The Skyfall Era Trilogy: Books 1-3

by Matt Larkin

  The boy lifted his chin a moment. “Two. One now, one when we get there.”

  Oh really? Two pearls for a guide through the city? But if she found Ben, it’d be worth it. Surya say he had some money, though. Of course, she probably didn’t need to worry. Ben always had money, as long as you didn’t ask where it came from.

  With another sigh, Landi handed the boy the first pearl and beckoned him to lead the way. It was hard to imagine any child in Kasusthali behaving this way. Or ever having to. Perhaps the boy had no choice. She hadn’t seen his life, so she couldn’t judge him for fleecing a bit of extra money out of strangers.

  Though the morning had been clear, afternoon storms had rolled in not long ago, and now the wide eaves and narrow back streets were all that kept her from becoming drenched. In Kasusthali, rain had been a luxury you watched from the palace windows, enjoying the sound of it hitting crystal panes. Here, it was cold and miserable, as it had been on Suladvipa. Only worse, because she had no home to go to, no warm blankets to wrap herself in.

  The boy led her to a guesthouse called the Lost Dugong. An odd name.

  Landi gave him another pearl, then opened the door to the guesthouse. An old woman greeted her, her eyes darting briefly to the keris at Landi’s side. “A heavy pearl for a week,” the woman said. “Meals are extra.”

  “I’m looking for someone. A Serendibian.”

  She shrugged. “Lot of that going around.”

  Wonderful. Yet another person in this city who’d be oh-so-helpful without a bribe. And Landi was fast running out of money for bribes. “Just tea, then.” She’d decide later if she needed to stay here. It was no palace, but she’d seen worse.

  The old woman nodded, indicating tables in the common room. Landi stepped past her and walked through the room, eyes searching. The afternoon had drawn on, so by now, patrons already sat at the tables, enjoying tea and taking shelter from the rain.

  In one corner, Ben sat. It was really him, she’d know that profile anywhere. Landi’s heart sped up, and her legs wobbled. She blew out a breath, trying to steady herself. Ben had his arm around a woman, with long brown hair and a rounded face. Landi watched as the woman leaned over and planted a light kiss on her husband’s cheek. Acid rumbled in the pit of her stomach, and she found herself reaching for the keris. No—it wasn’t the way.

  She glared, running her tongue over her teeth. They’d see how friendly that woman was when Landi was through with her. She stalked over to the table, then folded her arms across her chest, looking down at the happy couple.

  “Bendurana.”

  Her husband froze, almost jerked, then turned to look up at her. “L-Landi?” For a moment he sat there with his jaw hanging open. Even caught in the act, she’d honestly expected Ben to have some retort.

  Then he launched himself at her, overturning the table as he threw both arms around her waist. “Landi! How?” His embrace was so tight it hurt, especially when he lifted her off the ground, laughing and spinning her around. His arms were warm and strong and safe. And he was hers… only hers. It was like all that had gone on with Tioman had been a terrible dream, and finally she was awake. “Ah, my love, how? How have the gods restored you to me?”

  Landi laughed as he spun her. She definitely did not giggle. Landi never giggled. “Sheer force of will. Put me down.” She spared a glance at the other woman.

  The girl’s eyes were wide as she backed away from the table. Her lip trembled like she wanted to cry. Though Landi was looking right at her, her eyes didn’t seem to focus. “Ben,” she mouthed, though no sound came out. So the bitch had really cared for him. Her mistake for sticking her nose where it didn’t belong. She actually walked into the door on her way out. By the time Ben even glanced in her direction, the woman had gone.

  Landi smiled. Yes, he was still hers.

  Ben dropped to his knees before her, clutching her hand, running his fingers over it. “Ah, my lady … Are you real? Have I fallen into some glorious dream of paradise-like afterlife? If so, you need only remove your clothes to complete the paradise, my dear.”

  Landi rolled her eyes and pulled him to his feet. “You’re not dreaming.”

  Everyone was watching them now. More than one patron seemed to want to know if she’d follow Ben’s request. Not likely.

  “It’s a long story,” she said.

  Ben nodded. Then he swept her up in his arms and carried her down the hall.

  Landi rested her head against his shoulder. And she relaxed, for the first time in as long as she could remember.

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SIXTY-TWO

  It shouldn’t have surprised Naresh that Kertajaya had been able to come up with a ship. Finding the old king could muster three ships to move on the Astral Temple, that he hadn’t expected. He stood now on the poop deck of the lead ship, beside the fallen king. Fallen no more, Naresh supposed, if they succeeded in taking the Astral Temple. Kertajaya would again be a contender for Ratu Adil. Surya forgive him for dragging this conflict out.

  Lang stood beside him. The man had said little since Naresh had returned. He didn’t seem to sleep much, and barely ate. Perhaps he had truly loved Hainuwele. “What is that?” Lang said, pointing in the distance.

  A small fleet of ships guarded Astral Shore, large ones if they were visible from so far off.

  “It looks like Tohjaya left behind dhows to protect the Temple,” Naresh said. “As long as they don’t have Tianxian Fire-Lances we can take them.”

  Kertajaya walked up to stand beside Naresh at the rail, frowning. “My eyes aren’t what they used to be …”

  “Neither are Pak Naresh’s,” Lang said, pointing again. “Those aren’t dhows. They’re Tianxian war junks.”

  Naresh leaned against the rail, peering at them. Surya, Lang was right. He’d never seen such ships in person, but he’d learned about them at the Academy. If the Tianxian emperor had sent his warships here, Rangguwani might be the least of Naresh’s worries. Foreign invaders, in the waters of the Skyfall Isles. First the Witch-Queen of Malayadvipa, and now Tianxians.

  “Send up the signal flags,” Kertajaya said. “We’ll speak to them first.”

  But as they drew nearer, Naresh could see the truth. There were a dozen of these ships, and most likely all of them carried Fire-Lances. Word of the cyclones Ketu had created must have reached Tianxia. After that, the emperor would have no choice but to move on such a target. Perhaps he’d spent his time preparing, or perhaps he’d just waited for the right moment, when Tohjaya was distracted.

  Blessedly, the lead Tianxian junk also raised a signal flag and drew up alongside Kertajaya’s dhow. An elderly Tianxian man stared at them from the gunwale. He was near bald, but had a thin gray mustache that ran down past his chin. He wore a blue silk jacket that buttoned on the side and looked like some of the finest work Naresh had ever seen.

  The man bowed his head before speaking. “I am Admiral Tua Pek Kong. This land we claim for the Son of Heaven, emperor of all Tianxia and beyond.” His accent was odd, and a bit stilted, but he spoke the Skyfall tongue clearly.

  Kertajaya waved Naresh and Lang over to him. “These men could be a great asset. Get them to join us …”

  Naresh snorted. “Why would they agree to that?”

  “We can at least try to negotiate,” Lang said. “Worst case, I burn their ships down.”

  Naresh restrained himself from commenting. Only a fool would consider using Firewalking in this situation. Of course, Lang probably was a fool, so Naresh shouldn’t rule anything out.

  “I am King Kertajaya of Suladvipa. I am sending my emissaries to negotiate,” Kertajaya said to the Tianxian.

  The man bowed his head again, then gave an order in Tianxian. His sailors soon lowered a massive gangplank that struck the side of the dhow with a thud.

  Naresh stepped onto it, then glanced back at Lang. This was undoubtedly a bad idea on several counts.

  Still, he crossed to the junk and stepped down onto the other ship. The admiral
led them back into a spacious cabin and bid them sit, taking a seat across a short table himself. He said nothing until after servants had brought tea. Even then, he just watched them. Waiting for them to make the first move, of course.

  Naresh cleared his throat. “I am Naresh of the Arun Guard. And this is Lang—”

  “Prince of Suladvipa,” Lang interrupted. Of course, Lang was at best an exiled prince, if that.

  Tua Pek Kong inclined his head once more. “You come with a flag of peace.”

  “We wish peace,” Naresh said in Tianxian. He hadn’t spoken the language much since the Academy, but he remembered a bit.

  Still the man started a moment. He didn’t smile, but his eyes held a little warmth at Naresh’s attempt to address him in his own tongue.

  Lang scowled, and looked like he started to point at Naresh, then changed his mind. “Speak our language, please, Admiral,” he said, turning to the Tianxian. “This is sovereign Skyfall territory. You cannot simply lay claim to it.”

  “The Son of Heaven may claim all the Earth, as his mandate demands.”

  Lang shook his head. “Your emperor is not here. Would it not be inappropriate for the Solar emperor to send his Arun Guard to seize Tianxian territory?”

  “I have heard of Arun Guard before. You are mighty warriors.”

  Naresh nodded.

  “But the Solar Empire has fallen. The Lunar Empire has fallen. This Temple is very dangerous. The Son of Heaven cannot allow such a weapon to remain unclaimed.”

  Lang gripped the table. “It is claimed. We claim the place, it’s our homeland.”

  “With respect, this land is now Tianxian.”

  And Kertajaya wanted him to recruit these men? Naresh shook his head, then looked up at Tua Pek Kong. “Admiral, maybe we can come to a mutual understanding. Perhaps if a friend of Tianxia held the Temple, your emperor would have no need to fear.”

  “The Son of Heaven fears nothing. This Temple is no longer available.”

  “Now look—” Lang started to say.

  Naresh grabbed his shoulder and squeezed. “Pak Kertajaya has enemies on these Isles. He’d be very receptive to friends. Perhaps we can work together.”

  Tua Pek Kong stroked his mustache with two fingers. “Tianxia can respect friends. Friends must prove their worth, first.”

  Meaning the Tianxians wouldn’t help against Rangguwani. Nor should they—Naresh could offer no reason for them to get involved.

  “Then we will leave in peace,” Naresh said.

  Lang tried to speak again, but Naresh tightened his grip on the man’s shoulder. Lang might have succeeded as a diplomat with Semar, but the Tianxians clearly required more tact.

  Tua Pek Kong rose with them, and ordered his men to escort them back to the gangway. As soon as they crossed back to the dhow, Lang spun on him.

  “What in Rangda’s underworld are you doing? We can’t just let them claim the Temple!”

  Naresh kept walking back to Kertajaya, who awaited them up on the poop deck.

  “Naresh, I’m talking to you!” Lang said, chasing after him. “Naresh!”

  Naresh fought to keep from clenching his fists when he spun on Lang. “What would you have us do? Fight a dozen war junks armed with Fire-Lances, with what? Gandewas, a single Firewalker, and one Arun Guard? We might sink one or two before they destroy our ships. Of course, we’d be dead, and they’d still have the Temple. We do not have the forces to challenge the Tianxian navy. Not now.”

  “Call a Warak Ngendog.”

  “They’re too far, and one wouldn’t make enough of a difference, anyway.”

  Lang pointed at him. “Then call the whales, Whale Lord!”

  “Whales? How many do you think I can call? The Sun Brand has limits, Lang.”

  “Enough,” Kertajaya said from above. “We cannot exhaust our forces here. Any man we lose fighting Tianxians is one man less we have to fight Rangguwani with.”

  Naresh Strode up onto the poop deck beside the king, causing him to start. “Then let us leave this place.”

  Kertajaya rubbed his chin, then looked out over at the war junks. “Would they join us if we agreed to cede the Temple to them?”

  “What?” Lang demanded. “You cannot possibly be considering legitimizing the foreigner’s claim!”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m considering, Lang,” the king said. “They already hold the Temple, and Naresh says we cannot take it from them. Better we let them have it and earn their support against Rangguwani than leave with nothing.”

  Naresh shrugged. “Perhaps they would agree.” Tianxians were big on formalities, and the emperor might rather be granted the Astral Temple with honors than hold it as a conquerer. Apparently they felt it was their right, regardless.

  Still, Naresh couldn’t say whether Kertajaya was brilliant for finding a way out of the situation, or a coward for considering ceding the most sacred place of the three dynasties. And he no more wanted to see such a weapon in Tianxian control than he wanted it under anyone else’s.

  He looked back at the gathered Tianxian fleet. The place was already theirs.

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SIXTY-THREE

  Since before the breaking of the Pact men and women had come to Jonggrang Temple complex to pray to the gods. Even on Swarnadvipa, Chandi had heard the legends as a child. Ratna, of course, had scoffed at her desire to see the place. “Suladvipa is part of the Solar Empire. They’d never allow you access to the sacred site.”

  But before the Fourth War, the locals had allowed pilgrims from all over the Isles to come here, and the place was not far from Daha. Chandi was fairly certain she’d find Naresh in the capital—he couldn’t stay away from the politics, despite himself—but maybe, if she prayed in Jonggrang, Chandra would help her first. She needed to be whole when she faced her husband.

  The boy at the front of her elephant started singing, his voice loud and clear, clean like the rains that washed over them. In the rainy season, the boy had told her, elephants were the only way to reach the complex. Flash floods could wash through these mountains too easily, but the mighty animals could keep their footing in currents that would sweep a human away. So Chandi sat high atop her elephant, the shade of the canopy providing partial shelter from the pouring rains. The boy she’d hired, probably no more than thirteen, sat at the base of the elephant’s neck, just behind its ears. He sang of the temple legend, of tragic Jonggrang herself. Was this the boy’s full-time work? That would make sense.

  Chandi shut her eyes and forced herself to focus on the song. Old legends had a comfort to them, a familiarity. Maybe that warmth could fill the gnawing hunger the Amrita had left in her core.

  Prince Bandung sought Princess Rara Jonggrang’s hand in marriage, but she refused him. The prince had slain her father in battle. And so, in her pride, she scorned the man who had taken her kingdom, though his love was genuine. And still the prince persisted, as she had persisted with Naresh. So Jonggrang agreed to marry him, if he could complete a mighty task.

  He was to build her a thousand temples in a single night. Faced with the impossible challenge, Bandung had called on aid from Kahyangan. The spirits rose from the stones themselves at nightfall, and constructed nine hundred and ninety-nine temples. Rara Jonggrang saw they would soon build the thousandth temple, and she would be forced to keep her promise and marry the man who had slain her father. So she set fire to the rice fields beyond the temples, creating so much light the roosters crowed, thinking dawn had come. The spirits, fearing the dawn, fled back into the stones, and the thousandth temple was never completed.

  Chandi had heard all of that before. She’d heard how the thousand temples were spread around the Isles, ninety-nine of which were here. But the boy continued to sing. Was there more to the story she’d never heard? He sang that Bandung, in a moment of grief and rage, cursed Jonggrang by those same stone spirits. And when true dawn came, her body turned to stone for her treachery. Seeing his love so afflicted, the prince had repented. But it w
as too late. His actions could not be undone, and his love was lost forever.

  Chandi shivered. It was just the chill of the rain and mountain winds, of course.

  Ahead, a massive arch formed a gate to the temple complex. Though the top of it was probably thirty feet high, the way was narrow enough an elephant could only just fit. Her guide slowed their mount, allowing the pilgrims ahead to pass through in single file. The top of the arch was carved like a face, looking over all travelers who climbed the steep path to this complex. Two more faces watched to either side, like the guardians of the temple watched all approaches. Could such a place really have been built by the magic of Kahyangan? Or more likely, had her ancestors conjured the tale to explain this ancient complex? It was not the first thing she’d seen on the Isles that predated all known history. The great monoliths on this same island, and, of course, the Astral Temple.

  The boy patted the elephant’s head, whispering something in its ear. It reached its trunk up to a nearby tree and plucked a pink orchid, then turned back, offering it to her. For a moment, Chandi sat stunned, before taking the flower in reverent hands. It was soft, and though damp, not soaked. The tree branches had sheltered it from the heavy rainfall. Chandi rubbed it against her skin. Once, Naresh had brought her a mountain orchid, back when they lived in Cenrana. That little Solar village where she’d found no acceptance, where she’d writhed within wondering how to prove herself to those people, might have been the most peaceful time in her life, at least since her childhood. Funny, how memory twisted upon itself. Hadn’t she been unhappy in Cenrana? And now she looked back on it fondly, even as she looked back on her time in Kasusthali.

  And both places were forever gone. It meant something, right? Maybe she needed to learn to appreciate the moment she was in. But in this moment, the pain, the need still burned through her. She realized she’d drawn her Blessings, and released them with a soft curse. Chandra, she needed help.