Nusantara Throne - Senandung Kebangkitan
Nirmala

Pieces of terrible memories last night continued to flash through Nirmala's mind. The flakes were like a whirlpool that was about to rule over him.  Nirmala was like floating on a pile of corpses of warriors, they were like dark figures who seemed to be drowning with him.

            From the dark ceiling appeared the shadow of Ahool, his face full of malice, looking at the figure of Nirmala and the corpses with an arrogant grunt.

            Die losers, despicable men...

            His voice echoed and roared rowdy, until Nirmala's figure was consumed by the current round the waves along with dozens of corpses of warriors that he did not recognize.

            He woke up in cold sweat, his pulse was irregular and he was panting. Beside him sat a middle-aged woman wearing a flower-patterned brown kemben. Nirmala estimated his age at about forty-five years. The wrinkle under her eyelids implied clearly, she was looking at him pity.

            The room was no longer a cold, dark cave. It was a room in a simple house with soft sand floors with wooden walls. The middle-aged woman crossed her arms, holding a wooden tray with a wet cloth and a bowl of warm water.

            “Princess Nirmala has been asleep for a full day, I am worried so much, do princesses often fall asleep like that?” said the middle-aged woman.

            “Like that?” tanya Nirmala digests. He tried to get up from the bed and rubbed his eyes. While looking at the middle-aged woman, Nirmala could feel admiration radiating behind the worried look of the woman.

            “Mr Princess is delirious,” she said in polite speech. “My name is Ranggaweni, I am the mother of those children, would I like to bring you something to eat or drink?”

            “No need to bother thank you,” he said even though he was feeling quite hungry. But his body was still stiff and limp.

            A clattering of footsteps rang out from outside the room, Damar knocked on the room, “Mother! Princess is awake?”

            Ranggaweni replied to Damar's reply, “It's a child, but Princess Nirmala just woke up, don't bother first. Eat cassava and boiled yam at the table already mom prepared.”

            Damar puffed up, but then the sound of his steps shrank as if he had gone away from the room. Nirmala asked Ranggaweni, “Is Naya okay?”

            “It's okay, the child is still traumatized, he's with the healer, but don't think about it. Mr. Wikrama will invite you, the warriors want to thank you,” he said looking at Nirmala's face with a small smile, but the anxiety has not disappeared from the look on her face. “You have sacrificed for Naya and also the village, of course I am very grateful.”

            “What I have done has not treated the wounds that my father has inflicted on you,” Nirmala tries to come clean.

            “Do not do so, the ambition of a father is not necessarily decreased in his flesh and blood, son Nirmala has blinded him.”

            Nirmala smiled, her beauty as if emanated in a shade on her face. They kidnapped me from my father's palace, but somehow I wanted to love them like Ihsya loved me.

            “Thank you,” the answer is short.

            “I will wait outside,” Ranggaweni then get up and get out of the room.

            Nirmala took off the bronze bracelets attached to both arms, it has been a few days that the bracelet feels heavier. He did not want to become a noble amidst this simple populace. After all, he did not have to worry about Mpu Lodrok's snort or the queen's babble that made him have to remember about his high status.

            After putting all the jewels and sun-symboled scarves, she exited the room. Welcoming Damar and Arka who were bribing simple food with Ranggaweni. Ranggaweni offered a boiled sweet potato and papaya fruit. It's simple Nirmala thought, but it feels nice. Damar eats brown yams with the Arka. Her toothless teeth were clearly visible as she grinned with her mouth full

            The arka next to him looked timid. He no longer looked at Nirmala with a sharp glare. There was relief in Nirmala, it seemed that Arka no longer hated her. Nirmala sat down together, tasting the sweet-smelling boiled yam.

A scene Nirmala never saw, she usually woke up with dozens of ladies-in-waiting welcoming her to prepare for the morning. She was ornate, shouldered with a sparkling crown of cement perhaps for a breakfast with the king, the queen and her sister.

Usually the breakfast is always luxurious, spiced meat and sweet fruit dishes from all over the continent. Before breakfast even the sound of gamelan chat will be kicked as a form of gratitude to the god. But it all feels boring. The father rarely looked at him, his mother was busy taking care of the political affairs of the palace household while his sister Sri Sekar rarely talked to him.

While Nirmala was eating boiled yams, someone knocked on the door of Ranggaweni house, Ranggaweni immediately opened the door, he met Wikrama who stood smilingly welcoming Ranggaweni. “What princess Nirmala is up?”

“Already Young master, but Princess is having breakfast.”

“Nothing, I will wait outside,” he said as he quietly watched Nirmala from the doorway.

“What young master wants to enter first? Waiting inside,” said Ranggaweni welcome.

Before Wikrama answered, Nirmala preceded. “I'm ready, no need to wait.”

            Nirmala could feel the stiffness floating between the two. Wikrama nodded without looking at him, “I waited outside near my horse.”

            “Horse?”

            Wikrama did not answer.

            Nirmala was about to get up and hurry, but Damar and Arka inching closer, “Master Princess later we will play hide and seek huh?”

            Nirmala smiled, her purple eyes looking clear. He looked at the faces of the two children closely. “Bby but not far.”

            The two boys hummed cheerfully, his face flushed red, “I-iya.”

            A horse's snuggle rang out as she exited the house, Nirmala approached Wikrama who was rubbing the back of her white horse. The horse was graceful, large in stature and had white hair as white as snow, its eyes black with pliable eyelashes. The hides are made of cowhide strapped with a control rope.

            “Beautiful horse,” Said Nirmala stunned.

            “Because she's a female.”

            He approached the horse and at the trunk of the horse's neck. The horse neighed softly, lowering his head as if accepting Nirmala's arrival. He liked the horse, in his palace most warriors rode on a terrible, burly black horse. Not to mention the fact that the riders who used to amaze him when Nirmalam was a child turned out to be cold-blooded slayers.

            “According to the account of this horse verse is the only descendant of the sacred horse of the Hebrews, only that his blood is impure. His ancestors interbred with wild horses.”

            “What does a Hebrew horse really exist?” he asked while excited to see Wikrama riding the white horse.

            “If stealth exists why does the hare not exist? It's just that they are difficult to find, according to the elders of the past, the sacred horse is only ready to be ridden by a holy-hearted rider. It is said that only a sembrani horse is able to bring humans to kahyangan in the land of the sky Madewa.”

            Wikrama extended her hand. Instantly Nirmala's cheeks flushed red, welcoming Wikrama's hands that felt tight. Wikrama smiles every time she looks in the face. It's just that Nirmala is currently feeling the cold glare of Wikrama as if she is avoiding her gaze on Nirmala.

            “Where are we going?”

            “Today some of the warriors will be riding towards the ruins of the Kingdom of Temaram, we plan to sow the ashes of the fallen warriors on the inscription of the site of the moon.”

            The air felt colder on their way through the path to the field. Along the way the views of the inhabitants become as cool as the morning dew. They smiled looking at him. The children stoop to throw Wikrama horses with fragrant flower petals. As for the farmers stopping their work, the cart pullers were diverted, until the parents peered behind the windows of the house.

            They ran towards the side of the road, whispering merrily and intrigued by the presence of Nirmala. Some say thank you to the god's bloody princess. It was as if his presence was highly anticipated by those who considered him the savior of the village. The incident made Nirmala blush, but she was getting confused to behave. There is relief and also a sense of happiness. Did what I did make them change their view of me?

            During his stay in this village, Nirmala almost forgot the sounds of gamelan in his palace. He also turned his memory of a neat row of his father's finest soldiers to greet Nirmala like statues of servants. The fragrance of spice oils and dried roses also faded. All replaced with cool dew smelling of wood forest and the chirping of free-flying finches. Here I feel very free and I will always remember him, Nirmala swore to him.

On the grassy field the swordsman was ready with his horse. One horse carries two warriors with different horse colors. Some stood around a wooden fence tied together, waiting for Wikrama's message.

Wyat was riding on a brown horse, next to him Mahda was holding a dark red jug. He then gave it to Wyat, “May the gods bless your journey, sending our brothers to freedom and peace.”

As the Wikrama horse approached, the warriors bowed down including Mahda, they called for subtle, rhythmic words.

“Greet us to Nirmala princess Mahardhika, for your sacrifice save our village from the terror of Ahool.”

Mahda inched closer to Wikrama's white horse, she welcomed Nirmala's hand, lifted the tiny palm and touched it on Mahda's hard forehead.

“Pardon me for misjudging you Princess, I hope my hatred for you melts into loyalty to guard and protect you.”

Nirmala smiled, crying almost broke, only she tried to hold it back. He must be strong and must not show his tears too often.

“Nothing, you warriors live off the wounds my father gave me, only a speck-by-dot of kindness I can do to make up for it.”

Mahda looked down again and humbled half-kowtowed, her large body on par with the white horse body of Wikrama. “You are noble Mr. Princess, your age is still young but the attitude you show makes you worthy of being a wise queen.”

Nirmala's cheeks flushed red, she turned her gaze on the dozens of horses behind the field fence.

“I leave this village while you Mahda,” said Wikrama.

“That deposit will I guard with this life,” he replied.

After he felt like he was wasting a lot of time, Wikrama opened the field fence where the horses were lined up, they neighed while waiting for the rider to pull the harness. With one warning from Wikrama, they came out in the cold wind that morning to the West. The swift footsteps of the horses echoed along the village road. Nirmala made a good impression on her first horse trip. He had long wanted to ride, but the opportunity never came.

Wikrama drove his horse through the green meadows. He chose the path carefully, hoping that the accompaniment of his cavalry did not hit the rock. The meadow stretches long towards the West, on their right side stands the hills of the foot of Mount Rapani which is light green, while the thin mist mebuat at the top covers the top of the Rapani mountains.

In a short time they arrived in an unfamiliar territory, the interior began to change as the lands their horses were treading were replaced with wild lands. Wikrama avoided the area under the cliff and chose to rotate up the hills. He considered the enemies and the stealth that was hiding. Although they currently have Nirmala, but the mysterious waiters never tell when to attack. In addition, Wikrama also worried about the attacks of wild animals cliff dwellers such as leopards and mountain tigers.

After riding for almost an hour they arrived at the top of the hills, the larger the horse steps, the King Mustika Forest stretched beneath it like a dark green colored sea. The sides of the King Mustika Forest are dotted with deep gorges with rushing waterfalls.

“A terrible forest, but also beautiful.”

“You will never suspect any miracle of beauty even though sometimes that beauty saves a lot of regret, Princess,” Wikrama feel bad. “Soever the miracle in your blood.”

“O young master of Wikrama, do you regret the plan?”

“I don't want to discuss it.”

“What fantasy am I just taking for granted your treatment of being so cold to me?”

Wikrama did not reply as if he was choking on Nirmala's words, he was driving his horse very slowly, about to go down the hill. The silence upset Nirmala, so she ignored Wikrama and looked back at Mutant Mustika King.

The horse's nails beat sharply on the pebbles and the road instantly turned into a narrow path. Wikrama hated this situation, forced to reduce the accompaniment to a line like a line of ants. He looked up at the cliffs while monitoring, in a second that was not in want of the rocks could have collapsed on the warriors behind him. However, today the weather was not windy, her fear had to be scorched to deliver the ashes of the full moon brother to eternity.

“What is it?” nirmala asked as she pointed at a swarm of flying birds circling over the cliffs. The flapping of the bird produced an echoing sound as if its wings were splitting the wind in the sky.

“Birds hornbill,” replied Wikrama while looking at the flock, from a distance saw a small yellow horn sticking out on the head of the bird. “It's almost as big as a human, do you know the Princess about the bird?”

“I've never seen it in the palace.”

“They are forest farmers, he is able to fly thousands of cubits away in one day.”

Nirmala was stunned, still seeing the herd of hornbills passing over their heads, gradually the birds began to fly away towards the forest.

“Our ancestors believed that the bird's presence inevitably kept the forests growing in balance. Perhaps the gods of the forest lowered their gifts through the hornbill.”

After passing through the cliff. They arrived at Setu Hejo, a village by the bustling lake. The place is very charming, located at the foot of the hill overlooking the green lake toska. The warriors were warmly welcomed by the residents. Children came with village songs, hoping to get souvenirs. The warriors showed Ahool's hair and nails, instantly making the children shudder in horror and leave in fear.

 Wikrama decided to rest in this village, he ordered the warriors to tether the horses to the trees by the lake. After making sure all the horses rested the warriors spread into the village, some were enjoying the lake fish dishes in the tavern. Some swim to enjoy the crystal clear lake Setu Hejo while Wyat decided to sharpen his keris while keeping the horses.

Nirmala stared at Wikrama, but Wikrama seemed indifferent and reluctant to speak to him.

“I came to the village,” he said feeling annoyed.

“I'm not long Mr. Princess, just want to collect information. You can rest here, there is a beautiful lake.”

Nirmala frowned, never did she feel that irritated. His attitude towards her has gotten stranger lately. Trying to throw off her anger, Nirmala ignored Wikrama's answer and turned to the shore of the lake, approaching Wyat.

“What happened to Wikrama?”

“Hamba does not understand what you mean Princess,” he replied while rubbing the side of the keris with lake stones. Wyat's headband was thick enough to cover almost his entire eye.

“Please,” Nirmala tilts her head peeking at Wyat.

“Genesis and our victory against the demon is not an easy matter for Mr. Wikrama,” finally Wyat replied. “According to the servant, he was shaken, and was grieving the loss of our brothers, although he still had to cover up those dark feelings from everyone.”

So do I.

Grim wrinkles appeared on Wyat's forehead while he observed the gleaming keris eyes getting sharper under the scorching rays, weighing the results of his sharpening. “After all I can't be curious about it, there are many things I don't always have to understand about Mr. Wikrama's feelings, especially in dark times like this, Mr. Princess.”

“But he ignored me since that night.”

“Then you should get the answer yourself from Mr. Wikrama,” Wyat now views him pity. “Hamba withdraw first.” He sheathed his dagger and went towards the horses.

Nirmala questioned her heart. Why should he be that cool about Wikrama, he's just a hostage. He should not feel neglected or ignored. The young man was simply carrying out his duty as a leader in the Wangsa Village, entrusting his intuition for the safety of the swordsman brother of the evil creatures inhabiting the continent, including his father.

Nirmala's hair immediately stiffened, there was a faint feeling appearing as if deep in the recesses of her heart. Warm, and mysterious. He could not explain it, only that he felt uneasy and agitated. He hated that situation even more.

Finally Nirmala decided to wander around the lakeside area of the village, to forget the annoying thoughts. He was happy when he met the villagers who were fishing, while the children and young men were diving for shells. They looked in awe and were stunned to see the bronze glint of Nirmala's hair fluttering by the wind of the hills.

Nirmala felt uneasy, even though she had previously been used to receiving such views. However, every time new faces showed their usefulness, the bad taste crept back up.

“For the sake of the forest gods, is the hair made of precious metals,” said an old man who was fishing.

Nirmala shook her head, several brown-skinned burning youths observed her from the edge of the wooden dramaga. “Only use spice ingredients.”

“Perastilah spice is very expensive, you travelers are indeed very impressive, if only I was young I would like to someday be able to travel around this continent,” the grandfather sighed, then he pulled out his fishnet and continued. “Unfortunately I ended up aging in this village, but there is no harm because this village is very beautiful to enjoy the remnants of life.”

Nirmala smiled, while observing other interesting things around the dramaga. “What are the frequent travelers coming here?”

“Not often, but always there. They mostly visit to rest and fill the supplies for the journey ahead. After all our fish and shellfish are the best, because the lake is always filled with fresh fish every day.” The grandfather is now scratching his chin with worry, “But there was something strange the past week.”

“Any?”

“Black riding palace soldiers visited our village, distributing rontal leaf sheets with characters in them, whether I care less about them because I am illiterate.”

That black equestrian soldier is my palace soldier.

“Did they often visit this village?”

“I'm not so sure, they never visit again. It seems that they do not like the produce of our village,” said the grandfather as he tidied the shells into a bamboo basket. “What a strange warrior.”

After Nirmala said goodbye she rushed towards the village. Supposedly if indeed Wikrama is collecting information he will soon find out that his father's soldiers have been searching to this village. However, Nirmala's pace slowed down, she arrived before a village house with a straw hut and a puff of carefree voice, Nirmala was worried.

Who is he on his side now? Wouldn't he be able to return to the palace immediately if the soldiers of the archipelago managed to find him. However, Wikrama's attitude really irritated him, even though Nirmala had started to like Desa Wangsa. Such a place he had wanted since he was locked up in the palace.

Not long after Nirmala managed to find Wikrama in a store with several warriors, they were seen chatting with the store owner. Upon realizing Nirmala's arrival, Wikrama interrupted the conversation and said goodbye.

“We will leave this village soon,” he said in a hurry.

“My father's soldier..”.

“Truely Mr. Princess, I did not expect this. Please in the meantime cover your hair with this cloth,” Wikrama wrap Nirmala's hair with the cloth she bought from a fringe seller. “Please excuse Mr. Princess.

Nirmala did not answer. They made their way back to the shores of the lake, with Wikrama's brief cue gathering warriors and asking them to herd horses to gather on the East side of the lake far from the village. His face was alarmed as his hands extended to Nirmala, and Nirmala immediately mounted her white horse.

“We're in danger, I've confirmed it from this,” he said while exposing a rontal sheet. Wikrama read aloud the contents of the script in front of Nirmala and his warriors.

To my people, on my mandate as king of the Nusantara Kingdom, Patih Mahardhika. I sent my soldiers moving on black horses to conduct an important search. Those scattered throughout the continent moved by my grace as a god-blooded king who had full power over this land.

To any folk who find the character of a daughter of my holy king in the name of Sri Nirmala, with the characteristic brilliance of hair in bronze, as well as her eyeballs, and report her existence to my bhayangkaraku. I will guarantee your well-being with chariots of jewelry and groceries for a whole year.

But I will cut off the necks of anyone including those who dare to hide my daughter or keep her whereabouts a secret. Tuning the task then Nusantara will respect your services like nobility.

The series of words delivered by Wikrama none scattered and have been listened to carefully by the warriors. Wikrama had predicted the chaos that would occur due to the kidnapping plan from a long time before it was carried out. However, he did not expect the movements of the Nusantara soldiers to be as fast as at the wrong time.

“After this how? What the hell are we back in the village?” Wyat.

“Do not. We must continue the journey to the ruins of Temaram,” Wikrama asserted. “Our victory over Ahool does not change the fact that our brothers have fallen because of it. We should deliver these ashes anyway. In addition, there is no mention of a female swordsman in the bhayangkara troupe in the village of Setu Hejo.”

Nirmala who listened began to feel uneasy. The words in the message her father wrote did sound tantalizing, but there was horror behind the meaning of the message. Why would his father easily behead anyone who was about to hide himself? Is the message intended not only for the rebels, but also for the little people?

“If you decide we continue the journey, what will we do if we cross paths with the soldiers of the archipelago?” Wyat wanted to clarify the situation.

Next Wikrama pensive. He looked at the entire number of warriors who were coming with him. They were warriors who were adept at fighting in close quarters, not archers. A difficult decision had to be made, because for him to deliver the fallen swordsman's gray was the most important action.

Wikrama tightens the palms and lifts attached to the tip of the nose. Wikrama did that a little longer, until he finally made a sound.

“If we cross paths with the soldiers of the archipelago, pull out your keris and plug it into the hearts of the soldiers.”

***