The Thief

by Rama Nugraha

  There was one time when they sat face to face at the side of the lake and the training was to slap each other. At first, Datan was not troubled by this type of training, because even if it felt ridiculous, it still felt fitting—taking a deep breath and peacefully accepting managed to tone down the anger in his heart. Though, as time goes on Father slapped him harder and even harder.

  It went on up to the point where Datan rose and pounced on Father angrily. “You baited me, Father! Your slaps get harder ever time! My jaw will fall off if we do this all day!” he roared, no longer able to hold back his rage.

  Father laughed loudly at him.

  Besides all of the training, Father also taught him something unfamiliar.

  “Do you believe in those who aren’t visible to the eyes, Datan?” Father asked when they sat on the top of a flat stone after a set of training in the meadow in an afternoon when the sky was clear and cloudy. “Do you believe in magic?”

  Datan stayed silent. He rolled his sleeves then winced. “No,” he decided, shaking his head. “I think magic only exists in our imagination.”

  “Why do you think so?”

  “I am twelve, Father. I can think. Besides, all my life, I have never seen it,” Datan shrugged. “So, how can I believe that magic is real?

  Then Father slapped Datan quite hardly.

  Datan widened his eyes. He gapped. “What’s that for?” he stroke his throbbing redden cheek.

  “Was that hurt?”

  “Of course!”

  “With your eyes in your head, can you actually see the shape of that pain in your cheek? Is it round? Or is it square?”

  Datan closed his mouth. He paled. His mind found a dead end to comprehend why Father asked such a thing.

  “I don’t think so, right?” Father challenged. “Well, that’s how magic like—or any other forces surrounding the universe. Close. Right before you. Yet, your eyes are unable to see. Don’t ever underestimate something just because you cannot see it, Datan,” he stretched his bent knees, then stood up. “Come, I want to show you something.”

  Father demonstrated his dagger throwing ability to Datan. Then, with a bare hand, he pulled back the dagger without touching the item which was impaled in a lumber (that knife was pulled as if there was an invisible string attached from its end to Father’s fingers!).

  Datan wiped his eyes. “Was that magic?”

  `“No, it’s not. We call it telekinesis. One of the implementations of Mind Power.”

  Datan flinched, getting even more confused. “Alright, so… the Mind Power?”

  “This body, Datan, and every existence around us are connected in a form of one energy—we called it the Energy Universe,” Father explained. “Telekinesis is one of the executions of how to control that energy, with our mind as the trigger as well as the controller.

  “Our mind controls many things in our life. Remember that well.”

  Datan could only think of one thing. “Why didn’t you use it to hunt? Surely, this telekinesis thing will be very helpful for us.”

  “Because I am too old for this, Son,” for a brief moment, Father looked at the dagger in his hand. “To use telekinesis, you need a wholeness state of mind. You need to be in a nearly perfected state of relaxation and focus. Until you can feel every breath you take, every bit of your consciousness, ever strand of Mind Power energy within you, along with the Energy Universe from the item you want to move.

  “Only in that state are we able to build an interaction between you and the item using only your mind. In order to achieve that state isn’t easy to do, it’s quite tiring. Though meticulous training could improve it.”

  Datan bobbed his head as though he completely understood. “How about magic?”

  Father took Datan to sit in a large stone under an oak tree, the leaf of which were abundant and bathed in the gleaming shade of gold of the afternoon sun. “You remember someone named Seline Suba from Urimenil?” he asked.

  Urimenil—Datan was reminded of Ana. Datan stood for a while to pull up his baggy cotton pants. “The crazy lady from Haedin history, who was known as the murderer of the Babell monarch, right?”

  “Seline isn’t crazy, Datan. She was the world’s first witch.”

  Datan crossed his hands, dumbfounded. “Well, I didn’t know that part,” he mumbled.

  “The book that I gave you yesterday didn’t mention that part. Don’t be surprised at that. Some skeptical historian tends to omit several facts from their writings. Especially if the story is deemed too dark or provocative.

  “Or unpleasant.”

  Datan’s arms remained crossed in front of his chest. He sat up straight.

  “Magic. The concept of magic is more than the Mind Power. Magic is referred to as the Knowledge of the Soul. Seline once stated her opinion in front of a crowd that magic exists through a living element that is incomprehensible by logic. This is closely related to the Energy Universe and our awareness of Unum.”

  Datan knew Unum was believed to be The Creator by the Haedin people. The omnipotent being who created the whole universe, whose existence was doubted by Datan, who always sounded absurd if mentioned by a logical person as himself. Father never talked much about Unum. Even so, he prayed at Him regularly. Datan found it strange to worship something invisible, to fear something that might or might not be real.

  Datan thought Father did that just to appear normal as a Haedin.

  Datan swayed to the left and right, “I still don’t understand, Father.”

  Father sighed. He took some time to arrange his words. “You might not know Unum. But you know, do you? Unum is The Creator of the universe who is alive. He sees. He thinks. He emotes and feels. He talks.”

  Datan felt chills crept upon his arms and neck. He was startled. His expression resembled an innocent child trying to taunt an old monk. It was unbelievable, the way Father spoke like he had known Unum the Creator personally like he knew Datan.

  Since when Father turned like this?

  “What are you thinking?”

  “I think you’re demented.”

  Father flicked Datan’s forehead. “You insolent child,” he snarled. “I mean it!”

  Datan chuckled. “Does it mean every Unuma is a wizard?” he asked.

  Father shook his head. “No. Unuma is Unuma. There are plenty of people who worship Unum just because other people do. Whilst wizards are wizards. They are the forsaken,” Father stared closely at Datan. His blue eyes radiated a sharp deep glare. Father rethought what he was about to say. “The Scripture of Essa,” he added.

  “Someday later you must be able to read it.”

  Datan groaned, suddenly wanting to dip his head to the bathtub.

  “One thing for sure,” Father continued. “What you hear about magic in a children stories and what magic actually is… they are different. One must struggle between life and death to be a wizard. Some of them failed and turned insane in the process.

  “It cannot be passed down in a bloodline. It needs a sharp sense of imagination, which cannot be studied by merely concentrating, reading books from an ancient civilization without having your tongue twisted, then tapping wands whilst eating cherries.”

  “Bumm! Someone turned into a frog, for instance?” exclaimed Datan. “That is the type of magic I find in storybooks.”

  Father smiled wryly. “I know,” he said. “But the truth is magic is not as theatrical as such. Magic can be astonishing, but there are set of rules inside of it. Nowadays, I think telekinesis is more than enough to help you to be a Royan.”

  It turned out that.... learning telekinesis was much more difficult than Datan had anticipated.

  For hours, days, weeks, months Datan starred at a small pebble in his palm, trying to make it move. Still, nothing happened except the skin of his face felt tightening and his head spun. Father warned Datan about the self-assurance, and to completely concentrate while imagining and feeling.

  Focus and patience (this process was not as simple as
it sounds).

  “No! I can’t do it, Father! If I do it any longer, I will go insane,” Datan whined, throwing the pebble in his hand to the lake. Then, he lied his sore body down in the grass.

  “Patience, Datan. Every single one is tied in a process. You do need to shiver for three days to be brave enough to walk on the wooden bar, remember? The same applied for telekinesis,” Father asserted, giving Datan another pebble. “You need to work harder.

  “You may fail, Datan. Fail as much as you can. But you cannot stop trying. You cannot stop trying no matter what happened. Remember that.”

  Datan grumbled. Father kept patiently talking and told him not to stop. Did Father not know that it was very frustrating? That Datan’s eyes felt as though they were going to fall out of their socket? That his head was about to explode?

  Eventually, after a year had passed, Datan managed to move the stone in his hand—as far as two centimeters. Datan soared excitedly at his success. Even if after a minute passed, he had a nosebleed and fainted due to exhaustion.

  ◆◆◆

  Datan Woudward had grown to be a dashing man. He was 22 years old then. His emerald eyes shone brighter, slight stubble had grown in his now stern face, his hair reached his shoulder, it was wavy and raven black still, his posture was sturdy and strong. Growing up with Arni had him use to moving as agile as a wolf, as quiet as shadow and as calm as an unruffled body of water.

  Father sat in a chair facing the blazing fire in the fireplace. Datan sat close to him after he cleaned the dishes. For a moment, Datan observed Father’s face. His black mustache was scruffy, uncombed, covering his whole upper lip. Grey hair grew in between his dulled hair. His skin had started to loosen and wrinkled.

  “You look really old, Father.”

  “If it weren’t for Unum, I would have to use cane wherever I go,” Father said, the gleam in his eyes dimmed and paled.

  “What will you do after I depart?”

  “Of course I will just do what I usually do. Hunting? Having babag party with Joe? One thing for sure, I want to enjoy my life after raising a troublesome child such yourself.”

  “But are you really going to be alright on your own, Father?”

  “I will be alright.”

  “You can come along if you wished to.”

  Father laughed bitterly. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I am, Father.”

  “Focus, Datan. Your goal is to join the League of Royans, and to find Ana,” Father reminded. “You must go through this journey on your own. This is a mission, not a picnic.” Father rummaged through the pocket of his pants, he pulled Datan’s hand and gave him a shining black metallic coin with gliding forming a piece of feather on both sides. “You will need it.”

  Datan frowned. He brought his palms closer to his face, inspecting the coin and grazed through its finely engraved surface. There was a sentence engraved around the edge.

  “Wrongdoing is uncertain. Balance is requisite,” – The League of Royans.

  Datan wondered what those words meant.

  “Go to Fardas,” Father uttered. “Go to the only post office in there, and find an officer behind a locket wearing a red uniform. He is the only one who can contact the League of Royans.”

  Datan began to fiddle restlessly.

  “That coin is the symbol of the Invited Guests who desired to join them. Oftentimes, people hunt for this item in an antique store and pay a great amount for it.”

  “After so long, why do you talk like you know them very well now?” Datan stood up, sighing, walking back and forth in the room, only followed by his own loud footsteps. “Ana was right back then. She really did know you.”

  “Take a deep breath. There’s no need to be any anger in this conversation.”

  “I am not angry, Father,” Datan lied as his cheek reddened.

  “I do not know Ana—because I didn’t see her myself that night. But, yes, you are right. I have kept a secret from you—“

  “You lied to me—for more than a decade!”

  Father threw a piece of firewood to the fire before him, “a secret which I cannot tell you.”

  “Oh,” Datan groaned. “What sort of secret that was so—“

  Father glared sternly at him. “Enough,” he cut his words coldly.

  Datan’s tongue was tied, he looked at Father gripping the armchair and the wrinkles in his face tightened. Perhaps Datan should not have gotten angry. Because he felt he knew nothing of his Father.

  “Are you thirsty?”

  “I am not.”

  “I’ll fetch you some water.”

  Datan proceeded to the kitchen, pouring water from the pot to a bamboo glass, then walked back to the living room. He put the glass on the small table next to Father’s chair. Datan sat down next to him, leaning his back to watch him closely. Soon he realized it was impossible to get him to talk.

  Like always, Datan had to be the bigger person.

  “It is not yet the time for you to know it, Datan. Perhaps I will tell you the story sometime in the future. When you are a man, when you have your own noteworthy stories to tell me, then we will tell each other. It will be brilliant.”

  “I am a man now, Father.”

  “No, you’re not. You are an inept youth who is still playing around and do things as you please. In my eyes, a man had to live by a principle and have a clear goal in his life. And he had to be helpful to others.”

  Datan smiled bitterly. “Alright, I agree,” he stated. Datan knew very well that it would be hard for him to win an argument against Father. Datan threw the black coin another look. “What do I do next?”

  “Show that coin to the officer in the red uniform.”

  Father stood up, walking into his room. When he walked out, he was holding a tiny box in his hand. “For you,” he gave the box to Datan, “take care of it well.”

  Datan opened the box. He was stunned to see a navy blue ring on top of a velvet black fabric. The item had a silhouette which stated clearly that it was not sold in a street vendor. Datan took the ring. He traced the fine surface. He looked at the strokes of flowing red inside the blue like a river of blazing fire. In the inner part, there was a symbol incised in gold. It has a shape of an eagle whose wings were flapped and whose feet were gripping a crown. That ring was not made of iron. It was made of unbreakable wood which emphasizes that it was no ordinary ring.

  “It’s not an eagle,” Father corrected Datan’s speculation. “That is Rukh. The Colossal Bird, Rukh.”

  “Rukh…” Datan’s pupil dilated.

  “I called it Malika. It is made of Quir wood which can only be found at the bottom of the sea. I don’t exactly know how the crafter made it, but as far as I know, there is only one of it in the entire world. Only my lineage and I can wield it.”

  Datan starred at Father quietly. His brain spun, he wanted to ask more questions.

  “Whatever it is you want to ask me, put it on hold,” Father cut.

  He looked away, walking towards a framed old oil painting hung near the fireplace, it belonged to Mother. The rapturous painting depicted a picture both of them happily starred at their new home which they had built together.

  “Your life will no longer be easy once you’re a Royan, Datan,” Father continued as he starred at Datan. “But I want you to remember. No matter what happened, no matter how tangled you become, no matter how agonizing was your despair, remember that this house will always welcome you home.”

  In an instant, Datan was moved. His breath got heavier and his gaze softens seeing the sorrow his father tried to hide in his face.

  “Come back home when you want to, Son, and try to come in one piece.”

  Datan was touched by Father’s words. He mustered a smile. “Don’t you worry, Father,” he reassured. “You owe me so many stories. Surely I’ll come home and ask for them.”

  Chapter 4

  The Night of Departure

  On Datan’s last night in Tormera, a small feast was held in t
he Woudward household. The guests were only relatives and close friend. Aunt Fira fussed about this day the most. She came the earliest, preparing the meals all alone. Through it all, she put on a sullen face as stiff as a mask. She refused to be helped by Datan and Father.

  “Pupur mushroom is best to be made alone,” she stated.

  Datan smiled dryly seeing Aunt Fira. He reminisced things about her. She was a tough woman whom Datan cared for deeply. Spending time with her never bored Datan. Aunt Fira was great at coaxing people with her delicious cooking, and she loved telling stories. Especially ones about the history of the hidden dark world.

  Every time they talk in the same room, Father would stay farther away since their conversation made him weary. “Are you actually talking or arguing?”

  Aside from their compatibility, there was one thing that bothered Datan. The talkative painting-enthusiast lady never came around with the idea of Datan joining the League of Royans. Most of the times, she still saw Datan as an ignorant child because of his dream. For her, Datan’s ambition to be a Royan was the gravest mistake in his life, which initiated by Father’s idiocy.

  Datan was truly defenseless when Aunt Fira talked about this. All he did was sitting quietly and smiling bitterly. It is because he was aware that the flushed lady could turn into a hungry wolf targeting a lamb once they talked about Royan. This was the reason Datan avoided talking about Royan since he learned how Aunt Fira could be. He could only shut his hearing when she badmouthed them.

  There was a knock from the large oval door of the house. Datan rushed to open it.

  Erry Monala had come. The rabbit-loving girl, the first one to teach Datan to steal, had grown to be slightly taller than Datan. Her body had fulfilled her heredity as an Urgut, who were large in posture. Her reddish face looked pretty with her rounded cheekbone and waist-length silvery hair. Her hair was alluringly fluorescent, it was fragrant of rose oil.

  Erry looked more graceful than she usually was. She was wearing Nimta, clothing for distinguished people of Urgut made of woven fabrics. Erry’s Nimta was a plain dark gown revealing her shoulder, wrapping her beautifully, ornamented with a topaz stone around the chest area. The necklace, the chain of which was made of a shiny black foreign metal, has a red stone he could not recognize, it formed a mysterious blaze of fire with black dots in the middle. It was Fij.