by Matt Larkin
As long as it knew not to surface. As long as it knew to flee.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTY-FIVE
The Lost Dugong had become the one home Chandi had never wanted. She spent her days in her room, trying to meditate, as her father had done. Even reaching for Kebatinan like a Solar. Nothing quite brought her peace. Only aching muscles from sitting still so long. What she needed was a brawl, a chance to release her aggression.
Because that had gone so well for her in the past.
Or maybe she just needed a sip … No, it was gone. Naresh had taken it away. She could never have it again. She had to control this before she faced him. She had to be able to see him without the temptation. She had to.
She rose and stretched until a loud crack issued from her lower back. As soon as she started walking, her muscles trembled again. By reflex, she drew her Potency Blessing. Breathe. In and out. She worked through several exercises, just basic Silat forms. Why had Chandra graced his chosen children with such two-edged blessings? The Amrita and the Moon Blessings made them like gods—at the price of their very minds. Or really, the price was their lives. Even if lunacy didn’t kill them directly, it destroyed the things worth living for.
As she had driven away Naresh. Chandi dropped the Blessing and toppled to the ground. Now was not the time to cry. She had to get out of this room before she let self-pity and despair overtake her again.
She paused to wash her face, then walked down the hall to the common room. The old woman here could probably get her Tianxian liquors … No. Chandi shook her head. Tea. Pure, clean tea. She had to face her problems with a clear head.
She sank down on the cushion at a secluded table. She in no way chose that table because it afforded her a view of Dewi Kadita and Bendurana sitting and talking. She was definitely not watching them as Dewi reached over and took Ben’s hand. He didn’t pull it away, but he didn’t seem to accept her, either. Maybe she would get through to him.
And would that prove love won out over all things?
But then, Ben had loved Landi, too. And where was she? If she watched from Kahyangan, would she approve of how he lived his life now? Would she want him to court Dewi? Chandi smirked. Knowing Landi, she’d probably break the other woman’s jaw. Or give her a tongue-lashing that hurt just as badly.
Chandi leaned her head on the table. Where was Naresh? Would he come here, looking for her? He had to come back to her sometime. Didn’t he? And if she left to find him first, she might miss his return.
She looked up to see Asamanja had sauntered over to Ben’s table. The Serendibian tried to jump to his feet and pull that curved sword of his—a tulwar, he called it. The pirate caught him with both hands, one on his wrist and one on his chin, and shoved him back down.
“Men like me, they don’t always have long memories. Lots of people come through our lives, right? I wasn’t sure when I spotted the girl … but seeing her with you just seals the deal, doesn’t it? I mean, you got balls like a blue whale, coming into my city, Serendibian.”
Dewi scrambled away from the table on her backside, walking backward like a crab, trembling. A few men had risen, but only to step away from the scene. No one interfered with ranking members of the Luhur. Not in Kutai.
Chandi sighed and rose.
Asamanja pointed at Dewi. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you. I’ll have you swabbing my mast before nightfall, girl.” He turned back to Ben. “I warned you to pray you never saw me again, didn’t I?”
Ben rose now, but didn’t try to draw the sword again. “Believe me, I did pray.”
Chandi walked up behind Asamanja. “You should leave.”
He spun on her. “This doesn’t concern you, Chandi. War King’s daughter or not, you don’t come between me and my prey.”
“You think you know who I am. But you don’t.” A hint of a smile crept at the corners of her mouth. This might be better than meditation.
He turned back to Ben, whose hand had returned to his sword. Chandi glanced at Dewi, at the absolute horror on her face. Then she grabbed Asamanja by the shoulder and shoved him aside, drawing gasps from the crowd. The man hesitated a moment, as if shocked himself. Then he swung at her.
Chandi drew her Potency Blessing. The blow almost seemed slow. She caught it on one arm and pounded her other palm into his elbow. He screamed. She flipped him over her shoulder and slammed him down onto the tea table, face first. Chandi looked to Dewi again, who had tears streaming down her face, and to Ben who was trembling a little himself. She stomped on Asamanja’s neck. A loud crack silenced all other noise in the teahouse.
No one spoke. Not Ben, not Dewi, not any of the patrons.
Chandi looked down at the body. She’d chided Naresh for the way he killed his enemies with such ruthlessness. But this man was a pirate, and the terror he inspired in Dewi and Ben told Chandi all she needed to know of their past. Ben had run as a pirate, once, but left that life. Apparently some of it had followed him here.
She walked over to Dewi and helped the girl to her feet.
It was as if some dam had broken at that, and everyone started talking at once. People fled the teahouse, shouting about the Luhur’s wrath descending on them. Others huddled in corners, gossiping. One man offered to buy Chandi dinner.
“Ah, Chandi, you can’t stay here,” Ben said.
Chandi released Dewi, and the girl looked at Ben, then ran to him. He caught her in his arms and held her close, saying nothing. At last he looked up at her, over Dewi’s head. “My dear, you’ve stirred a nest of vipers. Unless you want to wake and find the serpents in your sheets—and believe me, that’s even less fun than it sounds—I suggest you find somewhere else to be.”
Yes. Chandi did have other places to be.
She left the teahouse without bothering to stop in her room. She needed nothing.
Nothing except Naresh.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTY-SIX
The rains had come again. Naresh Sun Strode from the ship’s deck, not waiting for it to anchor at Daha. Rain washed over him as he appeared there. Rain on the ship, rain the instant he stepped off, without reprieve. The coming of the rainy season meant another half year had passed, but what mattered was the month since Naresh had seen Chandi.
He could have gone back to her. Any time, he could have returned to Kutai. Instead he walked the familiar back streets of Daha, avoiding the Cenrana District. Rumors claimed Semar frequented the city these days. The fire priest had come to some understanding with Rangguwani, and though Naresh was loath to risk discovery by the king, he needed the priest’s wisdom. In an alley, he shook his head, almost laughing as water streamed from his hair. He’d spent so much time with Semar, he’d somehow come to rely on the man. Chandi would be furious.
And that was his real failing. He’d failed her. Or maybe she’d failed him. Surya, he’d tried to help her with her addiction, with her lunacy, and she’d almost killed him. But he’d pledged himself to her forever. So leaving, however good his reasons, even to keep the Amrita from her, was dishonorable at best. And still he couldn’t return.
A sudden roar ripped through the air, like thunder, but just offshore. Another followed, and then another.
In the harbor, a building exploded, sending wooden planks spinning through the air. The retort of Fire-Lances.
Naresh Strode atop the tallest building in sight—a shipyard. Up here, no longer shielded by the buildings, the rain pelted him all the harder. Just beyond the harbor the Jin Laut was closing, leading a fleet against Daha. The few ships Rangguwani had in the harbor were already aflame, and now Tohjaya’s flagship had begun bombarding the shore with his Fire-Lances. By destroying the harbor, he’d cripple Rangguwani.
Naresh shouldn’t care. Rangguwani might be a better king than Tohjaya—undoubtedly he was—but Naresh had already decided not to support him. Still, this attack wasn’t just on Rangguwani. Those Fire-Lances would destroy anything in their path, civilians included. Many of Naresh’s people from Cenrana worked in
the harbor, as fishermen, net-makers, cooks. He couldn’t let this continue, even if interfering strengthened Rangguwani.
Naresh focused on the Jin Laut. It was far, but he could make it. He Strode onto the deck. Immediately, men around him shouted. He grabbed the nearest sailor and shoved him over the gunwale. Another charged him with a keris sword. Naresh parried and tripped the man.
Two more crewmen had fallen before Tohjaya squared off against him. “I should have known you’d betray me.”
Naresh clenched his fists, circling the Spice King. “I never served you, so I can’t betray you.”
Tohjaya spat and advanced.
“Stop!”
Naresh spared only a glance over his shoulder. Lembu Ampal had appeared along with Rangguwani. It was the king who had spoken.
“This is my fight, Pak Naresh,” the Lunar said. “I will face him myself, blade to blade.”
So the man had some honor. He’d ordered Naresh to assassinate Tohjaya … now he wanted to face the Spice King himself. Naresh backed away, giving Rangguwani an appraising look.
“Now he’s assaulted my home, my people,” was the only answer the man offered to Naresh’s unspoken question.
Tohjaya smirked, moving in on Rangguwani. “I’ll enjoy finishing you myself.” He looked over at Lembu Ampal. “It seems all the Arun Guard have betrayed me? You will pay for your crimes.”
Rangguwani drew a keris sword. “Recognize this? The sword of Ken Arok will send you to meet him, Tohjaya. The Skyfall Isles are mine. Your blood shall inaugurate my ascension.” The king advanced, his footing on the swaying deck quite sure, but when he attacked, his form was off. The man must have been accustomed to shorter Lunar keris knives. He could fight, but he wasn’t taking enough advantage of his reach.
Three moves, and Tohjaya had scored a gash on Rangguwani’s arm. Naresh swore under his breath. If Rangguwani fell to Tohjaya, the Isles were in for more chaos. But Naresh could never interfere in such a duel.
The pouring rain made the deck slick, and Tohjaya’s feet slid a little as he advanced. He’d spent a lot of time on the sea, but clearly not as much as Rangguwani. Three, four more exchanges, and Rangguwani landed a cut on Tohjaya’s face. The Solar fell back, wiping his cheek.
Rangguwani was breathing hard, shifting his feet in the water sloshing over the deck. He shrugged off his elaborate gold harness, then kicked off his sandals, advancing on Tohjaya bare-chested and bare-footed. Naresh clutched the gunwale to steady himself as the wind picked up. Lem had moved up beside him, but the big man said nothing, only nodded.
Rangguwani rushed toward Tohjaya and leapt in the air at the last moment. He was fast. He had to be using his Blessings to move that fast or leap that high. Rangguwani thrust his sword down at an angle. Tohjaya threw himself to the deck to avoid the blow, skidding along the slick surface, then kicked his legs out at Rangguwani.
The Lunar toppled down atop the Solar. Lightning flashed, casting Rangguwani in silhouette as he rose, pounding a fist into Tohjaya. The Solar reeled. It was all the time the king needed. Roaring, the Lunar drove his keris into the Spice King.
From the sound, Naresh thought the blade might have actually pierced the deck below Tohjaya. The man jerked, spasming once, then lay still. Rangguwani had to plant a foot on the man’s chest in order to yank his blade free. He hefted the blood-covered sword in the air, screaming. “The Isles are mine! I am the true Ratu Adil!” His gaze took in Tohjaya’s stricken crew, then darkened. “You have assaulted my city, killed my people. Your lives are forfeit.”
Naresh interposed himself between Rangguwani and the nearest crewman, a sailor now cowering against the gunwale. “You’re not serious? They followed the orders of their king. You must show them mercy.”
“Would Tohjaya have shown my men mercy?”
No. But then, that wasn’t the point. “Aren’t you claiming to be the better king?”
Rangguwani held the keris before his face, scowling. From this distance, Naresh could see the dragon etching. Blood filled its grooves. “They deserve death for their crimes. I shall grant it.”
Naresh glanced at Tohjaya’s body. The heft of the ship had caused it to drift from where he fell. From where that blade had punched through a body and into the deck. It was an extraordinary sword. A sword Ken Arok had used to murder a Radiant Queen, and Surya-knew how many others. Kebo Ijo had held it and died for it. And Ken Arok had then been murdered with it himself. Then Tohjaya had the sword, tried to rule with, and was in turned murdered by it.
“I think you should throw that sword away,” Naresh said, sounding uncertain even to himself. It sounded almost blasphemous. A Solar warrior wedded his keris, almost as one wedded a wife. It became an extension of the self, of one’s honor. To cast it aside was to disregard all it had done for you. But this blade had brought nothing but evil. “Cast it into the sea.”
“What madness is this?” Rangguwani hefted the sword again, but no longer advanced on the crew. “This is the sword of Ken Arok. It’s a symbol of the Solar Empire.”
“The Solar Empire has fallen. Let it go. That sword has brought more death than you know, Pak Rangguwani.”
“I agree with Pak Naresh,” Lem said, advancing to stand beside Naresh. “My lord … even I felt its power. But this has brought so much death.”
“Make your own rule,” Naresh said.
Rangguwani glared at them both, then looked down at the blood-stained blade. His scowl deepened, and then changed, becoming blank. His eyes went wide and the blade clattered from his hand onto the deck. Lem and Naresh both looked at each other, then Lem bent down to retrieve the blade. For one moment, his face darkened. He looked back at Naresh, then turned and heaved, flinging it far out to sea.
Another flash of lightning lit the sky. And for one instant, in the distance, Naresh saw something rising from the waves. A legend. A serpentine behemoth, long and sinuous, with scales like turquoise and long whiskers flew halfway out of the water and caught the blade in one mighty claw. Or maybe the blade became the dragon, matching its undulating form. Or maybe he had imagined it all, for he’d seen it only in that one flash of lightning.
But then, everyone else on the ship also stood, staring and speechless, watching the churning sea.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTY-SEVEN
The dragon reclined on the beach, the tide rushing over the better part of her thirty-foot long body. Despite heavy cloud cover, her scales sparkled in the early morning sunlight, while her eyes glittered with a luminance all their own. She had a tuft of bluish hair around her long face, and down her neck, although anything that might have done to soften her features was lost to the horns running from the crest of her head down her back.
Those spines had made riding the dragon through the stormy sea difficult at best. Now, Landorundun knelt in the sand, just beyond the reach of the tide, wringing out her long hair. Every few moments, she snuck a glance at the dragon. Seeing Tioman in all her glory, seeing her without her human guise, still shook Landi, even after so much time in her company.
“I never really …” she began. She wasn’t any good at this kind of thing. “I never really thanked you for saving my life.”
The dragon stretched, fixing Landi with that reptilian gaze, twitching her whiskers. “Thank me? You should thank me,” she snapped, then shook her head. “Just remember your promise.”
Landi rose, but her legs trembled beneath her and she nearly toppled back down to the sands. There was no way she’d allow Tioman to see her tumble like that, so she took a moment to steady herself. “I’m not the kind of woman who backs out of her commitments. When I say I’ll do something, I do it.”
Tioman looked back to the sea, and walked her hind legs forward. Those legs were so far spaced from her front it would be almost comical, if Landi hadn’t seen the incredible grace the dragon had underwater. Tioman passed something from her back claws to the larger ones in the front, inspecting it. That was a keris sword, but it undulated like a Lunar knife. Tioma
n’s hand engulfed half the sword. Her claws were bigger than Landi’s head.
With a flick of her wrist, the dragon flung the keris at Landi’s feet. It landed in the sand and stuck there, hilt up. “You may need this. A weapon wrought of power, tempered in blood. It is the sword I told you of.” She shrugged, which bobbed her horns like the tusks of a goring boar. If Ben could see this now, even he might find himself speechless. Or maybe not.
Suddenly, Tioman snarled, and her glowing eyes darkened from yellow to red. The dragon-side was taking over again, and Landi fell back a step. “Blood … Dragon souled. I told her how to make it … Years ago. And she betrayed me! Are you going to betray me, too, Solar?” The dragon leaned in, bringing her face dangerously close to Landi’s. “Are you?”
Landi willed herself still, though trembles threatened to overtake her. “I gave you my word.” She wrapped her hand around the hilt and hefted the sword. It had a good weight. Surya, it had been so long since she’d held a keris. She’d wedded the keris, it had become part of her. But she’d lost that sword. She shook her head, trying to sort out the jumble of her memories. The sea spirit had been in her, back then. They’d fought against Rangda. Pain built in her temples, a slow throbbing now, but if she kept digging at her memories, it would build to a crescendo that could leave her incapacitated.
Instead, she inspected the keris. It did indeed bear the etchings of a dragon. It was easy to say the carving could be any dragon, but then, Tioman was the only dragon Landorundun had ever seen. And Ben thought he had the best stories for having seen a mermaid or two.
Back in the Academy, she’d had a class about foreign theology. Tianxians worshipped dragons, as did the people of Au Lac. So Landi had been in the company of foreign gods. She’d even fought one.
Tioman’s eyes faded back to yellow. “Then keep your word. This calls to me,” she said, jerked her head at the keris. With a heave, she tossed up sand as she dove back beneath the sea. The waters were clear enough Landi could see the dragon swim away, at least for a moment. Back to her lonely island. Waiting for her prince.