MAHARLIKA and the Cursed Descendants of the Orient

So it Begins

Mother spreads a soft moist herb on a clean cloth and places it over my wounds. I jolt a little as the medicinal herb is pressed on my skin.

“This will relieve soreness and aching,” she pauses then caresses my knuckle with her delicate fingers. “How’s your hand?”

“Don’t worry about it,” I scan her face before continuing. “I can still move my hand, look,” I slide my hand from hers and bend my fingers until they touch my palm then stretch them out and do it again for three consecutive times while displaying a force smile as I guise the discomfort, a feeling of a hundred needles pricking my hand all at once.

Mother looks pinched, her eyes manifest concerns making her brows furrow. Seeing her expression, I hold her hands tenderly. “It’s just a small fracture. Nobody gets killed with this kind of injury.”

She doesn’t say a word but her affectionate smile that she unveils before me is more than enough to make me regain some of the strength I lost.

Not far from where we’re sitting, Sinag and father approach us. They too, like me, have scratches on their faces and bandages on their arms and legs.

I lift my chin when father speaks to me. “Ready?”

Putting my mother’s hand on her lap, I stand up. “After beating me, why wouldn’t I?”

They laugh. My statement was not meant as a joke but I realize that it’s kind of funny when I repeat it on my head. I restrain myself from laughing hard since my body has not yet recovered from injuries and it will surely throb even more if I do.

“That’s enough. You can’t waste anymore time,” mother reminds us while wiping her watery eyes.

“Your mother is right. While the sun is still high up, the ceremony should be done,” father adds.

Mother pats her lips on our cheeks one after another before we head to the training ground.

The blazing sun shimmers relentlessly and bathes everything underneath. The sapphire sky is covered with white clouds that roam leisurely in the warm breeze.

In the center of the island, ropes are tied from the woods that are pierced into the ground. This fence separate the participants from the crowd. There are more or less than forty of us enclosed inside it. According to the rules, those who are not allowed to join are below twelve years old and those who already took part before.

This ceremony is the most important ritual of the Haribons. This is my first time witnessing it since it only takes place once in more than two decades following a rare moon phenomenon.

In front of us, are stacked oak woods. Pine needles and dry twigs are placed on top of them. Five people who are carrying fire ploughs, step close to it and start rubbing the tip of the wooden sticks up and down the groove of the softwood fireboards. In a short moment, they spark then create flames.

Once the fire gets big enough for all to see its prominence, four high ranking Haribons step on the platform, their backs on the bonfire and their faces on us. Pinuno, the island’s leader, Gasol, our martial arts headmaster, and two others – Pinuno’s assistant and the island’s messenger.

Pinuno walks a little closer to the edge of the platform with the help of his cane. He tidies his long white beard with his brown thin fingers. His sandals almost kiss the hem of his ragged robe. His face and built is lean but he looks much stronger and younger than ninety two years old.

“So it begins,” he says. His voice sounds as if he’s speaking from his nose. “The divine power of the sun is about to choose the new Appointed Warrior who could possibly salvage all of us from dishonor and incarceration.” He opens his arms and lifts them to the sky. “May our forefather, the god of the sun and the patriot of warriors champion you now and eternally!”

Three loud yet slow claps from all of us before extending our right fists as high as we can, a gesture of fortitude distinct to our tribe. “Bravery against the gods, allegiance to the great Apolaki and liberty for the Haribons!” everyone roars with passion and pride.

Pinuno waves to put our hands down when Gasol walks beside him. She clears her throat, placing her fist near her mouth making the muscles in her arms flex even more. She pulls out a piece of paper from the pocket of her pants.

“Listen attentively! I have here the directives of the ceremony,” she says with her hoarse voice while waving the piece of paper in front of her squared face. “First, all participants must take a sit anywhere in this platform." She points at the small stage where they are standing. “Second, surrender your subconscious to the sun’s chi and let your body immerse to its prowess.”

The crackling of fire and the sweet earthy fragrance of burning woods amplify as everyone waits for Gasol to carry on. Carrying a wide but low clay pot is the island’s messenger who walks beside her. It is not an ordinary clay pot that we use for cooking or storage of food and water. Its surface is polished and glossed, the gold motifs standout impeccably against the its black exterior.

Gasol puts her hands in the pot and shuffles something inside it. “Each of the forty-three metal tag dumped in here has a participant’s name engraved on it. Once the ceremony is over before the sun sets, there will only be one name tag that will withstand the blazing fire. Whoever name is on that tag is the Appointed Warrior.”

Mumbling words and darting eyes dominate the moment. Some scratch their heads, others shrug their shoulders and confusion crosses all over our faces.

One participant in her late twenties raises her hand. “You mean…there’s no fighting?”

“None,” Gasol replies.

The woman’s face lights up as she curves her lips slightly. But others don’t share the same feelings as she has.

My inability to understand what’s going on intensifies. The agitation that accumulates on my chest bursts into my mouth. “So what were all these excruciating trainings for?”

Without waiting for an answer, I shift my gaze to my parent’s direction but none of them are looking at me. Then I look at Sinag who’s standing next to me. He, too, is perplex and furious. He’s clenching his jaw while staring down at his feet intensively.

The messenger asks everyone to calm down and be quiet. “Your trainings are not wasted. In fact, these are for preparations of what is about to happen next…a war.”

I can’t contain my disappointment, words once again explode from my mouth. “You keep on reminding us about this war, so when is it going to be?”

Gasol closes her eyes for a short moment then opens them. “If the Appointed Warrior, alongside his or her companions, is going to be successful in freeing our people, that’s when it will happen. We cannot start a war to take control of the entire kingdom if we remain imprison here.”

“And if they fail?” Sinag asks with a lull tone in his voice.

“They die,” Gasol answers with complete calmness in her tone it’s as if she’s an expert in delivering bad news to others.

Everyone is in silence, a deafening one. So many questions run through my head like ‘why didn’t they explain these to us in the first place?’ or ‘why do we have to train with father prior to the ceremony - will it have any effect on the outcome?’ or ‘why not send as many Haribons as possible, the strongest ones, to defeat the sea monster?’. Unfortunately, the displeasure dominates the little strength I have left.

“If you don’t have anything to ask, we shall begin. The sun will set soon,” Pinuno says.

After realizing that nobody has an option but to obey the process, one by one, the participants take their seats on the platforms.

I constrain my feet to keep on going until they reach the wooden raised floor. What is brought to light is still messing with my inner self. Before this ceremony, I'm not really interested to be selected. Sure, I want to get out of here but I don’t intend to be a hero and die for the sake of justice. But after hearing Gasol, it makes me doubt what lies ahead of me.

We all sit down with our legs crossed facing the bonfire. The messenger puts the clay pot on fire, the signal that the ceremony has officially begins. Men in red loincloths and women in orange skirt with their long dark hairs covering the front of their naked bodies are dancing and singing. They surround us with gambals, war drums made of hollowed out tree trunk and deerskin for drumheads and kulintangs, pieces of gongs vary in sizes and sounds which are aligned horizontally on a rack.

“Submit to the sun’s chi,” Pinuno begins and the rest of our tribesmen follow. “Submit to the sun’s chi!”

I don’t know what or how exactly I will submit myself to the sun, I just act in accordance to the elders instructions… close my eyes, relax my breathing and perceive the blistering surrounding. Few moments later, the sounds of the musical instruments start to blend with the playful breeze. First are the drums which produce a low heavy sound then they are accompanied by the varying pitches of the gongs.

I don’t know how much time have lapsed since we begun, but I lose my focus when I suddenly feel unease. Something so hot squirms from my head to my chest down my legs and feet. The hotness escalates every second as sweat cascades all over my skin. Anxiety builds up so fast that I have to open my eyes hoping that this terrifying sensation would stop… but I am wrong.

I look at the others, some of them seem fine as if nothing bothers them, some sweat profusely but not as distress like me. But there are a couple of others who are gleaming in yellowish light. I abruptly look at my drenched brown arms.

‘What? Why?’

I glance at Sinag who is sitting beside me. He is in total comfort while confine in a huge bright glow. I’m not surprise, I know he’ll do great. To be honest, I’m envious of him.

I have no idea if Sinag has the biggest and the most vivid radiance among all of us since I cannot see anyone who are on the other side of the platform and I don’t even have the power to glance at the people behind me.

Suddenly, the notion of staying in the island for the rest of my life emerges in my mind. This thought scares me more than anything else, more than what’s going to happen to me in this ritual. I close my eyes again and as what I expect, the invisible fire burns my body further. I clutch the chest area of my soaked shirt as my heart skips a bit or two. Then my throat dries incredibly that it hurts. I open my mouth wide trying to inhale as much air as I can.

‘No! I won’t give up! I can’t give up!’

My breath is shallow and heavy then my eyes open slightly. My vision is blurry and my head is spinning.

‘I’d rather strive… fall short... and die… than to…’

And then,…darkness.

-----------------------------

Voices with unclear words bring me to consciousness. I slowly open my eyes, it’s quite dark. The lamp hanging on the window helps me recognize the faces in front of me, staring at me with eyes full of wariness. Their empathetic heartbeats hum to my ear.

Father brushes my bangs out of my forehead with his fingers. “How are you feeling?”

Before answering him, I make an effort to sit down. My body is aching so it’s hard to move but mother helps me by pulling my weight up. The roughness of the woven mat against my skin is oddly uncomfortable.

“I’m… okay," I reply then lick my lips several times. “Can I have water, please?”

Mother nods then immediately runs outside the room.

After a few moments of staring blankly outside the window, I finally get the courage to ask father about the ceremony. “Did I fail?”

He doesn’t say anything but his expression confirms what I’m thinking.

“Where is Sinag? What about him, is he okay?”

He sighs and doesn’t look at me. “Sinag is the one chosen by the spirit of the great Apolaki.”

A small curve appears on the corner of my lips. But father doesn’t sound happy at all, in fact he looks downhearted. Then I remember the words of Gasol from earlier. “About what Gasol told us,…” I pause, second guessing if it is right to bring it up.

Now, I kinda understand why father did not hold back with our training. He wants us injured and tired, so we couldn’t respond properly from the sun’s calling. He, maybe the others too, prefers for his children to stay and be safe than to go and face possible death.

Before I could continue speaking, the door creaks open. Entering the room are mother who's holding a tiny cup of water and Sinag who's wearing a quirky smile.

Sinag kneels down and hugs me tightly. “Liyab! You made us all worry!”

I try to remove his arms around me but he’s fighting it. “You’re over reacting. Mind letting me breath?”

He then places his hands on my shoulders. His eyes glisten with relief and excitement.

“You’re awesome!” I say. We look at each other, giving our warmest smiles.

“Water?” mother says, handing the cup to me. I take a sip and the water dislodges the dryness of my mouth as it flashes down my throat. After slurping the last drops of it, my muscles are vitalized. I wipe my mouth with my arm and take a slow yet deep breath.

“Sinag.”

“Yes?”

“Let me join you,” I say without any bit of hesitation.

“Huh?!” Their jaws drop.

I am uncertain if they are in disbelief thinking that I am not as capable as my brother or if they are confuse thinking that I never show interest in this kind of stuff. Whatever is in their head doesn’t matter. What I have now is the determination that keeps growing deep within me. I have decided, I can never have this chance again and I absolutely cannot wait anymore.

I squeeze Sinag’s hand and stare at his eyes. “Please, convince the elderly. I know you can.”