by Matt Larkin
If only he could fix all his relationships by being almost killed by a ghost. “I thought maybe I’d lost you.”
She stared into his eyes. “By acting like an ass and forgetting I’m a woman, not just Buaya Jadian? No. You haven’t lost me.”
Ugh. Maybe almost dying wasn’t quite enough. “What happened?”
“From below, it looked like someone threw a tree at you. You fell into the South Sea. I shifted, carried you across the Strait of Malacca. Didn’t know if anywhere in Swarnadvipa would be safe.”
“We’re back in Malayadvipa?”
“This village kept us safe once,” she said.
“The others, our former allies, they know about it.”
Pohaci shook her head. “I didn’t know where else to go.”
Malin grabbed the hand she still had on his face, held it. “You saved my life.”
Pohaci smiled. Her hair tickled his face when she leaned over to kiss him. “We’re even.”
Malin nodded, pushed her off him so he could sit. He cracked his neck. A few more phases, at least, before he’d be back to full strength. He took a deep breath. Even when his health returned, what was he supposed to do?
The lunatic War King back from the dead, reclaiming his Empire. Easier to return to Mait. But Malin had made the Skyfall Isles his home. He wouldn’t run. And he owed Rahu vengeance.
“Come,” he said. Everything would look better after some food.
Instead of following, Pohaci threw her arms around him. He stifled a grunt from the pain her embrace caused. Her werecrocodile strength made it worse. She released him after a moment. “Sorry. Glad you’re alive.”
“Me too.”
He took her by the hand and led her into the village. It had changed, a little. Evidence of destruction was subtle, but he could see where debris had been cleared, buildings rebuilt. Malayadvipan fishermen were returning with the day’s catch. None paid him much mind.
“What happened here?”
Pohaci turned, taking in the village. “Emong.”
But Ketu was dead. Malin’s people would never, could never have used the Temple like this. Malin sighed and looked around the village.
He must have been hallucinating from his ordeal. That looked a lot like Chandi running toward him, screaming.
The girl collided with him, bore him down. “Bastard!” Her fist collided with his bruised ribs before he could react.
Pohaci grabbed Chandi, yanked her to her feet. And then Chandi had Pohaci by the wrist. She twisted, flipped the werecrocodile vertically. Pohaci slammed upside-down into the doorframe and fell to the ground.
“You killed my father!”
Malin pulled himself back to his feet. He blocked her incoming punch. Tried to catch her arm. She turned out of it, snapped her palm into his mouth. Her knee found his ribs.
Malin fell, clutching his sides at the pain.
The blows ceased. Malin looked up. Bendurana, of all people, was hauling Chandi away.
“He deserves to die,” Chandi said, though some of the fight had gone out of her.
“Probably,” the Serendibian said. “But we should at least hear him out first.”
Malin scrambled over to Pohaci. The back of the werecrocodile’s head was bleeding. Messy, but her nature would let her heal.
With Pohaci cradled in his arms, Malin rose, panting at the added pain in his ribs. He carried her back inside and laid her on the mat he’d slept on.
Someone spun him around by the shoulder. Chandi’s slap caught him off-guard, and stung more than he’d have thought. Just like her to use her Blessings on that.
“Give me a reason to let you live, Malin.”
Malin rubbed his cheek. “Rahu has returned.”
To his surprise, she didn’t laugh. Just exchanged a look with Bendurana.
“Why not?” the Serendibian said. “It’s been such a nice week so far.”
Malin cleared his throat. “Rahu has taken possession of Mahesa. I don’t know what happened to Ratna.” Or how the fool girl had gotten the boy into this, since Mahesa would never have fallen into it on his own.
Chandi looked away and plopped down on the floor.
“She’s dead,” Bendurana said, then joined Chandi on the ground.
Chandi turned back to face him, her face trembling. “Little Mahesa?” Her mouth hung open, like she wanted to beg him to tell her it wasn’t true. “Not him, too? Ratna and Landi … And now.” Chandi’s lip trembled until she bit it.
Malin wanted to tell her that it would be well. But it wouldn’t. Ratna and Mahesa dead. And Landorundun, Bendurana’s lover.
“How?” she said at last.
“I don’t know.”
Pohaci stirred on the mat. “Come on. It’s not really that complicated. Ratna’s mother was the most feared witch in the Isles. Probably spent more time worshipping Rangda than Chandra. Killing Calon was the best thing the Solars ever did.”
Chandi rose, her hands balled in fists. “Killing my mother at the same time?”
“Simhika chose her friends poorly,” Pohaci said.
Chandi glared at her, then turned on Malin. “Who is this woman? She speaks like she knows me or my family.”
Malin looked into Chandi’s eyes, turned to Pohaci. She watched him, one eyebrow raised. Malin nodded. “My lover.”
A grin rose across Pohaci’s face.
“Oh.” Chandi’s voice was small.
Felt good to say it. Chandi had her husband, and he had Pohaci. “Where is Naresh?” he said. Strange that he’d let his wife come to a foreign land alone.
Chandi shook her head when he looked at her. “None of your business. I’m still deciding whether to kill you for what you’ve done, Malin.”
“Ah, Chandi,” Bendurana said, “If Rahu is back, we’re going to need Malin. We cannot face him with just the two of us.”
Malin appreciated the sentiment, but the captain’s voice lacked confidence. This was not the man he’d known.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-TWO
Malin’s wounds had healed well, so hauling fishing nets with Bendurana provided a welcome distraction. A day’s labor for the local fishermen meant they provided food and shelter. Shame that wasn’t all Malin needed right now.
The peace here, the blue sea and sky, green jungle covering the hills … He could stay here. Except Rahu would still come, and Malin could never leave the Jadian to the lunatic’s mercy.
Pohaci and Chandi had gone out gathering local news. Not together. Every time they looked at one another, they seemed ready to launch into an argument, if not a battle. Malin sighed. Nice to have Chandi back.
“I’m sorry for what happened to Landorundun,” he said.
Bendurana nodded, but didn’t look up from his nets.
“I’m sure she believed in what she was doing.” Damn, he was no good at this sort of thing. “Ratna was … stubborn.” He still couldn’t believe it when they said Rangda had possessed the girl. “If I’d known what she was doing, I’d have stopped her. None of this would have happened.”
Bendurana’s glance told him how obvious such a statement was.
Malin grunted. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been. I don’t blame you. But I know you. Know things Chandi probably doesn’t. I know how you handle adversity. Tell me, captain, can we count on you? Are you going to turn and run again?”
Bendurana shook his head, turned his back on Malin.
So be it. Malin turned to go.
“You of all people shouldn’t judge me, Malin.”
Perhaps not. Bendurana had lost his wife. Malin knew how that felt. His own wife had died the day Bendurana saved him from the sea so many years ago. But with all he’d lost, all the harm he’d caused, Malin was grateful to be alive.
“Ben,” he said after several moments. “Do your people believe in the Wheel of Life?”
Bendurana grunted.
“There’s a story I heard among the Jadian, about the Wheel of Life. Details aren’t important.�
� Malin dragged in the net, now thick with fish, and hurled it up on the beach. “What matters is this. We live and we die. But that’s not the end. Souls are connected. If that connection is strong enough, even death can’t part them for long. The Wheel of Life turns us out from the underworld when our debts there are paid. Reborn, we have another chance.”
“Ah, Malin.” Ben shook his head and dropped the net. The handful of fish he’d caught flopped around, until a few escaped and swam back out to sea. “Then what’s the point of continuing this life?”
Damn. Not what he meant. “Some say the better you live this life, the better your next will be. More important question—what would Landorundun want for you? If Rahu came back from the underworld, we know her soul must be there, watching you. What will you show her? What will you do with your life? She could be listening to this very conservation. What would you say to her?”
Ben shook his head. He looked away, then watched the sea. “I guess … I’m … sorry I failed to save you. I’m sorry I failed …”
Malin grabbed Ben’s net and threw it on the beach, then clapped a hand on the Serendibian’s shoulder. “You didn’t fail her. She died a hero. She died so you and Chandi could live. Now show her that her sacrifice was worth something. Because, if you truly love her, your soul will face hers again. You want to do so with pride.”
Ben smiled, or half-smiled, and wiped a tear from his eye. Malin looked away. “You’re starting to sound like a certain fire priest I once knew. Maybe you missed your calling, my friend.”
Friend? Malin clapped his shoulder again. “Not likely.”
He grabbed both nets and dragged them down to the fishermen. Good work. Honest work. He hadn’t killed anyone in days.
In the evening, Pohaci built a small cooking fire. Malin scooped her up in his arms. Drank in the salty taste of her tongue as he kissed her.
“What happened to you?” she said.
“Life is short. Who knows how much time we have.” This time around.
He sat down by the fire and stuck a fish on a spit. A good supplement for the bread. Dry, tasteless bread. Malin forced down a few bites. Best to stick with the fish.
Chandi and Ben came to sit by the fire, too, so Malin put another fish on the spit.
“They say three kings fight for the title of Ratu Adil of the Skyfall Isles,” Chandi said. “Rumor has spread of the rise of a new War King among the Lunars, too.”
Pohaci nodded. “I swam the Strait. They’re already flocking to Rahu’s banner in the north. Some don’t believe it’s him. Others say the Moon God returned his Voice from beyond the grave to finish his work.”
Malin spit out a bone and licked his fingers. “We can’t fight Rahu. Even Chandi and I together are not a match for him. If anything, he’s more powerful now.”
“If he fell in with Rangda, perhaps she gave him power,” Chandi said. “Now he’s got whatever power he had, and that of the underworld. Still, if we catch him unawares, we could kill him.” She hesitated. “It means killing Mahesa, doesn’t it?”
“The boy’s dead already,” Pohaci said. “And it’s not just you two. There are four of us.”
Malin and Chandi both glanced at Bendurana. “Bendurana’s an experienced fighter,” Chandi said. “But he’s injured,” she glanced at his leg, “and not a Moon Scion. You did take the Amrita, didn’t you Malin?”
“Yes.” Malin turned to Pohaci. “And love, skilled as you are, I’m not sure you could help. Rahu was almost invincible before. Back from the underworld, he’s godlike. I only ever saw one person with power like his.” Malin hesitated. Stupid to even think it.
Chandi narrowed her eyes. She sat across the fire, where she wouldn’t be able to see him clearly. Still, Malin’s eyes revealed every detail of her face. “Who?”
“Kala.”
“And where is the Stranger?”
“Gone.” Gone to wherever he came from. Maybe the same place Rahu came from. “Beyond our reach. The Astral Temple sent him … somewhere.”
Everyone paused and stared at him. Well, it had. Malin took another bite of fish. Damn, still hungry. He rose to grab another from the pile and stick it on the spit.
“We need Naresh,” Chandi said, when Malin returned.
Malin scowled. Of course she’d want the Guardsman. For that matter, they could use a whole army. But Naresh would not have fond memories of their last meeting, and Malin had promised not to kill him. Difficult, if the Guardsman attacked him.
Ben stood and paced around the fire. “Chandi’s right. We need Naresh. The Arun Guard, whatever remains of them, are the most powerful fighting force the Isles have ever known. Even if Naresh is all that’s left, his power could turn the tide. We cannot underestimate our opponent this time.” Chandi started to speak, but Ben raised a hand to forestall her. “Don’t tell me I can’t fight. I was a soldier, I’ve been in war before. And this is my fight. Now.”
Malin nodded at the Serendibian. “It sounds as if we need passage to Suladvipa, before we try to retake Bukit.”
He rose and Pohaci took his arm. She began to pull him away.
Chandi grabbed him before he got far. “We’re not done, Malin. You and I are going to discuss my father when all this is finished.”
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-THREE
In Pottala, the Firewalkers trained every evening. Not the same ones each day, Naresh noticed.
“Power is temptation,” Semar said. “They have to balance the need for experience with the pull of that power on their minds.”
Naresh leaned against the Shrine of Sacred Flame, behind the priest as he tended the brazier. “You mean Firewalkers go lunatic, like Moon Scions?”
“Any power can corrupt, so the parallel exists, even if the specific affliction varies.” Semar didn’t look back at him, instead dropping handfuls of grain into the fire. Spirals of smoke rose from it. The priest did this often at the central fire pit, but Naresh rarely saw him tend the brazier himself.
“How about your power? You lead all these people, command all their Firewalking. You’re a priest in a name, but a king in effect. Does your power tempt you?”
Semar turned back to face him, and locked him with his crystal blue gaze. “What do you think, Naresh?”
“You’re not easy to read. What do you want, Semar? Not simple power, I can see that much. You helped destroy the Solar Empire so the Skyfall Isles could become the legacy left to the Lunars and Ignis. But you’ve not helped either rise to dominance. Two steps forward, one step back. Where does it lead?”
Semar had been dragging his sandal around in the dirt. Naresh glanced down. A rough circle. Semar followed his gaze. “Where does it lead?”
Naresh sighed and rubbed his temples. At least Semar had made no further attempt to get Naresh to become a king, if that’s what he was suggesting before. For Surya’s sake, Bendurana would probably do a better job.
An Igni boy ran over to Semar. “There’s a dhow sailing up the river!”
Odd. The river was deep enough, but dhows rarely came this far inland.
Naresh started for the river without even waiting for Semar. A couple of Sun Strides put him at the bank. Sure enough, in the distance, he could see the signature lateen sails. It drew closer, revealing the figurehead. It resembled the dragon maw of a Warak Ngendog, and it blended into a painting stretching the length of the ship, depicting a massive crocodile-like creature. The Jin Laut. Naresh had assumed it went down with the rest of the ships at Kasusthali.
Naresh Sun Strode onto the ship. Shouts went up the moment he appeared. One sailor dropped his winch, fell to the deck. Others drew weapons. One sailor—Tianxian by the look—drew a strange curved sword.
Lembu Ampal appeared beside him before any of the crew made a move. “Bold, Pak Naresh. We were coming to find you.”
Naresh clapped the big man on the arm. “You’ve returned, brother.”
“With the Spice King.”
Another man approached. Naresh stifled a groan. “P
ak Tohjaya? We thought you were dead. Weren’t you at Kasusthali?”
“Obviously not.” The man glared at him. His hair was longer than Naresh’s, hung down past his cheekbones. A week’s stubble covered his face.
Naresh couldn’t blame Tohjaya for his anger. He had cost the man a place in the Arun Guard. Had embarrassed him in doing so, too. The recollection made him grimace. “What are you doing here?”
“Given that you just Strode onto my ship—without permission—I think I should ask you that question, Pak Naresh. Hope I like the answer.”
Lembu Ampal cast a wary glance at Tohjaya.
“Your ship?” Naresh said. “Since when?”
“Over a year. You haven’t answered my question.”
Lembu Ampal shifted. “Pak Naresh, may I present the Spice King, lord of the Spice Islands. I told him of Kertajaya’s claim to Ratu Adil.”
“And I’ve come to challenge it.” Tohjaya slipped his keris free from its sheath. Naresh’s hand drifted to his own keris. “Do you know what this is? It’s the keris of Ken Arok. Fabled blade the great Solar Emperor used to subdue his foes.” Tohjaya held the blade forward for him to examine.
Naresh did so. Excellent work, with elaborate designs etched into the metal. It undulated, though not as much as a Lunar keris knife. The union of fire and water, they called those waves. And this blade was a work of art. “I thought it was lost at Astral Shore. That a Lunar had taken it from Ken Arok, killed him with it.”
“Anusapati did. But he died. And now I have it. What remains of Ken Arok’s empire, Pak Naresh?”
Naresh shook his head. Ken Arok was a great leader in the Fourth War. He’d subdued Kertajaya, turned enemies to allies, and crushed those who wouldn’t follow him. He might have brought down the whole Lunar Empire. They’d thought no one could defeat him, said his keris was blessed by Surya himself, through the Radiant Queen.
“You have no answer because nothing remains of the empire,” Tohjaya said. “Except this sword. But I’ve been to Tianxia. I have several Fire-Lances. I have the claim and the power. All I need is the Arun Guard.”