Nusantara Throne - Senandung Kebangkitan
Ruswara
The floor felt damp and muddy smelling. No windows, beds, even ******. He remembered this place, as traitors and sinners were curled up to fill every room with grim faces. Mpu Moro once told him when Ruswara was still as high as the queen's knee, ‘even the cruelest criminals even hate to be locked up in this place, they chose to die.’
Now the soldiers in his own palace were pushing him inside. As soon as the door slammed shut, he saw a dim light emanating from a candle hanging on the wall. His feet throbbed every time he stepped on the floor of the muddy rock that felt sticky. Inside the room, seven people curled up, two of them lying with their bodies bent because they were too narrow.
The prison below is under the Kedaton Tarlingga, deeper and it is necessary to go down the dozens of steps to get there. Stories about the prison's past began to run through his brain. Murderers, naysayers, witches, and perhaps innocent people once lay and even died in this prison.
Some people circulated astonished looks, raising their hands trembling, they said, “Mahamantri Ruswara, what is it?”
“For the sake of the god of justice, what is it that keeps gentlemen locked up in this despicable prison?”
For a moment, the question seemed to be floating on the ceiling of the prison. One person started whining while sobbing.
“Mr Mahendra, slandering us.”
“We are not traitors.” The other law chimed.
Ruswara clenched his hands, cursing Mahendra and his soldiers. In overflowing emotion, Ruswara punched the stone floor of the prison, instantly his hands throbbing and making him regret the action.
“How are you doing now?”
“We are afraid Sir,” said a crying man sobbing.
“Free us Master, please, please,” said the others.
Two men began to creep limply hugging Ruswara's legs. The sight made Ruswara's heart look like it was pierced by a dagger.
“Behold that my mad brother locked me here,” he spoke softly, then pointed at the three people lying in the corner. “How about their condition?”
“We..., do not know mahamantri, they do not answer anything,” said the person now sat face down.
Dead...
“I'm sorry if my presence seems to give hope to you, right now I am the same as you. Mahendra put me in this prison and took control of Tarlingga in a dirty way,” he said softly, making the prisoners disappointed and inching bent. “May the sky gods give you happiness in kahyangan someday.”
Mahendra's face floated in front of him in the dimness of the room. The grunts of his brother were evident when the flash of events in the king's room stamped back, in a humiliating way he could have lied before his father's body. “Claiming your throne in a dirty way, big brother jerk. What do you want from that stupid ambition,” he whispered.
When thinking of the fate of Tarlingga ahead, he will reluctantly cry, but his tears are held back by the carnage of the prisoners who are gone. He was Ruswara son of Sanjaya, who was supposed to be the heir to the throne of Tarlingga, his chance to fix all the political turmoil in his country had to run aground.
He tried to lean at a corner near the door, his legs could not be completely straight because they were blocked by prisoners who were also clinging to each other. Ruswara tried his best to reduce the movement. I don't know how long it's been. No day or night in sight. The candles are getting thinner, the light is pulsing slowly. Ruswara closed her eyes, she went to bed and woke up, and went to sleep again. Stand up to stretch your body or just eavesdrop on a thick wooden door. But there was no sound of footsteps of anyone approaching the prison.
Feeling hopeless he fell asleep again, a terrifying dark dream came. The barren desert like the color of twilight turned red, into a sea of thick blood. He was in the midst of his dream of witnessing a more severe horror, from within the red sea appeared the dead human figures of horned, dark-faced pale white eyes. They stared at him stiffly and stiffly.
Ruswara was flabbergasted, trapped and she wanted to run away. From a distant place more gripping events appear. A large membrane-bound egg with pulsating veins sticking out from within the ocean. Within a few moments of the membrane being torn, a scaly red finger with long black nails scavenged out. The larger creature came out completely like an adult baby hatching from an egg. With a lazy look he looked at Ruswara, galloping towards her. His followers clenched the ruswara with the grunts of the dead, he could not run or dodge as if the ocean itself was a hand gripping his feet.
Instantly the creature's nails pierced Ruswara's body, penetrating several inches of his skin. Ruwara did not flinch, but the gushing dry sensation came like a desert storm whirling towards her. The skin around the nail prick was cold, instantly turning dry like a corpse, feeling his life as if it was sucked by sharp black nails. His body became as thin as a mummy, his flesh shrank and he shouted as loudly as he could.
Banaspati's...
When the prisoners woke up they looked at him in fear. Imagining his dream made him reluctant to be trapped for longer. He got up, pushed around the ulin door, mentioned and cursed Mahendra's name. Only emptiness answered.
The hours change and keep changing. He could feel his skin numb, and numb. The smell of the carcass was getting as thick as it filled the room. They did not eat or drink, the deaths of the five were tragic, coming home within the walls of the sturdy prison, without relatives sending their last breaths. After some time, he began to speak out loud, building a fertile land and other hopes in the dark. Five days it is impossible for six days to pass...
He wondered, where was his mother? What did Welino do? What about Pancha? Those soldiers must have found him and sentenced Pancha to death. Whether he would see them again, whether they still cared about him, he asked back.
“Kill me... Sir... I can't...,” a prisoner's groan.
“Defend, endure, hope is always there,” Ruswara said rubbing the man, he guessed he was about thirty-five years old. However, not long before the face of the man was face down on the floor, and the sound of his breathing was gone, only the sound of his own breath that Ruswara heard at that time.
Ruswara finds herself getting mad. He heard his laughter in the darkness, spoke to himself, cursing and swearing. I disappoint you my people, my mother, father, my ancestors.
Ruswara was half asleep when she heard footsteps in the hallway. At first he thought a god of death had come to pick him up. It should have been her turn to die, after she realized there were no lives left in that prison other than her. Ruswara feverish, her lips fused paper and chapped. His body is getting thinner and less nourished. As the door creaked open, the light of the lantern infiltrated in like a bright dawn piercing through his eyes.
“For the kings of Tarlingga, Mahamantri,” the voice of the man is heard softly. His cheeks are grown at the base of a black beard mixed with white. The firmness of his face disappeared into a look of pity and wrinkle.
Ruswara took a long time to recognize him, with a dazed highlight he mentioned one name, “Welino..”.
Welino shoves a jug. Ruswara grabbed him with both hands and held the water up passionately. “Tonight we will free you.”
“We...?” his tan was weak when he found the jug was already empty.
“Me and the Queen,” she picked up Ruswara and walked at a fast pace. The way it made Ruswara's legs dragged helplessly, his nails felt sore when he had to withstand the creaking of the rough stone floor. “Sorry if this hurts, but I don't have much time, Mahamantri.”
The stairs were excruciating for Ruswara. One by one the stairs he pijak with pain, his joints felt sore when footsteps forced him to tread. After they arrived at a half-rounded door, Ruswara found the queen waiting for him, an anxious look emanating from her aged face.
“For the sake of my flesh and blood, my son,” he hugged her, a broken cry drenched Ruswara's shoulders. Near the door, two soldiers were already lying face the stone floor, either unconscious or dead Ruswara did not care.
“So it's a rebellion for me, mother sorry if I have to meet you with this situation. Mahendra.., she lied mother.”
“Already want to,” said the queen while sobbing bitterly. “One thing I want right now is to never see you become like this my son, mother trusts you, but mother can't resist your brother's sincerity.”
She hugged him tighter, her heart crumbling, her tears flooding the Ruswara.
“Baginda, no time,” Welino shook her head reluctantly separating the haru moment.
Sobbing with a face full of tears and snot, the queen nodded. Reluctantly they walked down the palace hallway to the side of the courtyard bounded by ancient, orange-brick-structured pillars with nervous steps. Welino led in front, he observed every corner of the palace and made sure no soldiers saw their whereabouts. After a nearly fifteen minute journey down the palace hallway. They reached the side of the courtyard, saw a group of soldiers standing guard while joking about drinking a wine jug.
The queen and Welino looked back, as if a plan had been carefully prepared that night. In a short time they nodded. Queen Dyah staggered into the courtyard, carefully playing the role, under a sprinkling of cloudless stars. His arrival provoked the attention of the soldiers.
“Baginda, what do you do in a broad midnight yard like this? You must rest,” said one of the guard soldiers.
With a limp step, the queen moved towards the palm bars, she then restrained her body with one hand and said, “Cursed are you, I am still grieving about my husband.” The queen dropped herself into the sand.
“For the sake of my queen, are you okay?”
Several soldiers ran towards the queen. It seemed like the charade of the queen had managed to lure the attention of the other guards from the palace gates.
“What did you do to the queen?” said the other soldier started coming over.
“For the gods of the desert, we did nothing, the queen looked sick and fell.”
“Quick bring stretcher!” said the bodyguard commanding the ladies who peeked out from behind the windows of the palace.
While on the other hand, Welino and Satria managed to settle down. Through the East side they sneak behind the statues of Dewi Sri Sandhana, down the steps made of andesite rock towards the gate of kedaton.
“What is this planned for?” whispered Ruswara, his legs were not able to step so that Welino had to carry the body of Ruswara.
“Already Sir, Mpu Moro agreed to discuss it with the queen. Unfortunately he was too old to do this plan, so I was included.”
“How's Mahendra?”
“Mpu Moro gave sleeping potion in his old cup, he should have been asleep.”
“Mahendra, he's lying,” Ruswara grimacing.
“I trust you Mr.”
“I said it seriously! He lied, in front of father's body!” cetus Ruswara overflowed, as if the rest of his energy wanted to be spent to release anger.
“Mr Ruswara, if I have to testify, for my life I will support you, unfortunately the palace administrators prefer to continue the tradition rather than have to believe something they did not see.”
“Mahendra fucker..”
“It's up.”
They arrived in front of the Pancha residence. Only the sound of the desert wind could be heard that night. Pancha and the welcoming Hero find themselves dissolved in deep sadness.
“I'm grateful you're still alive Pancha,” greet Ruswara with my glare.
Ruswara can hear Welino biting her lips. There must have been a lot going on while I was in that goddamn prison...
They soon entered the room of Pancha's house, for some reason the simple room became a very comfortable place for Ruswara, after he had been confined for more than a week in the dungeon of his palace.
Wira brought a plate full of boiled rice and served it to Ruswara. He grabbed it quickly and ate it like a starving dog.
“I can't imagine how you're feeling right now Sir,” said Wira stunned to see that full plate vanish in minutes.
“I.. saw them die one by one.”
“And their families will take revenge in the future,” said Wira.
“This situation is getting chaotic,” Pancha now confesses. “Then he became king, more and more residents were injured, he used violence like a child who did not know the rules. Only time will answer the eruption of war in Tarlingga, after all we can no longer hide identity longer.”
“Did Mahendra suspect you Wira?” ruswara asked after downing a full jug of water, his stomach ached.
“We are grateful the cattle saved us from suspicion, as long as we can provide the livestock supply for the palace tribute, Mahendra does not suspect anything, but I can not hide it in a long time.”
Ruswara lowered her head, her veins twitching as if she wanted to punch the shadow of her brother's face that flashed across the room.
“About what we talked about yesterday, have you prepared?” Welino doesn't want to waste any longer.
“Already Sir, we have prepared as you requested.”
The hero leads Welino to a warehouse behind the house. Inside were two gray horses belonging to the Kingdom of Tarlingga and supplies of jugs of drink and dried tubers. Pancha meticulously made sure of the contents of the basket and tied it to the horse's back. Together with the Hero, he rode his horse, the horse neighing nervously.
“It looks like we will go far Welino?” ruwara asked as Welino led her up to one of the stallions. Welino followed the horse and covered Ruswara's body with a thick woven cloth. He wrapped it until his entire body was wrapped warmly, and left only half of his face.
“You should not be seen during the journey, and this blanket will protect your body from the cold of the long desert in front of us later,” Welino clutched tightly Ruswara and cupped his fingers on the reins, horse, gripping him tightly.
Their horses came out of the barn towards the village side streets away from the observation of the kedaton tower. The road was dark and dry, there were no shrubs and trees, only dry soil that hardened into cracks like rock veins. At first glance, the lights of the palace torches began to look dim as their horses galloped at a considerable distance.
Sadness approached Ruswara when the flash of the palace behind him began to look smaller and disappear. However the palace was where he grew up, thousands of memories floated in every corner of the palace. Now the place was not the same as before, the shadow of Mahendra's screams in the room was always ringing, making him not want to look at the palace anymore.
My house... One day I will return everything you took from me. I'll clear my name of your filthy lies, and I'll make sure your dirty tongue is uprooted until he tells you the truth...
“Currently, as long as Mr. Mahendra is king, Tarlingga is not a safe place for you,” Welino said as he rubbed the horse's neck, making sure he walked as quietly as possible. “The best option the queen has is to make you go as far away from Tarlingga as possible, and ask me to ensure your safety.”
“Lantas where we will go.”
“South, to Mayakarsa. You must meet the Dharma King, to explain what happened in the room, when the king left a will for you,” Welino looked up to the sky that looked cloudy thin, and the, the starlight seems to fade. “If indeed the palace is not a friendly place, we should look for allies outside the palace. But... There's something I have to do, about the deposit from Mpu Moro.”
“What is it?”
“Searching for information about Mustika Tarlingga.” spear
“Didn't that spear have long been lost since..”.
“Senjak Dewi Sri Sandhana wrath and forget about humans, but nevertheless the spear is still in the Kakahan Mountains area, Tuan,” Wira chimed.
“You know that story too?”
“Sure sir, we members of the full moon believe all things about the history of this continent,” replied Wira he lowered his head to avoid the dusty wind rush, he advanced his horse until he walked parallel to Welino's horse. “Master Wikrama believes that the forces that existed in the historical period were able to help us conquer King Mahardhika.”
Ruswara was stunned by Wira's reply, but when the desert air came with an extremely cold and piercing air, she fixed the blanket cloth of her body, tightening it tighter, with a niggling sound she said, “Is there any instructions?”
“There, that's why we accompanied your escape, Sir,” Pancha now replied in a hoarse voice, his white beard twitching, even though the man looked old, but he did not seem bothered by the cold weather. While looking at Ruswara he continued, “We know someone in the ruins of Sandhana Temple, he is someone who has been looking for the existence of a spear, I hope he is still alive.”
“Me and my father have not seen him for a long time, it has been almost five years we did not exchange messages because we were busy with livestock for the palace,” Wira added.
Ruswara nodded, tired of coming to him like a tidal wave. A few hours had passed, ever since he had been locked up in a dark prison, watching an innocent man die in front of him, and a nightmare slipped in his despair. Now he is in the middle of the Tarlingga desert, a desert that is a place that should be lush, green and beautiful. At least according to forgotten historical stories.
After making sure they were quite far from the palace, Welino was ready to pull the horse's harness, making the horse run fast. Their roaring sounds rumbled leaving behind a trail of flying dust fog.
“Can you sing a song? I miss singing songs,” pinta Ruswara, drowsiness began to attack him.
“If you want. I can sing tembang ‘Dewi Tarlingga’,” Welino softly:
The face of the Goddess is beautiful and charming,
On a rug of green grass,
He sat looking, smiling at astonished humans,
He considers our lives, he loves us,
The kids were also laughing.
Goddess Sandhana, that's what she calls it,
Mustika Tarlingga, that's her legacy,
With Tarlingga's spear, the,
Sandhana exterminates the evil devil, the,
The goddess bestowed the gift of life,
From nothing to exist, to,
From yellow to green,
He built the country for the children,
He's fixing the world for the future,
Close your eyes, call out his name, then,
Then whisper the word, the word that comforts him,
Just close your eyes and say it together,
Goddess Sandhana, thank you for giving birth to the land of Tarlingga.
Tarlinga..
Ruswara recalled that when the queen sang the song when she was five years old, she did not understand the goddess, he just enjoyed every note that floated in his drowsiness. A chat to make him fall asleep when the heat strikes. However, his father heard the chant and stormed in with a bang. “That song is just a bitch!” since then, the queen has refused to sing the song again.
Ruswara slid her palms again under the covers of her body, “while in prison, I thought I would die Welino.”
Welino shook her head, she was grateful Ruswara could not look her in the face, because at that moment her eyes began to tear with tears.
“You will not die, and you must not die,” her tears trickle down the night wind. “Until the time comes, only you can save the country.... Only you Sir... Only you..”
***