by Rama Nugraha
Copyright Pages
© 2019 Rama Nugraha. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For more information, address the publisher at: [email protected]
Visit the author’s website at: www.ramanugraha.com
First Edition
For you who dream
CONTENTS
Copyright Pages
Dedication
Map
Preface
Chapter 1 – Meeting Ana
Chapter 2 – A Deviate Dream
Chapter 3 – The Legacy
Chapter 4 – The Night of Departure
Chapter 5 – The Man with Golden Earrings
Chapter 6 – Towards Yardara
Chapter 7 – Encounter in the Forest
Chapter 8 – The Red Ludaj
Chapter 9 – Angare Village
Chapter 10 – Pollo Randalga
Chapter 11 – The Kahisar
Chapter 12 – A Hero’s Betrayal
Chapter 13 – Letters, Gathering, and Propaganda
Chapter 14 – The Secret Closet
Chapter 15 – Waiting Times
Chapter 16 – News from the Ailing One
Chapter 17 – The First Mission
Chapter 18 – Arriving in Fardas
Chapter 19 – The Black Tongue
Chapter 20 – The Ape’s Warning
Chapter 21 – The Silver-eyed Lady
Chapter 22 – Walking Around the Town
Chapter 23 – The Side Effect of Cercila
Nymeria’s Visit
Chapter 24 – The Client
Chapter 25 – Letter from a Friend
Chapter 26 – Telepaqua
Chapter 27 – The Red-skinned Royan
Chapter 28 – Phase One
Chapter 29 – The Black Arm
Chapter 30 – A Great Woman
Chapter 31 – The Reunion in Wanageeska
Chapter 32 – To the Other Side
Chapter 33 – Nymeria Tells
Chapter 34 – Freefall
Chapter 35 – The Beginning
Acknowledgement
Glossary
About the Author
This is a tale of Neena.
Mankind who can breathe underwater.
On the Surface, they live by ordering one another.
Developing civilization along with machine and magic.
Building housings on the water and creating nations under the blue sky.
Whereas the outcasts run away to the luminous Underworld where the red river flows. Becoming comrades with giants, they escaped the Kings’ decrees.
Farther away, deeper into the frozen, void darkness.
Amongst the valleys that swallow the mountains.
Primordial entities with no form come to be.
Destined to guard the Abyss.
Soon… a war will begin, shattering all three realms.
Chapter 1
Meeting Ana
Datan Woudward tried to stop the quiver in his limbs.
He was shaken. Surrounding him were hundreds of men, women, and children’s bodies. They were sprawled. Unmoving. The bodies slumped covering the end of the road like the remains of soldiers on a battlefield. They were mere visitors of the night market who lost unconsciousness all of sudden. Some fell on top of others as their eyes widened in terror and their face painted in panic and horror. Grocery bags were scattered, the contents were too—a dozen of cheap clothing; fake jewelry; plastic ornaments; room decorations; even sweets meant for dessert after dinner.
The illuminating silver light intensified the dreadfulness of the sight.
Datan was the only one conscious. One minute earlier, he was in his father’s hold. They were running away from the security guards and from the angry stare of the people. Father was caught stealing red-handed. Before everyone collapsed, Datan was flung from Fathers hold.
Datan lifted his throbbing finger. He saw a scratch caused by gripping the street’s surface. He panted, clenching his heaving chest. The silence in the street crushed him. No groan nor wheeze was heard.
Father… where is Father? he thought. He looked around, trying to find a familiar face.
Suddenly, Datan found a pair of eyes watching very closely over the spot where he stood. His body tensed. He was too scared to move. Quiet footsteps were heard behind him. They were getting closer, carefully stepping into the street as they walked over corpses of the visitors. Datan’s knees were shaking once more. Gathering all of his might, he turned around and right away he was startled seeing the looming figure before him.
He recognized the body structure, it was a woman.
She stood straight. Her attire was rather mystifying. She was wearing short garments in all black with a bold pattern shimmering under the moonlight. Around her waist was a leather belt, the buckle of which was gold and in the shape of an owl biting a dagger. A bow as stunning as night and a quiver holding golden arrows were fixed gracefully on her back.
A wide hood covered her face. A piece of black cloth concealed half of her face. The visible part of her face was only the top of her nose and a pair of alluring eyes with outlandish depth—as though she had lived mightily through times. Datan knew she was a Marra. Father said those people had eyes resembling balls of blazing copper—just like the eyes of this woman.
Datan fell onto the ground in a sitting position. His legs were paralyzed all of sudden, his throat felt as though there was a knot of mucus choking him.
The woman slouched slightly. She widened her eyes. “Well, well… an Ingra, are you?” she probed inquisitively. She examined Datan from head to toes, then stopped in his eyes. She looked at him like Datan was a unique mesmerizing unidentified ancient creature. “Eyes that could see through the darkness; the Night Walkers; the Revolutionaries; the true Nameer rider…”
“Tell me, have you encountered a Forest Whisper?”
Datan was tongue-tied. His eyes were glued to the woman, who seemed to know a great deal of Ingra. He was curious. “Forest—Whisper?” he repeated questionably, then he shook his head. “Nameer?”
The woman was obviously mustering a smile behind the clothing covering her face. “Indeed,” she confirmed. “They are the masters of the sky. They fly as fast as a speeding bullet!” she exclaimed with gleaming eyes. “Oh! And Forest Whisper, they are creatures of the fog that whisper in the dark of night. It is said that only people of Ingra can see their majestic being.”
Datan blinked his eyes in awe. His thoughts flew into the sky. He imagined how a Nameer would look like, then he imagined a being without a form behind the fog sneaking in between the tight gap of the trees. Clearly, he had never seen any of them. “Wow…”
“Ana. Call me Ana,” the woman stretched out her hand to help Datan stand up. “Don’t be afraid, Datan. I don’t bite.”
She knows my name? Datan nodded, accepting her hand. For a moment, he was bewildered as he whiffed a scent just like Father’s. “Have you encountered more of us?” he asked. “Ingran, I mean. All of this time I thought I am on my own.”
“Frankly you are indeed a rare species. Though I have several acquaintances of Ingra bloodline,” Ana paused as if she noticed Datan’s curiosity. She shook her head, “Nu-uh,” she muttered in a dismissing tone and tightened mouth, “It will be too long of a story to tell.”
Datan sighed in disappointment as he recalled his situation. Ana moved and Datan followed her. From behind her, Datan saw the golden gleam reflected from the back of right shoulder part of her cloth. There was an ornament in the form of a gorgeous arrangement of golden flakes. It had a shape of an owl wearing a hoodie with a flapped wings. Ana stopped to see a figure who had yet to move.
It turned out that Father was lyin
g ten steps behind Datan. His body was almost covered by a wooden table of a ring merchant by the street. His body was facing down, his mouth kissing the asphalt. Datan remembered how fast Father had run earlier. Ana leaned down, pulling Father’s body and let it sprawled. Datan saw cuts in Father’s cheek and nose. Ana just hummed as she touched Father’s thick mustache with the back of her fingers.
“It’s just a scratch,” Anna said. “He will be fine.”
“I don’t know what happened to him and everybody. They just collapsed.”
“They’re just asleep.”
Then Datan finally heard the sound of snores from the mass surrounding him. He gasped, “They are asleep? But we were—“ Datan felt reluctant to continue his story.
“Being chased because your father was caught stealing? I am aware.”
Datan’s face reddened. He was frightened and ashamed, as well as irritated.
“Don’t be embarrassed. I am just like your father.”
Ana put out something from a leather pouch in her pocket, it resembled white chalk. She rubbed the chalk-like item under Father’s nostrils. It stained his black mustache which he always trimmed neatly and maintained nicely for the past month. Datan starred wide-eyed—he was sure Father would go berserk when he found out.
“It will help him regain his consciousness,” Ana giggled in amusement. “Trust me. Listen, Datan. The moment your father is conscious, you both get out of here as fast as you can. Understand?”
Datan nodded. “So…” he mumbled hesitantly. “Are you a thief too, Ana?”
Ana got back to her feet, walking farther away to the back. Silently, she walked over the snoring visitors. Datan followed her. Now he was not concerned about Father all that much.
“Yes, but not an amateur one,” she replied, “stealing is thrilling, Datan. It’s fair that your father does it.”
Datan wondered if that was true.
Taking ten steps to the back. Ana stopped once more under a lantern pole in the side of the street. It appeared that she approached the guard who was leading the chase of Father and Datan. The middle-aged man has a large posture, every strand of hair in his head was silver. The Urgut man snored loudly, looking really sound in a curling position. His hand was grasping his baton still. Datan squatted, crossing his arm, observing Ana from one-meter distance.
Datan’s attention was focused on Ana. “How do you know my name, Ana?” he inquired curiously.
“I know of your Father—though surely he doesn’t know me. Your Father is a great man.”
Datan crooked an eyebrow. That was an odd answer.
Ana hurriedly looked around, giving him a stern look. “No more question about your father,” she said.
Datan heard it as a sugarcoated threat. He unwillingly nodded. Then, Ana took one coin from her pocket in her sides. It was terracotta red, gleaming. On it was a craving of a hooded owl. She put it in front of the man who was facing the frozen asphalt. Datan’s eyes were sharp enough to see how the coin was unusual. Even so, he could not read the writing engraved in the edge of the round item.
“That’s not a Kurr, isn’t it?”
Ana ignored Datan’s question. “Visit Number 14 in his house,” she told the man like she was sure the man was listening and would soon follow her order. “Someone needs to take care of him.”
“What kind of thief are you, Ana?” Datan asked again.
Ana had yet to answer. Her eyes shifted to see the guards who were scattered around. She pondered about something. Datan tried to be patient as he waited for an answer. Even so, his sight was glued to Ana like a predator eyeing a prey. Soon enough, Ana looked uncomfortable.
Ana returned Datan’s gaze viciously.
“You’re really a curious one, aren’t you?”
Datan smirked wryly.
“I am a Royan, Datan. A member of the League of Royans.”
Datan frowned. His face depicted demanding confusion.
“We are outlaws who do whatever we desire. Outcasts, thieves, former convicts, and many others,” uttered Ana seriously. “One thing for sure, we are no role models you should look up to.”
Datan’s eyes widened in awe. His expression lit up as if he just found a giant kite in the shape of a mighty bird. His mind imagined a group of people dressed like Ana. So gallant, so dominant, so powerful, and admired by many.
Ana squinted, suspicious. “Well, what are you thinking about right now?”
Datan shook his head, taking a turn not to answer. “Why do you dress like that? Aren’t you too underdressed? Aren’t you cold?”
“This is a special attire, Datan.”
Datan’s mouth formed an ‘o’. “Ingra,” he said, “Tell me about the Ingra people, Ana.”
Ana came closer, smiling at him under the shadow. Then, she ruffled Datan’s thick raven-colored hair. She slightly bent down. “Sarmala, The Northern Land of Urimenil,” she stated as she made sure her sight was in line with Datan’s. “One day, you should go there.”
Datan was stunned as she returned Ana’s gaze. “Sarmala, Urimenil.”
“Correct.”
Datan memorized the name for dear life in his mid. Even if he was so curious, he was still unable to see Ana’s hidden face. “Will we meet again?”
Ana lifted her hand from his head, straightening her back. “You may look for me if you want to,” she pulled the tip of the hood covering her head. It looked like a gesture of habit. “But don’t put too much hope into it. Well then, farewell,” Ana looked away. Her steps were agile yet as quiet as the night. She strode away, riving the sea of market visitor’s bodies.
Datan was stunned as he watched Ana went away. “I will remember your words!” he shouted as he waved his hand vigorously until Ana disappeared in a turn at the end of the road. “We will meet again, Ana!”
Chapter 2
A Deviate Dream
Datan Woudward moved closer to the oval mirror hung in his cupboard. He scratched a tint of stain in his rosy cheek using his index finger. Feeling proud and stunned as he stared into his reflection who stared back. His face was rather endearing with his pointy nose, captivating dimples, and thick raven black hair crowning his head. The girls always said that Datan was attractive.
Oh, how gleefully Datan laughed each time he heard it.
Although, there is one thing of himself which Datan truly felt proud of. Datan had a pair of round eyes as clear as crystals, as green as recurrently-polished emerald. Those eyes were exceptionally mysterious—as though they kept a secret. Those eyes were the thing which made him different, foreign. He always looked so out of place that he was like an opera amongst Urgut and Haedin people. They said Datan was a unique descendant foretold as one of the Revolutionaries. Datan believed the divination was nothing but a mere tale for children.
Why was I born different? What do I live for?
He might only be seven years old. Though lately, he had queried such perplexing thought. Once, while chuckling, an old man said people lived only to tittle-tattle, to eat twisty satay, to fly a kite, to grumble and finally to die. As simple as that. Uh, Datan hoped to not live such a life. It sounded like lazy bone’s jest for him.
Father was not much of a help. He only said that Datan should find the answer when he turned into an adult. It was no problem, surely. For since he met Ana, Datan started to figure out his purpose of being alive.
◆◆◆
Datan lived with his father, Mattan Woudward, in a tiny house number 21 in utmost end street beyond the border of Tormera country. They did not live in a neighborhood area. Far from the crowds, they lived in the edge of a low cliff. Their house had a Haedin characteristic in, which meant it was thoroughly built out of woods. The shape resembled a cone. The rooftop was made of the green of growing grass and it had a nifty room decorated with many kinds of plants like orchid and jasmine.
Two months had passed since the night Datan met Ana, the night Father was caught stealing in the night market. Father had apologized. He said
that he had to do it though he did not want to since his income from selling hunted animals was declining rapidly. Datan tried to understand his reasoning, though he could not say he completely believe him. Concerning Ana, Father was downright unwilling to tell him anything about her. Father could care less that Ana said she knew him or Datan’s name for that matter. Instead, Father blamed Ana for showing up and helping them.
“She spat on my honor!” Father screeched. “Never have I had a female comrade who stained a man’s mustache!” he took a deep breath. “That woman had deceived you. She’s a thief, deceiving thief! Women lied better than men. Don’t you forget that!
“Especially since she’s a Royan!”
Yet, the talk about Ana was not over yet. On the contrary to Father’s words, Datan’s interest in the mysterious woman who put all of the night market’s visitors to sleep escalated. Towards the end of the third week, a snowstorm in July felt colder and more vicious than one that came last year. For Father was furious. Datan yet again expressed his interest to be a Royan in order to meet Ana.
“I keep dreaming about it, Father. I want to be a Royan, and meet Ana once more.”
Father closed How to Plant Babag in Water, a book which he had read for hours. His sapphire blue eyes glared at Datan intensely. He shook his head in disbelief. “You’re mental!” he snapped. “No, Datan. We’re over this, and you keep bringing this up. Fira will be furious, shall she heard about this.”
Datan groaned, torn between desperation and anger.
Father was the most hotheaded, stubborn man Datan had ever known. When he was mad, household furniture clattered, and Datan’s knees wobbled at his wrath. Father was a man of a Haedin bloodline with oval-shaped facial structure and very distinct cheekbones. His nose was speckled with freckles. His raven black hair was wavy and was always tied back. His posture was tall and slender. His build is muscular and hefty—a typical image of a wolf hunter in the forest.
Also, Father had a scent of vanilla. Indeed, vanilla.