by Matt Larkin
Chandi yanked him up. “Come on, Naresh! We have to go!”
“We can’t.” If Landi had died to protect this place … Or Ben, or Tua Pek Kong? No.
More leyaks swarmed the air above them. Hundreds, at least. Maybe more than he could fight even uninjured.
“Get us out of here!” Chandi shouted.
Naresh groaned, then Strode atop the wall, taking Chandi with him. From there he could see a dhow, out on the sea. The flash of its Fire-Lances against the night sky highlighted it.
With a hand on Chandi’s shoulder, he Strode them both to that dhow. It took him a moment to recognize the Jin Laut. The Jin Laut … “How?” Naresh asked to no one in particular.
Crewmen ran about the ship, scurrying in the midst of a battle. Chandi’s support alone kept him from falling when the ship swayed with the waves.
A heartbeat later Landi ran toward his side. “Naresh! Thank Surya. Ben, time to go!” A crude bandage hung from her left shoulder, and dozens of cuts covered her face and arms.
“You’re alive,” he said.
Chandi left him with Landi and took off toward Pohaci. Good the werecrocodile was here, too.
“What happened?” he asked. “How long were we gone?”
“A couple of weeks. We had to abandon the Temple a few phases back. We didn’t want to leave without you. Naresh, there’s no time.”
Tua Pek Kong was on the bridge with Ben, shouting at a small handful of his crossbowmen. They fired at enemy dhows. A ragged scar ran down the admiral’s face, seeping blood.
A chill settled on Naresh’s heart. They had failed. They had lost the Astral Temple. And if Rangda knew how to use it, they had even lost the Time Chamber. Perhaps it should have concerned him that his greatest fear was no longer the Demon Queen possessing the Tripura Device. But compared to controlling time, controlling cyclones was a small thing. He’d failed his people, his world. He’d claimed the power of the gods and failed to use it. What a fool he’d been to think he could stop all this.
“Ben, go!” he shouted, then slumped against the gunwale. Chandi rushed back to his side and helped him up.
Dewi Kadita stood at the bow. As a swarm of leyaks flew toward the ship, she raised her arms and a wall of water engulfed them, dragging them into the sea.
“Ah, my friends and dears and loves,” Ben said, “we’re rather in the middle of a fight. I can’t just wave my arms and make the ship fly away.”
“Loro!” Pohaci shouted from the poop deck.
Dewi Kadita looked back, then a surge of waves hefted the Jin Laut up and flung it forward at unnatural speed. The sudden movement knocked Naresh from his feet and he slipped along the wet deck until Chandi grabbed him and pulled him into her arms.
He let her guide him into the forecastle, and collapsed into a berth. Sleep took him almost immediately, and he dreamed again of stars and the moon and the sun. And he dreamed of flames consuming the earth, of flying cities crashing into the sea and barren rocks, throwing clouds of dust into the air.
It seemed only a few breaths he slept, but when Chandi shook him awake, morning had come. “They’re waiting for you.”
Of course they were. They always were. Naresh wasn’t sure how he’d found himself in this role, but perhaps he’d run from it too long. “Water.”
Chandi brought him a goblet, and he drank, then followed her up the companionway.
Ben, Landi, Pohaci, Dewi Kadita, and Tua Pek Kong all stood on the poop deck above. The Tianxian was the worst of them. He had a bandage around his head now, covering one eye. Landi and Ben looked ragged, covered in cuts and bruises, and barely able to stand. Only Pohaci seemed strong and hale, perhaps because her nature had already healed her.
They watched him, watched his every step. They weren’t judging him, they were awaiting him. They waited for someone to save them. A light rain fell on them, and though the sun had risen, the sky was dark with clouds.
He joined them above, then took Chandi’s hand. “She told you what we found beyond the gateway?”
Landi nodded. “Kertajaya sent this ship to aid us, along with word he raises an army on Suladvipa. Things turned bad the day before you returned. But the king will stand with us.”
Good. At long last Kertajaya had seen his duty. Naresh prayed it wasn’t too late.
“Pohaci, what of the Jadian?”
The werecrocodile leaned against the gunwale, watching the group, yet somehow aside from it. “Some have joined Kertajaya. The rest fight to defend Swarnadvipa from leyaks. Yawadvipa is completely lost.”
Naresh nodded. It would have to do. He couldn’t well demand the Jadian abandon their homeland, though if they didn’t stop Rangda, perhaps none of it would matter. “Admiral? How many of your men are left?”
“Counting myself, seven.”
Seven.
“Sweet Chandra,” Chandi said.
Seven men out of his Tianxian army. Maybe if he’d been here … “Loro?”
Dewi Kadita, or Loro given the voice, drifted over. Her body looked as worn as his felt. “I protected this ship as best I could. I can do little else, especially on land. I was … weakened after my last battle with Rangda. I cannot face her now, if I ever could.”
Naresh nodded. They had all been pushed to their limits. But they would not break. They would not fail. “We need to go to Pottala.”
“Naresh, no,” Chandi said. “Not again, please. You cannot trust Semar. He knew so much of what was going to happen. He was there, in Tripura, where this all started. He could have prevented this, and you still want to run back to him?”
“I’m not convinced of how much he knew or what he could have prevented,” he said. “And it doesn’t matter. What’s happened has happened.” He might have had a chance to change the past, but the price was too high. And he’d lost that chance now. “I sent for Semar. I want to find him before he tries to come here. We need him, Chandi. We need his Firewalkers.”
And Naresh needed his wisdom.
Semar had known things. He’d been shaping Naresh from the first moment they met. He’d known disaster would come for the world. Maybe he’d helped bring it about, or maybe he’d just tried to make sure Naresh was ready to face it when it came. Either way, Naresh needed to know what he knew.
“Ah, Naresh,” Ben said, “we can go to Suladvipa. Rather quickly with Dewi’s help—she works fast, after all—but if we run from Rangda, when do we stop running?”
“Soon.” Very soon. Naresh needed to regain his strength. He needed to see Semar one more time, to ask him if there was another way out. But there wasn’t much time. Leyaks were covering the Isles and the Temple had fallen.
Soon, he would have to face Rangda. All these preparations, all the armies he could gather, would only serve to occupy her forces. Because the truth was, he had to fight her alone. If even Nyai Loro Kidul couldn’t stand against Rangda, he could never let any of the others risk their lives.
He had made himself the avatar of two gods so he could stop Rangda.
He would not back down.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINETY-ONE
The Jin Laut drew near Pottala, following the river. Why wouldn’t Naresh listen to her? They had no way to know what else Semar might be lying about, or withholding. And yet, Chandi’s husband had come to rely on the Igni. Maybe it was her fault, for being away from him so much last year. Maybe if she had never gone off seeking Nyai Loro Kidul—but then the goddess wouldn’t be by their side now.
Dewi Kadita appeared in control, most of the time. Why the sea spirit allowed the human vessel so much reign, Chandi didn’t know, but it seemed like a good thing. Except for the mooneyes the woman kept making at Ben, which Landi probably did not appreciate.
Today, when the rains had broken, Chandi had seen the sun for the first time in a long time. It wouldn’t last, but for the moment, she enjoyed the warmth on her face, and the reflection off the river.
“Tie her off,” Ben told his crew. “Best we go on foot from here.”<
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Naresh stepped up beside her and took her hand. “It will be well, Chandi.”
She sighed. How could anything be well again? Their whole world was falling apart. They had lost so much already, and maybe they’d all be dead within the week. Still, she walked with him down the gangway and into the village.
Semar awaited them on the edge of the village, hands behind his back. He wore an unadorned black baju and his eyes sparkled in the afternoon sunlight.
“We seek sanctuary,” Naresh said. “We need time to recover.”
“And you think this village can shelter you from the wrath of Rangda?” Semar asked. “You have my sanctuary, for what it’s worth, but I think you’ll find little solace here.”
Of course they wouldn’t. How could they, knowing how brief the respite would be? Soon, very soon Naresh would confront Rangda. He would kill Ratna, or whatever was left of her. Or the Demon Queen would kill him.
No!
Chandi wouldn’t allow herself to think it. She couldn’t consider such a thing.
“Meet me behind our house later,” Naresh said. “I need some time to think.”
Probably about the same things she thought of, but she couldn’t blame him for seeking solitude for a moment. Chandi kissed her husband, and he wandered off, as did the others. Landi and Ben held hands, walking toward the wet rice fields beyond the village.
But Semar just stood there, unmoving, watching her. Asking for it. Chandi sauntered over to him.
Then she slapped him. “Bastard.”
After rubbing his jaw for a moment, Semar sighed. “What is it you think you know, Chandi?”
“I think I know you’ve lied to me, misled us, trapped Naresh. You were from Vidyunmali?”
“No.”
“Then what on Chandra’s dark side were you doing there, Semar? Are you ever going to tell me the whole truth?”
“No.”
That was surprisingly direct. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with an answer like that. She could slap him again. She dismissed the idea. It would only make her feel better for a moment, and he was sheltering them.
“I haven’t trapped Naresh,” Semar said, after a moment. “I’ve only shown him possibilities. His choices are still his own, even if he feels compelled to make them. But then, your choices were your own, too, Chandi. Did I ever once force your hand? Did I tell you what steps to take?”
“No! You just made it look like a fool’s path would lead to salvation.” Chandi caught herself balling up her fists and almost smiled. Naresh was rubbing off on her.
“We haven’t lost salvation yet. Things did have to happen, it’s true. An era of the world is ending, but you can still choose how it ends. The Skyfall dynasties have fallen. The whole South Sea is in chaos. If you do not stop Rangda here, that chaos will spread beyond, to engulf all the Earth. But hope remains, even in our darkest moments.”
Chandi bit her lip and folded her arms about herself. Of course hope remained. It had to. She wouldn’t give up, and she wouldn’t run away. It had gotten her nothing in her life. Besides, there was nowhere to run now.
“An era is ending …” she repeated. “Like the Tripura Era ended.”
“Yes.”
“And you stood by and let it happen.”
“You mistake me,” the Igni said. Assuming he even was an Igni. “The era would end no matter what happened. Corruption and chaos is not a sustainable state.”
Choose how it ends, he’d said. Chandi nodded. That’s what he’d done, wasn’t it? He’d tried to orchestrate the ending of that age, just as he’d tried to arrange it here. What was the purpose of toppling the Solar and Lunar Empires? Couldn’t all of this have been avoided?
Chandi shook her head, walking away. To dwell on what might have happened was madness. She was trapped with the world the way it was, and this was the truth she had to face.
A gnawing hunger clawed at her mind. But she didn’t need the Amrita. Not anymore. It was a ball with a lock. And she controlled the river. The hunger receded. It didn’t vanish, but she could control it.
She drifted through the village, at last coming to rest behind the house Semar had given Naresh. He wasn’t there yet, so she kicked a few rocks around, bouncing one between her feet like a Sepak Takraw ball. Ben and Landi had played the Solar sport in Cenrana, what seemed a lifetime ago. A simple life, happy in their little village. They had been happy, though she’d let petty disturbances like what Solars thought of her ruin hers.
And now, Chandra, she’d give almost anything to go back to those days.
“Chandi,” Naresh called.
She spun around, but he was nowhere to be seen.
Something soft fell on her head. She brushed her fingers through her hair, and an orchid petal, brilliant pink, fell from it. Another drifted over her ear. She looked up, then. Naresh stood on the roof, and at her gaze, began to shower her with the petals. Soft as silk, they brushed her skin and fell over her like sweet rain.
Chandi laughed, spinning around and closing her eyes, until she felt Naresh’s arms around her waist. His warm lips brushed her neck and she shuddered.
“I love you,” she said.
“I love you.” His voice was deep, pained. “Forever.”
Chandi leaned back against his chest and wrapped her own arms around his, stroking his wrist with her fingertips. “You’re still trying to decide what to do?”
“Everyone looks to me now.”
“Because of who you are,” she said.
“Who am I?”
“I guess you have to decide that yourself.” She clasped his hands. “When I was looking for the answer, I prayed at Jonggrang Temple. It’s peaceful, and not far from here. Maybe you should go.”
He was quiet for a time. At last he released her and turned her around, then kissed her. “I will, then. I’ll meet you back here tomorrow.”
Chandi laughed. “You plan to get there and back in a day?”
Naresh smiled, just a little. “I can Sun Stride as far as I can see now. And on a clear day, I’ll be able to see the ruins from up in the sky.”
Chandra, he was serious. Chandi realized her mouth hung open, so she shut it. He could really travel across miles and miles now. As far as the eye could see. She shook her head and smiled. “So how about I come with you?”
Her husband drew her close and held her for a moment. “I need to be alone, to think.”
Chandi sighed. Of course, she’d known that. “Go with the speed of the dawn.”
Naresh cocked his head at her use of the Solar expression, then kissed her once more, and was gone. His mother had said that to her when she left to save Naresh from Bukit. And she’d succeeded.
Chandi walked through the village alone, stopping by some children. “Can I borrow that?” she asked one. The child gave her the ball, and she went out to find Ben and Landi.
They’d returned to the village and were standing under a tree, talking. Landi’s arm was still bandaged, but the cuts on her face had scabbed over.
Chandi tossed the ball to Ben, who caught it.
“Ah, Chandi, you really think now is the time for games?”
The world could end tomorrow. Now was all that remained.
“Yes, I think now is the perfect time. Get Pohaci and let’s make some teams.”
Ben laughed, and even Landi smiled. “In that case, my dear, no powers.”
“I don’t need them to beat you, Captain,” she said.
Some of the villagers joined the game, too. By the end of it, Chandi had lost track of the score. But since everyone was smiling and laughing, she considered it a victory.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINETY-TWO
The rains came again in the evening. They were clean and cool, and though it chilled him, Naresh remained out in them. He had walked among the ruined temples of Jonggrang for a phase. He’d seen the broken circle at its heart, where a crack had split it. Chandi was right. The place had once been part of Tripura. So odd, to think that countless
ages ago it had flown through the sky.
It had fallen here, and Surya-knew how long later, people had come and thought it built by gods. Human memory was so fragile, so limited. How many times had civilizations risen and fallen, before what had been became lost in the mists of time?
And everyone looked to him to fix this. He fell to his knees in the center of the circles and let the rain wash over him. He had taken this upon himself. He had taken to Amrita because he needed the power of two dynasties to fight the darkness consuming the world. Because he had to save Chandi from it.
The cool rain had plastered his hair to his face and his shirt to his back, but still he couldn’t make himself stand. Instead he spread his arms to the sky, welcoming the torrent. Lightning flashed above, and thunder rumbled. He had called himself the Avatar of Night and Day. It was what he had become.
People called him the Whale Lord, and he had embraced it to destroy the Witch-Queen. And they called him the Radiant Prince. He was the son of the Radiant Queen. He was the last of the Arun Guard. He was the only one to ever bear the Sun Brand and Moon Blessings, both.
So how could he turn away from the things people needed of him?
He couldn’t.
He shut his eyes against the pounding rain.
Semar had tried to tell him, way back then. He’d brought him up into the mountains. The priest had spoken of waterfalls. The river was turbulent until, after so many bends, it became calm again. Semar was talking about the world. It had to pass through the tribulations to find peace. Like the waters, it was all a cycle, an endless cycle. Sometimes it fell from the sky, sometimes from the mountains, and sometimes it flowed calmly back to the sea.
People called him the Radiant Prince.
He remembered the words of his fevered dreams, though her voice was lost. Who are you, his mother had asked him.
He was the Radiant Prince.
A roar ripped from his throat. This was his world to protect. Rangda would not take any more from it. There was no more running from his destiny, no more fear.