The Thief

by Rama Nugraha

  Datan turned around, his eyes were swollen. He looked frightening.

  “Well, what I can’t help it,” Nymeria shrugged. “I’m the villain here”

  Datan stood up, walking away from the moonlight. The light made it through the vines covering the opening of the cave above them, leaving spots of illuminating white on the black, hard, and rocky soil. Datan refused to have Nymeria fall asleep, he wanted to fight her without restrictions. So, he took off his cloak as well.

  The green of his eyes glowed in hatred. He would not hold back. He wanted to torture her, to make her miserable before ending her life. Datan unsheathed his sword. The weapon made of Blue Steel made an ear-piercing noise as it left the scabbard. In his head, he knew this battle would be brutal.

  “But, Datan,” Nymeria said. “Did you remember what I said? Our little talk is not over yet.”

  “I don’t want to hear any more.”

  “Oh my, didn’t Aunt Fira told you not to be rough at women?”

  Datan yelled—could not care less about Aunt Fira’s rule—and he leaped forward. Nymeria slashed the air, groaning while lifting chin and her one-handed sword.

  Their swords clashed, vibrating and clinking sharply.

  Datan tried to attack Nymeria’s left shoulder. That woman dodged it fast. She attacked him back from the side. Datan managed to avoid it as well.

  “You can’t kill me!”

  “Oh, yeah?!” Datan shouted back. “We’ll see!”

  Datan attacked mercilessly, not sparing any second. He wanted to wound her so bad that she fell onto the ground, so that her legs could no longer carry her. But Nymeria managed to react to his attack well. She knew Datan was out of his mind, and she waited for an opening to attack.

  And that opening finally came.

  Nymeria leaped forward, punching Datan with her left fist. Right after, she swung her sword to his chest. They could hear the sound of a fabric tearing. She raised her right hand again to attack him accurately in the same place.

  Nymeria’s black sword almost pierced through the night attire’s fabric and slashed his skin.

  Datan had to leap back. He whimpered in pain. The pain in his cheekbones was not immense but he had to grip his chest which ached badly. He was stunned seeing the outer layer of night attire cut. He could see untwined black threads.

  That was the hardest attack Datan had ever received in his fight with Nymeria. Also, he realized that her swords were extraordinarily sharp.

  “Ha!” Nymeria exclaimed. “Spread some of the fat of Ludaj baby to your sword, and it will be able to cut through layers of night attire.”

  Well, Datan did not know that.

  “Oh,” Datan lifted his chin, groaning. “Don’t celebrate yet, Nay-nay!”

  “Meria! Call me Meria, you filthy-mouthed man!” Nymeria was fuming mad. “Listen! We need to talk! I’ll tell you the truth. No more drama and lies.”

  Datan swayed his sword. “I don’t want to know!”

  “You have to listen! I need you! I need you! You hear me!”

  “You killed my father!”

  “Your father is dying anyway! That disease has no cure! No one could heal him! I stopped his suffering! Your father would even eat dirt if you ask him to!”

  “Bullshit!”

  As fast as lightning. Datan bolted, all of sudden he was before Nymeria’s face and he threw a punch to her ribs. Once. Twice. Datan’s left fist was as hard as a steel mace.

  Nymeria squeaked. Her body had a hard time holding on. She stopped Datan’s punch by attacking his hand with her sword. She scrammed her left elbow to Datan’s face, but she hit nothing but air.

  Nymeria turned around in a heartbeat, swinging her sword to the direction of Datan’s neck. Datan evaded the blow by throwing his head to the back—hurling his leg up. Sharp air slashed his neck.

  Datan almost kicked Nymeria. One second later, immediately he pushed her with his shoulder and plunged an attack to her left abdomen. The blade of his sword managed to pierce it by five centimeters.

  Crimson blood gushed out.

  Nymeria howled. She slammed her head to Datan’s forehead, pushing him back.

  Datan groaned, frustrated, as he let Nymeria go. His frontal bone throbbed painfully. The rosy skin in his forehead was scrapped. Nymeria panted. Her face was drenched in sweat, stricken by exhaustion and pain. Her left hand was pressed tightly at the open wound in her stomach. She was covered in blood.

  Ciriel squirmed impatiently. He was still on Nymeria’s shoulder. “Missus—“

  Nymeria raised a hand, telling him not to meddle.

  Boiling tension engulfed them. The sound of erratic breath and cave wind accompanied their duel. Clanging and shouting in Kanas and Irirana’ battle could be heard faintly afar. Datan held his sword so tight that his palms redden, covered in blisters.

  “I just want you to help me, Datan,” Nymeria panted. She looked straight at him. Her eyes had turned into the silver balls-like state. “To kill my entire family.”

  Datan laughed dryly. He felt distressed listening to her chattering. Even when this time, Nymeria did not grin as much. Her eyes looked sure and sharp like a burning iron. It called for sentiment, wavering his resolve.

  “What you saw in Tormera and Fardas… those homeless children. Those are not even the beginning.”

  Datan could feel his heart beating faster than when he received a blow from the sword.

  “Millions of Urgut and Haedin people in the Surface would turn insane in one night,” she said hoarsely, yet still decipherable. “The most horrifying calamity in the history of Neena will befall the Surface. Everyone will hallucinate permanently. They will turn insane. Truly insane.

  “And that will happen if we don’t kill my family.”

  Horrifying scenarios flashed before his eyes. Weak newsboy chewing Kirki, vomits in the side of the road, Uncle Baram frying Tortor’s meat, and guards kissing a horse like it was a girl, Jann running like he was chased by a dog, a mother throwing her baby to the garbage bin, beggars licking the post box, and many other insanity, worst ones.

  Including what Aunt Fira, Uncle Joe, and Erry were going through.

  Datan felt nauseous. His stomach churned. He wanted to vomit listening to what Nymeria said. But the vengeance was still burning his heart. He could not think straight. His brain cells were like untangled thread, tense, solidifying.

  “I'm not interested,” Datan jabbed. He wiped his sweat with the back of his hand. “You can’t ask for a favor, let alone order me around. Find someone else, you moron. Do you ever think?

  “Who in the right mind would want to be asked to save the world?”

  “I do! And I believe the divination. Ingra!” Nymeria exclaimed. “You’re an Ingran, Datan. People who could bring changes. The chosen people!”

  Datan slashed his sword. “Nay-nay,” he growled, smirking mockingly. He patted his left eyelids with his index finger. His gaze was sharp and insulting. “I use my brain properly. I don’t let divination and ancestors yapping decide my life!”

  Nymeria looked like she had been slapped. Her mouth quivered. “Fine!” she yelled angrily. “Alright! Screw the divination and ancestor’s words! But you know, Datan. You must still help me save the people!”

  “No! I refuse. Find someone else.”

  “You coward!”

  “I don’t care.”

  “You’re a narrow-minded despicable man!”

  Datan glared. “What did you say?”

  “You heard me! You only knew how to have fun until you die! Useless creature!”

  “Wow! That hurts. Your tongue is sharper than mine, Nay.”

  “Oh, I learn from you.”

  Datan pointed his sword straight ahead, not wanting to prolong the debate. Nymeria looked shaken at the gesture. She knew she did not have any other choice. She pulled out her second sword. The sound of steel being unsheathed filled the air once more.

  Datan was not taken aback. All this time, he put off his
potential in Arni for Father. Not anymore. He would move faster. He was sure he would knock Nymeria down. One of the advantages of mastering Arni was that he could move really fast. If he tried, his speedy movement could be soundless even.

  Nymeria attacked, moving swiftly, making a bait move to the right. She turned around attacking with both of her swords.

  Datan dodged both and delivered an attack back to her neck.

  Nymeria laid her head back fast, taking a deep breath.

  In a blink of an eye, Datan got closer. Forcing an opening to attack, his left hand took the Royan knife near his right ribs. Just for one attack. He managed to stab Nymeria’s right bicep.

  He attacked twice, as fast as a sewing machine. There was a sweet sound of blade tearing muscles.

  Datan could deliver more blows to more vital spots if he wished to. But, no. Datan was thinking to throw her into the bottom of the cave. Nymeria howled in pain.

  Datan kicked her fast, muffling her voice. She was thrown away.

  Datan panted. He scratched the itchy red skin in his neck. He felt his head, shoulder, thighs, and calves, even his feet were throbbing unbearably. The impact of falling and being kicked by Ciriel remained, mixing with his sweat coming out of his pores.

  His eyes bugged out, shining in piercing green sheen.

  Nymeria laid on the ground for a moment. Gasping for air. The swords slipped off her grip. She moved the muscles of her stiff fingers. Slowly, she sat up, straightening both of her legs. Her hands covered the wound in her stomach while the other hand covered two gaping wounds in her bicep.

  Nymeria looked like an exhausted mess. Her face showed incredible misery. Her hair was messy, dirty and filled with sand particles. Her left cheek was bruised and her bottom lips cracked, bleeding. Once, Nymeria licked her own lips, sniffling the scent of blood like it was an extract of a fragrant orchid.

  Datan looked down. “You’re sick, Nay,” he commented.

  Nymeria lifted her head. Her silver eyes looked at him straight and empty. She stood up with all of her might. Her knees wobbled like there was a dislocation in her joints, making her waver and nearly fell down again.

  “This is all you can do?” she asked, chocking.

  Datan crooked an eyebrow. “Oh, I’ll pull out your heart now! Or should I throw you down there?”

  Nymeria brushed her hair back from her face, hook it behind her ear. She took her swords reluctantly. Blood along with hot sweat dripped in her forehead. No longer did she care about blood oozing from her wound.

  Nymeria slashed the air. Groaning tiredly. Her cheeks were flushed, glistening. “Alright! Do it, Datan,” she screamed helplessly. “Go on. DO IT!”

  It was as though there was warm and soft wind blowing hard at Datan. He froze. Trembling. Afraid. In a moment, he felt that he was the villain. He was the coldblooded murder.

  Nymeria’s helplessness looked real and honest that it disturbed Datan. It made him notice the confliction in the bottom of his clouded heart. In the middle of losing his mind, Datan heard the sound of his instinct to hold back. For a moment…

  Datan digested Nymeria’s words.

  The meaning of every word she said. Her behavior and her resolve. Why she bind him with Telepaqua. Her unwavering gaze when she told the story. Why would she told him at all if she did not mean it? She seemed to know about the plague well, about the incoming doom that the people in this world might catch massive hallucination. Jasin. Datan remembered Jasin Dagalla. That man…

  Dattan connected the dots.

  Nymeria was a villain. A coldhearted murder. But, even when Datan himself was not the fighter for truth, nor one who walked in the right path of life, he still had remaining kindness in his heart that he wanted to protect. Nymeria was the same. There still had a dot of kindness that he should at least listen.

  Although Datan would never forgive her, let alone helping her save the world. It sounded ridiculous. Who is she kidding? Does she think my life is a folktale?

  “You should have reported this to the Kings’ Alliance, maybe,” Datan said coldly, not wanting to show any compassion. “Not me.”

  Nymeria gaped. “You finally want to hear me out?”

  Datan stayed silent, just staring closely. He felt conflicted. What should he do?

  “Just so you know,” Nymeria said. “This is very dangerous information. I trust you, Datan. Because Telepaqua made me know you.”

  Datan groaned, pointing his sword at her. Nymeria was not bugging, she could care less. She just regulated her breathing.

  “If you want to avenge your father, come with me—“

  The black wristlet snapped. The air turned dry and time felt like it stopped.

  Datan looked away. He turned to his left just as Ciriel hit him with his hairy Ludaj fist. It felt like he was just hit by a gigantic boulder.

  Nymeria was thunderstruck. She gasped. Speechless. She fell onto the ground, unmoving from sitting position.

  Datan was thrown far. He groaned loudly. He could not breathe. He felt that his bones and joints crumbled. He almost lost his consciousness.

  Ciriel could not hold back any longer. The ground shook when Ciriel approached Datan. He lifted the man who nearly lost consciousness high upside down like he was a rabbit. Ciriel roared angrily in front of Datan’s face, spurting foul saliva.

  His scream echoed at the ceiling of the cave.

  Datan felt a sticky substance in his head. “Ah, right,” he panted cynically. His breath was weak and heavy. His mind was swimming, sluggish. His eyes were half-open and his vision was disarrayed. He had no strength left to fight back. “I haven’t settled my problem with you—“

  Ciriel swung his arms, throwing Datan like he was a ragdoll.

  A gush of wind blew against his ears. His black hair was blown away messily. He flew in the air like a wounded bird, though it lasted only for a moment… before he freefell. He fell down to the area under the cliff. He closed his eyes. His thoughts fell along with his body.

  Is this the end?

  Cold engulfed Datan right away. The ringing sound in his ears was deafening. He felt that he fell into a deep river estuary instead of soil. He was paralyzed. Every part of his body ached horribly, especially his head. It felt like it had been cut into two with an ax. His vision darkened, his hearing faded and the rest of his senses were nulled slowly. He was drowning.

  Father was dead. That was the reality he had to accept.

  The memory of Father jumping from the cliff flashed in his mind. It tore apart something in his chest. Datan’s heart ached more than any pain he had ever felt. How would he continue living? What would Aunt Fira say when she knew he failed? What would Uncle Joe and Erry say? Would they still believe in him?

  Datan was losing his mind. He could never face them.

  He cried. He cried loudly.

  Chapter 35

  The Beginning

  Everyone who lived in the village could see the magnificence of the looming Osberga Door. The door that was halfway covered by mist was massive. In the estuary, someone dragged Datan out of the water. It was a bald wrinkly man with pale grey eyes. Silver facial hair and strands of black hair framed his face.

  “You’re the first person who jumps from up there, Son,” he commented. “Wow, you’re really red!”

  He introduced himself as Theo. He was a part of Falla people chosen as guards. He lived in the area under the door. Theo decided to take Datan to his house. In the village, a row of Urgut household at the sides of the road, the width of which was four meters, was illuminated by oil lantern. It felt silent and sullen. There was a small waterfall from the wall of the cave which formed a small river next to the village.

  Datan asked Theo to help him avoid the moonlight because he was allergic to the light. Some people glanced suspiciously as the two passed by them. A young man riding a bike stopped when he saw Datan. The women hurriedly entered their houses, slamming the door and chattered inside, badmouthing him.

  Datan was too
tired to care.

  “I need to go to the bathroom,” he said as they arrived at Theo’s house.

  Theo pointed at a room at the end of the corridor next to the kitchen.

  Datan locked the door. He was startled seeing the reflection of himself. A messy pale red face stared at him back. His skin loosened and the light in his eyes dimmed. He looked miserable, and he cried. He screamed with a clenched jaw. Both of his fists hit the wall. His anger and regret exploded. Datan made a mess out of the things in the bathroom, he threw wire hangers and wooden bucket so hard that it cracked.

  I am sorry, Father… Datan felt lost. He sobbed in the wet corner. He felt that he was in the wrong.

  Father’s words echoed in his head. The one about Datan’s desire to be a Royan and that he would make a lot of enemies which could threaten people around him. For ten years, Datan took those words for granted until he received a letter from Nymeria.

  Datan’s head felt like it was being squeezed by iron hands. Father was supposed to keep on living. He did not understand. Why must there be death? And if only Death was a real figure in front of Datan, he would slash its neck with his sword.

  For almost an hour, Datan locked himself. It was the lowest moment of his life.

  He stood up when he regained his composure. He wiped his tears when his sanity had grasped the situation better. He took a deep breath and tidied his clothes. He brushed his messy face then emerged out of the bathroom. Theo has been waiting in the living room. He looked restless, biting his lower lips, as he saw Datan.

  Datan forced himself to smile. “I’ll replace everything that’s broken,” he said. “Please don’t ask what happened. And… I need medical supplies.”

  Theo tried to provide Datan from what he could find around the house, including a potion with a funny smell to drink or to put on wounds, and a small bottle of drinkable sarili—the painkiller. Datan took off his gear and the night attire. He preferred to tend his own wounds in a traditional way rather than use Cercila. Datan was bruised all over, there were several cuts in his skin, and his entire muscle ached like it was pierced by needles. Even so, as long as he was not paralyzed by poison to the point that he could not understand his own body, he would tend himself.