Nusantara Throne - Senandung Kebangkitan
Nirmala
The Naming Feast began with barbaric splendor in the palace's open courtyard. Mahardhika called the champions to march on the field of battle. They had come from different sides of the stands, and had clashed with each other until the palace soldiers were forced to separate them before the fight began.
Nirmala looked at the horrors of the champions under a seven-colored silk-covered stretcher. As Nirmala looked towards the sky, the silk looked so delicate that she wanted to continue looking at him without turning to the middle of the arena. The excitement of the day made Nirmala hold her breath, the heaviest bodies with the glare of savage eyes looking at her, the cheers of the crowd squealing at her ears, as if a humming to welcome death.
He watched the champions gather around the dancing ladies in the accompaniment of the songs from various gamelan beats. The petals of the flower are sown like colored sand, its luster fills the entire body of the champion.
Each champion moved forward towards the palanquin and bowed and then mentioned his name before the kings. Nirmala refused to listen to the names and forgot the name of the champion as quickly as the morning breeze.
There are only a few names of champions that he knows, one of which is Djayamantara. He was a horse trainer and warhorse tamer in the palace. Djayamantara once taught Nirmala to ride as a child, unfortunately Mpu Lodrok forbade riding when Nirmala was a teenager. Although Djayamantara acts as a steward of horses, but his fighting ability deserves to be juxtaposed with the commanders of the archipelago. Djayamantara also rejected the offer to become a commander because he preferred to take care of horses.
The names continued to be heard until at the turn of entering the thirtyth last swordsman, Nirmala's eyes were stunned. The appearance of the last champion quite caught his attention. The weight of his body is different from other champions, the body is not as prominent as other champions. The look on her face was like a fog that held a mystery, Nirmala guessed her age was a little older than her. The jawbone's skin color was brownish on fire and long hair was draped all the way to the back. In the center of his chest was carved a scratch wound that formed a protruding streak all the way to his stomach. Nirmala guessed it was a cut.
Nirmala secretly felt pity, why did young men as young and handsome as he had to be willing to risk his life for the satisfaction of his father. He could choose to become a warrior with more decent honor, may the gods give him good luck over injustice, he whispered sadly.
The young man looked down at the tribune of King Mahardhika, with a voice not too loud he spoke, “Wikrama, from the West. Ready to serve and win the offering tournament, may the god of war bless.”
The warriors behind him laughed smugly. From the front, Wikrama heard the champions whispering behind him, one of them named Rolakwe. He was a hired soldier who paid the rulers of the city of slavery.
“You heard what he said? Win.”
“The body is like a mouse, I can break its neck in one second, let's see if the talk is as big as its guts.”
Wikrama chose to shut up and retreat back into line.
King Mahardika stood up, her dark colored hair fluttering as if every strand of metal was alive. With a loud call, he ordered the gong holder to start the fight immediately. The sound of gongs buzzed loudly throughout the palace courtyard, the fleeting of merbah birds flying like black dust in the sky. The audience began to cheer, whistle and shout passionately in support of the chosen champion.
The fighting tournament lasted all day and continued until dusk. The arena field turned into clumps of messy land. From the start of the tournament, three champions have been uprooted with elbow wounds on the ribs, another one was killed by a crushing blow to the heart. Many times Nirmala cried out as blood splashed on the ground arena, while Sri Sekar next to him shouted for the champions of the South who were strong.
The most terrible moment occurred when the duel of the great champion faced Wikrama. The champion looked strong, sluggish, his body muscles were like stones. With a fist as big as a clap, he almost broke the head of Wikrama. After Wikrama avoids another champion in the middle of the arena. He darted like a gazelle, jumped over the dead bodies of fallen champions and ambushed the head of the great champion.
One hard twisting motion was enough to break his neck. The handsome champion was killed and fell thumping on two champions who were fighting. His death made other champions reluctant to Wikrama, but on the other hand some consider Wikrama a worthy opponent.
Until the dusk beam flooded the fighting arena, the remaining fighters were only three people. Wikrama, Djayamantara, and Rolakwe. They were both nimble opponents, her body as supple as a cat with a pale, tapered face. They are fighters who do not want Wikrama to be underestimated in the arena.
Above the puddles and clumps of red sand, Wikrama glanced at the two champions on alert. They were both trained like him, he had to be careful and wait for an opportunity to attack. As Wikrama winked, Djayamantara and Rolakwe lunged with their feet, toward Wikrama's ribs.
Realizing he was surrounded, Wikrama dropped down and caught Rolakwe's foot with both hands and slammed Rolakwe's body until Rolakwe's head hit the ground with a loud crackling sound that made the audience gasp. Rolakwe's face shattered and his blood flowed in a slow throb, the longer it stopped.
The last duel left a nervous feeling on Djayamantara's face, they circled each other and looked sharply. Then the sun disappeared behind the clouds, until the flash vanished. The bodies of the two were adorned with silver moonlight embroidery on the sand that was frozen by blood.
“What's the time?” whispered Wikrama, his voice swallowed by the cheers of the audience.
“Not yet, we need to stall for longer,” said Djayamantara.
“I'm sorry Djayamamtara, you've done so far.”
“No apology for a man's decision, this must be done.”
“But..”.
“Don't draw too much attention, Mr. Wikrama.”
The audience was disappointed at Wikrama, the nobles stood up and and pelted the last two champions with all kinds of offerings and insults. Disappointed nobles awaited the victor, but none of them attacked.
Instantly the Arena became violent, behind the line of spectators there appeared a group of people wearing face coverings slashing at the royal nobles who were running around.
“Infuser! Full moon troops from the North!” sahut the soldier's guard.
King Mahadhika stood up and drove three enemies who brandished rusty dagger towards their stands. Several times the keris hit the king, but his skin was not scratched in the slightest. The god's blood flowing through his veins made the king's skin as hard as a jewel. King Mahardhika responded with one arm, cutting off the head of the intruder and throwing their bodies into the crowd.
“Bawa Nirmala, Sekar and the queen to the palace! Gate meeting lock, this attack is very embarrassing for the name of the kingdom!” said roaring.
“I will not stay in the palace!” exclaimed Sri Sekar, he refused as the palace soldiers were about to accompany him. Sekar then pulled out the spear that was stuck in the body of the dead noble and fought in the crowd.
King Mahardhika could do nothing. He was preoccupied by ten full moon warriors who circled around him like a pack of stray dogs. “By the name of the gods, you guys have soiled this celebration.”
“You're a dirty king of Mahardhika, your dynasty will end because of Dotulong's determination never to die, only you will die!” threaten one of the full moon warriors.
Nirmala, running down through the streets of those who fought while walking down. He was very scared and felt he was going to die right then and there. His legs were as I thought as if he had become very yearned for his room.
In the blink of an eye, the full moon swordsman managed to topple one of the Nusantara soldiers who escorted Nirmala and the Queen with a dagger stab in the neck. Queen Ken Dara is screaming hysterically, “Do not hurt us!”
Wikrama and Djayamantara appear in time to dispel the swordsman.
“God bless you, the king will reward you,” said the soldier Nusantara who is still busy dispelling arrows with wooden boards.
“It would be very dangerous to let the queen and Princess walk together, I will accompany Princess Nirmala around the West side to the palace door, you will take the Queen with the other bodyguards. Princess Nirmala's safety is paramount,” Wikrama told Djayamantara. Djayamantara then nodded and he whispered to Wikrama. Faintly Nirmala peered behind the palm covering her head while bowed down.
Good luck, Mr. Wikrama.
The incident happened so fast that Nirmala did not remember every step. He had passed through the dead bodies many times. His ears rained down with the sound of roaring screams and terrible screams. The sky turned blood red. His eyes were fireflies and Nirmala vomited. He started walking short, and Nirmala fainted.
He fell in the arms of Wikrama. Wikrama carefully carried Nirmala on her shoulders past the stone fence on the West side and began to occupy the battlefield. Until finally the guard who was watching saw them then galloped to approach Wikrama.
With a deep breath, the soldier said, “Princess Nirmala is safe, you can drop her down here and join the king in the main courtyard. All your efforts will be the highest honor of the royal family.”
“The honor I sought was much greater,” the sentence came to a halt as fast as lightning, Wikrama then pierced the throat of the soldier with a clenched fist. Dark red blood poured out from the hole in the middle of the soldier's neck. The soldier did not get a chance to shout, He immediately collapsed and did not breathe anymore.
Behind the thickets of the Palace grounds, Wyat had been waiting for Wikrama, with a short whistling gesture. Wikrama darted towards the lush bushes under the big bramastana tree. Wyat used a face covering similar to that of a full moon warrior. Her eyelids were pointed and her eyebrows thick, there was a scarf tied to her firm forehead.
“Your horse has been waiting outside Mr. Wikrama,” he said nervously, while looking at Nirmala's body on the shoulders of Wikrama. “Is the Princess okay?”
“He's fine, it's just that all of our members are... Djayamantara..”.
“Don't talk like that Sir, they're ready for today's plan. For fifteen years we waited. Their deaths are not in vain, they will fall with pride for the honor of the warrior of the full moon.”
“I hope true.”
The atmosphere of the night again subsided away from the western courtyard of the palace, silence returned to the air accompanied by the figures of Wikrama, Wyat and Nirmala who disappeared behind the bushes and trees.
***