Chapter 27: The Abduction of Rara Murni

The young man walked on under the blazing sun of the dry season, muttering to himself.
“If Rara Murni truly is the younger sister of the King of Pajajaran… then her kidnapping must have a great cause behind it, with consequences that will stretch far and wide!”

He tilted his head up at the sky.
“Ah… how quickly the sun has shifted…” he sighed.

Not long after, he crossed paths with a vegetable seller. “Uncle, which way leads to the Limanaluk Valley?” the youth asked.

The seller wiped the sweat from his brow, turned slightly, and pointed down the road. “Just keep following this path. Don’t turn anywhere. Limanaluk is about half a day’s journey from here.”

The youth thanked him and continued on.

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The carriage rolling down the road was small but finely made, drawn swiftly by two chestnut horses. Four trusted soldiers escorted it—two in front, two behind. Dust rose in thick clouds along the path they traveled.

Two hours after leaving the city, the road became rougher, pitted with holes and scattered with stones. The driver slowed the pace, especially at a sharp bend. After descending a slope, they followed the edge of a small stream with crystal-clear water.

The lead soldier on the right raised his hand, signaling a halt. As the carriage stopped, a delicate hand drew back the curtain of its window, and the fair face of a young maiden appeared.

“Why are we stopping?” she asked, her voice soft and melodious.

The captain of the guards bowed slightly. “Our horses need water, Princess.”

Rara Murni let the curtain fall. The driver dismounted and led the horses to the stream. Six thirsty animals—two carriage horses and four riding steeds—crowded at the water’s edge, gulping down the cool flow. After a short rest, the party prepared to set off again.

But before the driver could climb back onto his seat, four horsemen emerged. Their bodies were strong and broad, their faces hidden beneath black cloth hoods, with only holes cut for their eyes.

“Your journey ends here!” barked the leader, his voice deep and raspy, bolstered with inner force to disguise his true tone.

The guards instantly drew their swords. They knew these masked riders came with ill intent.

“Pajajaran monkeys!” the hooded leader sneered. “If you value your necks, turn back now!”

“How dare you insult the King’s soldiers! Taste my blade!” roared the captain of the guards.

He leapt forward, his sword flashing under the sun. The masked rider yanked his reins, twisting his body aside, and lashed out with his right leg in a blur.

The captain screamed. His sword flew from his hand as his elbow joint snapped under the brutal kick. He collapsed, cradling his shattered arm in agony.

The other three guards charged without hesitation, clashing against the remaining masked riders. Within two short exchanges, the royal guards were already forced back.

Inside the carriage, Rara Murni grew pale. Hearing the clash of steel and the cries of battle, she lifted the curtain again—just in time to see a hooded figure striding toward her carriage, hand outstretched for the door.

“Rara Murni… do not be afraid,” the man growled. “This is nothing but a small performance. Come down at once!”

“Who are you?!” she demanded.

“Who we are is of no importance. Get down.”

“Wretched bandits! If you know who I am, then leave at once before the King’s troops arrive and crush you!”

The man only laughed and swung the carriage door open, thrusting in his hand to drag her out.

The driver, who had been frozen in shock, suddenly came to his senses. Seeing the princess about to be seized, he snatched up his whip and lashed it across the intruder’s back.

“Cursed bandit! How dare you touch the sister of the King!”

He struck again and again. The hooded man spun, caught the whip in one movement, and ripped it from the driver’s grasp. Then he slashed it across the man’s face. The driver screamed, clutching at his bleeding skin. In desperation, he drew a short blade and lunged.

But the hooded man only sidestepped and lashed out with a savage kick. The driver’s body flew into the stream, unconscious before he hit the water. The current carried him away, bobbing up and down before sinking.

Meanwhile, the three remaining guards fell one after another, their blood soaking the earth.

On the carriage, Rara Murni fought wildly, striking and struggling against the masked man who dragged her down. But what strength could a maiden muster against a hardened warrior? In moments, he had her bound and lifted onto his horse.

“Throw the corpses into the stream!” the leader ordered. “And the carriage as well!”

The three dead guards were hurled into the water. The chestnut horses shrieked and reared as the attackers shoved the carriage into the stream. The animals screamed in terror as they sank, hooves thrashing.

Moments later, the four masked riders galloped away, vanishing into the distance.

What remained at the site was ruin—blood-stained earth, lifeless bodies, and the drowned wreckage of a carriage… while the horses’ cries faded into the gurgling waters of the stream.