by Matt Larkin
“Where is she?” Ben shouted. “What did she do? Where are the mermaids?”
“I don’t think the mermaids were what you thought…”
A wave surged up along the rail, sending Chandi and Ben stumbling backward.
And there was Landi, supporting herself on the rail with crossed arms, still wearing her now-soaked cerulean baju. Her eyes almost sparkled, like the sea at dawn. She looked from Chandi to Ben, then back at Chandi.
As Chandi approached, she saw. Landorundun’s legs had become an aquamarine fish tail.
“The man who ravaged my sea with cyclones,” she said, her voice raspy. “Where is he?”
Ben dashed to his wife and tried to pull her into an embrace. She pushed him away and pulled herself over the rail, then flopped onto the deck. As the water ran off her, she shut her eyes. Like a Glamour falling, the tail became legs.
Chandi grabbed a tarp and threw it over Landorundun. Ben knelt beside his wife. “My dear, radiant as always. But you seem to have changed your, uh, style a bit.”
Landi looked him up and down, with no clear emotion on her face. “The host is sleeping. I have some of her memories. I need time to sort through them.”
Ben tried to embrace Landi, but she pushed him away. “I remember you, sailor.”
“Landi?” he said. Then he rose. “Surya’s big mouth, it’s really Nyai Loro Kidul? But you’re … different than I remember.”
“Different host.”
Chandi edged toward Landi, or whatever it was. “Please tell me this is temporary.” Why had Landi done this? They hadn’t even discussed what the witch had told her. If Chandi had only paid more attention when Malin tried to teach her Maitian, maybe she could have stopped this.
“The host was aware of the consequences. She knew the price for this power and leapt at it willingly. I’ll retain the body as long as it serves my needs. Without it, I could not redress the problem. A man pretends to be a god and ravages the seas. This is not acceptable.” Loro Kidul turned her gaze to the Glyph painted on the deck, then to the sea. She reached a hand toward the waters, and a thin wave shot up and over the deck.
The force of it knocked Chandi and the crew prone. Swept everyone but Loro Kidul toward the rail. Washed most of the paint away, too.
“Landi,” Ben said, his voice breaking. It might have just been seawater running down his face. Chandi didn’t look too closely.
She pulled him away from the spirit. “Nyai Loro Kidul? Is that what we call you?” The thing in Landi nodded. “The Astral Temple allows my father to control the weather and the heavens. We know he can create cyclones and eclipses. Chandra knows what else. We must take the temple from him.”
Loro Kidul stared at the ocean again, then the dhow hurtled forward, waves carrying it with the wind. “Your father will soon face the wrath of the seas.”
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTEEN
“Ah, my lady,” Ben said, tugging at Landi’s baju, clearly trying to smile. “My Queen.”
The Queen of the South Sea looked at the Serendibian with what Chandi hoped was amusement. “You may address me as Loro, for the moment.”
“Well, Loro, I like you very much. I mean you saved my life, you’re trying to save the Skyfall Isles. Makes you a hero in my book. But I know my wife’s in there somewhere. Come on, admit it, you can tell me.”
For a heartbeat, Chandi thought she saw Landorundun’s smile, but it passed so quickly, she could have imagined it. Loro looked down at his hand tugging on her shirt until he released it.
Was Landorundun still in there? The spirit claimed she was, just sleeping. She claimed she’d return the body. But Ben had seen her living in the open ocean as a mermaid before, which meant she’d kept at least one host in the past.
Sweet Chandra, what had they unleashed? Wasn’t it the madness of Kahyangan that had cost her and Ratna their mothers? And now Chandi had made the same mistake. They thought to use a deity for their own ends, but the goddess controlled Landi like a puppet.
Ben sauntered over to her and shrugged. “She likes me. Landi’s still in there. I can feel her.”
Chandi nodded and patted him on the arm. Chandra let him be right.
“So, shouldn’t we stop to get Naresh? I mean, having a sea goddess is an advantage. Obviously. But another Arun Guard couldn’t hurt.”
“I don’t know, Ben.” Chandi leaned on the rail, arms crossed before her. She hadn’t seen her husband in five months. She could almost feel his arms around her abdomen, holding her tight. But the last words he’d said to her rang in her ears. He said she’d lied to him for over a year. And she had.
How could she go back and face him now, without finishing this first? Wouldn’t it be worse if he just forgave her, pretended it never happened? Because it would mean she was wrong about everything. No. She had to take care of her father her way, or she’d always see her husband as the man who murdered her last blood relative.
And there were other reasons.
“If we brought Naresh, he would assassinate my father.”
Ben shrugged. “Ah, Chandi, what do you think Loro is going to do to him?
Chandi shuddered. No. “I can get through to her. I want to bring him down from power, not end his life.”
Ben leaned his hip on the rail beside her. “You know the Macan Gadungan credo, right? Protect and avenge?”
“My father’s not Macan Gadungan.”
Ben chuckled. “And thank Surya’s lucky dice for that. Otherwise, I guess you’d get all furry at night, and Naresh would feel so uncomfortable.”
Chandi rolled her eyes.
“But I imagine Rahu gave them that credo, that need, for a reason. Protect is obvious.” Ben spread his hands. “The man wanted bodyguards. Good for him. If I were a lunatic bent on world domination, I’d want some guards, too. But the avenge part, that’s interesting. Lunars must have already been pretty good at holding a grudge for that to be one of only two tenets of the weretiger credo.”
“You’re saying if we defeat him, take away the temple, even leave him some place, he still won’t live his life in peace. He’ll keep fighting.”
“Ah, Chandi, only you can tell us that. He’s your father. What will he do?”
Hunt them to the edge of the South Sea and beyond, probably. Chandi pushed off the rail and paced around the deck. “No matter what, we have to confront him first. If he won’t see reason…”
If he wouldn’t listen even to her, then they could imprison him, leave him to live his life on an empty island in prayer. Anything. But how could she allow his murder?
Ben shrugged and grinned. “Well, my lady, duty calls.” He strolled back over to Loro, who stood on the bow, close enough for Chandi to hear.
“So, Loro, you want to let my wife come out and talk for a bit? Stretch her verbal legs, so to speak? Even an accomplished rider has to step off the horse now and then.”
The Queen of the South Sea actually did smile at him then, though it didn’t quite look like an expression Landi had ever worn. It was her, but a little off. “It wouldn’t make it easier on you.”
“It might.”
The spirit looked back at the sea. “You named this ship after me.”
“Well, yes. You can’t blame a boy for loving the beauty that saved his life, now can you? Speaking of which, you are in my wife’s body. We usually participate in certain activities after dinner. Might be best if you allow her to keep the routine. We wouldn’t want her to suffer from pent-up frustration. Purely for her sake, you understand. Unless, of course, you can handle the wifely routine yourself.”
Oh sweet Chandra. Chandi hurried toward them, praying the goddess wasn’t going to smite her friend.
But the woman just laughed. “Tempting, mortal. I don’t get to participate in … activities as often as I might. But then, there are certain risks, if the host became pregnant. You might not like the end result.”
Ben shrugged. “I generally enjoy both the process and the end result of activities.”
“Bendurana,” Chandi said. “Maybe we should take a walk.”
“My lady,” he turned to face her, “didn’t notice you there. I’m sorry, can’t include you in this conversation. It’d make your husband testy. You know how he gets.” Ben waved his arms about. “All, ‘I’m Arun Guard, fear me,’ and some such.” He thrust his chest out and did an imitation of Naresh’s limp, pacing around the deck.
Chandi shook her head, trying not to smile. Naresh had said almost just that, the day the Ignis attacked Cenrana. And a very small part of her did fear him, didn’t it? Was that it? Not that she feared he’d harm her, but feared the destruction he was capable of.
But then, he was also the man that had called the birds for her.
“Bad for all of us,” Ben said. “Best leave me to it.”
She grabbed him and pulled him away from Loro.
“That’s not your wife. Not right now. There is something inside her, something from … somewhere else. We know very little about it, except that it’s angry with my father and has agreed to help us for the time being. We may have made a mistake, but we’re stuck with it for now. Please, Ben, do not push her over the edge.”
Ben patted her cheek. “Landi’s still in there, Chandi. And I’m going to pull her to the surface, whatever it takes. If that means my cutting wit, my manly wiles, or my prowess steering the rudder, so be it.”
“Your … what?” Chandi shook her head. Rangda take this Serendibian.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FOURTEEN
Chills wracked Naresh, and he stumbled against the teahouse wall. The fever just wouldn’t burn out. Yesterday, he’d not gotten out of bed. For all that his leg had healed, now every joint in his body hurt, and his head throbbed at any sound.
Had to eat. Had to try to keep something down, this time.
The door gave way before him when he tried to step through. Whispers. Darkness. Someone caught him as he fell.
The old aches of a fallen empire ravaging the weak of heart … Naresh tried to shake his head clear of the fog, but clouds veiled his thoughts. Semar was carrying him.
Darkness. Warm. Hot, burning, dry and wet and sweaty and cold. The Shrine of Sacred Flame? Surya preserve him.
“Drink this,” Semar said, handing him a teacup.
The cup trembled in his hands, spilling hot liquid over his legs. It should have hurt more, but he couldn’t focus on the pain.
Sweet warmth filled him.
He slept.
Dark things filled his dreams. Delusions of Kahyangan, perhaps, of a great tree. Djambo Baros, his mother’s voice said. The Tree of Life. Some say it houses the Wheel of Life, turning out souls again and again, for the chance to find themselves.
His mother. “Are you here? In Kahyangan? Can you hear me?”
“Where are you?” It was her voice, but he couldn’t see her face. “Who are you?”
“I’m Naresh, your son. Please, mother. I’m lost, I need you.”
“You are lost. Who are you?”
Naresh fell to his knees. Everything was darkness, but he felt sand on the ground. An island. Empty. “I don’t know, anymore.”
“Learn.”
Flames rose in the distance, giving light. They danced and ran, and spread. Waves of heat washed over his face. Closer and closer the fires swarmed, calling him into their embrace.
Naresh opened his eyes, and saw the flames. The fire pit, in the Shrine.
“What …” His voice rasped like he’d been coughing. “What did you give me?”
Semar knelt beside him, and used a wet cloth to wipe the sweat from Naresh’s brow. “The Tianxians call it qinghao. Leaves, made into tea. It’ll help with the malaria.”
Malaria. The mosquitoes along the river.
“Come back to me whenever you feel the fever rising. Don’t let it get that high again, Naresh.”
His joints creaked when he sat up. The pain in his head had diminished, though he still wobbled when he tried to stand.
For a day, he rested, taking soup. In the morning, he found Semar. The priest had already made him tea, as if he knew Naresh was coming. Actually, at the rate Naresh moved through the town today, Semar probably did have warning.
The tea was a little sweet. Best not to take chances.
“You saved my life,” he said. His throat still hurt.
“Why wouldn’t I?” Semar disappeared back into the Shrine.
Well, if he had work to do, so did Naresh. He found Lembu Ampal helping the Ignis build a new loghouse. The Guardsman had cut his hair short, and reduced his beard to a mustache and a shadow under his chin.
“You want something, Pak Naresh?” the big man said, when he approached.
Naresh sank to the ground and motioned the other Guardsman to do the same. “I heard Semar released you months ago. Why didn’t you come to Daha?” Lembu Ampal said nothing. “Lang said the time of the Arun Guard has passed, unless we bow before Kertajaya. Bastard called us relics. Relics.”
Lembu Ampal looked away at the river. “Maybe we are.”
“No.” Naresh reached over to grab the big man and look into his eyes. “No. We are the last hope for our people. We must hold the line against the Lunar Empire. The Macan Gadungan will come in the night, and we must guard against them.”
Lembu Ampal pulled away, fingering the silver medallion he wore.
“We need to show Semar just how invaluable we are. In the meantime, we have to stay afloat.”
Lembu Ampal grunted.
Naresh sighed, and fiddled with a long blade of grass for a moment. Maybe he’d hallucinated his mother’s voice. Had to be. Still, she’d said he didn’t know himself. Only one person did, really. “I miss Chandi.” She’d seen this growing in him, long before he did.
Lembu Ampal turned to stare at him. “I miss my wife, too,” he said at last.
Naresh started. He hadn’t known the man was married. “Where is she?”
“Kasusthali.” The big man turned back to the sea. “With our daughter. And our parents. My two brothers. And most of the rest of the Arun Guard.”
Naresh couldn’t speak, couldn’t even swallow.
“Everyone I ever knew drowned. We are relics.”
Naresh remained sitting, long after Lembu Ampal had left. A phase, perhaps, before shouts rose from the village.
Naresh climbed to his feet and Strode back into town. A spectacle had gathered around a young Igni boy, perhaps fifteen. In the midst of a circle of Ignis stood a long pit filled with burning coals.
He’d heard of Ignis trying to prove themselves by walking over hot coals, but these were actually on fire. The flames rose almost half a foot.
Semar stood at the far end of the burning coals, holding a lit brazier between his hands. The blue-eyed priest nodded at the boy.
Naresh Strode next to the boy and grabbed him. “What in Rangda’s frozen underworld are you people doing to this child?”
Many of the Ignis started. Semar nodded at him. Someone laughed.
Lang. “Why do you think we’re called Firewalkers, Pak Naresh?” the man said. “The sacred flame purifies the worthy to draw in the burning powers of Kahyangan.”
Naresh looked at Semar, then back at Lang. Kahyangan. The Spirit World. Even Firewalkers came back to that? Or perhaps it was all more religious nonsense.
“If it’s safe, then let me do it instead of this boy. Don’t risk a child.”
“It’s my choice,” the boy said, and struggled free. Naresh almost fell over from it.
Semar fixed him with his gaze. “You’ve yet to prove yourself, Naresh.”
Dammit. He pointed at Lang. “You think this man makes a more worthy student? Blades or fists, I can take him any day.”
Lang shuffled closer, hand on his keris. Except maybe today. Too late to back down now.
“You’ve forgotten yourself, Naresh,” Semar said. “The measure of worth is not in strength of arm or skill with a blade. It never was. Those are just means to an end. What matters are
the people you touch, the lives you change and are changed by.”
So be it. Naresh backed away from the boy and tried to ignore Lang’s smug grin.
At his first step through the fire, the boy grunted. By his third step, he screamed. Soon, Naresh caught the nauseatingly sweet smell of burning flesh. But the boy kept going. He never took his gaze from the brazier in Semar’s hand, even as he almost fell.
And in the end, when he collapsed in front of Semar, Lang was there to catch him. The flames on both the boy’s feet and in the pit dwindled and died at once. When the boy looked up, and Lang lifted him in his arms, those flames had appeared in his eyes.
For a moment.
Then the young Igni passed out.
“Bring him to the Shrine,” Semar said. “Worry not, Naresh. The child will be well, though he’ll bear these scars as a mark of his passage.”
But even after Semar had taken the child away, the air still stank of scorched flesh. Naresh didn’t realize he’d clenched his hands until the pain reached him.
Semar spoke of people like they mattered, but he let his people walk through fire for him. Literally walk through fire, endure agony to become Firewalkers.
But then, he had endured agony and tribulations to become Arun Guard. And so had Lembu Ampal. Maybe Semar’s words weren’t for Naresh, or weren’t only for him.
The big Guardsman had not come to watch the ceremony. Naresh found the man alone, in the small house the Ignis had given him.
“You’ve forgotten yourself,” he said when Lembu Ampal looked up, repeating the fire priest’s words. He had to slump down to the floor. Semar’s tea helped, but Naresh’s legs still wobbled. “You fell in war. That doesn’t make you a failure. It makes you a hero. You are Arun Guard. You and I and Landorundun are the last of our kind. Protectors of the Solar Emperor. The emperor is gone, so now we protect what remains of his empire.”
Lembu Ampal glanced at him, but only fingered the silver medallion.
“Your wife gave you that? Honor her faith in you. Honor the faith of your parents and your child by being Arun Guard again. We cannot bring them back, brother. But you can live in a way that would make them proud. This …” Naresh waved at the dark Igni house. “This is not it.”