by Matt Larkin
He shrugged. “Suit yourself, girl. But the offer to join us still stands.”
Chandi tried to sip from the empty cup. “Baijiu …” Her voice sounded odd, thick, even to her.
The man rose, and Chandi slumped down on the table. She must have slept, because someone was shaking her awake. Sweet Chandra, her head hurt. Her eyes stung too, even in the dim lamplight.
“Ibu Chandi?”
Ibu? It was the girl who had been fawning over Ben the last few weeks, wasn’t it? Dewi Kadita. Chandi groaned. How had the Solar girl even found her here? Chandi reached for her glass, but someone had removed it.
“What do you want?” Chandi said, slumping back down on the table.
Dewi jerked her up by the cheeks. “What in Rangda’s frozen underworld are you doing to yourself?”
Chandi winced. And what did Dewi care what Chandi did? “I don’t even know you.”
The girl folded her arms and gave her a look that would have shamed her, if Chandi had any shame left. “Your choice. But you do know Ben. I want to know what happened. When was he married? How? You don’t know what I went through with him … He’s … I gave up the power of a goddess to be with him.”
Chandi shook her head. “Forget him.” Love was a bitch, anyway.
“I can’t! You don’t just forget someone you love, no matter how hard you try.”
Chandi winced again. She didn’t owe this woman anything. But … Chandra, she’d known that pain, hadn’t she? “Ben … Dewi, Nyai Loro Kidul was in you, right?”
The girl nodded, a hint of a smirk stretching her face. Strange, she almost seemed to like being possessed. Whatever made her happy.
“She was in someone else, after you … Ben’s wife. Landorundun.” Her voice sounded raw in her own ears. She’d said goodbye to Landi a long time back. Or she thought she had.
“He said he lost someone … wouldn’t speak of it.”
“They married a few months before Loro took her.” But Landi had volunteered for it. “We needed the goddess’s power. But she died.”
Dewi shook her head. “Impossible. Spirits can’t die, not on Earth.”
Was that true? “Maybe …” Chandi’s mouth tasted thick. She needed water. Or more lychee wine. “But the host was crushed … fighting Rangda.”
Dewi cocked her head. “You expect me to believe that?”
Chandi shrugged. “Don’t care.”
Dewi was quiet for a long time. Let her leave. Chandi just wanted to go back to sleep. And this place was good like that. No one would disturb her. Members of the Luhur slept here, sometimes. She’d seen them.
“His losses are terrible … but if she’s dead …” Dewi nodded. “I’m still alive, and while there’s life, there’s hope things will get better. I’ll make them better for him.”
“What makes you think you can?” Despite being older than her, the woman sounded like a child. So innocent.
“Because I can do anything for his love.” She said it so straight, Chandi had to sit up and look her in the eye. Damn, the girl believed every word. “Because love always wins, in the end, and all other forces in life cave before it.” Dewi rose and patted Chandi on the cheek. “Thank you, Ibu Chandi.” She turned back for a moment. “You really should clean yourself up. You look like something a Warak Ngendog stepped on.”
Chandi started, then glanced around the teahouse. Had the girl really just said that? Chandra, she probably did look like a mess. Her mouth tasted awful, too. Asamanja was staring at them as Dewi left. Let him look. That was all he’d ever get from either of them. That girl was so in love she’d never give him a thought …
So in love.
Just like Chandi had been.
Just like … Chandi was.
She rose, her legs unsteady under her. Chandra’s dark side, what was she doing here? Drowning herself in Tianxian poisons? She took a deep breath, then walked from the teahouse as steadily as she could, one slow, painful step at a time. Someone tried to touch her, but she pushed him away.
Naresh had left her. But she wouldn’t let him be gone forever. She would not let him leave. He was her husband. Bound to her in life and death, forever. The fringes of lunacy had driven him from her arms, but she would find him again.
And give him someone he could be proud to love once again. Hot tears ran down her face, but she kept walking. Because how could she blame him for running after what she’d done? What she’d become. She’d turned herself into this. Something a Warak Ngendog had stepped on. Bleh. She’d bought a moment of oblivion from her pain with these poisons? And she never stopped to ask the price.
Every moment, Naresh got one step further away from her. But she could, she would follow him to the ends of the Earth. That girl … she’d said with life was the hope it would get better.
Chandi would get better.
There had to be a way to survive this. There had to.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTY-FOUR
Rainforest covered much of Malayadvipa, reminding Pohaci of Puradvipa. At least inland. On the coast, especially in the north, the so-called Witch-Queen had established a vast kingdom Pohaci suspected rivaled the heights of the Lunar Empire. This city, called Langyaxiu, lacked the appeal of the wilds. In the harbor, the buildings were cramped together, a mismatched collection of assorted wooden shanties, teahouses, guesthouses, and whorehouses.
She’d spent weeks scouring the rainforest, passing through glens and streams, and stopping to check every city on the way up here. But the truth was, Langyaxiu was the Witch-Queen’s seat of power, and if Malin was in her court, Pohaci would find him here. Of course, why was another question. Malin had even less love for witches than Pohaci did, and Pohaci would rather feed a witch to a Warak Ngendog than talk to her. Witchcraft had forced the crocodile spirit inside her as a child. Forcing her to share her body with another soul seemed little better than spiritual rape to Pohaci, but no one had ever asked her opinion.
The spirit within her shifted, waking. She had to be careful to maintain a delicate balance with the entity. Because she did have to share this body. It hadn’t been hers alone for a long time. You accepted you were Jadian, or it destroyed you. And Pohaci wasn’t the type to surrender and die.
Someone shouted something at her, waving a robe in her face. This far up the peninsula, the people spoke a dialect too different from the Skyfall tongue for her to catch casual conversation. She had been to Malayadvipa once, even before she came with Malin. Rangguwani had sent her on assignment, and she’d picked up the rudiments of the language then. But it seemed the further you traveled up the peninsula, the further that language diverged from her own.
It mattered little, in truth. Soon, she would find Malin and bring him home, whatever it took. If this Witch-Queen was somehow holding him prisoner, Pohaci would kill her.
The houses further inland grew more elaborate. They lacked the saddle roofs common in the Skyfall Isles, in favor of steeply sloping triangular ones. The Witch-Queen's palace, for it had to be hers, featured dome-like caps instead. The entire palace was painted white, except for those domes, which were gilded. It stood four stories tall, towering over the rest of Langyaxiu, and seemed open, with large windows covering most walls.
The wall that surrounded the palace was only about eight feet tall, so it was probably meant to keep common folk out more than real intruders. Meaning the Witch-Queen had plenty of guards to deal with the latter. Pohaci circled it, waiting until evening fell. She’d bought local clothes. A long black baju that reached almost to her knees, and a midnight blue skirt under it. Helpful for blending in with the darkness—except for when climbing a white wall.
When she’d wanted to break into Rangguwani’s palace, she’d had Lembu Ampal Stride them over the wall. She could manage something similar. She looked around until she spotted a house near enough the palace wall. The house’s wide roof stretched to within six feet of the structure. Pohaci could make that jump. She scrambled up the side of the house, then hefted herself on
to the roof.
She had to give the crocodile spirit that—her strength did make it easier to scale buildings. A normal person might find it challenging to pull their weight up over the lip of the roof. Pohaci did so with ease. Her heart had begun to race. Deep down, part of her missed this. The sweet thrill of sneaking about unseen, of breaking into dangerous places. The threat of violence, buried just below the surface, ready to explode in an instant. It was primal.
She backed up the slope of the roof, then took off running down it. The crocodile didn’t give her the grace and agility that a tiger spirit gave the Macan Gadungan, but she had enough of her own. She leapt from the edge, flying through the air, and caught the lip of the wall—another steep triangle of shingles.
The shingles scraped her arms as she slid down it, but she caught the top. The Moon Scion ability to shift their gravity must be nice. The roof tore deep gashes in her skin as she pulled herself up. Pohaci crouched atop the wall and glanced at her arms. Dripping blood. And it had torn her new shirt, too. Her Jadian nature meant the cuts would heal soon, but new clothes cost money.
With a mumbled curse about her ruined shirt, she leapt off the wall and into the palace garden. Without rising, she turned her head, surveying the area. A small stream ran through the garden, shaded by palm trees. Guards watched every door, but they hadn’t seen her. To human eyes, this darkness would make her almost invisible in her black clothes. Pausing only to grab a pebble, she scrambled forward, then pressed herself up against the palace itself. The windows were shuttered and seemed locked on the inside.
A pair of guards watched the back door. If Malin wasn’t a prisoner here, he might not appreciate her killing these men, however much easier it would be on her. Instead she flung the pebble at the bushes across from the door. One of the guards exclaimed and walked toward the sound. Pohaci sprang around the corner and leapt onto the other guard, slamming his head against the wall. Probably not fatal.
Even as the first guard spun around at the sound, she leapt up from the fallen man and rushed the other.
“Intrud—” he started to shout.
Pohaci collided with him and bore him down. Twice she punched him in the face and he lay still. Someone probably heard that. She sighed and ran from the scene, back around the corner. A moment later she heard the door open, and others shouting.
At least she had a distraction. She stepped onto the windowsill and pulled herself up onto the arch that framed the top of it. From there she could almost reach the next windowsill on the second level. Almost.
Footsteps fell around the corner. Men were rushing to search the garden. Pohaci jumped up, snaring the sill with her fingers, then pulled herself up onto it. From there, it was up another arch.
She glanced down. Soldiers ran about beneath her, never thinking to look up. Not surprising. No one expected crocodiles to strike from above. She heaved herself up to the third level. From here, she could rise to the roof. The domes of the fourth level were nearby, but she didn’t see any access from those.
She scrambled up the slant of the roof. Then her foot slipped. She fell to hands and knees and slid down the tiles, tearing her skirts. She stifled a scream at the pain. It was only pain. She knew pain. She caught herself at the lip of the roof. And the reason no one expected crocodiles from above … it was a damn stupid place for crocodiles to be. She pushed herself back up and sidled around the side instead, making her way around each corner of the house.
Most of the soldiers were probably searching for her near the downed guards. So her best chance of entry was on the front side. She lowered herself down from the roof, hanging by her hands. The eave was too wide for her to kick her feet and reach the next windowsill. Which meant she’d have to drop and hope to catch the side.
What on Chandra’s dark side was she thinking, climbing up on the roof?
She had to get the momentum just right. With a heft of her legs she sent herself swinging back and forth. Chandra, Moon Scions had life too easy. As she swung forward she released the ledge and flew toward the window. Not far enough. She missed the top of the sill and slammed into the window itself. Her momentum sent her crashing through the shutters.
She landed on her knees and rose, brushing herself off and trying to look like she’d meant to do that. Which was probably for the best, since a crowd was now staring at her. The second and third floors here formed a balcony rimming a wide reception hall, with winding stairs on the side opposite from her.
And down there, in the middle of the hall, stood Malin, mouth in a half sneer.
A woman stepped up next to him. She wore a matching golden sarong and kemban, with her hair up in an elaborate style like a spiderweb. Tassels trailed behind her, golden tassels. It took Pohaci a moment to recognize the woman.
Tanjung.
Tanjung was the Witch-Queen? With Malin? Malin hated Tanjung.
“Welcome to my kingdom, little crocodile,” the woman said.
Malin reached a hand toward her. Pohaci reached toward him, too. Chandra, she’d missed him. And he better have a damn good explanation for—
The floor cracked beneath her. Then it gave out, pitching the third floor balcony right onto the second. Pohaci landed with a thump and lay still, stunned, vaguely aware of Malin and Tanjung ascending the stairs opposite her.
She pushed herself up as Tanjung neared her.
“You should not have come here, crocodile,” the woman said. “Here, in a kingdom I claimed for myself, I need not hide my powers. Need not fear to reveal my nature.”
Pohaci unwound her ekor pari. “You’re a Moon Scion. Such things no longer impress me.”
The woman laughed. “My mother was a bidadari. Have you any idea what happens when a mortal and a spirit have a child?” Pohaci rolled her eyes, using the gesture to watch Malin as he neared. “They used to call us demigods, I hear.”
“What are you doing with her?” Pohaci demanded of Malin.
But Malin just kept walking, sneering at her. The man she loved had never looked at her like that.
“He cast me out of my home, all those years ago. Maybe he thought I’d settle down somewhere in the mountains. But here, I found a people ripe for my rule. A weak king to marry, and a kingdom to claim. Did you know I took Serendib, too? No?”
Pohaci lashed at the woman with the ekor pari. Tanjung moved fast, as fast as she’d seen even Malin move, ducking it. Her fist caught Pohaci in the side. The impact sent her stumbling away, and she scrambled backward, one hand on the floor. Damn, the woman was strong.
Pohaci backed right into Malin, who hefted her to her feet. “Poor little werecrocodile. Still don’t even know who you are, do you?”
“What?”
He shoved her back down.
Tanjung laughed. “I thought maybe I could take the Skyfall Isles, too, through that brat Ratna. I never imagined she’d release my mistress herself.” Then she shrugged. “Well enough, anyway. Once our people finish killing themselves, the Isles will be primed for my return.” She glanced at Malin. “Our return. After all, with the rightful War King at my side, who will question my rule?”
“War King?” Pohaci stumbled to her feet and backed against the wall. She looked at Malin.
“What did you think, Jadian? That you could kill me?” Malin’s voice had changed, grown darker and more sophisticated. “I’m already dead. If you kill the host, I just pass into the nearest vessel. Can you imagine a finer, more deliciously ironic vessel than the very beast that murdered me?”
Pohaci shook her head. “No … Rahu?”
Rahu had taken … Malin. Not him. He couldn’t have him! Chandra above, would she never be free of this lunatic?
Malin smiled and grabbed her by the throat. He squeezed. Strong as she was, his grip was like forged iron. She couldn’t begin to budge it. The only one near to Rahu’s strength was … Malin. Chandra help them all now.
Her love growled, snarled, and flung her at the wall. He doubled over, as if in pain, clutching his head. “Th
e beast actually loves you, doesn’t he?” Malin—Rahu—said through clenched teeth. “It’ll make this all the better.” He took another step toward her, then roared again, and pressed his palms against his eyes. “Run, girl!”
“Rahu?” Tanjung said.
Pohaci dashed at the witch, barreling her down. She leapt up from Tanjung and looked back at Malin. Rahu was unstoppable. She could never fight him, and even if she could, she’d never harm Malin. And she couldn’t even help him—but how could she leave him to this?
He rose back to his proper height and glared at her. He started to reach a hand toward her.
Instinct took over and Pohaci leapt through a window, crashing through the shutter. The impact from falling a story staggered her. She had to move. Now. Stumbling, she ran.
“Stop that woman!” Tanjung roared. Thunder rumbled above. The night had been clear earlier, but the cover of a storm might work in Pohaci’s favor. She glanced over her shoulder. Tanjung was stretching her hand toward the sky from the broken window.
Something cracked above. Pohaci threw herself flat as a blinding flash of blue seared her eyes. She couldn’t hear anything except the ringing in her ears. An explosion had thrown her to the ground and scorched her clothes and skin. Sweet Chandra, had the woman called lightning on her? Was that even possible?
Shadowed images filled her eyes. Pohaci ran as erratically as she could in case Tanjung could manage a second bolt, ripping her singed clothes off as she ran. She dashed past trees and dove into the stream, shifting even as she fell. Changing that fast was agony—more agony than usual. But she needed the crocodile. Her muscles ripped, tore, and shifted. Scales burst from her skin. The pain in her face and neck was always the worst.
She swam down to the bottom of the stream. Go with the current. This stream had to pass under the palace walls somewhere. Water was flowing. Water had to flow somewhere.
Deeper and deeper she swam.
The crocodile spirit threatened to overtake her, to take control. She could let it.
