by Matt Larkin
She bowed and turned back to the sea.
Malin drew his toyaks and waded into the fray. He didn’t need Moon Blessings for this. He swept the clubs in rapid arcs, darting past the defenses of one foe after another.
One soldier fell with a crushed temple, another with broken ribs. A female rushed him, wielding an ekor pari. She was fast, too fast. He rolled under her attack, but it still tore open a gash on his back.
Malin growled. Moon Scion. Now he drew his Potency Blessing. The woman tried to open his throat with her rope whip. Malin knocked it aside with one toyak and crushed her windpipe with the other. He moved so fast she probably never realized what killed her.
The humans fell before him like insects. Not even Moon Scions could stand before him for long. By the time his forces had breached the gates, he must have killed a hundred men or more.
Ketu’s forces hurled seligi from atop the crenellated wall that surrounded the Temple. Malin knocked one of the javelins aside with a toyak. The attacker gaped at him.
Malin looked the man in the eyes. Then he drew his Gliding Blessing and shifted his gravity to the wall. Ran up it. All the phases of practicing were worth it, if only for the look on the defender’s faces.
He grabbed one of the defenders and tossed him off the wall. The others struggled to ready keris knives. They didn’t last long.
With the defenders on the wall dead, Malin leapt back down into the courtyard. Many small temples composed the Astral Temple interior, but Ketu would hide in the underground. Malin ran for the pillars. He’d left his fellows behind, but it didn’t matter.
No one could stand up to him now.
The staff that connected with his abdomen sent him hurtling end over end. Malin hit the ground hard and slid into one of the metal bowls. He staggered back to his feet, shaking his head to clear it. Malin had no idea what had happened to his toyaks.
The man that had stepped from behind a pillar might have broken his ribs. Breathing hurt. Moon Scion, with that strength. Five others stepped from behind pillars.
Including Ketu. The man looked ragged, unwashed, with circles under his eyes Malin had never seen. Perhaps using this place as he had took its toll.
“The traitorous tiger returns,” Ketu said. “It’s too late to beg forgiveness.”
Malin climbed from the bowl. “Couldn’t have said that better myself.” He lunged at the priest.
Ketu blocked each of his attacks. Malin couldn’t forget Ketu was a master of Silat. The priest tried to grab him, but Malin twisted free. Took a step back. Enough to see Ketu rub his arms. Good. His strength still hurt the priest.
At a nod from Ketu, the other Moon Scions swarmed Malin.
Malin caught the arm of the first attacker, spun him around. With a jerk, he yanked the man’s arm from its socket. His fist broke the nose of another attacker.
A third attacker, a woman, cracked him in his hurt ribs with a toyak. Malin dropped to his knees.
He roared.
He caught someone’s foot as they kicked at his head. A sweep of his hand shattered the man’s knee.
The woman swung at him again. Malin drew his Blessings as hard as he could, tried to dodge. Her blow landed on his left shoulder. Black spots flashed in front of his eyes. Broken shoulder. Couldn’t let the Blessing go. He grabbed her by the throat and flung her through the air. She collided with a pillar and lay still.
Ketu and his final ally circled around Malin. Ketu was empty-handed, though the other Moon Scion had a keris knife.
Malin rose back to his full height. His left arm hung useless at his side. Some of his ribs had started to heal. Itched, deep inside. He twitched his jaw. “Afraid yet, priest?”
“Anyone fears a rabid animal. Doesn’t mean they respect it.” Ketu glanced at his ally, then they both rushed Malin.
Malin leapt at a pillar, shifted his gravity to it for a moment, then kicked off. He landed with his knees on the Moon Scion’s shoulders. His weight bore the man down. He twisted his waist, snapped the fool’s neck.
Ketu’s back kick caught Malin in the face. Sent him sprawling. He lost his Blessing. Searing agony shot through him. His broken shoulder, broken ribs, broken nose. Consciousness began to slip away. Malin grasped at his Blessing, but it kept slipping. Concentrate.
Someone roared. Fighting.
Malin drew his Blessings in time to see Ketu kill a Macan Gadungan with a punch to the throat. Gasping, Malin struggled to regain his feet.
“I’ll enjoy putting you down, tiger,” Ketu said.
Malin snarled, staggered toward the priest. He couldn’t draw his Blessings any harder than he already had. Ketu probably couldn’t either.
Ketu jabbed at Malin’s jaw. Malin caught Ketu’s forearm on his own. Before the priest could react he slid his arm forward and grabbed Ketu’s shoulder. Yanked the priest down into Malin’s rising knee.
Ketu stumbled backward and fell. The priest swung his feet back under him. But then there were Macan Gadungan surrounding them.
“You’ve lost, priest,” Malin said.
Ketu lowered his hands and rose from his fighting stance.
Malin glanced at the dead weretiger. His arrogance had cost that life. He could have made the assault at night. Instead, he’d listened to his Moon Scion allies, who didn’t want to fight when they couldn’t see. He’d thought his new power meant nothing could stand against him.
“How much of it did you take, Malin?” Ketu said. “How much to become like us?”
What did it matter if anyone heard now? “One vial. It’s all we had.”
Ketu snorted. “An entire vial? You’re a fool. Even Chandi only had half a vial. Chandra knows what that will do to you. Perhaps you’re already a lunatic.”
Malin’s shoulder was trying to reset itself. The pain made spots swim in front of his eyes. “What am I to do with you, priest?”
He couldn’t kill Chandi’s father. He could almost taste the man’s blood. But Chandi would never forgive him for that. No matter how much the man deserved it. Maybe Ketu would never take his daughter back. Still, while he lived, Chandi had hope.
“Do with me?” Ketu snickered, then pointed at the gathered Macan Gadungan. Five men and women staring at Malin like he’d claimed to be Chandra himself. “What are you going to do with them? Didn’t tell them about your little secret? But they start to understand now, don’t they?”
“Be silent.”
“Or what?”
Malin stalked toward the priest. “If you want to see your daughter again, you’ll do what I say from this moment on. I want to know everything about this place. Everything. And I want you to order your people to follow me.”
“I have no daughter,” Ketu said. “I care nothing for your wants. Chandra will smite you for betraying his chosen children. I will laugh when he wipes your cursed bloodline from the earth, tiger.”
Malin snarled. Then he ripped out the man’s throat.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-TWO
The house in the rainforest had grown comfortable enough, over the last six days. Mahesa hunted for them, which left Ratna free to spend her days learning the secrets of her mother’s book. All the power of Rangda’s underworld lay at her fingertips.
And she was ready to use it.
“Ratna,” Mahesa said, “we don’t know what will happen if you do this.”
There wasn’t space in the little house, so she’d cleared away the grass, and made deep grooves in the ground. “I’m not backing away from the cliff this time.” Ratna dropped another stone into the grooves.
When it was done, when she had her daughter back, he’d understand.
“What cliff?” He hesitated. “Are you talking about the waterfall? Ratna, that was years ago. It doesn’t matter anymore. You can’t risk contacting the Spirit Realm over a stupid childhood stunt.”
She dropped another stone into place. “I’m going to have my family again soon, Mahesa.”
“I hope you find Revati, too. I just don’t th
ink this is the way. You have no idea what you’re calling from Kahyangan.”
Ratna kissed him. “Trust me. I do know what I’m calling. I’m reuniting my family. Not just Revati. I can bring back my father.” Chandra-willing, maybe even her mother, in time.
Mahesa stood there gaping at her, eyes big as the moon. Ratna smirked. He’d never thought she had that kind of power. No one had believed in her before now—she hadn’t believed in herself. Now he knew she would be every bit the witch her mother was. More. She would not back away from any cliff.
Mahesa sputtered for a moment. “You’re serious. You want to violate the laws of gods and men? Your father was a lunatic. Even if you could bring him back, you shouldn’t. And I have to believe you can’t do it. I pray to Chandra with all my heart you can’t do it.”
Ratna glared at him. “Ketu and Chandi called him a lunatic. That’s all. He’ll be fine when he wakes up.”
“Wakes up? You sound like a lunatic yourself.”
Ratna threw up her hands. “If you don’t want to help just go. Go!”
She returned to her stones. Almost finished.
It was complex, she would grant that. She couldn’t just call up her father’s soul like any spirit. He wouldn’t hear her, and she didn’t have a Glyph for his soul. But she could call other spirits to reach him. Her mother had given her names of death spirits.
Mahesa had trudged off into the rainforest. Ratna climbed the ladder onto the porch to survey her work. She’d needed a circle of Glyphs for this. Plans and contingencies before cracking the gate to the underworld. Mahesa might think her foolish, but only because he didn’t see the depth of her planning. She’d call enough spirits at once, bind them to her will as her mother had done.
Of course her father’s body was gone. With the kind of power the book offered, she was sure she could command the spirits to fashion a new one for him.
The chant was simple enough, mostly just calling the spirits’ names. Ratna dropped the last stone in place and began the litany. She’d run it through her mind so many times she wouldn’t forget a syllable, even if she didn’t understand every word. Her mother had written in an old tongue, perhaps one the spirits understood better.
Mahesa sat nearby, watching her from a rock. Good that he had returned. He should see her moment of triumph.
She finished her litany. Nothing happened. Ratna glanced around, then began to repeat it. Halfway through, she thought she saw a stone tremble. Soon another, and another.
All the stones shook. Mahesa jumped from his perch. Had to focus. Ratna continued, repeating the words again and again.
“Spirits, bring me my father! Bring me the soul of Rahu!”
Mahesa rose and turned in a slow circle, gaping at the trembling stones.
She shoved him away. “Spirits, send me the soul of Rahu!”
Something washed over them. A faint gray mist out of the ground, perhaps, she wasn’t sure. It came fast, a pressure that rose from her feet to her head. Her ears popped. Her legs gave out beneath her, and she fell backward.
Mahesa fell to his knees. For a moment, he knelt there, shuddering. A tear ran down his face when he looked up at her. With a grimace, he rose, wiped his face. Looked in her eyes.
“Oh, daughter,” he said, his voice dry.
Ratna reached for him. “Father?” No. No, this wasn’t right. She couldn’t lose Mahesa. They had to make a new body. They must have that much power.
He took her hand. “My child, I wish I could save you. But you have opened the door yourself.” Her father stepped closer, brushed her cheek with his hand. “There’s nothing I can do for you against her power. You should not have breached her domain, not even for me.”
“What?”
Ratna gasped before he could answer. Pressure built in her abdomen. A spasm wracked her body. Something was inside her. She tried to scream but no sound came out.
Cold. It slithered inside her, wrapped around her heart. Hateful, so hateful. And ancient beyond imagining. It coiled up her spine, clouded her mind.
Her body wouldn’t answer her. She wailed. She raged. All she was started to slip away.
Her father spoke with Mahesa’s voice. “My Queen.”
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-THREE
They passed the wreckage of at least a dozen ships on the way to Astral Shore. Chandi stood on the bow of the Queen of the South Sea, hand shielding her eyes from the sun. At least ten ships remained guarding the Astral Temple.
Her father wasn’t taking any chances.
“That’s a lot of ships,” Bendurana said. “Do we have a plan for this?”
“Yes,” Loro Kidul said. “We need to be closer, first.”
Chandi swore. Of course they did. “From the look of it, those ships are coming to meet us, anyway.”
Time to end this. Chandi didn’t know what she’d say to her father when she found him. But she knew he could never be allowed back in this Temple.
“Where is it?” she asked. “The Temple.”
Loro Kidul pointed to the cliffs above the beach. Chandi couldn’t see anything from here. The Queen drifted to the rail before Chandi could ask more.
“What are you going to do?” Ben said.
In the distance, the waters began to swirl. Chandi’s stomach lurched. She’d seen that before. Knew what it felt like to be caught in it.
The maelstrom formed just past the lead dhow. Larger than the one she’d seen before—hundreds of feet across. The dhow lost its forward momentum. The whirlpool caught one ship and then another, began to drag them in an arc.
Chandi grasped the rail. The sailor’s screams carried even over the distance, even over the roar of the maelstrom itself.
This was what they’d come to do. She forced herself to watch as six ships collided and were dragged into the sea.
“The Macan Gadungan are on shore,” Loro Kidul said. “How many can you fight?”
Chandi shrugged. Was Malin here? “Assuming you can use Landi’s skills? We could probably face ten or more. With the whole crew, maybe two or three times that.” Though against thirty weretigers, they’d lose a lot of people.
Loro Kidul turned back to the shore. She hefted her hands upward, as though pushing against something. Ben’s ship lurched, seemed to slide backward down a wave.
Chandi ran back to the bow. The tide had receded away from the shore. One ship, one that had fled the maelstrom to Astral Shore, had foundered.
“Gods save us,” Bendurana said.
Chandi glanced at him. “Ben, that wasn’t very creative.” She followed his gaze back to the sea.
The fleeing tide had swollen into a wave far offshore. Coming very fast.
“Get us out of here!” Ben shouted at his crew. “Hard starboard!”
Chandi gripped the rail until her hands hurt. The wave kept getting bigger and bigger. It surged forward like an ever-rising tide. Thirty feet high, or more. Emong, the wave of the tides.
Loro Kidul had angled it well, or she somehow preserved their own ship. The surging tide tossed the Queen of the South Sea about until Chandi had to wrap her arms around the gunwale. She screamed until her throat turned raw.
Chandra!
The dhows that had survived the maelstrom were less fortunate. The emong swept right over them. It carried them across the shore, smashed the ships themselves over the Macan Gadungan.
The wave at last broke against the cliffs, and then retreated. Chandi didn’t know how long it took Bendurana to regain control of the ship. She didn’t remember closing her eyes, but she didn’t open them again until the seas settled.
Loro leaned heavily on the rail. Landi’s shimmering hair hung about her face.
Ben stumbled over to his wife. “Ah, my love. I guess this means I’m no longer the greatest power on this ship, huh?”
Chandi stumbled across the deck. Her arms trembled and her throat hurt. No time to rest. She had to act while the Macan Gadungan were broken by the emong.
She climbed into
one of the boats and waved the crew to join her. They had to press the advantage while they could. The boat dropped down in the sea, tossed about by the now receding tide.
“Sweet Chandra,” Chandi said when they had rowed the boats ashore. Timber and debris covered the beach. Not enough, though. Most of the wreckage, most of the bodies, had been swept back out to sea with the retreating tide.
Loro Kidul Strode to the cliffs. Chandi and the others hurried to catch up.
“They probably know we’re here,” Bendurana said. He turned about, taking in the wreckage.
Chandi stared at him. “Yes, Ben. I expect they do.”
Uncertainty covered the faces of the men and women they found outside the Temple. The temple guardians’ weapons trembled in their hands.
Chandi drew her toyaks. It was almost finished. One of the guardians on the wall hurled a seligi at her. Chandi dodged. Loro Kidul Strode to the wall and cut down the attacker.
Chandi charged a man at the front. Her toyak crushed his skull. She swept the feet from under another, then turned her sweep into a back kick. Her kick connected with the chest of a third man and hurtled him away.
One man advanced on Ben, his face grim. Bendurana fell back under the man’s assault. With that speed, he had to be a Moon Scion, or at least a weretiger.
Chandi drew her Blessings. An aerial cartwheel carried her over another attacker. She landed behind the man on Ben. Her toyaks crashed into both of his knees with sickening crunches. A swift blow to head silenced his screams.
The others fled or surrendered within moments. Loro Kidul had already killed most of the defenders on the wall. Regret boiled in Chandi’s stomach. These were her own people they had just massacred. The emong had so traumatized them, they’d never had a chance.
Chandi marveled at the endless string of temples inside the compound. Loro Kidul headed for the pillars at the heart of the complex, and the circular bowls they rimmed. One bowl had an opening down into an underground chamber. A ladder led down to another level with another set of pillars, and then down to a third level. Thirty-three pillars. Odd.