The Angkara Murka
The Book of Tri Deshi the Eighteenth Chapter
For Irawan, a clumsy nineteen-year-old carrying a long machete beside his four colleagues, the guard turn tonight became the most gripping patrol. How not, five people have died horribly in this village. Indeed the word 'killed' seems to be the most suitable to be used for the death of residents with very alarming conditions and also unnatural it.
The five residents died only two days later, during which they had previously vomited, had severe body itching and broke pus. Three residents floundered on a rice field, two more on the porch of their own home, one of the dead was the village chief.
"Your name is Bambang Irawan son of Raden Arjuna who is valiant and courageous. I'm not ashamed to have a name like that, just keep a night like this afraid" said Lutfi, a close friend who is two years older.
"It was my father's fault for naming me. After all, this is a special patrol, why are the four of us on guard tonight? It should be a whole village," he said.
Lutfi corrected the position of the sheath tied around his waist. In the holster he also slipped a short cleaver with a wooden handle of axle, "We five are enough. People have been warned of this disaster. They all stood guard in their homes. This is even better than all the men flocking out of the house to keep the village from the unclear."
A few years ago, the village of Kaliabang also had an extraordinary disaster. Some people were killed with witchcraft from the village next door, Obong village. Obong Village people are known to be very familiar with black magic and practice it to benefit themselves, both in terms of wealth, age and for the sake of black magic itself.
In addition, hundreds of years before, there had been an extraordinary massacre committed by robbers and begal. The bodies and blood of the victims were floating in the Pratama river that flowed from the mountain, continuing down to the village below, Obong village. The village was named Kaliabang, meaning red river, by blood.
This unusual event then reappeared after a long time. People have been feeling something is wrong in the village since last month. Many frogs died in the fields, hundreds in number. Eleven paddy snakes were also found dead in the moor. Many rice plants have rotted before they develop. The peak, the death of residents with a sudden, even though it does not show certain characteristics or symptoms before. The first village chief to show his suspicion also died suddenly three days after he conveyed his suspicions to the village elders and figures.
Tonight, Irawan and Lutfi under the leadership of Pakde Narto along with two other young men aged twenty; Marwan and Handoko, get a night vigil. Their job is to guard the village from all suspicious things. Strangers, phenomena even if possible, subtle creatures.
Pakde Narto is forty-four years old, although his stomach is slightly distended, but has a clay body muscles and very agile movements. He is a silat teacher of children and village teenagers. So no wonder he was asked to lead four young men, one of whom looked very daunted.
"You don't have to worry so much, Irawan. Your job is to pay attention to anything suspicious and report to me, or run to the village hall, relay it to the elders who are staying there" Pakde Narto said.
...ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ...
"We have to go through this grave, huh, Pakde?" Marwan.
"Well, didn't you guys just mock Irawan because he was the one you thought you were most afraid of? How are you afraid too?"
"Well, who says I'm afraid, sirde? I'm just asking" Marwan reasoned.
The boss just smiled. Everyone secretly understands that patching tonight might be a big mistake. Irawan is not the only one who is the coward, only he is the most honest.
But Pakde Narto is not a random person. He is respected, obviously not without reason. A nineteenth-century English-style sword hung on his waist. The long sword with a finger protector is reportedly the former property of a Sepoy soldier who attacked the Yogyakarta palace in the year one thousand eight hundred and twelve, more than two hundred years ago. Reportedly, the sword has magical powers that can slash people with invulnerability. The sword could even injure the jinn and other supernatural beings. So, in a sense, the four young men felt safe.
Pakde Narto has been kissing unpleasant gelagat in his village. Two nights in a row in the woods behind his house, a crow rang out in the middle of the night. The stench made his wife restless and unable to sleep peacefully. Wati, his twenty-six-year-old third wife, had just fallen asleep. Her jarit tertabak showed a clean white skin. But Pakde Narto was not looking to make love. Besides he also pity his young wife because he had just been able to fall asleep, he was also curious about the stench of the damned that disturbed him. Now, he's the one who can't sleep.
The air tonight is also hot, sultry, like a suburb of hell, he thought. Surely the walls of hell crack and some bastard out into the world. He just went bare-chested so his sumuk. Pakde Narto tightened his scabbard and took out a long sword attached to the wall of his room. The sword is the legacy of his father and grandfather. A lucky sword that made his life full of luck, safety and security. From childhood he loved silat and beladiri. His family is indeed a family of fighters who supposedly for hundreds of years guarded the village of Kaliabang from robbers and begal, as well as the bad people who want to harm the village and all kinds of supernatural forces that threaten.
That was why he became a highly respected person in the village. Thanks to his family's big name, he was given the responsibility of guarding the village, becoming a silat coach for the village's children and youth. Although not wealthy, he has a steady job and income. He was able to have and finance three wives. Even if all goes well according to his plan, he will propose another twenty-year-old girl named Yani as a complement to his fourth wife next year. The woman could not refuse her proposal, not because forced or forced, but like this, Pakde Narto still has a charm that radiates from his status and authority.
Pakde Narto smiled, took a deep breath, felt happy and proud of all the good things that happened to him during his life until the age of four heads. He looked into the darkness of the night and suddenly smelled the stench back. Wrinkled forehead. He held his sword tightly.