I made a mistake in Tohjaya. I’m hoping Rangguwani is the better choice … Because I don’t think I can play the game of shifting allegiances anymore. There is no honor in it.”

  Find a side and see it through. It sounded like duty, but life was no longer so simple.

  They rose together and walked through the palace, Lem carrying the sacred keris under his arm. The great hall was on the first floor—or rather the first and second, as the high ceiling allowed—in the center of the palace. It had seemed arrogant when Kertajaya sat on the throne at the back of this hall. But somehow, after Rangguwani had filled this hall with warriors and courtiers of three dynasties, it no longer felt like an affectation. It felt like a statement.

  Naresh took his place beside the throne. Rangguwani liked the symbol of the Arun Guard watching over him, perhaps even more than he liked actually having a protector. But he needed one. The man could fight, of course—he was a Moon Scion—but Naresh had stopped two assassins in the past four months.

  Lembu Ampal knelt before the throne, offering the wrapped bundle up to Rangguwani with both hands.

  “What is this, Guardsman?”

  “Pak Rangguwani, I give you the sacred sword of Ken Arok.”

  Rangguwani glanced at Naresh with a gleam in his eye, a hunger. Even so, Naresh nodded. Lem would never harm Rangguwani like this. The king rose from the throne and walked toward Lem. Rangguwani wore a golden headdress, and a great golden cape-like harness, but no shirt. Naresh had to admit, it did make him look regal. And pompous.

  The king took the bundle and unwrapped it, tossing the cloth aside. He drew the sword and held it up for inspection. “This blade was used to assassinate Ken Arok?”

  Lem nodded.

  “How did it come into your possession? I thought my … I thought Anusapati had taken this?”

  “The sword was given to me by Pak Tohjaya, the Spice King. I do not know how he retrieved it. We all thought it lost after Astral Shore. He sent me here with this, intending I should assassinate you with it.”

  A murmur ran through the hall. Several guards reached for weapons, and a woman somewhere gasped. Naresh Strode beside the king. Lem wouldn’t attack, but Naresh needed to assure the crowd he watched over their lord. Rangguwani just frowned. “And why didn’t you?”

  “Because I felt you more worthy of my service.”

  Lem might be a man of few words, but he picked the right ones.

  Rangguwani smirked, then returned to his throne. He inspected the sword a moment more, the hint of a grin on his face, and his eyes wide. “Tohjaya sent you to murder me with this? It seems only fitting we return the favor. Naresh, take the sword. Use it to eliminate the so-called Spice King.”

  Naresh hadn’t returned to stand beside the king. Now he turned to look the man in the eyes. “I …” Earlier this morning he’d considered doing just that. It had seemed only natural. Tohjaya was a fool, a bully, and had no problem employing assassins himself. He had almost no honor. But … Naresh did.

  He shook his head. Suddenly, murder didn’t seem like a good idea. “I’m not an assassin. I’m Arun Guard.”

  Again, the damn crowd murmured. Let them.

  “You are in my employ, Guardsman,” Rangguwani said. “You are a soldier working for the Ratu Adil, and I am giving you a mission.”

  Naresh could not, would not, become this. Maybe he’d spent too long as his own master. If Kakudmi had ordered him to assassinate another king, he might have agreed. But then, Kakudmi never would. And maybe that was the point.

  “I am not an assassin,” Naresh repeated. He looked in Rangguwani’s eyes. There was no way the king was letting this go. Clever as he was, he never should have voiced such a command in a hall full of people. Maybe that was his cleverness at play—thinking Naresh could never refuse in front of such an audience. But it swung both ways, for Rangguwani could not now back down. And Naresh would not cave. He would not. Which left him only one recourse. “Pak Rangguwani … With regret, I feel I must resign my post.”

  Naresh turned and walked toward the entrance.

  “Naresh!” Rangguwani shouted, pounding his fist on his throne. “You are in my service until I release you!”

  Silence had fallen over the hall. Naresh turned to face the king. “Did you think ordering me in this hall would force my hand? Congratulations, you have. I will not do this thing. You claim to rule Solars, but you know so little of our honor. I won’t assassinate a king, not because he deserves better, but because we do. Perhaps Pak Lembu Ampal will remain with you. If so, I don’t suggest you try to task him with this mission either. Even if he would agree, you shouldn’t send away your only Arun Guard at such a time. For myself, I’m a free man, not a slave. And I choose to walk away. Trying to keep a protector in your service against his will offers little benefit, my lord.”

  Naresh bowed and walked out. Rangguwani did not order his men to stop him, for which Naresh was grateful. He had no desire to hurt anyone. Funny, he’d walked out on Kertajaya’s service from this same hall. Albeit with more violence.

  Still, Rangguwani’s pride had been insulted today, and Daha might not be the best place for Naresh or Chandi. He hurried toward their home. As soon as someone in the crowd spotted him, the whispers started again. Some woman fell to her knees before him, begging his blessing for her children.

  Naresh Sun Strode away.

  Chandi was at home when he arrived, thank Surya. He Strode up to the house, then embraced her. “We need to leave Daha. We’ll take the jukung out and find a dhow at the nearest port.”

  “What?” She pushed him back to look in his face. A sheen of sweat covered her. His heart clenched, but there was nothing he could do about it. “Why?”

  Naresh shook his head. “You trust me?”

  “Of course I trust you. What kind of question is that?” She frowned, but joined him when he started hurriedly packing their things.

  They’d take only what they most needed. This wasn’t the first time they’d had to leave a home behind. With luck, one day they would return for the rest.

  “But where are we going?” Chandi asked as she carried the last armful down the ladder.

  “Ben’s still in Kutai, right? Maybe it’s time we check in on him.”

  And Puradvipa would put them beyond Rangguwani’s reach.

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-EIGHT

  Rangguwani had paid Naresh well, so he’d been able to book passage on a dhow for Kutai. The Hyang, it was called, the old name for the spirits of Kahyangan. Chandi shuddered at the reminder. Whatever Ratna had done had released something from the Spirit Realm. Something terrible that never should have been allowed to walk the Earth. Why did the spirits harbor such hatred for mankind? And why would people honor them by naming ships after them?

  She ran a hand along Naresh’s forehead, swabbing it with a cloth. So hot. They’d been at sea for almost two days, and he’d grown worse and worse. It would take another day for them to reach Kutai, but maybe there she could get him some help. Sweat poured off her husband, and he seemed hot one minute, then freezing the next. Right now, he lay wrapped in a blanket, but he’d probably toss it aside again soon.

  Chandra, what was wrong with him? She’d never seen him so sick. It was like watching him slip away, and there was nothing she could do. Her heart felt like it would give out, just wither away.

  “P
lease.” Her voice shook, and she bit her lip. “What’s happening, Naresh?” She kissed him on the forehead. “Sweet Chandra, you’re really burning. Naresh? Can you hear me?”

  Why wasn’t he answering? The fever would cook his brain. She had to do something, but what?

  “Chandi …”

  She clutched his hand. Thank Chandra! With her other hand she passed him a goblet of water. He rose enough to drink, but his hands shook so much she had to hold the goblet for him.

  “I had malaria before,” he managed to say. “Recurrence.”

  “Malaria?” She shook her head. “You told me. But you were better. You said Semar cured you.” Had the Igni lied? It couldn’t be malaria. Malaria could kill him, so it couldn’t be that. Because she would not let him go. Not ever.

  She laid her head on his chest and shuddered. “Love, you’ll be fine. You have to be fine. I can’t lose you.”

  He jerked upright, covering his mouth and gagging. Shit, he was going to lose it. Chandi lifted him under his arms, helping him to a porthole. He retched, but it seemed like water. He hadn’t eaten all day.

  Oh, Naresh. She rubbed his back. “You’re just seasick, right? It’s not malaria.”

  He shook his head a little and lay back down. She clutched his hand. He was so strong … She’d never thought to see him like this. He’d called her his moon and stars. And he was her sunlight. “Naresh …” She’d do anything, anything to save him. Chandra, he’d become her life. “Naresh, if you have malaria … you need to take the Amrita.” They both needed it. It was all they needed to be whole. One more sip and she’d be strong enough. “It’ll cure you. It cured me when I was a child. Where is it? I’ll get it for you. Just take a big swig of one vial, and this will go away. I never got malaria again, you know?” She rubbed his shoulder and leaned close. One sip for each of them, and they’d both be well. His malaria would fade and not recur, and the pain in her mind and body and soul would be gone. “Just tell me where to find it, love.”

  Naresh tried to sit, tried to push her back, but she had to help him. “You can’t be serious. You want to use … my condition as an excuse to get that … that toxin again?”

  Chandi shook her head and bit her lip. “No, I …” That’s not what she meant. Oh, Chandra, it was exactly what she meant!

  No! She was trying to help him. She had to save her husband. “That’s what you think?” She backed away. “That this is about me?”

  “Is it?”

  She continued to back away until she ran into another berth. “No … I mean … I don’t think so. No! Naresh, I’m trying to help you.”

  Naresh scowled and lay back. “You’ll turn me into an addict, too.”

  “Not with one dose.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “You have to trust me.” She was trying to … to help. She’d never do anything to hurt him. She’d die for him if she had to.

  “Sometimes you make it hard.”

  Hard to trust her? And why not? She’d betrayed him repeatedly in Kasusthali, lied to him in Cenrana. She trembled, looking down at her sandals. She failed him, she’d failed everyone. And now she was trying to poison herself and use him as an excuse to do it. Chandra, he was right about everything. What kind of person was she? She ran from the forecastle, up the companionway to the deck.

  “Chandi,” Naresh called after her, his voice barely a whisper.

  A sob wracked her chest. She was going lunatic again. It was like a snake, slithering through her mind. Threatening to take her. Moments of stark clarity made the rising madness all the more painful. Would it be easier to just let go? Let it take her away?

  The Amrita ate away at her mind and soul, one piece at a time. She never should have given it to him. Never should have told him. She should have just taken it all and been done with it.

  She was a monster, and she failed her husband. She wailed and pounded her fists into the gunwale, splintering it. Had she been drawing her Blessings? She couldn’t even tell anymore. She started to sob again, but bile rose in her throat and she vomited over the side.

  One of the crewmen inquired after her, but she waved him away.

  She needed no sympathy. She was the villain of this story. The anchor that would drag Naresh into the abyss. In his darkest moment, he could be dying of malaria, and she was here feeling sorry for herself.

  Because he didn’t trust her!

  Hadn’t she earned his trust? Hadn’t she done enough when she’d fought Malin for him?

  She’d worked so damn hard to win him over. She’d joined him in Solar lands and become whatever he needed. She’d listened to the whispers and abuse and distrust the Suladvipans showered on “the Lunar.” And it was all for him.

  And now he’d turned his back on her.

  And she deserved it.

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-NINE

  “I do trust you,” Naresh whispered into the back of Chandi’s hair. Even when he’d been strong enough to rise, she’d been out of sight until now, as Kutai drew into view. The girl could make herself damn hard to find when she wanted. He put his hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged him off and scurried over to the other side of the dhow.

  Naresh blew out a long breath and steadied himself against the rail. The fever had receded, but not broken, and every movement was an effort.

  He watched Chandi, unable to look away, unable to make himself go to her. In his delirium, he’d seen the world burning. All he loved slipped away in a wake of destruction. Naresh didn’t want to explain where his mind had gotten those images. Just focus on the sea.

  Within a phase, the Hyang pulled into port at Kutai. The city had been infamous in Kasusthali—a port of call for all kinds of unsavory types. In theory, it was a free city that welcomed all comers, including members of any dynasty. In reality, the city was under Lunar control. The Solar Empire had considered the situation too complex to be worth interfering in, at least while preoccupied with threat from Rahu. Now, with the fall of both the Solar and Lunar Empires, Surya only knew who really ruled here.

  But Bendurana had decided to make a new life here—not surprising the man had spent time in Kutai—and Naresh supposed the place would do as well for him and Chandi. She blessedly didn’t rush down the gangway the moment the ship was tied off, but waited for him. Not that he couldn’t manage down the gangway himself, of course.

  Still, Chandi let him take her arm to steady himself as they trod down into the city. Her face was a mask—so empty it felt like someone had knifed him. The smell of sea salt mixed with chickens, frying fish, and unwashed masses assaulted him as they wound through the harbor.

  “Where do we find Ben?” he asked.

  Chandi shrugged. “His last letter said he was staying at a local guesthouse called the Lost Dugong.” Her voice seemed so empty, though her eyes darted into every alley they passed.

  “What is it?” Naresh asked at last. “What are you looking for?”

  Chandi didn’t answer, just pulled him along faster. The buildings here resembled those on Suladvipa, packed tightly together and with large roofs. Across the alleys, one roof almost touched the next. Near the harbor a long winding road formed a market district crowded with vendors and customers. His wife wound her way past all of them, clearly wary.

  “Do you know where you’re going?”

  “No.” She pushed aside a man who drew too near. Had he just tried to swipe her pouch?

  Someone shoved a spiced satay stick in Naresh’s face. The meat smelled off, just a bit. Not chicken. He glanced past the vendor into the stall. The man had dead rats strung up on a line near a covered grill. Naresh’s stomach churned again. He hadn’t vomited yet today, and he aimed to keep it that way.

  “This place is …” he began.

  “You’re the one who wanted to come here. You thought we could disappear in this city? I imagine there’s a reason why no government looks too deeply here.”

  Ben lived here. Besides, they had made this plan together, even if it was his idea. His b
reath had become ragged. Plodding through the city at this pace, in his condition, was wearing on him. He’d have to stop soon, or risk passing out.

  “Ben said the guesthouse was near the market,” Chandi said. “Wait here, and I’ll ask around for it.” She slipped away into the crowd before he could even protest.

  Naresh glanced back at the rat vendor, who flashed him a wide grin. The man’s teeth—the ones he still had—were yellow, tarnished with black spots. With a grunt, Naresh turned away. At least the crowds here didn’t throw themselves at his feet begging for blessings. It was better to be ignored than worshipped.

  He grabbed a passing man, an Igni by the sacred flame on his baju. “I’m looking for a Serendibian, a tall man with his hair woven into locks.”

  The man shook his head and shrugged, before scurrying off.

  Naresh tried twice more, at vendors, but they seemed disinclined to discuss anything other than their wares. One sold Tianxian tea leaves. “Good for the health,” the man said.

  For a moment, Naresh stared at the man. Semar had said the qinghao he used to make that tea—the tea that had eased the malaria—had come from Tianxia. But none of this man’s selections seemed to match that herb.

  A hand brushed his shoulder, and he jerked to see Chandi. “I found it,” she said, and pulled him along, supporting him on her arm. She took a side street so narrow they had to press together to walk side-by-side, then turned down a back alley. A scruffy-looking dog slunk away as they entered the dusty alley, a place that stank of rotting food and old urine. Down the road, almost obscured by the hanging roof, hung a faded sign painted with a sea cow. The Lost Dugong. Alone, apart from their herds, such animals didn’t last long. Maybe that was the point the owner had—if he had any point at all. Maybe the man just liked sea cows.