THE POWER OF ANCIENTS, Chapter Twelve
Twenty bone-weary Merbabu highlanders clung to the manes of their racing mounts. The tense evening air reeked of imminent battle, the question of “when” and “where” burning in everyone’s minds. Moving among the darkest shadows, formless masses hounded after the villagers, oozing along the valley floor like molten rock. Three days of arduous terrain and danger had taken its toll, gnawing at the stamina of master and steed. But the famous keladuk of the Central Yavad Mountains had thus far prevented enemy arrows from taking the life of a single rider.
Aditya and Sigit, two reckless lads barely sixteen, urged their steeds on, hugging the flanks of the keladuk ridden by their village chief. They charged whenever their leader charged and were the last to retreat behind him.
Then, the Merbabu villagers began the long ascent to the Dieng Plateau, trotting or walking their keladuk whenever they had created enough distance between them and their foes. But the mysterious raiders were relentless. All through the clear, moonlit night, the riders labored through deep ravines and swells, sometimes fording muddy rivers. The threat of ambushes lurked behind each bend in the trail.
Hours later, tiny lights appeared in the distant heights. Cahyo, the Merbabu village chief, shouted encouragement to his comrades. Heads rose in disbelief. Aditya feared the worst yet also hoped against hope that their nightmare might end in their favor.
“We’re going to make it,” he cheered, raising a fist of triumph.
But even as the boy shouted, raiders spilled over the edge of the ravine, the sound of their boots echoing along the rocky terrain. Cries of grief and anger rose from the villagers. Defiant to the core, Cahyo swung up the northern flank and raised his weapon. His bowstring sang, and the first creature toppled. Before he could summon or forbid, Aditya and Sigit were at his side. Five more pursuers fell. But the enemies along the ravine’s northern and southern flanks flowed down the slopes behind them and converged. A salvo of arrows showered the villagers in response, impaling the ground perilously close.
“We won’t make it without risking something,” Cahyo shouted to the boys, glancing over his shoulder at the narrowing gap between them and their pursuers. His mount fell back. The other travelers rallied, too, launching another round of arrows. More hunters fell. Two of the Merbabu envoys slumped in their saddles, injured. The attackers surged forward, their pounding boots a thunderous roar. Cahyo sounded the horn to retreat. The keladuk frothed as they raced up the final slopes, enemies at their heels.
More lights ahead. Anticipation intensified.
Hidden in tall grasses under the starless night, armed farmers from the Dieng Plateau awaited the overdue delegation from Mount Merbabu. Faint rumblings from below spurred feverish communication through their chain of command. Messengers rushed for reinforcements while the vanguard stole into the darkness.
Louder and louder, keladuk hooves pounded. Cries of defiance trickled through the breezeless air. Crossbows taut and swords drawn, Dieng’s defenders opened their lines for the Merbabu envoys. As Aditya’s keladuk galloped past—the final steed, a mighty horn blasted. Fighters gushed from foxholes, raining arrows and closing ranks. Quicker than Dieng bows could be refitted, the hunters recognized the trap and spun around, fleeing into the black night. Every Dieng soldier stopped short. Drawing deep breaths, they raised their arms and shouted cries of victory.
When the cheering died down, they lit dozens of torches and went to investigate. Sigit was at the forefront. Astonishment spread from face to face.
“They didn’t leave a single body behind,” the boy puzzled.
* * * * *
Uncountable stars lit the heavens, and cool evening breezes descended into the plateau the following evening. A second celestial body—like another moon—appeared in the sky next to Bulan, drawing Aditya and Sigit’s curious gaze as they huddled among the crowd. Their eyes darted between the tribal villagers around them and the strange phenomenon, wondering what was happening.
Seated on dusty stone benches in the town center, all twenty-eight chiefs from the Central Yavad mountains stared into a roaring bonfire, their eyes sparkling as flames licked along knotted logs.
“Fear has kept us holed up in our villages,” admitted Luhur, leader of the extraordinary summit. “These raiders are ransacking our fields, killing livestock—even taking lives. We must take action.” Heads nodded as understanding rippled through the crowd. Various leaders added accounts of their own harrowing nightmares to confirm Luhur’s words.
“What are you proposing?” Cahyo’s ominous tone caught everyone’s attention as he rose.
“The raiders may only be the beginning of our troubles,” Luhur warned. “Dahat’s spies are traveling along the northern coastline. They could turn into our mountains any moment. We need to consider our options.” He paused for effect, cleared his throat, and then stamped his feet. “The mages of Menara.”
“Them?” an elderly man’s rickety voice rose from beyond the firelight’s reach. “Asking them for help is asking for trouble.”
“It’s an embarrassment!” echoed Aditya from the shadows. The glares of a dozen disapproving adults assaulted him, shaming him into silence. Brushing off the scorn, he hunkered down and winked at Sigit. He was proud of his people—dauntless men and women who had risked their lives to attend the summit. He was strong, but Sigit exemplified the highlander breed: strong lungs, sturdy legs, hardy characters, and hard-hitting punches had earned them widespread admiration among lowland peoples—and fear. Those from coastal tribes knew better than to pick a fight with a central highlander.
“We just lost our last son,” a middle-aged chief stammered. “We must do something.”
Villagers raised their right fists toward their necks; of the man’s four children, only a daughter remained.
“Battling these creatures is beyond us,” Luhur admitted. “Our town has had losses, too—three tracking parties. Our villages may soon become islands amidst a rising tide of enemies. We need to find help before it’s too late.”
“You’re suggesting a traveling party to the Priangan territory?” another woman accused in a quavering voice, her forehead streaked with the sweat of stress. “We need our men for protection, especially when heading back to our villages.”
“How else would we summon them?” Luhur bowed his head. “Besides, sixteen volunteers is all that’s needed. We need hardy people to travel long distances on limited rations. Timing is important. This is the onset of the rainy season. We’ll be dealing with sudden downpours, swollen rivers, and flooded coastlands.”
A wizened chief in his late sixties threw in a humorous twist to the discourse.
“My grandsons have volunteered for any mission we decide upon,” he began with a straight face. “But remember, they’re both unmarried and are hoping for some returns on their efforts.”
Laughter erupted, easing the tense atmosphere. Aditya knew the man’s twin grandsons—handsome, lean though strong, and nearly eighteen. He glanced in their direction, envying the attention they drew.
“Believe me, my daughters are interested,” quipped a younger village leader. “But, your grandsons will have to succeed on this mission before they can expect ‘returns.’”
Hoots and love songs poured through teasing lips as delegates danced around the fire. Comparing notes, they discovered that several chiefs had admiring daughters. The lighter atmosphere sped the process of finding volunteers for the Priangan mission.
“Two youths from my village have offered to ride west,” Cahyo interrupted. Aditya and Sigit tensed. “Their keladuk bonds are unusually close, and their beasts are willing. Bold and daring lads, wholly capable, but young—perhaps too young. Surprisingly, their families consented to their joining us here.” He glanced over his shoulder and nodded to Aditya and Sigit. “The river crossings alone will be dangerous—”
Steaming at the “too young” comment, Aditya kicked at the ground.
“The keladuk will weaken during the journey, and already their numbers dwindle,” Luhur interrupted. “We mustn’t expose them or our boys to unnecessary danger.”
A boy with a sullen face threw an insult at Aditya and Sigit. Aditya threw a punch, and a circle of youths quickly formed.
Storming into their midst, Luhur demanded an explanation. The two friends glared at the third boy whose arms were covered in welts and had a bloody nose.
“They attacked me for no reason,” the battered youth spat, struggling toward his opponents. Luhur was about to utter an opinion, but Dieng’s chief put a hand on his shoulder.
“I see we have a politician here,” he smirked at the angry youth, drawing snickers from the crowd. “I’m sure that’s how you two see it?” He jabbed his finger at the boys from Merbabu who snarled at the first boy.
“Insults,” Aditya seethed, wiping grime from his face. “He insulted us and our keladuk.”
“Names?” Luhur pointed.
“Aditya and Sigit,” Cahyo sighed, shaking his head. “The two youths who volunteered to ride east.”
Dieng’s elderly chief pointed to the bloody-nosed boy opposite.
“That one there is Bagas, my grandson. He owns a sharp tongue, I’m afraid.”
“I think we can now say for sure that your two volunteers shouldn’t go,” Luhur quipped to Cahyo, triggering more laughter among the crowd. Bagas sneered at his opponents.
“Go clean their stable and brush these boys’ keladuk down,” Dieng’s chief scowled at his grandson. “Any complaints about the job you’ve done means cleaning every stable in this village.”
Aditya and Sigit retaliated with their own sneers. Bagas glanced up pleadingly at his grandfather but slumped away when his eyes met sternness.
“And you will clean Bagas’ stable and help Dieng’s healer for the next three days with whatever chores he may find for you to do—to pay for any treatment Bagas may need,” Cahyo fumed at Aditya and Sigit. “You won’t be going west. Do I make myself clear?”
Downcast, the Aditya slinked away with Sigit, disappointed not because he had to shovel manure but because his hopes of adventure had been crushed.
Once beyond earshot, Sigit grabbed his arm.
“Hey, don’t worry. Cahyo had to say that. Remember, we’re all scheduled to return home tomorrow morning, so we won’t be helping the healer.” Chuckling, they continued along the earthen path to the stables, lighter of heart.
With local residents drawn to the summit, the section of town they were in was unusually quiet. A hundred paces farther on, they caught sight of Bagas disappearing into the darkness ahead. Winking mischievously, Aditya slapped Sigit on the back. They took off running, the shrilling of mole crickets overpowering the light thumping of their footsteps.
Aditya banked left and Sigit veered right. Then, bursting from behind a building, Aditya startled the lad. Sigit sneaked up from behind and smothered Bagas’ cries with his giant hand.
“Not a sound, and we won’t hurt you,” Aditya promised. Elbows landed in Aditya’s gut, and he returned the favor with his knee. “Honest…uuuh,” he grunted at another blow, “we just want to talk…and make a proposal.” Sigit pulled Bagas into his chest and tightened his grip.
The captive offered a grudging nod. Slowly, Sigit’s hands relaxed. Retreating a step, Aditya examined Bagas from head to foot.
“You had a lot of pluck back there, taking on the two of us. I admire that.” He cast a wary grin at the Dieng villager, still sizing him up as he circled. Sigit’s sturdy hands never left the lad’s shoulders. “I assume you have friends around here—at least, when you’re not insulting them.”
Bagas jerked toward Aditya, but Sigit yanked him back.
“Such a hot-head,” Aditya shook his head coolly, “which is why we’d like to include you in our plans. You might prove…helpful.”
Shock spread across Bagas’ face and his arms went slack.
“Here’s the deal,” Aditya lowered his voice. “You find a couple of friends to gather…certain information from your elders. In exchange, we’ll clean our own stables and yours. And, if you think you can keep up, we’ll even let you come with us.”
“Where to?” Bagas glared dubiously, folding his freed arms.
“We have no intention of staying around here,” Sigit chimed in. “Menara is our destination, and we’re going to beat the village chiefs there. The mages can find out about our problems quicker that way. These are exciting times, and we’re not going to let a little fight with you keep us from the journey.”
“Do you really think your keladuk will agree to go?” Bagas scowled.
“They’ve already told us so,” Aditya clapped his hands sharply. “With the three of us traveling on keladuk, I bet we could arrive in less than ten days. The others will take at least three weeks on foot—probably longer. Besides, every day means loss of life in Merbabu. We’ve already lost friends.” He choked with a sudden gush of emotion but covered it up with a cough.
“Interesting plan, but I don’t have a keladuk,” Bagas’ gaze fell. “They don’t roam our region anymore. It’s been forty years since the last bonding in Dieng. Only our chief and a couple of older folks from the interior have bonded with them, and even then, their steeds prefer the higher slopes.” He pointed to the circle of peaks that surrounded the plateau. “Anyway, my family would never forgive me if I ran away without telling them…even if I wanted to take up with two scoundrels.”
“We could just tie you up and throw you in a corner where nobody’d find you until we were long gone,” Aditya warned, shaking a menacing finger. “Now, are you going to help us or not?”
“I could say yes, and then go and report you two,” Bagas challenged, eyes flaring.
“But you won’t,” Aditya taunted, luring Bagas with a conciliatory hand. “Scoundrels can always sniff out others of like kind. You’re dying to follow this adventure as much as we are. I can see it in your eyes. And—about not having a keladuk, no worries. You’re scrawny enough for my keladuk to bear both of us.”
Bagas readied a punch.
“Oh come on, you’re taking yourself too seriously,” Aditya laughed. “We’re all small. At least you’ve got more muscle than Sigit!”
“And I have more than you,” Sigit shot back at his friend, finally melting Bagas’ anger and drawing him into the humorous moment.
“Tell me what I need to do,” Bagas relented.
. . . . . the chapter will continue in The Power of Ancients . . . . .
Aditya and Sigit, two reckless lads barely sixteen, urged their steeds on, hugging the flanks of the keladuk ridden by their village chief. They charged whenever their leader charged and were the last to retreat behind him.
Then, the Merbabu villagers began the long ascent to the Dieng Plateau, trotting or walking their keladuk whenever they had created enough distance between them and their foes. But the mysterious raiders were relentless. All through the clear, moonlit night, the riders labored through deep ravines and swells, sometimes fording muddy rivers. The threat of ambushes lurked behind each bend in the trail.
Hours later, tiny lights appeared in the distant heights. Cahyo, the Merbabu village chief, shouted encouragement to his comrades. Heads rose in disbelief. Aditya feared the worst yet also hoped against hope that their nightmare might end in their favor.
“We’re going to make it,” he cheered, raising a fist of triumph.
But even as the boy shouted, raiders spilled over the edge of the ravine, the sound of their boots echoing along the rocky terrain. Cries of grief and anger rose from the villagers. Defiant to the core, Cahyo swung up the northern flank and raised his weapon. His bowstring sang, and the first creature toppled. Before he could summon or forbid, Aditya and Sigit were at his side. Five more pursuers fell. But the enemies along the ravine’s northern and southern flanks flowed down the slopes behind them and converged. A salvo of arrows showered the villagers in response, impaling the ground perilously close.
“We won’t make it without risking something,” Cahyo shouted to the boys, glancing over his shoulder at the narrowing gap between them and their pursuers. His mount fell back. The other travelers rallied, too, launching another round of arrows. More hunters fell. Two of the Merbabu envoys slumped in their saddles, injured. The attackers surged forward, their pounding boots a thunderous roar. Cahyo sounded the horn to retreat. The keladuk frothed as they raced up the final slopes, enemies at their heels.
More lights ahead. Anticipation intensified.
Hidden in tall grasses under the starless night, armed farmers from the Dieng Plateau awaited the overdue delegation from Mount Merbabu. Faint rumblings from below spurred feverish communication through their chain of command. Messengers rushed for reinforcements while the vanguard stole into the darkness.
Louder and louder, keladuk hooves pounded. Cries of defiance trickled through the breezeless air. Crossbows taut and swords drawn, Dieng’s defenders opened their lines for the Merbabu envoys. As Aditya’s keladuk galloped past—the final steed, a mighty horn blasted. Fighters gushed from foxholes, raining arrows and closing ranks. Quicker than Dieng bows could be refitted, the hunters recognized the trap and spun around, fleeing into the black night. Every Dieng soldier stopped short. Drawing deep breaths, they raised their arms and shouted cries of victory.
When the cheering died down, they lit dozens of torches and went to investigate. Sigit was at the forefront. Astonishment spread from face to face.
“They didn’t leave a single body behind,” the boy puzzled.
* * * * *
Uncountable stars lit the heavens, and cool evening breezes descended into the plateau the following evening. A second celestial body—like another moon—appeared in the sky next to Bulan, drawing Aditya and Sigit’s curious gaze as they huddled among the crowd. Their eyes darted between the tribal villagers around them and the strange phenomenon, wondering what was happening.
Seated on dusty stone benches in the town center, all twenty-eight chiefs from the Central Yavad mountains stared into a roaring bonfire, their eyes sparkling as flames licked along knotted logs.
“Fear has kept us holed up in our villages,” admitted Luhur, leader of the extraordinary summit. “These raiders are ransacking our fields, killing livestock—even taking lives. We must take action.” Heads nodded as understanding rippled through the crowd. Various leaders added accounts of their own harrowing nightmares to confirm Luhur’s words.
“What are you proposing?” Cahyo’s ominous tone caught everyone’s attention as he rose.
“The raiders may only be the beginning of our troubles,” Luhur warned. “Dahat’s spies are traveling along the northern coastline. They could turn into our mountains any moment. We need to consider our options.” He paused for effect, cleared his throat, and then stamped his feet. “The mages of Menara.”
“Them?” an elderly man’s rickety voice rose from beyond the firelight’s reach. “Asking them for help is asking for trouble.”
“It’s an embarrassment!” echoed Aditya from the shadows. The glares of a dozen disapproving adults assaulted him, shaming him into silence. Brushing off the scorn, he hunkered down and winked at Sigit. He was proud of his people—dauntless men and women who had risked their lives to attend the summit. He was strong, but Sigit exemplified the highlander breed: strong lungs, sturdy legs, hardy characters, and hard-hitting punches had earned them widespread admiration among lowland peoples—and fear. Those from coastal tribes knew better than to pick a fight with a central highlander.
“We just lost our last son,” a middle-aged chief stammered. “We must do something.”
Villagers raised their right fists toward their necks; of the man’s four children, only a daughter remained.
“Battling these creatures is beyond us,” Luhur admitted. “Our town has had losses, too—three tracking parties. Our villages may soon become islands amidst a rising tide of enemies. We need to find help before it’s too late.”
“You’re suggesting a traveling party to the Priangan territory?” another woman accused in a quavering voice, her forehead streaked with the sweat of stress. “We need our men for protection, especially when heading back to our villages.”
“How else would we summon them?” Luhur bowed his head. “Besides, sixteen volunteers is all that’s needed. We need hardy people to travel long distances on limited rations. Timing is important. This is the onset of the rainy season. We’ll be dealing with sudden downpours, swollen rivers, and flooded coastlands.”
A wizened chief in his late sixties threw in a humorous twist to the discourse.
“My grandsons have volunteered for any mission we decide upon,” he began with a straight face. “But remember, they’re both unmarried and are hoping for some returns on their efforts.”
Laughter erupted, easing the tense atmosphere. Aditya knew the man’s twin grandsons—handsome, lean though strong, and nearly eighteen. He glanced in their direction, envying the attention they drew.
“Believe me, my daughters are interested,” quipped a younger village leader. “But, your grandsons will have to succeed on this mission before they can expect ‘returns.’”
Hoots and love songs poured through teasing lips as delegates danced around the fire. Comparing notes, they discovered that several chiefs had admiring daughters. The lighter atmosphere sped the process of finding volunteers for the Priangan mission.
“Two youths from my village have offered to ride west,” Cahyo interrupted. Aditya and Sigit tensed. “Their keladuk bonds are unusually close, and their beasts are willing. Bold and daring lads, wholly capable, but young—perhaps too young. Surprisingly, their families consented to their joining us here.” He glanced over his shoulder and nodded to Aditya and Sigit. “The river crossings alone will be dangerous—”
Steaming at the “too young” comment, Aditya kicked at the ground.
“The keladuk will weaken during the journey, and already their numbers dwindle,” Luhur interrupted. “We mustn’t expose them or our boys to unnecessary danger.”
A boy with a sullen face threw an insult at Aditya and Sigit. Aditya threw a punch, and a circle of youths quickly formed.
Storming into their midst, Luhur demanded an explanation. The two friends glared at the third boy whose arms were covered in welts and had a bloody nose.
“They attacked me for no reason,” the battered youth spat, struggling toward his opponents. Luhur was about to utter an opinion, but Dieng’s chief put a hand on his shoulder.
“I see we have a politician here,” he smirked at the angry youth, drawing snickers from the crowd. “I’m sure that’s how you two see it?” He jabbed his finger at the boys from Merbabu who snarled at the first boy.
“Insults,” Aditya seethed, wiping grime from his face. “He insulted us and our keladuk.”
“Names?” Luhur pointed.
“Aditya and Sigit,” Cahyo sighed, shaking his head. “The two youths who volunteered to ride east.”
Dieng’s elderly chief pointed to the bloody-nosed boy opposite.
“That one there is Bagas, my grandson. He owns a sharp tongue, I’m afraid.”
“I think we can now say for sure that your two volunteers shouldn’t go,” Luhur quipped to Cahyo, triggering more laughter among the crowd. Bagas sneered at his opponents.
“Go clean their stable and brush these boys’ keladuk down,” Dieng’s chief scowled at his grandson. “Any complaints about the job you’ve done means cleaning every stable in this village.”
Aditya and Sigit retaliated with their own sneers. Bagas glanced up pleadingly at his grandfather but slumped away when his eyes met sternness.
“And you will clean Bagas’ stable and help Dieng’s healer for the next three days with whatever chores he may find for you to do—to pay for any treatment Bagas may need,” Cahyo fumed at Aditya and Sigit. “You won’t be going west. Do I make myself clear?”
Downcast, the Aditya slinked away with Sigit, disappointed not because he had to shovel manure but because his hopes of adventure had been crushed.
Once beyond earshot, Sigit grabbed his arm.
“Hey, don’t worry. Cahyo had to say that. Remember, we’re all scheduled to return home tomorrow morning, so we won’t be helping the healer.” Chuckling, they continued along the earthen path to the stables, lighter of heart.
With local residents drawn to the summit, the section of town they were in was unusually quiet. A hundred paces farther on, they caught sight of Bagas disappearing into the darkness ahead. Winking mischievously, Aditya slapped Sigit on the back. They took off running, the shrilling of mole crickets overpowering the light thumping of their footsteps.
Aditya banked left and Sigit veered right. Then, bursting from behind a building, Aditya startled the lad. Sigit sneaked up from behind and smothered Bagas’ cries with his giant hand.
“Not a sound, and we won’t hurt you,” Aditya promised. Elbows landed in Aditya’s gut, and he returned the favor with his knee. “Honest…uuuh,” he grunted at another blow, “we just want to talk…and make a proposal.” Sigit pulled Bagas into his chest and tightened his grip.
The captive offered a grudging nod. Slowly, Sigit’s hands relaxed. Retreating a step, Aditya examined Bagas from head to foot.
“You had a lot of pluck back there, taking on the two of us. I admire that.” He cast a wary grin at the Dieng villager, still sizing him up as he circled. Sigit’s sturdy hands never left the lad’s shoulders. “I assume you have friends around here—at least, when you’re not insulting them.”
Bagas jerked toward Aditya, but Sigit yanked him back.
“Such a hot-head,” Aditya shook his head coolly, “which is why we’d like to include you in our plans. You might prove…helpful.”
Shock spread across Bagas’ face and his arms went slack.
“Here’s the deal,” Aditya lowered his voice. “You find a couple of friends to gather…certain information from your elders. In exchange, we’ll clean our own stables and yours. And, if you think you can keep up, we’ll even let you come with us.”
“Where to?” Bagas glared dubiously, folding his freed arms.
“We have no intention of staying around here,” Sigit chimed in. “Menara is our destination, and we’re going to beat the village chiefs there. The mages can find out about our problems quicker that way. These are exciting times, and we’re not going to let a little fight with you keep us from the journey.”
“Do you really think your keladuk will agree to go?” Bagas scowled.
“They’ve already told us so,” Aditya clapped his hands sharply. “With the three of us traveling on keladuk, I bet we could arrive in less than ten days. The others will take at least three weeks on foot—probably longer. Besides, every day means loss of life in Merbabu. We’ve already lost friends.” He choked with a sudden gush of emotion but covered it up with a cough.
“Interesting plan, but I don’t have a keladuk,” Bagas’ gaze fell. “They don’t roam our region anymore. It’s been forty years since the last bonding in Dieng. Only our chief and a couple of older folks from the interior have bonded with them, and even then, their steeds prefer the higher slopes.” He pointed to the circle of peaks that surrounded the plateau. “Anyway, my family would never forgive me if I ran away without telling them…even if I wanted to take up with two scoundrels.”
“We could just tie you up and throw you in a corner where nobody’d find you until we were long gone,” Aditya warned, shaking a menacing finger. “Now, are you going to help us or not?”
“I could say yes, and then go and report you two,” Bagas challenged, eyes flaring.
“But you won’t,” Aditya taunted, luring Bagas with a conciliatory hand. “Scoundrels can always sniff out others of like kind. You’re dying to follow this adventure as much as we are. I can see it in your eyes. And—about not having a keladuk, no worries. You’re scrawny enough for my keladuk to bear both of us.”
Bagas readied a punch.
“Oh come on, you’re taking yourself too seriously,” Aditya laughed. “We’re all small. At least you’ve got more muscle than Sigit!”
“And I have more than you,” Sigit shot back at his friend, finally melting Bagas’ anger and drawing him into the humorous moment.
“Tell me what I need to do,” Bagas relented.
. . . . . the chapter will continue in The Power of Ancients . . . . .
