Morning had just arrived when Brajamusti, Sinta, Wira Gantang, and Grandpa Paijo left Benteng Batu.
They headed north, following a narrow road that passed through forests and rolling hills.
Brajamusti still had the dragon-emblazoned metal disk they had found in the fortress.
“Grandpa,” he said, “who actually owns this emblem?”
Paijo walked for quite a while without answering.
“There are some secrets you’re not ready to know yet.”
Brajamusti sighed.
“Everyone always says that.”
Sinta gave him a small smile.
“Maybe it’s because you ask too many questions.”
Brajamusti glanced at her.
“If I don’t ask, how am I supposed to find out?”
Sinta laughed softly.
For a while, the journey felt easier.
But when they entered the forest, the mood changed again.
Wira suddenly stopped.
“Someone’s following us.”
Everyone immediately went on guard.
Footsteps sounded from behind the trees.
Then five people appeared, carrying weapons.
“We only want the Dragon Flute,” one of them said.
Brajamusti stepped in front of Sinta and Paijo.
“Then you picked the wrong road.”
The fight was brief.
Wira and Sinta faced two of them, while Brajamusti took on the other three.
One of the attackers managed to strike Brajamusti with a sword.
Brajamusti blocked it with his bare hand.
Then he punched his opponent in the chest, sending him sprawling.
A few moments later, they had defeated them all.
But before they left, one of the men shouted,
“You’ll never make it to Lembah Arwana!”
Brajamusti stared at him.
“Why not?”
The man only laughed.
“Because the road to the valley is already controlled by the person you fear most.”
He then passed out.
Sinta looked at Wira.
“Who was he talking about?”
Wira didn’t answer.
Paijo, on the other hand, looked even more worried.
“Pick up the pace.”
They continued walking until afternoon.
From atop a hill, they finally saw a great mountain range shrouded in mist.
Paijo pointed toward the valley between two mountains.
“That’s Lembah Arwana.”
Brajamusti stared at it.
Thick fog blanketed the valley.
Strangely, the closer they got, the warmer the flute at Brajamusti’s waist became.
Then a faint sound drifted out from the valley.
The sound of a flute.
Brajamusti stopped.
“That sound...”
Paijo closed his eyes.
“That isn’t an ordinary flute.”
“Who’s playing it?”
Paijo opened his eyes.
“The person who’s been waiting for you to arrive all this time.”
Suddenly, an arrow shot out from behind the fog.
Brajamusti deflected it.
Dozens of shadows began to appear on the mountainside.
Sinta drew her sword.
Wira gripped his staff.
Paijo simply stood there in silence, staring at the valley.
“Looks like they already know we’re here.”
Brajamusti tightened his grip on the Dragon Flute.
In the distance, the sound of a flute rang out again.
This time, it was clearer.
And strangely enough, the melody was exactly the same as the one Grandpa Paijo had played many years ago.
Brajamusti looked at Paijo, his eyes full of questions.
But before he could ask, the fog before them slowly parted.
A stone road appeared, leading into the valley.
At the end of the road stood someone.
The figure was still too far away to make out.