similar formation. A side guard of forty each marched along the left and right flanks. Each
carriage also had ten soldiers and five serving maids seated on the side supports. The soldiers
were the legendary Arishtanemi, the most feared militia in all of India.
The five carriages were made of solid wood, with no windows or apertures, except for
upward pointed slits at the top for ventilation. There was a grill in front, behind the rider, to
allow in light and air and this could be shut instantly in case of an attack. All the carriages were
of exactly the same dimension and appearance, making it impossible to say which carriage
carried the royal family. If a person had divyadrishti, divine vision, to look beyond what human
eyes could see, he would observe that the first, third and fourth carriages were empty. The
second carried the royal family — Daksha, his wife Veerini and his daughter Sati. The last
carriage carried Parvateshwar and some of his key brigadiers.
‘Father, I still don’t understand why you insist on taking me along to pujas. I am not even
allowed to attend the main ceremony,’ said Sati.
‘I have told you many times before,’ smiled Daksha, as he patted Sati’s hand fondly. ‘None
of my pujas are complete and pure till I have seen your face. I don’t care about the damned
law.’
‘Father!’ whispered Sati with an embarrassed smile and a slight, reproachful shake of her
head. She knew it was wrong of her father to insult the law.
Sati’s mother, Veerini, looked at Daksha with an awkward smile. Then taking a quick look at
Sati, returned to her book.
At a short distance from the royal procession, hidden by the dense forest, a small band of
fifty soldiers slunk along silently. The soldiers wore light leather armour on their torso and had
their dhotis tied in military style to ensure ease of movement. Each of them bore two swords, a
long knife and had a hardshield made of metal and leather tied loosely around their back. Their
shoes had grooves to hold three small knives. At the head were two men. One of them, a
handsome young man with a battle scar embellishing his face, wore a dark brown turban which
signified that he was the captain. His leather armour had been tied a little loose and a gold
chain and pendant had slipped out carelessly. The pendant had a beautiful, white
representation of a horizontal crescent moon, the Chandravanshi symbol.
Next to him walked a giant of a man covered in a long robe from head to toe. A hood
stitched onto the robe was pulled up while his face was covered with a black mask. Very Ettle
of him was visible except for his strong fleshy hands and his expressionless, almond-shaped
eyes. He had a leather bracelet tied to his right wrist with the serpent Aum symbol embroidered
on it. Without turning to the captain, the hooded figure said, ‘Vishwadyumna, your mark is
visible. Put it in and tighten your armour.’
An embarrassed Vishwadyumna immediately pushed the chain inside and puEed the two
strings on the side of his shoulder to tighten the breastplate.
‘My Lord, begging your pardon,’ said Vishwadyumna. ‘But perhaps we could move ahead to
confirm that this is the route to Mount Mandar. Once we know that, we’ll be sure that our
informant was correct. I am sure that we can come back to kidnap her later. We are
dangerously outnumbered in any case. We can’t do anything right now.’
The hooded figure replied calmly, ‘Vishwadyumna, have I ordered an attack? Where does
the question of us being outnumbered come in? And we are going in the direction of Mount
Mandar. A few hours delay will not bring the heavens down. For now, we follow.’
Vishwadyumna swallowed hard. There was nothing he hated more than opposing his lord’s
singke
(singke)
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