by Matt Larkin
Something made the hair on the back of his neck rise, and he spun, looking for it. They were still here. That mind-rending shriek ripped through the air again, leaving his men covering their ears and whimpering.
“Rise, draw your blades,” he shouted.
More shrieks filled the air. First one, then another. Four, five—they bled together in a cacophony of pain and chaos.
The flying heads appeared a moment later, surrounding them. They flew in circles, like predators stalking a kill, feeding on the fear as much as the eventual blood.
“Torches!” Lang shouted.
Soldiers scrambled to light fires. As soon as one got a torch lit, Lang summoned the flames, engulfing his fist. He launched them into the air and it exploded around a leyak, sending the creature crashing to the earth in a smoldering, stinking heap.
Everything went still. The leyaks stopped flying for an instant, hovering in place. All eyes were on the flaming corpse. Then the heads shrieked again and exploded into motion. Three leyaks swarmed Lang. Naresh Strode into the air in front of one, severing the entrails at the base of the head. The horrid thing fell to the ground in two pieces.
His soldiers launched arrows from the gandewas, but the leyaks flew too fast, and only a handful hit their marks. A leyak dove for an archer. Naresh Strode in front of him, grabbed the thing by the hair, and rammed his sword through its jaw. Another launched itself at him, so he Strode away. The head was still impaled on his sword. He had to plant it on the ground and use his foot to hold the gruesome thing down in order to free his blade.
Entrails wrapped around his leg and flung him to the ground.
Explosions continued, as Lang dropped more and more leyaks with his fireballs. Good thing the man had joined them. Fangs sank into Naresh’s thigh, and burning venom like acid shot through his leg. He smashed the pommel of his keris into the head until it released him, then ran the blade through its eye socket.
It felt like fire was spreading through him, pulsing through his veins. The venom was paralytic, not deadly, from what he’d seen, but it hurt like Rangda herself had spit on him. His leg barely responded as he untangled the entrails wrapped around it.
His men were screaming. A leyak had wrapped itself around one man’s neck and crushed it while feeding on his face. Naresh Strode over and cut down the leyak, though the man was beyond saving.
His leg couldn’t support him, and the venom was slowing him down. Two more Strides, and he took down another leyak. They were fast, and strong as Jadian, at least.
They must have killed a dozen leyaks today, but a glance told Naresh he’d lost half his men. Lang was on the ground, screaming as a pair of leyaks crushed him, gnawing on his flesh.
“Lang!” Naresh Strode over, running his blade through a head feasting on the Firewalker’s shoulder. Naresh ripped the dead thing off the man. The other leyak, still wrapped around Lang’s legs, snapped at Naresh. Naresh punched it. The burning had spread to his waist, and he couldn’t feel his leg.
Lang used the reprieve to summon more fire and engulfed himself in it. The flames surrounded his body, driving Naresh back, before they simmered out. The leyaks lay still, but scorch marks covered the man, too, and his clothes had burned away to cinders. He bled from at least four different bites. One had torn out a chunk of his shoulder.
Naresh knelt beside the man, whose breaths came in shallow gasps, and tried to staunch the bleeding at his shoulder. Lang recoiled from Naresh’s touch on his burned skin.
“Semar …” Lang mumbled. “He can … you find him …” And then no more gasps came from him. His chest grew still.
“Damn it,” Naresh said, closing the man’s eyes. Lang was a bastard, but no one deserved this. No one. Naresh grit his teeth. Without the Firewalker, the rest of his people might soon share Lang’s fate.
He stumbled to his feet, though only one leg worked, and barely at that. His fingers were tingling, too. If those went numb, he’d lose his grip on his sword and this would be all over.
Lang’s explosions had lit half the houses in the village on fire, casting the entire landscape in flickering shadows. More leyaks swarmed through the air, barely visible in the twilight sky. Someone was walking closer to Naresh and his remaining men, walking past the flames. Another Firewalker?
A woman, he realized, from her silhouette. When she drew closer, he recognized her. Ratna, or what was left of her.
“Do you like my pets, Guardsman?” she asked. Her voice rasped, escaping through holes worn into her throat. He could see a hint of her vocal cords moving when she spoke. Bile rose in his throat. Fight it down.
Naresh tightened his grip on his keris and Strode beside Ratna. Rangda, she was Rangda now. He rammed his sword toward her heart. She spun, catching him in the chest with a blow that sent him flying into one of his men.
Rangda laughed, and the corpse of one of Naresh’s soldiers rose, shambling to its feet, and then toward another soldier. “I am the queen of the grave, little man. What hope do you have?”
His man helped him up, and they both backed away from the advancing Demon Queen.
“I am Arun Guard,” Naresh said through teeth clenched against the pain. That hit had driven the wind out of him, maybe broken something. Breathing hurt.
A leyak dove for him. He Strode a foot to the side and hacked it down as it passed.
“I am a Son of the Sun,” he managed, turning back on Rangda.
“You are nothing, mortal. Tremble before your gods!” Her voice seemed to echo off every house.
“Get us out of here,” his man said, clutching Naresh’s shoulder.
No, they had to end this.
Rangda reached a hand toward the flaming house and a lance of burning timber launched from it, impaling another soldier. The walking corpse had killed its victim, and now that man’s corpse rose as well. Suddenly, the soldier holding Naresh’s arm was the only one left of his men.
Lang was dead. His men were dead.
Rangda reached toward another house. The burning roof ripped free and flung itself at Naresh.
He Sun Strode, taking the man with him back down to the beach.
The sound of the roof crashing down reached them an instant later, like an entire house had collapsed.
Naresh was running out of sunlight. He could see the outline of Kertajaya’s ship, but if he left Rangda here, she would tear through the people of Yawadvipa like a Warak Ngendog on a rampage.
His legs gave out and only the soldier beside him kept him standing. The man’s arms trembled as he held Naresh up. Naresh’s vision had started to blur.
Rangda’s laughter filled the village. Surya preserve them, the Demon Queen would wipe all life off this island. The Solar homeland. And there wasn’t a damn thing Naresh could do about it. Maybe with a fully-charged Sun Brand he could have fought against her.
“Get us out of here,” the man repeated, shaking him.
Yes. He had no choice.
Naresh focused on the dhow in the distance and Strode himself and the other man toward it. His sunlight gave out first, and they plunged into the sea beside the ship.
His legs wouldn’t respond, he was sinking. He flailed his arms, trying to tread water, but without his legs, it was a vain effort. Salt water burned through his wounds, but it was a distant pain. Seawater filled his mouth and nose.
Something hit him. A line. He grabbed it, felt someone hauling him toward the ship, and up.
He had to hold on. Had to hold the line until they pulled him aboard.
At last he collapsed on the deck, sparing a glance through the scupper at Yawadvipa.
His homeland burned.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SIXTY-NINE
Though Kertajaya had named Lang his heir, Naresh had never expected to see the king weep for the Firewalker’s death. Oh, he had tried to hide it, of course, but Naresh had seen the tears fall when the shock had passed. The king probably blamed him for his heir’s death, though he never said it.
Naresh had s
pent much of the voyage back to Suladvipa in his berth. The paralytic toxin had ravaged his body, and with his wounds and his weakened state, the fevers returned in force. He shivered despite the blankets piled atop him. He had no more of the qinghao to fight the malaria. Maybe Semar would, if he could find the fire priest.
The leyaks had continued to attack them as they sailed away, but not for long. Perhaps the heads dared not fly too far from their bodies. Perhaps they were only interested in taking one island at a time. From what Naresh had seen, the slow but steady fall of the world might be inevitable.
He hadn’t been strong enough to stop it. He’d failed to stop the leyaks, as he’d failed to stop Rangda. Maybe, if she hadn’t come, maybe he could have stopped the demons. Perhaps he was fooling himself, though. The leyaks alone had killed Lang and most of his men, and Naresh’s body would still have failed him, even if their mistress had not come. There were just too many.
Chandi had called the Arun Guard war gods. But one Arun Guard was not a match for an army of demons. And there was only one other besides him left on the Skyfall Isles—or in the world. They were the last. Probably the last there ever would be, since the priests who had known the secrets had died at the Astral Temple and at Kasusthali. No one alive could recreate the Sun Brand, so far as Naresh knew.
The storms never ceased, not for the entire voyage. Naresh drifted in and out of consciousness, wondering if the visions he saw were real or products of his fevered imagination. He saw people calling out to him, begging for the Radiant Prince to save them from the onslaught of darkness. He heard his mother’s voice, claiming Rangda was the culmination of centuries of descent into corruption and depravity. The dynasties had been in a downward spiral since the breaking of the Pact.
“We’ve made the river ways,” Kertajaya said.
Naresh opened his eyes. He was drenched in cold sweat, and the blankets were too wet to be much help in drying him.
“Are you certain Semar will shelter us?” the king asked.
“No.” Naresh wasn’t certain of anything. Semar hadn’t thrown in with Rangguwani—not exactly—but the two of them had some kind of treaty, or at least agreement. Rangguwani let Semar come and go as he pleased and never forced the Ignis to his cause. In exchange, Semar had sent the man Firewalkers and soldiers.
And yet, the fire priest had seemed to offer neutral ground before. He’d seemed to want to serve as a teacher to Naresh, once. And Pottala was the only place he could think of that might take them in.
“It’s better than hiding back in that cave.”
Kertajaya stroked his mustache. He didn’t speak for a long time, and Naresh had almost fallen back asleep when he did so at last. “I know you did what you could to save Lang.”
“It wasn’t enough. Didn’t save any of them.”
“I’ve got one soldier who swears otherwise, but be that as it may. None of us expected that sort of resistance. No one expected …”
Her.
Surya, how had Chandi fought Rangda? She’d had the help of another goddess. And Rangda had killed that goddess and damn near Chandi and Ben as well.
“We’ll be there soon,” Kertajaya said. “Regain your strength.”
Naresh slept then, and woke later, rubbing his eyes. It was warm and dark. He was in the Shrine of Sacred Flame again. And that smell was … qinghao. “Semar?” his voice sounded dry.
“Drink this.”
It was hot and welcome. Anything to drive back the malaria. Naresh finished the cup before he spoke. “Kertajaya needs sanctuary.”
“You let your loyalty ebb and flow like the tide, Naresh.”
No. He’d given it to men who had failed to honor it. He hadn’t betrayed them first. He hadn’t. “I learned things I didn’t know before.”
“The ability to reevaluate your opinions in light of new evidence is commendable. Foisting your hopes on those who will inevitably fumble them may be less so.”
Naresh tried to sit all the way up. His body barely responded. “What would you have me do?”
“Be who are you. Embrace the fate that lies before you, lest you stumble in running from it.”
He chuckled, or would have had he been stronger. Instead it came out as a hacking cough. “The Radiant Prince? I’m just a warrior, Semar.”
“Then be a warrior. But whatever you choose, do not run from it. You cannot afford that. Nor can the rest of the Isles.” Semar took the empty cup away and helped Naresh to his feet, drawing his arm around his shoulders. Semar was taller, so he had to stoop to support Naresh. “I’ve arranged the same house for you. Perhaps familiar surroundings will help.”
“Don’t you live in Daha now?”
“Not since your falling out with the king.”
Semar helped him limp through the village. His legs wouldn’t work. The one had never recovered fully from what Malin had done and the other had been bitten by a leyak. The poison might be gone, but the wound remained.
Semar paused to open the door to Naresh’s old house. “You are eager to blame yourself for all that goes wrong in the world, but so reluctant to accept the authority or responsibility in name.”
“I’ve failed. Repeatedly.” Naresh grunted as Semar helped him lay on the floor.
“You’re only human.” The Igni’s odd blue eyes sparkled when he looked at Naresh. “Expect from yourself only what it is fair to expect.”
Semar slid the door closed, leaving Naresh in the half light that filtered through the windows. For the first time, he noticed it hadn’t been raining when Semar had brought him outside. The sun had just peeked through the clouds, though from the position, it would set soon.
You’re only human. That was the problem, of course. A man couldn’t fight a goddess, not alone. Naresh would need an army. Perhaps if he could bring Rangguwani and Kertajaya together, perhaps they could stand against her. But he was not a mediator. He was a warrior.
Then be a warrior. But he’d failed at that, too. He’d lost. He fought Rangda, and she’d trounced him.
He lay here on the floor, broken. His legs ruined by his battles with the supernatural denizens of Kahyangan, his body ravaged by malaria. He hadn’t been strong enough to face the spirits and demons.
He was only human.
And the world needed him to be something more. His people needed something more. The Solars were being wiped out by Rangda Demon Queen herself. The horrors of the underworld were loosed on Earth.
Naresh tore open his baju and pulled the bundle from it. The Amrita.
It gave Moon Scions the power of Chandra. He’d sworn not to take it. But he had the power of Surya, he and Lem alone had it. And that power was not enough. Not by itself. To take more than one dose of Amrita was a poison that drove men and women mad, drove them to the depths of addiction. It had nearly broken Chandi.
Naresh opened the bundle. One and a half vials. The nectar of the gods. The power of a god, in the palm of his hand. “Surya … am I betraying you to even think it?”
If the sun god heard, he did not answer.
Naresh opened the first bottle and breathed in the scent of milk, perhaps with a hint of jasmine. The contents glittered, like water in sunlight. “Gods above preserve me … I need the strength to stand against what we have come to …” To be the warrior Semar had asked for.
He drained the vial in one swig. The other could remain … a constant temptation. A torment to Chandi.
No. Let it be done. Forever. Naresh drank the second vial, then tossed it aside. It clattered along the floor.
He sank back down, curling himself into a ball. Too late to turn back now. Maybe it had always been too late. Perhaps every step had led him here.
Warmth spread from his stomach. It grew quickly, like a fire trying to burst through his veins, coursing along to his heartbeat. It began to throb behind his eyes. Still the heat grew, from warmth to pain, and from pain to agony.
His breath came so quickly he was sure his lungs would burst, even if his heart didn’t
. Perhaps he’d taken too much. Perhaps he’d killed himself with this. He opened his eyes but the room had fallen away. Instead, he saw stars. Millions of stars, shining in the night. One by one, they winked out, lost in darkness.
All that he was began to fly apart.
Infinite radiant heat filled his vision to the right. Surya. The sun itself, ready to embrace him. As he’d seen when he rose to the Arun Guard, so many years ago now. The sun, the man, it reached for him.
To his left, another body glowed. The moon rose, and grew full, engulfing the sky. It too reached toward him. Chandra. It had to be Chandra.
Somewhere, he had crossed the line, bridged a gap.
Beneath his feet, the Earth seemed a tiny speck. Coruscating orange light burst from the sun and matching blue light from the moon, enwrapping him. The energy dove through to his core and became him, mingling and threatening to destroy him.
The eyes of two gods fell on him, unblinking, unmerciful, and judging. The energies were tearing him apart. His essence could not contain such powers joining within.
All creation was blown away, leaving only dust. Soon, Naresh too, would be swept away. He was becoming nothing but the dust of the stars. Emptiness.
No pain. No time. No more love.
No more love? No more Chandi?
No. He wouldn’t let it happen.
One more hand was reaching for him. She was there. She’d always been there, holding him. Naresh reached for Chandi’s hand. She was filled with stars, she was the light itself, filling the darkness. And when she touched his hand, Naresh’s form became whole again.
The sun and moon returned, their energies rushed into him and molded together. It filled his eyes and his heart. The sweet, soft touch of Chandi’s lips brushed his face and he opened his eyes.
He was still lying on the floor of his house, though that floor looked to have been scorched, and the roof was crumbling.
