BEFORE THE STORM BREAKS
Batu Ampar Harbor at dusk looked like a creature holding its breath.
Fisher boats pulled ashore faster. Oil lamps lit early. Sea wind carried sharp salt and an inexplicable dread, known only to those who lived on blood and shadows.
In a narrow alley behind an old salt warehouse, Nala Bayang emerged from darkness like night itself.
His worn cloak wet with sweat and briny rain. Eyes darted, checking for tails. Spotting the silhouette of the now-imposing war jong, Jaladri Pralaya, he quickened his pace.
Rakai Saloka stood at the pier's edge, staring at the sea. His father's two long swords crossed calmly on his back, as if listening to the waves.
"Captain," Nala's voice low but sharp. "We don't have much time."
Rakai turned. Their eyes met.
"Speak," Rakai said curtly.
Nala stepped closer, voice dropping to merge with the wind.
"Bayagiri Pirates. Captain Javasa Bayagiri himself leading."
Several crew repairing rigging turned sharply.
"How many?" Wira Lelana asked from the deck, face instantly serious.
"Five fast ships," Nala replied. "About seventy men. Left Bayagiri territory this morning. Target: one."
He stared straight at Rakai.
"Batam Island. Us."
Silence fell.
Bagaspati Karang stopped working, gripping his iron mace. "Seventy," he muttered. "They think we're easy prey."
Rakai didn't answer immediately. He closed his eyes briefly, drew a long breath. When he opened them, no doubt remained, only decision.
"How long?" he asked.
"Earliest… dawn tomorrow," Nala said.
Rakai faced the gathering crew.
"Listen," he said calmly, voice carrying steel weight. "We don't run."
Some eyes widened. Others gave tense smiles.
"We meet them on the shallows," Rakai continued. "Shallow waters. Their fast ships lose advantage."
Wira nodded quickly. "I can position the current. If they push too deep,"
"their hulls rip on coral," Bagaspati grinned.
Kirana stepped forward, rolls of cloth and small knives at her waist.
"If wounded, don't act tough," she said coldly. "I can't stitch the dead."
Some crew chuckled; tension eased slightly.
But Nala wasn't done.
"One more thing," he said. "East side of the island, near mangroves… there's a man. Former Sriwijaya soldier."
Rakai turned. "How do you know?"
"Because he's hunting pirates," Nala replied. "And he's not hiding."
---
Night fell when they found him.
The man sat on a large rock at Batam's eastern shore. Body upright despite ragged clothes. Hair cropped military-short. Beside him, a long spear with broad iron head planted—not pirate weapon, but Sriwijaya marine infantry.
As Rakai approached, the man stood without panic.
"You're Captain Saloka," he said flatly. Not a question.
"I'm Rakai Saloka," Rakai replied. "And you?"
The man gave a brief nod. "Name's Dharmaputra. Former Sriwijaya fleet soldier."
Several crew tensed.
"Why former?" Bagaspati asked suspiciously.
Dharmaputra smiled bitterly. "Because I refused to burn villages that wouldn't hand over their children for war."
Silence.
Rakai studied him long. "You know Bayagiri is coming?"
"I know," Dharmaputra answered. "And I know you'll fight."
He lifted his spear slightly.
"I want to stand on the right side."
"Right side?" Wira snorted. "We're pirates."
Dharmaputra met his gaze calmly. "Right doesn't always mean clean."
Rakai stepped closer. "Join us, you could die."
Dharmaputra nodded. "I died the day I left Sriwijaya's banner."
Long silence covered the beach.
Finally Rakai said, "Can you fight?"
Dharmaputra spun his spear one-handed, fast, precise, no flourish. Tip stopped inches from Rakai's chest, then withdrew.
"Enough," he said.
Rakai gave a faint smile.
"From tonight, you're Saloka crew."
Kirana snorted softly. "Another one I'll have to stitch later."
---
Near midnight, preparations began.
Jaladri Pralaya pulled close to shallows. Sails half-lowered. Ropes readied for quick maneuvers. Weapons checked, sharpened, redistributed.
Small fire lit behind rocks, hidden from sea.
Rakai stood before his crew, now larger, readier, deadlier.
"Bayagiri comes for our heads," he said. "They think we're easy."
He raised his twin swords; blades caught firelight.
"Tomorrow," he continued, "we prove Saloka isn't prey to hunt, but a name to fear."
No cheers. No shouts.
Only nods. Clenched fists. Eyes ready for blood.
Far off, the sea rippled gently.
The storm hadn't arrived.
But it had chosen where to break.
Dawn hadn't fully broken when the sea around Batam Island turned color.
Black-blue water began reflecting pale red, not just from the slow-rising sun, but from the shadows of Bayagiri ships appearing like a shark pack. Five fast vessels skimmed low, dark sails, hulls scarred from old raids. At each bow, Bayagiri's flag snapped rough: black fang dripping dried blood.
Behind coral and mangroves, Jaladri Pralaya waited.
Rakai Saloka stood on wet sand, barefoot, twin long swords in hand. Sea wind whipped his hair, carrying iron and salt—the scent of war. Behind him, crew stood silent in line.
Kirana prepared cloth and potions behind a large rock.
Wira Lelana watched the sea, counting currents, lips moving quietly.
Bagaspati Karang rolled his shoulders; iron mace struck sand once, thud.
Nala Bayang had vanished, melting into mangrove shadows.
Dharmaputra planted his spear in sand, standing like a living banner pole.
"They're here," Wira muttered.
Rakai nodded. "Wait till they enter shallows."
Small waves broke as the lead Bayagiri ship, overconfident, charged toward shore.
CRACK!
Hull smashed hidden coral. Ship listed hard. Shouts erupted from above.
"NOW!" Rakai roared.
Arrows and spears flew from behind rocks. One Bayagiri fell screaming, throat torn. Two more dropped, arrows in chests.
But Bayagiri weren't small-time pirates.
Second and third ships dropped anchors hard. Seventy men leaped into knee-deep water, charging with roars, swords, axes, spears raised.
"KILL THEM!"
"THE CAPTAIN'S HEAD IS JAVASA'S!"
Batam beach became sandy hell.
Bagaspati Karang charged first.
Mace smashed a Bayagiri iron helm, CRUNCH!, skull caved, blood and bone sprayed. He spun, crushed another's ribs, body hurled into water.
Wira moved fast on the flank, twin knives flying. One took an eye, one a throat. He never stopped, strike, vanish, strike.
Dharmaputra held the front line.
Spear danced, gut stab, pull, jaw smash. Movements disciplined, cold, royal soldier's way of killing. A Bayagiri tried to flank; spear spun, pierced two chests at once.
Rakai entered the chaos center.
Twin swords moved like storm.
Arm severed, blood sprayed. Crossed blades, neck split. Low spin, ankle tendon cut. Fast, brutal, controlled. Every slash meant to kill, not show.
A huge Bayagiri with two-handed axe attacked from side.
Rakai blocked with one sword, knee sank in sand, then second sword stabbed through eye to brain. He pulled it free, expressionless.
"PUSH FORWARD!" Rakai shouted. "DON'T LET THEM FORM RANKS!"
In the distance, Captain Javasa Bayagiri finally stepped onto the beach.
Massive body, double-bladed sea axe already bloodied before fighting. He laughed at his crew's corpses.
"SO THIS IS SALOKA PIRATES?" he bellowed. "YOU'RE QUITE ENTERTAINING!"
He cleaved one Saloka crew in half with his axe, blood soaked sand.
Rakai saw him.
Their eyes locked.
World narrowed.
"CAPTAIN!" Bagaspati yelled.
Rakai raised a hand. "Leave him to me."
Javasa grinned, walking closer, axe dragged in sand.
"Little boy," he mocked. "I'm worth ten thousand gold. You're worth,"
Rakai lunged.
Javasa's axe swept, cut air. Rakai leaped, one sword sliced Javasa's shoulder, blood gushed. Javasa roared, kicked Rakai back.
They rose together.
Axe met sword, CLANG! Sparks flew. Rakai spun, slashed Javasa's thigh. Javasa countered with axe haft to Rakai's face, blood streamed from temple.
"I've killed hundreds like you!" Javasa roared.
Rakai replied coldly, "And today, you're just a number."
He attacked fast, twin swords crossing, forcing Javasa back. Javasa bellowed, raised axe high,
Rakai's first sword stabbed his gut.
Second sword slashed his throat.
Javasa staggered, axe dropped, blood poured. He knelt, staring at Rakai with rage and disbelief.
"That… name…" he muttered before collapsing face-first into sand, dead.
Brief silence.
Then Bayagiri broke.
"JAVASA'S DEAD!"
"RUN!"
Some tried retreating to ships, but Nala's arrows met them from shadows. Kirana dragged wounded Saloka, saving those still breathing.
Some Bayagiri surrendered. Others killed without mercy.
When sun rose fully, Batam beach was red.
Seventy came.
Fewer than half left.
Rakai stood amid corpse-strewn sand, breathing hard, blood, whose? Dripping from swords. Saloka crew gathered behind, wounded but eyes burning.
Bagaspati laughed hoarsely. "They came hunting… left as a story."
Wira looked at Rakai. "Captain… they'll talk about this."
Rakai slowly sheathed his swords.
"Let them."
He stared at the sea.
"From today," he said quietly but firm, "no one comes to Batam without saying our name."
Wind blew.
Black flag with two crossed red swords rose on Jaladri Pralaya, snapping proudly under morning sun.
And in Nusantara seas, a new name was born,
not as prey,
but as threat.