Satisfying, indeed, was Wisesa's laughter as he envisioned Alicia surrounded by the men-eating Leyaks. Even the leaves rustled in response to his echoing giggle.
Wisesa's hand rested on the trunk of the sweet chestnut tree, caressing its familiar gnarled bark. He knew he was close to home. But of course, to think his ramshackle, hole-riddled shack offered true refuge from the Girahite shamans would be sheer folly. Fleeing away to any point in this realm seemed of little avail. There was no way the shamans would return empty-handed unless they were weary of living and preferred their heads on the plate.
But before long, his face was gradually stricken by melancholy. A frown of concern, and the cringe of restlessness. Wisesa despised his life now—all aspects of it to the core. How could his brain ever slip a scintilla of curiosity regarding the Westerner's well-being? How could his conscience have given him a twinge of guilt! He had just chortled, after all!
But when the lass' mundane voice failed to reach his ears, it shrieked within his subconscious. The man yanked his hair beneath his blangkon cap and smote his chest. Those feelings should not be there, no, they should not! For they made him feel like an idiot with incomparable shame.
Alas, he was indeed an idiot with incomparable shame.
A tremendous rumbling suddenly erupted within his chest. Voices from the forest pierced both his ears. No, Wisesa knew the forest where he lived. The forest could not have spoken to him with such hatred. He had always nourished the trees with his urine and faeces. That voice belonged to Barong. It wanted to sally out.
"No, you fucking beast!" snapped Wisesa. "You’ve got your play time this morning! Leave me alone!"
But the voices grew louder, like a throng of angry bees. Wisesa snorted in frustration. His attempt to steel his body and assume the posture of an over-muscled athlete proved futile to ease the pain in his chest. Barong did not sway by such theatrics.
"Ah, ¹Jancuk! Konthol! Fucking shamans! They must’ve put their hexes on the girl!"
Wisesa decided to sit cross-legged. Deep within his subconscious, he wanted to patch up the fractures of the barrier that prevented the giant tiger from taking over his body. No sooner had he closed his eyes than the clomping of lizard feet and the flapping of wings assailed his senses.
The three Leyaks and two ahools appeared before him just as his eyes snapped open.
The lad sighed. "I guess the others might be having a Camelot curry feast. Oh, well…"
The inner turmoil that scorched his heart managed to be contained, but he was unsure for how long. If he were to confront those Girahite shamans, he would have to do it alone. Letting Barong do the dirty work would only hinder his chances of regaining his consciousness. And his wage from feeding the pigs could not survive another insufferable collateral damage.
Wisesa scraped one foot across the dusty ground and, with a jerking motion, pulled both hands downward. Three pairs of gilded bangles that once adorning his wrists broke free and hovered in a row.
From a layman's perspective, these bangles looked like ordinary adornments worn by commoners—not really made of gold, but rather copper coated with a yellowish dye. However, the gold encasing Wisesa's six bangles was authentic. Each gleaming disc bore the etching of a snake with a headdress baring its fangs. Behind it, engravings of ancient characters.
The bangles did not emit a shimmer or anything of the sort. But there was indeed an imperceptible energy intertwined with each bracelet, enabling them to sway with the movements of the master's hand. It was a subtle display of power, but it was enough to remind Wisesa of his own strength and all of his learned Knowledges that he desired to dispose of back before.
"We hope you don't waste that artifact to defeat us," a Leyak spoke up.
"There is no point in us continuing this fight. This is your last chance to surrender yourself, and we will end things peacefully!" the other Leyak appended.
They rambled as if Wisesa was an ever-obedient model lad in the first place. "This ain't your average heirloom, fellas. The Six Rings of Prabhu Siliwangi are said to have the power of the Kelinting Serpent locked inside them. Prabhu sealed it away after the snake caused floods in his kingdom. Talk about dumb, huh? I mean really, what human being would accept a festering human form into a feast? What kind of test is that?"
The two ahools displayed neither patience nor concern for the young man's trivial musings on his magic artefact's lore. Wisesa shared their sentiment—oh, he had yet to endure the Western lass’s incessant rambling about trinkets of magic, if she was indeed still alive.
They hastened in their separate directions. Wisesa lashed the huge rings like the beating of drums, then summoned them back to propel at one ahool. The monkey bat's chest crumpled under the bangles' weight!
The other ahool-monkey turned around, swooping down with a toothy grin as a blatant call for confrontation. The lad, with a flourish, threw his bangles and ensnared the creature's neck. Cocky and overconfident, he danced and twirled before catapulting the winged monkey into one of the unsuspecting Leyak riders!
The lizard-riding Leyaks increased their speed. Wisesa flicked his bangles once more, causing the central lizard's two legs to be crushed, and its rider tumbled. But the Leyak refused to kiss the ground, thus he flew towards Wisesa with the grace of a stiff log. As the six sacred artefacts returned to their master, the soaring Leyak grasped two discs on each side as a boost and landed a forceful stomp on Wisesa's chest!
After the kick, came the razor-sharp claws. They sliced through the air with deadly precision. Wisesa sprang to his feet and parried those blade fingernails, lest any of them graze his sun-kissed skin. Nature was witnessing the two engaged in a complex dance of martial arts, a clash of hands and footwork. The other two shamans followed suit, eager to skewer Wisesa with their five pairs of nails aided by the lizards' slobbering tongues. Outmatched, Wisesa retreated to a tree branch. A Leyak's tongue almost reached him, but the resourceful lad managed to soar back again.
Regardless, the other two Leyaks were not to be outdone. They paddled their legs swiftly and took the skies, eager to plug their repugnant talons deep into Wisesa's skin. Wisesa was still unwilling. He extended his six bangles beneath the soles of his feet, then exerted force upon them until they stretched further and further into the chests of the shamans. This powerful thrust propelled him into the heavens like coiled springs.
A brief relief, Wisesa quickly pulled out another relic—his own kris. He hurled it at one of the swooping Leyaks and suddenly, the dagger flashed amber lightning as it pierced the accursed shaman's heart and exploded when hitting the ground! The other Leyak fought to regain recovery, then engaged Wisesa in a silat duel in midair.
One Leyak remained absorbed in the spectacle of the sky-shattering fight, as he perched upon the withered grassland. His lizard mount was filled with ire for being unable to reach its food ration, turning increasingly feral. The shaman put an end to its plight with his blade fingernails, before disembowling the creature and devouring all of its offals. The bulging eyes, protruding tongue, and fangs alone were terrifying. The revolting impression of the Girahite shaman was further accentuated by the blood dribbling from beneath his lips and the rancid odour that overtook him.
As he munched on raw intestines, the Leyak chanted a mantra to Durga in Girah's tongue.
"I sacrifice unworthy blood to the protector of the realm who resides at ²Setra Ganda Mayu. Its power will spread from the ground and bring me harm in the time to come. Only he whom I designate as the true sacrifice will lift the curse from me. Only he will fall to the ground, become one with the ground, and not rise until he is decomposed like a corpse. My service to Mrajapati will free me from the restraints of this world and the next!"
Suddenly, from afar, Wisesa's breath caught as something squeezed his chest. A groan involuntarily escaped his lips. Barong attuned the whisper of a black spell and went berserk. Regrettably, the young lad's aerial equilibrium faltered. Something appeared to nullify his abilities, forcibly driving him back down to the earth below!
A thud echoed through the air. How the Divine had cursed Wisesa, he could not lift his chest. He seemed to be anchored and "merged" with the very soil beneath him, like grass. Affixed to the ground like a magnet while Barong tore through his organs; now the lad's frustration had reached its zenith.
"Who? Who mentioned the name of Durga?" he spat out. "Motherfucker, you have a death wish, all of you, huh?"
He could see a Leyak covered in blood while dragging a lizard carcass. "We wish to seek peace, Gusti Pangeran. Let us deal with you in a peaceful manner." The shaman threw away his reptile carrion, licking his blood-soaked finger like a messy eater slurping a rich, red sauce until it melded into his very lips.
"Fools! Once you mention anything about Mrajapati or its avatar in your unclean manner, you are all dead to me! Dead!"
"Unclean manner?" The Leyak fell to his knees and laughed. "You've learnt the Way of Durga too, haven't you?"
"Want to play word games with me? Hey, moron! At least I ain't a hypocrite like you, using the power of Sang Hyang Wredharaja! You're just tarnishing Durga's name, straying away from your role models!"
His scolding only fueled the Leyak's satisfaction, prompting more laughter. The other shaman there also thought otherwise—Wisesa was the most hypocritical of them all. He was the one with the most empty words. Toying him in such a state was a pure treat.
"From the one who disregards the gods but exploits their power for personal gain," a Leyak mocked. "But never did I think that you’re actually right. It wasn't Ratu Lojitengara who gave us the order, it was Our Lordship Panembahan Girah. The time is near. Wredharaja must come. We will kill Banaspatiraja with or without Ratu Lojitengara's blessing, just as we killed Mrajapati and mastered its power!"
Hearing the shocking news of Mrajapati, Barong roared within the recesses of Wisesa's consciousness. An anguish-laden roar. Even the scream was stabbing Wisesa's own eardrums.
What time is near? Why are these crazy ass shamans looking forward to the end of the world? Mrajapati is gone, but they're still conjuring magic in his name? These folks are nuts! Masochists beyond help! The world is beyond help, Wisesa thought.
"No," Wisesa replied. "No, no. Barong off me? I accept it with open arms, brother. But not by you. I'll get that damn monster out myself, without getting killed in the process!"
"Unfortunately, you know there is no such option."
The two Leyaks rose and commenced a lithe dance.
"Lies!" Wisesa's abrasive roar was almost mistaken for the beast's bellow. A slight shudder on the shamans' napes. "Stop doing that! You won't be able to hold Barong back! You'll end up in its stomach if you’re not lucky enough to be saved with your arms and legs cut off!"
None of Wisesa’s cursing ever reached their ears. The two leyaks persisted in their dance and whisper.
"High above the sky, low below the earth. Mrajapati has made its sacrifice. It will enjoy its banquet among the bones. I am its famous monument. A majestic tower gleaming with gold to deliver the meal to the Seer of Setra Gada Mayu. Let it take the souls to their rightful place!"
The mantra was chanted repeatedly until Wisesa could see a tangible transformation in one of the Leyaks. The hideous visage became shrouded in bamboo and paper baubles. Swaths of vivid fabric unfurled abruptly. The mask seemed to stir with life, growing and shifting before Wisesa’s eyes, evolving into a grotesque, towering display of carved beasts and wooden beams. The tiers shrank as they reached greater altitudes, as if yearning to touch the heavens themselves! []
Satisfying, indeed, was Wisesa's laughter as he envisioned Alicia surrounded by the men-eating Leyaks. Even the leaves rustled in response to his echoing giggle.
Wisesa's hand rested on the trunk of the sweet chestnut tree, caressing its familiar gnarled bark. He knew he was close to home. But of course, to think his ramshackle, hole-riddled shack offered true refuge from the Girahite shamans would be sheer folly. Fleeing away to any point in this realm seemed of little avail. There was no way the shamans would return empty-handed unless they were weary of living and preferred their heads on the plate.
But before long, his face was gradually stricken by melancholy. A frown of concern, and the cringe of restlessness. Wisesa despised his life now—all aspects of it to the core. How could his brain ever slip a scintilla of curiosity regarding the Westerner's well-being? How could his conscience have given him a twinge of guilt! He had just chortled, after all!
But when the lass' mundane voice failed to reach his ears, it shrieked within his subconscious. The man yanked his hair beneath his blangkon cap and smote his chest. Those feelings should not be there, no, they should not! For they made him feel like an idiot with incomparable shame.
Alas, he was indeed an idiot with incomparable shame.
A tremendous rumbling suddenly erupted within his chest. Voices from the forest pierced both his ears. No, Wisesa knew the forest where he lived. The forest could not have spoken to him with such hatred. He had always nourished the trees with his urine and faeces. That voice belonged to Barong. It wanted to sally out.
"No, you fucking beast!" snapped Wisesa. "You’ve got your play time this morning! Leave me alone!"
But the voices grew louder, like a throng of angry bees. Wisesa snorted in frustration. His attempt to steel his body and assume the posture of an over-muscled athlete proved futile to ease the pain in his chest. Barong did not sway by such theatrics.
"Ah, ¹Jancuk! Konthol! Fucking shamans! They must’ve put their hexes on the girl!"
Wisesa decided to sit cross-legged. Deep within his subconscious, he wanted to patch up the fractures of the barrier that prevented the giant tiger from taking over his body. No sooner had he closed his eyes than the clomping of lizard feet and the flapping of wings assailed his senses.
The three Leyaks and two ahools appeared before him just as his eyes snapped open.
The lad sighed. "I guess the others might be having a Camelot curry feast. Oh, well…"
The inner turmoil that scorched his heart managed to be contained, but he was unsure for how long. If he were to confront those Girahite shamans, he would have to do it alone. Letting Barong do the dirty work would only hinder his chances of regaining his consciousness. And his wage from feeding the pigs could not survive another insufferable collateral damage.
Wisesa scraped one foot across the dusty ground and, with a jerking motion, pulled both hands downward. Three pairs of gilded bangles that once adorning his wrists broke free and hovered in a row.
From a layman's perspective, these bangles looked like ordinary adornments worn by commoners—not really made of gold, but rather copper coated with a yellowish dye. However, the gold encasing Wisesa's six bangles was authentic. Each gleaming disc bore the etching of a snake with a headdress baring its fangs. Behind it, engravings of ancient characters.
The bangles did not emit a shimmer or anything of the sort. But there was indeed an imperceptible energy intertwined with each bracelet, enabling them to sway with the movements of the master's hand. It was a subtle display of power, but it was enough to remind Wisesa of his own strength and all of his learned Knowledges that he desired to dispose of back before.
"We hope you don't waste that artifact to defeat us," a Leyak spoke up.
"There is no point in us continuing this fight. This is your last chance to surrender yourself, and we will end things peacefully!" the other Leyak appended.
They rambled as if Wisesa was an ever-obedient model lad in the first place. "This ain't your average heirloom, fellas. The Six Rings of Prabhu Siliwangi are said to have the power of the Kelinting Serpent locked inside them. Prabhu sealed it away after the snake caused floods in his kingdom. Talk about dumb, huh? I mean really, what human being would accept a festering human form into a feast? What kind of test is that?"
The two ahools displayed neither patience nor concern for the young man's trivial musings on his magic artefact's lore. Wisesa shared their sentiment—oh, he had yet to endure the Western lass’s incessant rambling about trinkets of magic, if she was indeed still alive.
They hastened in their separate directions. Wisesa lashed the huge rings like the beating of drums, then summoned them back to propel at one ahool. The monkey bat's chest crumpled under the bangles' weight!
The other ahool-monkey turned around, swooping down with a toothy grin as a blatant call for confrontation. The lad, with a flourish, threw his bangles and ensnared the creature's neck. Cocky and overconfident, he danced and twirled before catapulting the winged monkey into one of the unsuspecting Leyak riders!
The lizard-riding Leyaks increased their speed. Wisesa flicked his bangles once more, causing the central lizard's two legs to be crushed, and its rider tumbled. But the Leyak refused to kiss the ground, thus he flew towards Wisesa with the grace of a stiff log. As the six sacred artefacts returned to their master, the soaring Leyak grasped two discs on each side as a boost and landed a forceful stomp on Wisesa's chest!
After the kick, came the razor-sharp claws. They sliced through the air with deadly precision. Wisesa sprang to his feet and parried those blade fingernails, lest any of them graze his sun-kissed skin. Nature was witnessing the two engaged in a complex dance of martial arts, a clash of hands and footwork. The other two shamans followed suit, eager to skewer Wisesa with their five pairs of nails aided by the lizards' slobbering tongues. Outmatched, Wisesa retreated to a tree branch. A Leyak's tongue almost reached him, but the resourceful lad managed to soar back again.
Regardless, the other two Leyaks were not to be outdone. They paddled their legs swiftly and took the skies, eager to plug their repugnant talons deep into Wisesa's skin. Wisesa was still unwilling. He extended his six bangles beneath the soles of his feet, then exerted force upon them until they stretched further and further into the chests of the shamans. This powerful thrust propelled him into the heavens like coiled springs.
A brief relief, Wisesa quickly pulled out another relic—his own kris. He hurled it at one of the swooping Leyaks and suddenly, the dagger flashed amber lightning as it pierced the accursed shaman's heart and exploded when hitting the ground! The other Leyak fought to regain recovery, then engaged Wisesa in a silat duel in midair.
One Leyak remained absorbed in the spectacle of the sky-shattering fight, as he perched upon the withered grassland. His lizard mount was filled with ire for being unable to reach its food ration, turning increasingly feral. The shaman put an end to its plight with his blade fingernails, before disembowling the creature and devouring all of its offals. The bulging eyes, protruding tongue, and fangs alone were terrifying. The revolting impression of the Girahite shaman was further accentuated by the blood dribbling from beneath his lips and the rancid odour that overtook him.
As he munched on raw intestines, the Leyak chanted a mantra to Durga in Girah's tongue.
"I sacrifice unworthy blood to the protector of the realm who resides at ²Setra Ganda Mayu. Its power will spread from the ground and bring me harm in the time to come. Only he whom I designate as the true sacrifice will lift the curse from me. Only he will fall to the ground, become one with the ground, and not rise until he is decomposed like a corpse. My service to Mrajapati will free me from the restraints of this world and the next!"
Suddenly, from afar, Wisesa's breath caught as something squeezed his chest. A groan involuntarily escaped his lips. Barong attuned the whisper of a black spell and went berserk. Regrettably, the young lad's aerial equilibrium faltered. Something appeared to nullify his abilities, forcibly driving him back down to the earth below!
A thud echoed through the air. How the Divine had cursed Wisesa, he could not lift his chest. He seemed to be anchored and "merged" with the very soil beneath him, like grass. Affixed to the ground like a magnet while Barong tore through his organs; now the lad's frustration had reached its zenith.
"Who? Who mentioned the name of Durga?" he spat out. "Motherfucker, you have a death wish, all of you, huh?"
He could see a Leyak covered in blood while dragging a lizard carcass. "We wish to seek peace, Gusti Pangeran. Let us deal with you in a peaceful manner." The shaman threw away his reptile carrion, licking his blood-soaked finger like a messy eater slurping a rich, red sauce until it melded into his very lips.
"Fools! Once you mention anything about Mrajapati or its avatar in your unclean manner, you are all dead to me! Dead!"
"Unclean manner?" The Leyak fell to his knees and laughed. "You've learnt the Way of Durga too, haven't you?"
"Want to play word games with me? Hey, moron! At least I ain't a hypocrite like you, using the power of Sang Hyang Wredharaja! You're just tarnishing Durga's name, straying away from your role models!"
His scolding only fueled the Leyak's satisfaction, prompting more laughter. The other shaman there also thought otherwise—Wisesa was the most hypocritical of them all. He was the one with the most empty words. Toying him in such a state was a pure treat.
"From the one who disregards the gods but exploits their power for personal gain," a Leyak mocked. "But never did I think that you’re actually right. It wasn't Ratu Lojitengara who gave us the order, it was Our Lordship Panembahan Girah. The time is near. Wredharaja must come. We will kill Banaspatiraja with or without Ratu Lojitengara's blessing, just as we killed Mrajapati and mastered its power!"
Hearing the shocking news of Mrajapati, Barong roared within the recesses of Wisesa's consciousness. An anguish-laden roar. Even the scream was stabbing Wisesa's own eardrums.
What time is near? Why are these crazy ass shamans looking forward to the end of the world? Mrajapati is gone, but they're still conjuring magic in his name? These folks are nuts! Masochists beyond help! The world is beyond help, Wisesa thought.
"No," Wisesa replied. "No, no. Barong off me? I accept it with open arms, brother. But not by you. I'll get that damn monster out myself, without getting killed in the process!"
"Unfortunately, you know there is no such option."
The two Leyaks rose and commenced a lithe dance.
"Lies!" Wisesa's abrasive roar was almost mistaken for the beast's bellow. A slight shudder on the shamans' napes. "Stop doing that! You won't be able to hold Barong back! You'll end up in its stomach if you’re not lucky enough to be saved with your arms and legs cut off!"
None of Wisesa’s cursing ever reached their ears. The two leyaks persisted in their dance and whisper.
"High above the sky, low below the earth. Mrajapati has made its sacrifice. It will enjoy its banquet among the bones. I am its famous monument. A majestic tower gleaming with gold to deliver the meal to the Seer of Setra Gada Mayu. Let it take the souls to their rightful place!"
The mantra was chanted repeatedly until Wisesa could see a tangible transformation in one of the Leyaks. The hideous visage became shrouded in bamboo and paper baubles. Swaths of vivid fabric unfurled abruptly. The mask seemed to stir with life, growing and shifting before Wisesa’s eyes, evolving into a grotesque, towering display of carved beasts and wooden beams. The tiers shrank as they reached greater altitudes, as if yearning to touch the heavens themselves! []
