Nusantara Throne - Senandung Kebangkitan
Nirmala

They had traveled for hours after leaving the village of Setu Hejo. To outwit the cavalry patrols of the archipelago, Wikrama took a detour. They avoided the muddy marshes, following the foothills of the Rapani Mountains. Behind him, the mountain array looked shrinking like green serrations. However, the side of its mountains formed sturdy brownish and gray shades. Nirmala was flabbergasted staring at the natural streaks of the mountains like the veins of a cliff. Wikrama explains that the mountain is dominated by high-quality granite rocks.

The grass that grows in the rock crevices gives the impression of exotic and magnificent. They arrived at a slope and had to slow down the pace of the horse. The road was winding until they had to pass through the hill again on the sides of the foot of Mount Rapani. Under certain conditions, not infrequently also they have to climb the cliff, until finally they arrive at a vast savanna stretches.

            “In front there stands kedaton Temaram,” tone voice Wikrama mixed sadly. “More precisely the ruins of Kedaton Temaram.”

            Nirmala was wide-eyed, Nirmala could see some of the gray stone structures among the wild trees. The tall towers appear to have been destroyed with burning black marks. The entrance of the kedaton was overgrown with thickets that drowned roads and rocky steps. Some of the statues stood tilted, buried in the ground, some were cracked and destroyed, leaving the face of half a tiger.

          In fact, Nirmala can judge that the buildings are graceful and memorable lighter than the buildings in the Nusantara Palace. However, the difference is that the roofs are in the form of an elongated dome with carvings and dashing patterns. Instantly Nirmala imagined how the architecture of the kedaton was standing majestically before the destruction consumed the beauty of this kedaton. The splendor seemed to be swallowed by time, becoming a ruin that left a mystical impression.

            The warriors came down from the horses, trying to carve and cut down all kinds of barriers to the entrance of their horses. Almost the entire building has been destroyed, some of which are even worse. The damage was spread to the side of the kedaton walls.

            “Look at the splendor of the remnants of the glory of Temaram,” said Wikrama, “Princess Nirmala, before the war of the gods erupted, said Wikrama, Princess Nirmala, before the war of the gods erupted, hundreds of children play happily through the path we are walking now. Meat and fruit sellers explore their wares every morning and young people eat good food in the gardens of kedaton.”

            “This feels sad,” Nirmala said as she continued to hold her face towards the destroyed buildings.

            “When Dotulong and my lovers were killed, those who settled here had to feel the final pain of the king's defeat against King Mahardhika.”

            Anxiously, Nirmala imagined the life of the kedaton first. What memories have been there? During this time he never knew the events that occurred outside the walls of the Nusantara Palace. All the historical evidence was never told to him.

            Nirmala's grief dissolves as yellowing twilight floods the ruins of the kedaton as it covers the sad stories, creating a very moody mood.

            Wikrama as if sorry, “I have no intention of hurting your heart Mr. Princess.”

            “Things passed have happened, now I see them as if they were crying before me Wikrama, the wound of my heart is not as painful as the souls of those who have died.”

Near the edge of the abandoned city, Nirmala saw standing tombs made of rocky pusara, hundreds in number. The sight made her grieve, but she was unable to avert her gaze.

“Year after year, distant relatives came here, they planted the navel stone as a form of their last memories. You'll read their names in the pallawa scratches on the navel's Mr. Princess.”

Their horses continued to tread through dozens of pusara that stood like statues of soldiers. Faintly a bramastana tree stood towering into the sky at the North of the tomb. The tree was taller and bigger than the bramastana tree Nirmala had seen in her lifetime.

The tangle of its roots - its bent roots penetrated out from its stem layered with dark green moss, long undulating and vanished as it penetrated the moist soil below. The canopy stretched out to form a convex that almost covered the orange rays of twilight. Squirrels and squirrels were jumping around the ancient branch, seeing the arrival of aliens. Between the braid of the roots stood an elongated rectangular stone inscription with a sloping tip.

“In the inscription the names of fighters and warriors of Temaram are engraved.”

Wikrama tethered his horse not far from the root of the bramastana tree which was curled stiff like a big snake. Together they walked towards a lunar footprint inscription. Until then, Nirmala was stunned, she really did not understand how big the battle was, how many lives were uprooted, or how much body lay.

Rows of names of fighters, warriors, warriors even the name of the king is engraved wrenching in the letters of the palawa. This scene renewed his gaze on the father, and once again Nirmala felt fragile and regretful.

“Princess Nirmala do you know why we have to travel so far to deliver the ashes of our warriors?”

Wikrama smiled, her long black hair fluttering in a gentle breeze, as if the tree was breathing before them. Nirmala can feel the coolness, whether it's been how long Wikrama has not smiled so loosely on him since their success beat Ahool.

When Wyat handed over a red jug filled with gray swordsmen who had fallen. The warriors behind him lined up humming the divinations of the liberator.

Far, far away, the moon came to emit light

Far, far away, the moon goes dim

In the mountains covered in silver light

Born the son of the bearer of the mind

As fast as the storm he was tormented

As long as the rice yellows he grows

            The tempo of the drums increased, and the humming of the throngs began to echo on the ceiling of the bramastana canopy.

The full moon came in the sky

The sons of the gods ran

The light flooded the feet

Without a shadow they drove

That's where they come in

There they went

Where did this war come from?

Without the sound of the belly talking

Let's hang the king in front of the gods

Hang it!

Hang it!

            The setting sun slowly began to disappear behind the horizon line. The sky instantly changed the color of the paint tub that was decorated in the calm water surface. The figure of the full moon replaced the sun, emitting a fiery silvery light.

            The leaves of the bramastama resounded, not living, but blowing in the night wind. Nirmala could feel another life there, as if the souls of those who had not spoken around her in a whisper. Instantly the leaves of the bramastana seemed to light up like points of stars in the distance. Moonlight? Or does he really live to say something? Nirmala asked herself while fascinated by the events before her.

            With a flurry of movement, Wikrama unclogged his pitcher. He raised his forehead and let the wind sweep over the contents of the jug until their ashes flew free. The swordsman's grey swirls follow the wind's pace towards the ancient crevices of the branches until they are scattered on the lush canopy of the canopy.

The beauty is not finished. Nirmala was so amazed when she saw fireflies flitting out of the bark of the brasmatana tree, accompanying the departure of the ashes of the warriors. The light was like a ball that shrank and swelled like a heartbeat, they gently swirled inundating the tree canopy. The light gathered more and more full and bright. It was as if Nirmala was in the middle of a magnificent galaxy.

            “Princess Nirmala,” Wikrama breaks Nirmala's daydreams. “Formerly, a magical tree grew in this land. When the full moon comes to welcome the night, the tree shines. Gradually the first people began to love the tree, they took care of it and prayed to the god while taking shelter. People began to build a stopover, the stopover grew into a settlement, even the ancestors of King Dotulong built his kingdom around this ancient bramastana. Until the years change, the tree never ceases to deliver amazing wonders.”

            “This is so beautiful Wikrama,” Nirmala shed tears.

            “We believe this tree is a seed that falls from kahyangan, and we hope that their souls who are not will dwell in this tree until we are all gathered together again in a shadow in eternity.”

            Nirmala did not respond to Wikrama's words, she remained in place, her neck was hollow and her back was trembling. He felt very small, and fragile. The world before him was vast full of unanswered mysteries. Nirmala regretted the years she had to be confined to a magnificent palace without ever seeing a firefly as beautiful as that.

            Gratitude emanates from Nirmala. Unknowingly, Wikrama's hand held it softly. Nirmala's cheeks blushed, but she pretended to be indifferent even though her heart was pounding. Together they walked around an ancient bramastana tree that echoed the chatter and the voices of the warriors behind it.

Under the thousands of fireflies light that began to dim one by one. Wikrama looked at Nirmala, she could hear Nirmala's nervous sigh. Although he had been with Nirmala for a long time, Wikrama did not always admire the beauty of Nirmala, Nirmala's soft and pale neck, and her eyelashes were covered with oil, causing her eyelashes to be shiny and pliable. The bronze sheen of her eyeballs was like a jewel wet with rain.

At first Nirmala did not return Wikrama's gaze, but rather walked away from the bramastana tree, facing the savanna in the North with mountain peaks that seemed far and small.

At the place where Wikrama felt sorry for what he did to Nirmala, his feelings seemed to be hit by guilt which he considered a ridiculous action.

            “I want to apologize.”

            “For?” Nirmala did not frown or show surprise.

            “I think, by ignoring you, I can avoid guilt, but instead I'm getting drowned in regret.”

            “So you realized it.”

            Wikrama sighed resignedly, “Do you hate me for that?”

            Nirmala exhaled, she gave a small smile, “Unfortunately no, I've gotten used to your childish nature o great warrior of the full moon.”

            Wikrama laughs to hear it, “This is how we are, living from the shadows and merta makes our minds difficult to grow.”

            “But you shouldn't avoid me.”

            “That night, when the arrow fell and hit your body, I felt pain and shame,” Wikrama said as he marched towards the giant trunk of the bramastana, which was, touching the hard bark of the tree, imagining it was his own body. “You will never understand what it's like to be a man who regrets the decisions he's made. For what? Live and die? Self-worth? Sacrifice?”

            Nirmala is still standing behind her, watching the dim light that is disappearing, “But I am really happy to be able to do it for Naya, also for the village.”

            “No way to make your body as our wall, Princess Nirmala,” she said. “You can protect us in other ways and it's my job to think about it. Verily I do not deserve to lead this army.”

            “Krama, you are a kind man, you care a lot, but I see the indecision in you. If you really want to save them, how are you going to deal with my father with that concern?”

            Wikrama shook his head, “I don't know. There's another wish growing in my heart, and I don't want the full moon to know it.”

            In anxiety, Nirmala asked, “What is that desire?”

            “I...”

            Not long after the drumbeat sounded from the South side whose thump froze Nirmala's body. Wikrama turned around, he then clasped Nirmala's hand again to the crowd of warriors in the place of the stone pillars.

The figures of rows of black horses lined up to form a row of fence in the color of soot, lathes scattering from hiding in the savanna as the ground rumbled. The horsemen advanced with the same sound of accompaniment, shouting the gods' mottoes. Their bronze sun banners fluttered in the savannah wind.

“Nusantara soldiers arrive Young master!” shouted Wyat, as the swordsman scattered on his horse.

            “They are the special forces of the highest soldiers of the archipelago,” said Wikrama, he knows exactly how to ride the trained forces of the archipelago.

            “Thirty versus a hundred, what do you think Young master?” wyat said next to him, while recalculating the rows of Nusantara warrior horses.

            “The spear with a keris, a difference that worries me enough, but a full moon warrior knows no word of retreat. When the full moon is perfectly rounded, the gods will accompany our steps to slaughter them.”

            “What do we attack now?” Wyat asked, his voice sounded hoarse.

Together they saw Sekar advancing alone with a black stallion. The bronze spear along almost twice his body was grasped by him vigilantly, appearing heavy, sharp and graceful. It was as if it was impossible for a fifteen year old girl to hold it with one hand.

“Myrama, I have heard and seen for myself your abominations, your cunning, and all that you did on the holy day of Nirmala's naming at my father's palace. Release my brother Sri Nirmala and the Nusantara warriors will grant you forgiveness and let you live. Just you.”

“Daughter of Mahardhika, you are young, but your soul has been poisoned by Mahardhika's ambition. Those words did not deserve to come out of a slaughter daughter,” Wikrama retorted defiantly.

“Dirty rebels, I regret knowing that father wants you alive. Tonight, in this place, your followers will be buried with the opponents of the father who preceded you!”

“Life or death is only decided from your weapon Sri Sekar, not your mouth,” Wikrama scoffs, making the girl swordsman boil.

Without saying any more As he turned his horse, the wrathful whimper turned his face into that of a man. He beckoned the horse soldiers to attack. The horsemen flowed forward on the glittering savanna grass reflecting the moonlight. Row after row of soldiers lined up crashing with a terrifying roar.

They attacked the front side of the swordsman, the two armies colliding with each other accompanied by an ear-splitting roar. The spear collides with the keris, the warriors work around it with the defense of brajamusti studies. With agile movements they jumped over the horses of Nusantara soldiers, thrusting his dagger right on the neck of the soldiers of the archipelago.

The soldiers of the archipelago were unaware of the agile acrobatic attacks. Almost immediately they were caught off guard and confused, the ranks then scattered away avoiding the next short jump.

Wikrama refrained from leading the battle on the front lines, because then they would have an open weakness. After disarming one of the spears of the Nusantara warriors, Wikrama punched him through the gullet of the soldier, dark red blood spurting from the neck.

“You okay?”

“I was afraid, I could not see them die one by one,” replied Nirmala reluctantly staring at the war and hiding her face behind the back of Wikrama.

The ease with which the full moon warriors slaughtered the Nusantara warriors caused Sekar to be stunned. The soldiers who used heavy kawaca lost agilely to the full moon soldiers who were bare-chested. Instead of being a weakness, it was precisely the warriors who looked increasingly ferocious. Though fascinated by their skills. The death of the Nusantara warrior sickened him. But there's no time to think about it.

“Look at you, riding and fighting like a man, how your husband will look like Sekar,” the lips of a warrior who rode towards him.

“I don't need a man to take care of me, I'm not a spoiled Nirmala,” she replied in wrath.

The clang between the metals sounded shrill, with an equally nimble movement, Sekar avoided the swordsman's stab. Making the swordsman think twice about disarming the spear Sekar. Then from the right another swordsman jumped off his horse while riding. It swiftly pulled the horse's bridle to the right to deceive, and forced him to use a long spear to stab the swordsman in mid-air. Grinning grimly, Sekar pulled out the spear, it did not take long for the swordsman to groan, the second stab leaving the swordsman motionless.

“Find Wikrama, he's with Nirmala, take them both!” his shout reigned, while being preoccupied with the other two warriors who surrounded him.

            On the other hand, Wikrama realized ten warriors were falling on the front lines. Not half our numbers have been killed yet and we have slaughtered almost half of them.

            For more than an hour, Wikrama continued to slaughter, slash and stab the weapons at the soldiers. But the enemy is like a flood. That number confuses Wikrama. Will the victory come? He glanced at the anxious swordsman who was starting to get exhausted. The smell of blood that was like iron filled the air, and the curtains of the sky turned cloudy. Above their heads vultures fly in wait for food.

Twice Wikrama advanced and twice Wikrama massacred almost twenty soldiers. It was inconceivable how thick the blood of the warrior flooded his body and Nirmala sobbed on his back. Nirmala's sigh was warm, Wikrama felt bitter to attack, she did not want to lose Nirmala.

            Wikrama raided a group of soldiers carrying the banner of war, he darted from one soldier to another, fending off spears and thrusting dagger like a deadly lightning bolt. Within five minutes he managed to subvert the soldier.

            Wyat's condition shook Wikrama, five soldiers surrounded him like a herd of wild animals. Despite being cornered Wyat gurgled to avoid the lance from the soldiers, while jumping one horse after another to break the rider's pulse. However, the attack dulled his instincts, and one of the soldiers managed to sink a spear slicing his waist. Wyat was still able to hold him back, he switched leaps on the horse in the assailant.  Unfortunately, the jump was not very smooth. On the fourth horse, a bronze spear throw Sekar right through his right thigh. Wyat screamed as soon as he fell onto the grassy ground.

“Wyat!” raung Wikrama spurred his horse to hit the soldiers of the archipelago who confronted.

“I admit you are strong warriors, even you can urge my father's soldiers to this extent,” Sekar said as his horse arrived next to Wyat. “But it's all over.”

He sekar pulled out the spear that stuck in Wyat's thigh and poured it into Wyat's heart. The wild shower of Wyat's blood poured out like a spring. In a slow pulse, Wyat's breathing faltered and stopped.

The incident lowered the spirits of the remaining warriors, they fought reluctantly and all his gaze was shifted to Wyat's body. While the Nusantara warriors cheered the greatness of Sri Sekar conquered the deputy leader of the full moon.

“Busty!” Wikrama went down his horse and ran down the black horses. His hand felt numb due to the keris handle that felt heavier. Dozens of attacks came raining down on his body, no matter how many soldiers had fallen until he almost reached Sri Sekar.

“I am really curious about your greatness Wikrama,” Sri Sekar was stunned to see the tantrum of Wikrama.

Wikrama's initially flat expression in a short time turned into hatred. While dancing forward, the two guns clashed to splash red sparks as they clinked. At the same time Sri Sekar charmingly twists the hilt of his bronze spear, to avoid Wikrama's lightning attack.

During their fight, Sri Sekar said loudly, “I grew up with the strong and powerful commanders, even though the blood of the gods did not flow in my body, I trained her in such a way as to prove to father that I am not a failed princess!”

“You did fail, forever you will not match the beauty of the heart of Nirmala, forever you will not match the humility of Nirmala, even the gods do not want to lower their gifts to you Sekar!”

Sri Sekar gritted his teeth. He could not accept the humiliation of a dissident rebel. He was furious then swung his bronze spear as fast as a twig swing. Wikrama lowered his head and jumped back. The attack would have killed him had he been late avoiding the last second.

“Gruesome fifteen-year-old girl,” Wikrama praises while panting.

Wikrama could see Sekar sneering condescendingly. It came to Wikrama's mind to solve one attack, but he found it very difficult to see an opportunity. Sadness grew as the surrounding warriors fell, leaving only ten people, even they were tired of fighting back.

Is this gonna end...

The white horse that Nirmala was now holding arrived, drawing attention from all the troops. He came down his white horse running over, and stood breaking the distance between Sekar and Wikrama, “Once, this battle, please.”

“Soide Nirmala!”

A grim look was on Nirmala's face. “I will return to the palace, please stop this war, Sekar.”

“What's Nirmala? You're compassionate to your captors?”

“For the sake of father's honor, Sri Sekar, please. They are already helpless, if your goal is to take me, bring me back, they have lost.”

“Then we release them? Is that what you want?” tukas Sri Sekar seems unhappy.

            “You can grant him forgiveness my sister, they took care of me like my father took care of me,” Nirmala held back her tears. “I believe you're a wise girl.”

            Sri Sekar frowned, he turned to look at “Don't you feel insulted by your hostage request, Wikrama?”

            “Mr Princess, I don't..,”

     “Silence...Wikrama, that's enough.”

            Several soldiers ambushed and disarmed the Wikrama's keris, kicking him until he fell to his knees. Two warriors locked his arms. In a rough way one soldier grabbed his long hair until his face looked up to the sky.

            “You are indeed flabby Nirmala, I understand why my father is so afraid of losing you, he is afraid that you tarnish the name of the Nusantara Kingdom.”

             “I will grant forgiveness on condition,” Sekar said. “Wikrama you acknowledge your defeat and acknowledge King Mahardhika as ruler.”

            In a voice as if suffocating Wikrama replied, “I will never admit it.”

            “Wikrama, I beg you, for your sake, for my sake,” Nirmala asks, tears break from both eyes of her dragon. “I can no longer see them fall.”

            Sri Sekar seems to enjoy the powerlessness of Wikrama.

            A stranglehold of despair is spreading through Wikrama's minds. What am I supposed to defend now? Self-esteem or the lives of the full moon brothers? If I were the King of Dotulong, what would he say.

In the narrow corner of her eyes she saw Nirmala, the girl never lost her beauty, at that very second Wikrama seemed to want to always be beside her, listen to her and obey all that Nirmala pinta. He became weak, and did not want to lose Nirmala.

            “I lost, I admit my defeat,” he said in a soft voice.

            The warriors frowned in disappointment, shouting the oaths of the full moon brothers and cursing.

            She grinned, though she was not satisfied with the answer. He was fed up with the smell of blood and corpses around him, and he ordered the soldiers to tie the arms and legs of Wikrama with chains and raise them to the black horse Sekar.

            “Princess Sekar, how about other warriors?”

            As he rode his horse Sekar thought for a moment, observing the warriors in the arms of the soldiers, he snorted in disgust.

            “Kill.”

            “No! How about your promise Sekar!” Nirmala said in a loud voice.

            “I didn't promise anything, Nirmala,” she looked at Nirmala's face, sunken on her cheek making her face look like a man of responsibility. “I admit your beauty makes it weaker than I imagined, at least it makes my job easier. Didn't you notice? This is our way of Nirmala, and that is the result received for the rebels the glory of our father.”

            The incident passed briefly, the spears unsheathed the bodies of the remaining warriors, leaving screams and screams echoing, not the screams of pain that were thrown but the oath of the full moon brother. Their voice slowly disappeared into the silence of the night. On board Sekar's horse, Wikrama fell silent, his eyes blank.

            Darkness and emptiness, black fog covered the world, as the lights of the night sky dimmed.

Missing. Slender. He was alone, trapped in the abyss of his heart.

***