Hooves pounded against the dirt path, echoing through the dark forest. Twenty soldiers rode in a tight, desperate formation. They wore iron helmets and heavy chainmail, their dhotis tied tight for battle. In the center of their ranks rolled a finely crafted wooden chariot pulled by two massive horses.
The soldiers kept their weapons drawn, guarding the chariot with their lives. Thirty armed men were hot on their trail.
These weren't ordinary bandits. They were Vyadhs—ruthless bounty hunters. They wore rough cloth and leather armor, their faces hidden behind pale yellow and white turbans wrapped tightly around their heads.
Inside the bouncing chariot, a twelve-year-old girl gripped the velvet seat. She wore a sky-blue silk lehenga and a golden choli, a pearl necklace resting against her collarbone. Her dark hair spilled down to her knees as she shivered. Princess Kritika was terrified. The hunters were coming to capture or kill her.
Outside, the Vyadhs raised their bows. A volley of arrows rained down on the royal guards.
Arrows struck chainmail and bounced off iron helmets. The soldiers held their ground, but their horses weren't as lucky. Several mounts neighed in pain as the sharp tips bit into their flesh.
The guards didn't just take the hit. They drew their own bows and fired back. Their arrows tore straight through the hunters' unarmored chests, dropping them from their saddles.
Thwack! Thwack!
Arrows slammed into the chariot's wooden roof. Inside, Kritika gasped, staring at the sharp iron tips poking through the wood just inches above her head.
A thirty-year-old man sat across from her. He wore a white tunic over his chainmail, his thick hair dropping to his shoulders.
"Don't be afraid, Princess Kritika," he said firmly. "We will get you home."
"Yes, Virendra ji," Kritika whispered.
Bang! Bang! Someone pounded on the chariot window. Virendra shoved the wooden shutter open. A royal soldier rode alongside them, panic in his eyes.
"Commander Virendra!" the soldier shouted over the galloping hooves. "We lost thirteen men! The hunters are down to eleven! What do we do?"
Virendra's eyes went wide. "How did we lose so many?!"
"They're using bolas and aiming for the horses! We can't hold them off!"
Cold sweat broke out on Virendra's forehead. He opened his mouth to shout an order, but a stray arrow whistled out of the dark.
Shhhk.
The iron tip pierced the back of the soldier's helmet. The man went limp instantly, tumbling off his horse and into the dirt.
Further down the road, a Vyadh lowered his bow and cheered. "Did you see that shot?!" His comrades erupted into cruel laughter.
Boiling with rage, Virendra shouted at his remaining men to stay alive, then slammed the wooden shutter closed.
Tears finally spilled down Kritika's cheeks. She had just watched a man die right in front of her. Virendra sank back into his seat, clenched his jaw, and roared at the driver to whip the horses faster.