A murmur drifted through the onlookers, though the potentials did not speak. The First always chose new Arun Guard. It didn’t often happen he had to choose more than one at a time, but this contest defied convention. Naresh frowned. The traditions of the Empire had held for centuries. Whatever his intentions, the First shouldn’t set new precedents.
Landi kept her voice low. “I’ll enjoy putting you in your place. I can’t believe the First let you ride the Warak Ngendog without a Sun Brand.”
Naresh smirked. He hadn’t believed it either. The First had controlled it for him, an honor few ever received.
“I’ve put each of your names on a tile,” Empu Baradah said. “We’ll draw lots to match fighters. Single elimination, non-lethal bouts, with the keris. First blood.” He motioned, and an Igni servant brought forth a jar that jingled with ceramic tiles. “Lang, choose first.”
Like Landorundun, Lang came from Suladvipa, one of the Outer Isles beyond Puradvipa. But while Landi had come to Kasusthali as a child, Lang had come much later. He had only spent one year of his training at the Academy. Naresh had had little to do with the man.
Lang drew Wanebaka’s tile. Lithe and short, Wanebaka came from the Spice Islands beyond even Suladvipa. Both men fell into fighting stances, swords in hand. At first they danced about each other, testing one another.
“Lang will take him,” Tohjaya said. “Strength and reach. Same reason Landorundun never ranked top.” He didn’t even bother looking at her.
“Those of us who are small learn to work harder,” Landi said. “We make up for it with skill.”
Lembu Ampal chuckled. The largest and strongest of the potentials, he didn’t need to remind them he won almost every bout. Naresh had defeated him once, but if he fought him here, if he won here, no one could doubt he deserved his place on the Arun Guard. No one would doubt.
Wanebaka fell back under Lang’s assault, but the bigger man seemed to be slowing. Snatching an opening, Wanebaka went on the offensive. Lang seemed more confused by the small man’s footwork than his swordplay, but it was enough, and Wanebaka scored a knick on Lang’s arm.
Lang paused, and looked down at the trickle of blood. The crowd cheered, but Lang’s face said he intended to press the fight. Naresh took a step forward. It was finished. Lang met his gaze a moment, then stormed off down the stairs to the palace.
“Naresh,” Empu Baradah said. “Choose a tile.”
Naresh held his breath as he fished his hand inside the jar. When he saw it wasn’t Landi’s name he breathed a sigh of relief. She could be grating, but he didn’t want to have to beat her. She’d never forgive him.
“Tohjaya,” Empu Baradah called.
Naresh smirked—but only a little—at the flash of uncertainty that crossed Tohjaya’s face. Naresh knew his own reputation with the sword as well as any of them did.
He drew his keris and assumed a fighting stance. Tohjaya approached with caution and they circled each other. Twice, the man feinted at him, but Naresh just stepped away. Tohjaya attacked for real then, and Naresh parried each attack, making few of his own.
When Tohjaya overreached, Naresh stepped around and cuffed him on the back of the head. Naresh fell back as Tohjaya recovered. Enraged, other man rushed him, trying to overwhelm him with ferocity where skill had failed him.
Naresh sidestepped the charge, caught Tohjaya’s wrist, and spun around behind him. He bent Tohjaya’s arm back so hard the man grunted in pain. Naresh tapped him on the shoulder with the keris edge, drawing a thin line of blood.
“It’s not necessary to show off, Naresh,” Empu Baradah said.
Tohjaya retreated as soon as Naresh released him, casting a hateful glance at him as he descended the stairs. Maybe the First was right. He probably shouldn’t have embarrassed Tohjaya. But damn—the man deserved it.
Landi and Lembu Ampal had already squared off.
“Sorry, Ibu Landorundun,” the big man said.
“You will be,” she answered, circling with keris in hand.
Landorundun had to duck and roll under Lembu Ampal’s powerful swings. Each time she came up swinging, but despite his size, the man spun to block every attack.
Landi’s movements began to slow, her acrobatics tiring her more than Lembu Ampal. The garden rang with the sound of swords clashing. Naresh could see her arms trembling under the weight of the big man’s blows.
Landi fell back further and further, the crowd parting behind her as she neared the ledge. The fall to the sea below was only one story, but Empu Baradah would declare Lembu Ampal the winner if Landi slipped. Her ankle brushed the small ledge surrounding the garden.
Rather than be knocked off, Landi jumped backward, cutting the man’s legs as she fell. She caught the ledge with one hand. Lembu Ampal collapsed to the ground.
Empu Baradah rushed to check the fallen man, while Naresh ran to Landi.
“I don’t need your help,” she said.
Naresh backed away as she pulled herself over the ledge and rolled onto the ground. She lay there, panting.
“Not as deep as I first thought,” Empu Baradah said as he examined the big man’s leg. “Didn’t cut through the muscle. Naresh, take him to the infirmary.”
Naresh paused to watch Landi rising from the grass. He couldn’t read her expression when she looked at the man she had almost maimed.
Naresh slipped the big man’s arm around his shoulder and helped him down the stairs. Brothers and sisters in arms for a year. The potentials had lived and struggled together all this time. And he’d leave it all behind. The Astral Temple awaited.
CHAPTER FOUR
The dockhands were still tying down the dhow, but already Empu Baradah had Sun Strode from the bow to the shore. One moment he stood beside Naresh, the next he appeared dozens of feet away. Naresh, Landorundun, and Wanebaka followed on foot. Soon Naresh would have that same gift. To travel like a sunbeam, reaching any distance in sight in an instant. The ultimate blessing of the Sun God. Or the ultimate burden that could be asked of a Solar.
Naresh rushed to catch up with his mentor, leaving the other two behind. Empu Baradah had been quiet on the voyage to this island. Only when Naresh had wondered aloud if things would go back to how they were before the Fourth War—a time Naresh didn’t even remember—had Empu Baradah spoken.
“Kakudmi was a fool not to avenge his father. Ken Arok was murdered with his own keris, and Kakudmi made peace for it.”
The others hadn’t heard, thank Surya. Naresh had said nothing then when he should have. But it could not pass. “Pak Empu Baradah, it seems like you don’t respect the emperor,” he said, when he was sure the other two were out of earshot.
“I’d give my life for Pak Kakudmi. He’s a brilliant man. But a man of peace. And we are at war.”
“He ended the war. Twenty years of war, almost my whole life, and he ended it by letting go of vengeance.” Naresh understood the way it galled so many, the emperor marrying a Lunar. Empu Baradah was usually right about things, Naresh had found. But—Kakudmi had a way of changing your whole perspective. When he spoke of peace, Naresh believed. The greater glory of the Solar Empire was not in what it could destroy, but in what it could save.
Empu Baradah waved at the temple that stood upon the cliff above them. The rockface was almost sheer, at least against the sea, but there was a steep path around the east side. They’d have a long climb. “You’re standing on Astral Shore. The Lunars spent twenty years trying to take the Temple, threw away countless lives right here in that futile battle. They murdered Ken Arok right on that rock. And I failed—failed to protect him, failed to even avenge him.”
The First grew quiet, but what could Naresh say? He followed toward the cliff.
“And you think they’ll agree to just let us keep the Temple?” Empu Baradah said at last. “You think peace can last under these conditions? Pak Kakudmi has spent his life buried in philosophy. He thinks he can make the whole world better. And he thinks he can do it without loss
of life. Sometimes he needs to be protected from his own idealism. How will it be if the subject kings think the emperor weak?”
Naresh fell behind on the hike up the mountain. The Lunars had launched the Fourth War because they had grown tired of alternating years holding the Astral Temple. The fools had held the temple for all of a week before the Arun Guard descended on them with the wrath of Surya.
And this was where that war ended. Two months since the battle on the shore below. The bodies were cleared, but crimson still stained the sand.
Landi tried to brush past him, but he grabbed her shoulder.
“You could have crippled Pak Lembu Ampal with that move,” he said.
“Accidents happen,” she said, shrugging away from him. “Joining the Arun Guard is dangerous business. Even now, this last test could kill any of us. Maybe all of us.”
Wanebaka hesitated at that, until Naresh ushered him along. Damn Landi for saying that, even if they were all thinking it. This was supposed to be glorious.
The Temple came into view as they crested the path. Soldiers patrolled the white crenelated wall surrounding the compound. When the Arun Guard atop the wall spotted Empu Baradah, he ordered the wooden gate opened.
Naresh hesitated at the threshold. Few Solars would ever walk through these gates, though they’d heard of this place all their lives. Landorundun pushed him forward gently. She looked like she might speak, but said nothing.
Beyond the wall they passed a procession of spire temples, all arranged in a mandala—concentric circles representing the cosmos. At the heart of the temple, eleven pillars arranged in a circle reached dozens of feet into the sky. Empu Baradah paused to allow them to marvel at the sight. Strange script covered the pillars. Not one, but eleven different languages.
In the center of the circle lay a pair of hemispherical depressions, made of some metal Naresh had never seen. Perhaps they had some use in astral observation.
Empu Baradah caressed one pillar. “This is Surya’s Pillar. Our god left us hidden wisdom here, and our priests have spent centuries trying to unlock it. From this script we derived the Sun Brand. This is what you’re fighting for. Proof that this place was meant for us.” He turned to lead them on to one of the small interior temples.
“And what of the other pillars?” Naresh asked.
Empu Baradah glanced at them, over his shoulder. “Some say there is a god for each and that each deity left secrets for his or her disciples. All the more reason we cannot let this place fall into any other hands again. The Astral Temple is not just an observatory, though it is that,” he said, indicating the balconies atop some of the temples. “It is our greatest asset. Without this place, there is no Arun Guard.”
Their mentor Sun Strode to the temple steps, leaving the potentials to follow on foot. Naresh trudged up without slowing, but Wanebaka and Landorundun lagged behind.
They entered the temple to find Empu Baradah instructing several tattoo artists. The sunburst tattoo of the Arun Guard served as a physical medium to hold the power of Surya.
“Remove your shirts. It’s a long process, and we need to finish before midnight. With dawn you rise as Arun Guard. You must seek Kebatinan to master the gift.”
Midnight? It wasn’t yet noon. Naresh and Wanebaka dropped their bajus, but Landi hesitated. Naresh wanted to say something comforting. Nothing came to mind. Empu Baradah stood there, running a finger over his mustache, watching her. No one needed to tell her she had to get the tattoo to join the Arun Guard.
No one needed to say duty came before modesty, either. Landi turned her back as she removed her baju. Naresh went to lie face down on one of the prepared slabs. He couldn’t tell whether anyone else watched Landi. By the time he tried to sneak a peek, she was lying on her stomach, looking at him. He nodded at her. They’d survive this.
Naresh had never found much use for Kebatinan. The meditation was supposed to bring inner peace, to connect one to the heavens.
The priests prayed during the many phases it took to prepare the elaborate tattoos. Naresh blocked the sensation of the needles from his mind long before the end. The sweet tonic the tattooists gave him helped.
When he rose, trembling, the tattoo covered his entire back and his upper arms. Night had fallen long ago. He had never heard of tattooists working so fast, even in a trio. The ground shifted under him, and he caught himself on the slab.
“You’ll spend the night in prayer,” Empu Baradah said. “I know you’re all weak. Try to focus.”
Naresh knelt, but he couldn’t focus on Surya. He wanted to blame the drugs, though he knew better. Despite his upbringing, he couldn’t feel the connection to his god that an Arun Guard should. Perhaps Surya would reject him. It would mean his death.
Dawn came at last, searing his eyes. He staggered as he rose, his sight bleary and his muscles like water. Landi stood beside him, though he couldn’t tell when she approached. She’d given over any attempt at modesty, but even so, he couldn’t focus enough to appreciate that.
Wanebaka stood further down the temple steps, with Empu Baradah. Whatever his mentor said, Naresh had not heard. Empu Baradah gave Wanebaka a goblet, and Wanebaka drank, then returned it.
Wanebaka shivered and turned to face the sun, staring right at it. His body convulsed once, twice. And then he began to float inches off the ground.
Naresh jolted into full alertness, and circled to watch the man ascend to the Arun Guard. Wanebaka’s eyes glowed with white light. The light spread, coruscating across his body, pouring from his eyes and mouth in an eruption of radiance.
And then Wanebaka fell in a crumpled heap.
Empu Baradah watched a moment, as though expecting to see the man rise. But the potential’s eyes had turned to ash, and smoke wafted from his mouth.
Landi gasped, turning away. Empu Baradah knelt by the body. “Worry not, friend. We will perform the Selamatan and guide your soul back to the Wheel of Life. Your remains shall rest forever beneath the Temple of the Sun. Surya is my witness.”
The man’s eyes crunched like crushed charcoal as Empu Baradah closed them. Naresh fought down a surge of bile that scorched his throat.
The priest returned with the goblet, filled again with a luminous white liquid. Empu Baradah took it, then offered it to Naresh or Landi. Landi hesitated, so Naresh put a hand on her shoulder.
“If it kills me, don’t go through with it,” he said.
Naresh took the goblet. He drank. It burned like liquid fire, but tasted like milk. The fire lanced through him, pounding through his veins with each beat of his heart. He felt his body jerk. Felt himself turn toward the sun.
All the brilliance of the sun filled him, rained down from heaven into him. White heat consumed his body and mind and soul until all he saw in every direction, in every thought, was light.
Though infinite radiance surrounded Naresh inside and out, a figure emitting yet more light approached him. Maybe it spoke, but not in any way Naresh could understand. It reached for him, placed its hands upon his head.
The white fire burning through his veins erupted like a thousand volcanoes. Searing, blinding, all-consuming light washed through him. He thought he screamed, but heard no sound.
And then the lights went out. With the pain gone, at first he felt hollow. His hearing returned before his sight, but he couldn’t make sense of the words Landi was saying. She gaped at him.
Naresh’s tattoo glittered with stored sunlight.
“Arise, Son of the Sun,” Empu Baradah said. “Arise, Arun Guard.”
(1192 AP)
CHAPTER FIVE
Chandi drew her Moon Blessing to blend her skin and clothes with the darkened hall of the harbormaster’s offices. The weakest of her Blessings, she couldn’t maintain Glamour for long. But with so little light reaching the hall, the clerk passed right by her without a glance.
Down the hall and around the corner brought her to the master’s private office. After listening at the door to make sure no one waite
d within, she slipped inside. The Solars didn’t lock many doors, but a year of locked cabinets and chests had taught her the skills to break into the master’s footlocker.
She tucked the picks inside her sarong and knelt beside it. Logs and ledgers she could never memorize. Stealing them would create too much suspicion. Instead she scribbled copies of scrolls recording Solar trade routes, and then the ones detailing the strength and position of the navy. Damn Solars thought they could rule all the Isles with that navy.
Too much time wasted already. Chandi closed the chest, tucked the papers into her sarong, and listened at the door again. Quiet. She slipped back into the hallway. A Glamour to lighten her hair from black to dark brown. Make it seem to run halfway down her back, rather than end at her shoulders. Shift her clothes from blue to red. If anyone saw her, they’d notice a different woman.
Head high and back straight, Chandi traversed the harbor, clenching her hands at her side to keep them from trembling. She needed privacy. An alley.
Just around the corner, she slumped against the wall as the illusion fell away. Sweat ran down her face and stung her eyes. Instead of wiping them clean, she leaned her head against the wall and clenched them tighter. Stupid to try the disguise. Revealing her Blessings wouldn’t get her and Ratna home any faster.
Ratna. Chandra’s surging tides, she didn’t have time to waste. Interest in the baby had made it easier to break in. But Ratna’s handmaid would be missed at the birth.
She ran. She’d gone running through the city most nights to relax herself, but not in the Harbor District. Ignis and Solars crowded the district, hawking wares, pawning fish, or toasting the imperial birth. Chandi dodged around them all. Her arm caught the edge of a banana stall and sent the contents skittering over a pier.
“Cinders and chamber pots,” the man cursed at her shouted apology.
Chandi didn’t slow. She’d have to remember the profanity for future use.