Curse of Witch and War Page 6

  A number of plush couches surrounded the edge of the room, creating enough sitting space for a mid-sized party. All were empty now. The slave motioned to one, and Tanjung took a seat. Sulakrama would probably keep her waiting as a subtle show of his power. It wouldn’t have bothered her, except it gave her far too much time to obsess over what to say to him. These tedious, half-formal meetings always left her grinning like an idiot, trying to think of witty conversation starters and never, ever succeeding. Maybe, had her mother been around when she was a child, Tanjung might have learned such arts a little better.

  The man himself strolled in before she’d come up with anything and Tanjung rose to greet him.

  Sulakrama kissed her hand, then bowed. “My Lady Tanjung. Welcome to my estate. Or should I say welcome back?”

  Tanjung arched an eyebrow. Her father had brought her here as a child years ago, but Sulakrama was too young to have been the lord back then. Had she met him? It was all a blur of faces.

  “Time has made you only more beautiful.”

  “I … Thank you, Lord Sulakrama.” Heat flushed to her cheeks.

  “I remember you, you know. A little flower not yet in bloom, and me a boy just beginning to feel a man.” Sulakrama snorted at some private joke, then the man’s eyes drifted from her face to her breasts, drawing another blush from Tanjung. “I understand you’re seeking the blessings of House Rohini. You want protection? I can be an excellent protector to my loyal servants.”

  Tanjung backed away, or tried to, but found the couch immediately behind her. She did not like where this was going, or the uncertain racing of her heart. “We were looking more for friendship than to be servants.”

  Sulakrama brushed a hand over her cheek. Tanjung shuddered and tried to pull away, but he was practically on top of her. “I can be an excellent friend, too.” The man leaned in, pinning her in place with an arm to either side of her head.

  “I have to go,” Tanjung said. “My husband is—”

  “Oh. He’s busy. But if you truly want to serve him … you could serve me.” His nostrils flared, and then he grabbed her breasts with both hands, moving faster than she expected, faster than she could react. Drawing Moon Blessings.

  Tanjung shrieked both in surprise and pain as Sulakrama squeezed. “No! I am a married woman.”

  Sulakrama shoved her back onto the couch and straddled her, tugging at the laces of her baju. “Sshhh. He won’t mind. You know you want this.”

  Tanjung’s muscles trembled. With barely a thought she drew her own Moon Blessings. Strength suffused her limbs beyond any surge of adrenaline. Sulakrama’s Blessings were amazingly strong, but Tanjung’s were fueled by her lineage, and for once, she wouldn’t fear that. She grabbed his wrists and began to force them away. Sulakrama’s eyes widened, clearly shocked she could match his power.

  “What on Chandra’s dark side!” Sid shouted from the doorway.

  “Sid!” Tanjung called out to her husband. Thank Chandra. He’d get her out of this and they could leave this cursed House.

  Sulakrama leapt to his feet as Sid stormed over. “Forgive me, Lord Sidapaksa. Your wife was so … lustful. When a woman shows a man her bosom the man can hardly be expected to resist.”

  “What!” Tanjung demanded. “You lying son of a—”

  “Blasphemous sun-drinking whore!” Sid shouted.

  His tone and outburst left Tanjung sputtering, unable to form a sentence.

  “You star-cursed bitch monkey!” Before Tanjung could even make sense of his words, Sid grabbed her by the hair and threw her to the ground.

  The impact stunned her more for its brutality than the sudden pain in her joints. He couldn’t … couldn’t believe Sulakrama over her. This wasn’t real. It was a nightmare. “Sid, I—”

  “You!” Sid thumped a finger against Sulakrama’s chest. “This is how you treat your guests? Lustful barbarian child of a monkey-fucking frog-brained Igni! I shit on you. I shit on your whole House. I shit on your mother—”

  Sidapaksa’s rant cut off when Sulakrama’s fist cracked into his jaw. Tanjung’s husband sprawled to the floor.

  Sulakrama waved to a cluster of servants who had appeared at the commotion. “Throw them both out,” he said, shaking his head, and shrugging as he turned away.

  Rough hands grabbed her and hefted her to her feet, then ushered Tanjung outside the palace. Sidapaksa resumed his tirade on the way, spewing blasphemous profanity Tanjung could never have even imagined.

  “You betrayed me!” he shouted at her once they were deposited outside the palace.

  No! How could he even think such a thing? How could he take the word of that monstrous man over his own wife? Tanjung could no longer hold back her sobs. “Please,” she murmured between gasps. “Please, Sid, listen to me.” His backhanded slap cracked across her mouth and she fell, unable to even think for the sudden pain and shock.

  “Rangda devour your soul, you treasonous whore,” Sidapaksa spat at her.

  Blinded by tears and barely able to sit, still she reached for him. Not happening …

  Sidapaksa’s keris knife ripped open her abdomen. Pain unlike any she had ever felt flushed through her. A throbbing agony that crippled her. She doubled over, gurgling on blood, unable to even properly cry out.

  Chandra … she tried to call, but all she could manage was a moan.

  Sidapaksa kicked her, but the impact was nothing compared to the burning of her wound. Sweet Chandra, she was going to die. She didn’t want to die. She wanted life and love and … and … why? Why hadn’t he …?

  The voices had now become a jumble, no single word audible.

  “Chandra?” Tanjung sobbed. Please save her. Please …

  The Moon God gave her no answer. He was too far away. Or maybe he didn’t hear while the sun was up. Or maybe he didn’t even care.

  She was alone. Even Sidapaksa had gone now. Left her to bleed to death on the road through the rainforest. A death that would be hours of agony. Tanjung choked down another sob. Please no. Not like this. She didn’t want to die.

  “M-mother?” Could she hear if Tanjung called out for help? She’d never asked her mother for anything. She’d made her way alone. “Mother … save me.”

  Trembling, she shut her eyes, praying over and over to her mother. No answer came. Maybe her mother had never cared. Maybe she … couldn’t hear … Tanjung didn’t even know her real name. You couldn’t call a spirit without a name.

  She was in darkness. She was really, really going to die. Her, a Moon Scion, daughter of a bidadari, a witch. Murdered by her own husband and left to rot in the middle of nowhere. If she could hold on until sunset, maybe Chandra …

  Thousands of Lunars prayed to Chandra. He didn’t answer, not directly.

  She would hold on until night and then die alone in the darkness.

  What wouldn’t she give for another chance?

  Don’t call her name, the stories said. Do not speak her name when you are alone or in the dark. She just might answer. Do. Not. Call.

  A lump had built in her throat. By the time she opened her eyes, the sun was already setting.

  “Chandra,” she moaned, already knowing the Moon God would do nothing for her. “Ch …”

  All she had to do was let go. Give in, and let this all be ended.

  And let them win.

  Tanjung coughed, trying to clear her throat. “Rangda,” she mumbled. “Rangda Demon Queen. Your servant calls to you … Save me … and I am yours …”

  Still, no answer came. Not even the goddess of black magic and Mist seemed inclined to hear her prayers. She was doomed. She shut her eyes again, welcoming the darkness.

  “Rangda …” Tanjung moaned.

  And then it was all darkness.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Malin paced around in front of the Hill Palace, casting constant glances in its direction.

  “It’s not like it’s your baby,” Rahu said. He stood there, holding his baby daughter Ratna in his arms, watching
almost as furtively as Malin.

  Calon was inside now helping her cousin Simhika birth her own child. Malin wasn’t sure whether Calon had actually banished Rahu from the palace, or whether he simply felt more at peace outside of hearing range. Of course, Malin could hear Simhika’s wails of pain.

  The rains had gone at last, and the late afternoon sun baked the back of Malin’s neck. Part of him longed to stalk into the rainforest and hide until moonrise. Then he’d let the tiger out and run. But this child … Protect and avenge. That was his purpose. It was his very nature.

  Tanjung had given him that purpose, and for that he had to thank her. Even if she had taught Calon these dark arts. He couldn’t blame her for all the darkness in him, but he could at least blame her for some of it.

  “Malin,” Rahu said, then approached, rocking Ratna in his arms. She had begun to cry again.

  Malin cracked his neck. The baby had been fed and changed. What more did she want? So helpless.

  “Malin,” Rahu said again. “Make the face for her.”

  On a whim Malin had once pretended to shift into a tiger in front of Ratna. He’d just wanted to scare the child silent. But she’d giggled at his widely spread mouth and bared teeth. Now Rahu seemed to expect him to perform on command. Looking at the innocence of the child, Malin knew he would. Protect.

  Malin raised his hands beside his head, curling his fingers like claws, then bared his teeth in a grimace that should have made a grown man shit himself. And the baby laughed.

  Finally, the cries from within the palace ended.

  Malin looked to Rahu. “It’s done.”

  The man nodded, then strutted toward the front door.

  Before he even reached it, Ketu burst from it, holding a baby high above his head. “My daughter!”

  “These cousins will be like sisters,” Rahu said. “What will you name her?”

  “Chandi. My little princess.”

  Rahu chuckled and congratulated his supposed-brother. Malin could have easily eavesdropped on their conversation, but he chose to grant them privacy. Not long after, Calon came out and took Ratna.

  Two little girls. The children of witches. The children were utterly innocent of their parents’ crimes. And Calon had committed crimes, if not against the laws of man, then against the laws of nature. Malin had seen too much witchcraft in his life. He wanted to believe some ultimate good could come from the curse Calon had placed on him. Some form of redemption.

  Hunter.

  No. Now he was a protector. Protect and avenge. That was his destiny.

  If there was redemption, it would come from Ratna and Chandi. They did not bear the stain of their parents’ souls. They could be pure. And Malin would protect them. He had to have a reason to carry on, to live. He would spare those two girls the torments of this world as best he could.

  Despite himself, Malin rather liked Lunar society. There would be feasting and dancing and partying all through the night and into the morning to celebrate the birth of a new Moon Scion. When Ratna was born a couple months back, Malin had even managed to get his hands on some Tianxian liquor—long gone now, of course.

  If he was drunk enough, he could pretend not to see the way the Lunars stared at him and the other Jadian Calon and Tanjung had created. The looks of fear and revulsion and … awe. Tonight, though, he’d have nothing to drink. Didn’t matter. He would be there to protect. Didn’t matter what the Lunars thought of him.

  Other Macan Gadungan followed him as he stalked through Bukit. They often did. Like being the first or the strongest meant he had answers for them. He had no answers. There were no answers.

  Except to protect. Protect. Protect. Protect.

  It was the duty that kept him from being a murderer.

  It was his last flimsy grasp on humanity.

  He was not an animal.

  He stopped at the community house to grab some rendang. The spicy Lunar dish was an excellent treat, this batch made from duck. Hot grease stung his fingers as he tore it apart, not bothering to sit at any table. Instead, he slumped down by a palm tree.

  The other weretigers grabbed their own meals and sat down around him, the males careful not to draw too close. Malin shook his head, wishing he had some answers to give them.

  “Something troubles you?” Bintang asked. She was a strange one, one of only four female weretigers. After him, Calon had chosen this slave woman to be the second Macan Gadungan. She wore her baju mostly unlaced, like any of the male Macan Gadungan. More interesting was the hints of a tattoo that peeked over both her shoulders, obviously covering her entire back.

  Malin watched her, careful to keep emotion from his eyes. Few of the Macan Gadungan spoke to him unless spoken to first. Whether out of respect or fear or the same instinct that told the other males not to draw too near him. Bintang was bold. That was not a bad thing. Not in a weretiger.

  “You see it,” she said. “We were promised freedom, but we’re still slaves.”

  Malin scoffed. “You are not slaves. You just walked into the feast hall and helped yourself to the food like any free woman.”

  “And if I decided to leave? If I no longer wanted to serve the Moon Scions?”

  Malin almost smiled at the mental image of Rahu’s face if one of the Macan Gadungan asked him such a question. “You have been given a gift.”

  “It’s not a gift if it has a price.”

  Malin growled at the woman, suddenly irate she dared correct him. He shouldn’t care. He hadn’t asked to be their leader. But if he was, he deserved their respect.

  Bintang jerked back, as did several of the nearby females. The males just watched, perhaps wondering if he would strike her. Malin would not. He was not an animal. He didn’t need to give in to these petty instincts.

  Before he could think of something to say instead, she spoke again. “Do you know the story of the Satrio Piningit?”

  “I’m not originally from these Isles.”

  Bintang nodded. “The Satrio Piningit is the Hidden Knight. A warrior who will rise up and lead the oppressed to a new, better life. Change everyone’s future. They say the prophecy comes down to us from the days when the Pact first broke.”

  Malin tossed aside the remains of his duck bones and rose. “I’m not interested in superstition and prophecy, girl.” He turned and walked back toward the Hill Palace.

  “It could be you,” she shouted after him.

  Malin stiffened, but did not turn to look back at her. They were like cubs, children. Powerful imaginations had them grasping at fairy tales. Malin was no hero and certainly no revolutionary out of prophecy. He was a murderer who could barely control his own actions. He was a victim, both of his own pride and his mother’s curse.

  If there was any redemption left for him in this life, it would come from Ratna and Chandi. It would come from protecting those children.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The Buaya Jadian—werecrocodiles—were becoming an issue. Malin crouched near the Jadian boy. No more than ten. He lay on the hillside, bloodied and bruised. This was the second such incident. Hard to trust the crocodiles, true. Smelled wrong.

  But he couldn’t let the other Lunars beat a child, even a werecrocodile child.

  Protect. Avenge.

  Yes. The tiger was completely in agreement with him.

  Except Malin couldn’t take revenge on Moon Scions. They were his charge, not the Buaya Jadian.

  He lifted the child. Daylight was the problem. In daylight the Jadian were trapped in human form. The boy couldn’t escape, couldn’t dive into the waters. Like the Macan Gadungan couldn’t go running in the rainforest. No one attacked them, though. Not yet. Not with Malin watching. The other Lunars feared him too much.

  There were some dozen of the crocodiles now, mostly children. They liked to gather on the beach. Foolish child must have gone into the city alone. Malin carried the boy back down to the beach and left him on the sand, a few dozen feet from the other Buaya Jadian. They all watched him. Unblinkin
g eyes. They were always too still.

  They offered no response when Malin nodded. So he left. A narrow path led back up the cliff to where Bukit lay in the highlands. Other Lunars didn’t frequent it much, called it precarious. Malin found no difficulty holding his balance.

  He made his way back to the Hill Palace and found Rahu standing outside.

  The lord turned at his approach, face a mask. “Where have you been?”

  “Another Buaya Jadian was attacked.”

  Rahu scowled, then rubbed his goatee. “So I heard.”

  “This cannot continue.”

  “No. And I have a plan, Malin.” Rahu turned, pointing to the south. “There’s an island out there, off the coast. Uninhabited and wild, overgrown with the rainforest. It’s called Bangdvipa. And I’m going to make this island a training ground for both Jadian bloodlines.”

  Malin growled. Or the tiger did. “Tigers and crocodiles don’t mix.”

  Rahu’s eyes narrowed. “It’s a big island. They’ll manage. The difficulty is overseeing the island. House Soma can’t spare anyone, so I’m having to bring in an outsider.”

  That didn’t sound good. “Outsider? Who?”

  “House Kshuparaka, a Scion named Padmawati. Calon found her.” Rahu shook his head. “I know what you’re thinking, Malin. But I always knew I’d have to share the Macan Gadungan, both Jadian bloodlines, really. If I want to win the loyalty of the other Houses, I have to give them something. Right now, the other Jadian are pent up, lacking focus. You serve as a bodyguard to House Soma, but we don’t need dozens of such guards, do we? But if they were trained properly, the Macan Gadungan as protectors …”