Commander Sabrang

{1293 AD}

The sun timidly began to dim its rays in the west as a man stumbled helplessly. If it weren't for the person beside him, embracing him, he might have wandered lost in the forest and become prey to wild animals.

"Just a little further, dear. I'm sure the place is across the hill ahead. Stay strong."

The person embracing him was his wife. For the past two days, they had been chased by Mongol troops who intended to attack Kediri along with forces from a village called Majapahit.

"Majapahit? Are you sure that's its name, my wife?"

"I'm sure, dear. I heard their shouts clearly when they stormed the palace."

"We must go to Sadeng. It's the only safe place."

"You're wrong, dear. Arya Wiraraja supports Raden Wijaya. Surely Sadeng is part of their plan."

"What about His Majesty, the King?" he asked, to which his wife responded with weakened and sorrowful eyes.

His Majesty, the King, referred to his husband, Jayakatwang, the King of Kediri, who was determined to continue Kediri's glory before it was taken over by Ken Arok in the past. This deep-seated grudge had become his destiny.

And now, these two fugitives were being pursued by Mongol Tartar troops, considering them part of the Kediri palace. The orders from their supreme commander were clear: eliminate all inhabitants to prevent any revenge by their descendants.

But this Rakryan Tumenggung, the commander of the Kediri kingdom, had a different plan. There was another purpose behind this pursuit. (1)

"We're done for, my lady. There's no place for us. Let me rest here for a while."

"Only the cave ahead can save us, dear."

"The Demon Cave? Your ancestral cave?"

"Come, my dear. Just a little further."

This middle-aged couple, around fifty years old, resumed their journey. They paid no mind to thorny thickets as they ventured deep into the southeastern jungle, away from the city of Daha, the capital of Kediri.

The chaos still echoed in their ears, and the words of his wife about the cave felt distant, while his body could no longer bear the pain.

Attacked at dawn by two formidable military forces, Kediri could have been devastated in a single day. Raden Wijaya was truly cunning. With his deception, he managed to turn the Mongol forces against Kediri, even though on paper, Raden Wijaya's strength came solely from the village of Tarikh. (2)

Jayakatwang had granted him amnesty, but it was repaid with betrayal. If his wife's words were true, he was assisted by another kingdom, led by Arya Wiraraja of Madura.

Once convinced that their pursuers had stopped, the husband and wife rested. His eyes caught sight of the cloth bag hanging from his wife's shoulder.

Their two sacred books had been saved. Two days of relentless pursuit. He sensed there was another reason for it.

"They attacked, we must continue the journey. There are still two rivers to cross," his wife urged.

The commander stood, following his wife's advice. His body was still weakened from the sudden attack by the Mongol troops.

He heard a deafening explosion that pierced through the palace walls. The Mongol weaponry was indeed advanced. He witnessed balls of fire emanating from a metal contraption as long as his arm.

After seeing Jayakatwang captured, his only thoughts were to save his wife and the two sacred books.

The horse he rode had been shot dead during the pursuit. The Tartar soldiers were skilled in horseback archery, a skill that had enabled them to conquer the world.

And it was happening now.

*Wuuth!

An arrow swiftly pierced his wife's forearm.

"Aaargh!"

His wife's scream instantly turned his body into a living shield as she collapsed onto the ground.

He crawled for a moment, assessing the surroundings. His ears picked up the sound of approaching horses and the movements of several individuals.

"My wife... My wife! Are you okay? Hold on for a moment."

The commander removed the arrow embedded in his wife's forearm while his left hand gently caressed her forehead. He snapped it to lessen the pain from the piercing impact.

The sounds of the horses grew nearer. There were three of them, and before long, two more people joined from behind.

"Rakryan Tumenggung! Come out! I know you're there. Our arrows never miss!"

The commander's eyes narrowed sharply toward the voice. Although his view was still obstructed by bushes, he was certain of what he heard. He recognized the owner of that voice. But when he rose to confirm, his wife held him back.

"My dear..."

Her soft voice sounded like a whisper. Small beads of sweat trickled down her forehead, which he gently wiped away.

"Stay calm. Whatever happens, you must leave this place as quickly as possible. I will buy you some time."

"My dear..." His wife's hand reached out, but her husband stood firmly and stepped out of hiding.

Five piercing gazes immediately fell upon him. However, those eyes seemed to convey that the leader of this group was not seeking him.

"Where are those books, Rakryan Tumenggung?"

"Is this an order from the Panewu?" the commander asked. Panewu was position of the chief warrior who supervised the Bekel. (3)

"There are no orders because your kingdom has already crumbled into the earth. You are no longer Rakryan Tumenggung."

"Then why do you still address me by that title?"

The enemy leader's face reddened. His two eyes immediately signaled commands to his two subordinates who had followed from behind.

"Royal Commander Sabrang Panuluh, your service has come to an end today. You can still serve if you hand over those books to me."

The two men quickly dispersed, but one of them continued to gaze at the commander with an odd expression. He glanced briefly toward the bushes and immediately ran in that direction.

Sabrang Panuluh wouldn't allow that to happen. He quickly intercepted the man, but the man's companion immediately intervened.

The man continued freely, unimpeded, in search of his suspicion. Sabrang Panuluh's wife was surprised to find out that her hiding place had been discovered by the enemy. She dragged herself backward.

"Lady Rasmi... It's me, Jagat Wengi."

With a bewildered expression on her face, while shaking her head, she tried to recall the name mentioned by the man in front of her.

"Lady is injured. I brought medicine before it gets worse."

From his waistband, he took out a small cloth containing herbs and medications. He tore open Lady Rasmi's dodot cover to examine her wound. (4)

"Endure the pain, Lady..."

In the midst of her companion's fight against the former commander of the Kingdom of Kediri, the man named Jagat Wengi pulled out an arrow.

"This should be burned, but we don't have time. This ointment is only temporary, Lady. Once it's safe, the wound must be burned to--"

*Buuk!

A powerful kick from Sabrang Panuluh struck Jagat Wengi's right arm. He was thrown to the side, struggling with the pain.

"Dear..." Her husband tried to intervene. Her cloth had slipped, revealing part of her exposed shoulder. But the arrow was no longer there, along with the fine ointment applied on it.

"Who are you, young man? Why did you save my wife?"

"I am Jagat Wengi, Sir. I was once given food by your wife."

Before the conversation could continue, two individuals rushed out from behind the bushes, pouncing on Sabrang Panuluh. One of them immediately approached Lady Rasmi, but Jagat Wengi wouldn't allow it to happen.

He took the remaining broken piece of the arrow that had been lodged in Lady Rasmi's forearm. He sharply thrust it into the neck of the attacker, causing him to scream in pain.

Next in line was the assailant of Sabrang Panuluh, and Jagat Wengi said to Lady Rasmi,

"Lady, go with Sir Sabrang. I'll hold them here. Hurry, Lady!"

Without waiting for a response from Lady Rasmi, Jagat Wengi took over the fight, cutting through the path between Sabrang Panuluh and his assailant.

"Sir, go! I'll hold them here," Jagat Wengi said without looking back at Sabrang.

Lady Rasmi forced herself to stand up and quickly walked towards her husband.

"I owe you my life, young man."

Without responding to Sabrang Panuluh's words, Jagat Wengi blocked the sight of his opponent, who was still taken aback by the treacherous actions of his comrade.

"I won't be surprised to see you like this. Thieves are all the same. Two-faced!"

"Save your words for the Bekel over there. I just wanted to repay a favor. Don't overdo it."

Now there are only two pursuers left. He was confident enough to fight them or at least hold them off until the commander and his wife were safe.

The mentioned Bekel arrived later and witnessed the situation that had now turned around. Nonchalantly, he walked towards his comrade and observed Jagat Wengi from head to toe.

"Why are you doing this, book thief? Do you also want Sabrang's book?"

"I simply refuse to work with those Mongols."

"Well, then work with us. I'll pardon you since you're associated with Panewu."

"I'm not subordinate to any Panewu," Jagat Wengi replied. The longer this conversation went on, the safer the escape of Sabrang and his wife became.

Without any orders, members of the Bekel's troops immediately attacked Jagat Wengi. Their daggers swung fiercely, stabbing his body.

*Creesh!

The strike hit Jagat Wengi's arm, causing him to roll backward. He reached for anything around him that could be used as a weapon.

He managed to grab a broken piece of wood from a tree branch, extending his reach to retaliate, to intimidate his opponents and keep them at bay.

The wood in his hand flitted and startled his opponent. The Bekel was too slow to dodge and was harshly struck in the face.

Before he fell to the ground, the Bekel took over the fight by kicking away Jagat Wengi's wooden weapon. The kick exerted force on his arm, diverting his attention as another sweeping kick landed heavily on his hip.

Jagat Wengi's pained groan didn't last long because the next attack would be even more dangerous. All he could do was roll to the side, leaving his weapon behind.

Two against one. This fight was undoubtedly uneven, but Jagat Wengi remained determined to hold off both opponents.

However, a voice from behind shattered everything. A figure clad in iron chain armor arrived on a majestic black horse. He gave firm orders in a language Jagat Wengi couldn't understand.

But he knew that he was currently facing the army of Tartar Mongols.