In the midst of political intrigue and warfare during the founding of the Majapahit Kingdom, Jagat Wengi, a cunning and individualistic 25-year-old book thief, takes center stage. As he navigates the treacherous landscapes of both the martial arts world and the royal court, Jagat Wengi undergoes a remarkable transformation from villain to Anti-Hero. Torn between conflicting loyalties and a quest for redemption, he becomes known as “The Mute of The Demon Cave” after a fateful encounter leaves him voiceless. Armed with secret arts and fueled by revenge, Jagat Wengi embarks on a perilous journey to seek justice against those who betrayed him. Blending elements of fantasy, including magic, mysticism, and local myths, this historical fiction offers an enthralling tale of power, sacrifice, and the relentless pursuit of goodness in a world steeped in darkness.
The resistance was fierce amidst the circle of Mongol warriors who had surrounded the students from the martial arts school. Painful cries echoed through the battle. Kentabuana was certainly no match for ten Mongol warriors.
Their leader successfully disabled one of his opponents by seizing a long spear from a Mongol soldier.
The spear flashed unexpectedly, cutting through the slowly descending mist. One warrior failed to dodge it in time, unable to avoid the tear in his abdomen. His agonized moans did not deter his comrades; instead, they closed in, cornering their enemy against a large tree.
These were the Tartar Mongol soldiers who had united half the world under their banner of power. Their current target was the Nusantara region, and Java was the key to achieving it.
Seeing the situation, it seemed that the forests throughout the Kediri region were besieged by Mongol and Majapahit armies. There was no place to hide anymore. Jagat Wengi remained seated on the ground as the Mongol officer commanded his men to capture the students from the Kentabuana school.
The Mongol officer observed the progress of the battle, his gaze locking onto Jagat Wengi. The sword blade was as long as an adult's arm, pointed directly at him—a warning not to attempt to escape again.
"Cuiiih!"
Jagat Wengi spat out a mocking response to the threat. The Mongol officer slowly urged his horse forward, with the backdrop of his soldiers gradually cornering the enemy.
The enemy's spear swings were agile, but they were equally nimble in changing positions, continuously pressing forward.
"Get up!" the Mongol officer shouted, lifting his sword as a signal.
Then, in Mongolian, he commanded his soldiers to create a path for Jagat Wengi.
The atmosphere changed to a lively one. This was the entertainment for the soldiers amidst the war, like cockfighting with gambling involved.
Each soldier understood their leader's command to clear a space in the midst of their encirclement for the senior student of the martial arts school.
Jagat Wengi's back was forcefully pushed, urging him to quicken his pace. He was even handed a spear by one of the soldiers, just like the senior student.
"Hu... Hu... Hu... Ha... Ha!"
A synchronized cheer of enthusiasm erupted from all the soldiers. The Mongol officer gave another command through an interpreter.
"Only the living can escape from us!"
It was a fight for life or death. Jagat Wengi had no choice but to comply with their demands.
Two spears were raised, and the senior student whose nose had been broken by Jagat Wengi couldn't do much. He initiated with small feints from his spear, continuously stabbing in a connected sequence.
The creeping dew on the ground instantly dissipated as the senior student launched his attack. His spear sliced through the air right in front of Jagat Wengi's abdomen.
*Traang!
The sound of metal clashed as the blades of the two spearheads met. Jagat Wengi deflected it to the right, delivering a swift kick to his opponent's side.
With the remaining grip on his spear, the senior student parried and thrust the spearhead back at Jagat Wengi's body.
The exchange of attacks happened so rapidly, but it was evident that the spear play of the senior student from the Kentabuana school surpassed Jagat Wengi's.
Several times he had to roll from one side to another just to avoid his opponent's strikes. The spear in his hand seemed utterly useless. He had never learned how to wield weapons because a book thief didn't require such skills.
And now, he regretted it. Many books on weapons that he had stolen, either on order or sold at high prices.
Those high prices had to be paid with his life now. He had to think quickly to win this battle.
"This is unfair!"
Jagat Wengi shouted while continuously evading and parrying his opponent's attacks. The translator, hearing the outcry, relayed it to the Mongol officer.
The large-bodied Mongol man only gave a slight smile and nodded. Shortly after, Jagat Wengi shouted again.
"They are Jayakatwang's supporters. Why should I be the one troubled?!"
There was no response, even though the translator had relayed his shouts.
*Traang!
Jagat Wengi's spear was disarmed, and now he had to fight empty-handed. The senior student didn't immediately attack, but he continued to press forward with a victorious smile.
Jagat Wengi quickly grabbed a nearby shield, as it was the closest object to him. There was no time to reach for the sword sheathed at the Mongol soldier's waist.
*Wussh!
The opponent's spear thrust forward just as the leather shield closed off his attack. That was all Jagat Wengi could do. However, he was careless with his lower defense.
A kick to his knee made him lose balance. His foot slipped, and the spear swiftly slid toward his face.
He dodged, turning his face to the right, and his free-moving leg swiftly kicked his opponent's leg. However, it had no effect whatsoever. The senior student felt superior and full of confidence.
The fear of death made Jagat Wengi lose focus, and his face was kicked forcefully, causing blood to spurt from his nose and mouth. Only the spear remained, which had yet to hit its target.
The world seemed to spin. Laughter and applause transformed into the buzzing sound of attacking bees.
Finally, Jagat Wengi felt a drop of blood on his face as he closed his eyes, resigned to his fate.
It turned out the blood came from his opponent's own neck. The neck was pierced by an arrow, but who shot it?
With both hands supporting his body, he tried to see clearly what had happened so swiftly. He looked around, searching for the archer, and his eyes caught a bow held by the Mongol officer.
Jagat Wengi's earlier shout had successfully changed the Mongol officer's mind. By stating that this school supported Jayakatwang, they would certainly help him.
He had heard that Jayakatwang and his family were captured by the Mongols in Hujung Galuh. None of them survived, neither the descendants nor their palace, let alone their supporters.
"You can be useful to us, Javanese. Take him to the headquarters!" ordered the Mongol officer to his subordinates.
Jagat Wengi wasn't aware of the exact collaboration between the Mongols and the Javanese people. All he knew was that the rewards they offered were substantial. As a book thief, he had been tasked with finding books in the remnants of the Kediri palace.
During the search, after the palace had been emptied of any valuable items, he received an order from someone holding the position of Panewu. His name was Sawito, and he sent a Bekel and two soldiers to search for the sacred books of the former Kediri warlord, Rakryan Tumenggung Sabrang Panuluh.
A name he would always remember. He hoped that he and his wife would reach their destination safely. Prayer and hope lingered in Jagat Wengi's mind as his body was now atop a horse saddle with a Mongol soldier beside him.
It seemed the Mongol officer didn't want to take any chances again. Although his hands weren't tied, Jagat Wengi rode with a soldier behind him at a slow pace.
For a moment, the odor emanating from the Mongol soldier's body bothered him. It was a pungent and piercing smell. He had to lean his head forward to save his nose from the assault of such a scent.
After several hours of travel, they arrived in Kota Daha, the former administrative center of the Kediri Kingdom. The situation was still chaotic. Corpses were scattered everywhere, even though three days had passed since the battle.
Mongol and Majapahit soldiers worked together to clean the streets and the blood-filled irrigation ditches. This smell, at least, helped somewhat in overcoming the stench of the Mongol soldier's body behind him.
Jagat Wengi was brought to a palace courtyard that once again displayed its grandeur. A gaping hole could be seen in the palace wall, a remnant of the attack from the Mongol cannons, or as they called it, Cetbang.
Cetbang was the ultimate weapon of Kublai Khan's Mongol army. The Javanese people were astonished by this weapon, which seemed to be the creation of a mighty warrior.
One weapon capable of destroying dozens of soldiers and demolishing the palace walls. But most importantly, it shattered their morale and confidence.
The attack came at the crack of dawn and ended by midday. It was truly a lightning strike, destroying the palace in a single day and eradicating the legacy of Jayakatwang along with his honor and descendants.
The Mongol soldiers set up tents in the palace courtyard. They thoroughly enjoyed their victory with drinking and half-naked women running and laughing, pursued by a slant-eyed person wearing a head covering.
Finally, Jagat Wengi could breathe a sigh of relief from the constant assault of body odor. He resisted the urge to vomit, having an empty stomach.
Laughter and cheers from the Mongol soldiers could be heard. Jagat Wengi simply smiled cynically as the Mongol officer and his interpreter approached.
"Come with me," he said firmly.
Jagat Wengi began to feel uneasy. These Mongol invaders would surely demand something or assign him a task that matched his skills.
What could it be? Now that Java had no rulers, it seemed the Mongols would swiftly take control of the land.
The palace corridors still reeked of the stench of blood as Jagat Wengi passed through them before reaching an incredibly large room. This was the Bale Paseban, a chamber used by guests to meet the king.
But now, he wasn't facing a king; instead, another Mongol officer stood there, accompanied by a Javanese man.
"Wirahasa?" Jagat Wengi murmured. He recognized the man dressed as a noble. A distant relative of Jayakatwang. Why was he here?
"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Ulagan. I am the commander of the Mongol Tartar forces in the Daha region," he said in a friendly tone for a cruel invader. "This is my officer, Ganzorig."
Finally, Jagat Wengi learned the name of the Mongol officer who had brought him from the forest to this palace. The interpreter had conveyed it to him.
"He is Wirahasa, who will assist in the security of this region."
"Very well, sir. Thank you for the welcome. But I am hungry. Please provide me with food before we discuss your intentions, Commander."
Commander Ulagan smiled faintly and nodded.
"Hey, you! Show some respect to our new ruler!" Wirahasa reprimanded.
"What is the purpose of all this? Why have I been brought here, Wirahasa?"
"There is a new task for you," Wirahasa replied.
"What is it?"
"Gather young children from the villages in the Kediri region."
Jagat Wengi was shocked to hear about his new assignment. It wasn't about stealing books or any objects. It involved kidnapping young children.
For what purpose?