Sita slowed as she approached the camp. She had already killed the other Lankan soldier. He lay some distance away. An arrow pierced in his heart. She had grabbed his arrows and added them to her quiver. She hid behind a tree and surveyed the camp. Lankan soldiers were everywhere. Probably more than a hundred.
All the Malayaputra soldiers were dead. All except Jatayu. Two lay close to him, their heads arched at odd angles. Surrounded by large pools of blood. Jatayu was on his knees, held by two Lankans. His hands were tied behind his back. Brutalised, injured and bleeding. But not broken. He was defiantly staring into the distance. Khara stood near him, his knife placed on Jatayu’s upper arm. He ran his knife gently along the triceps, cutting into the flesh, drawing blood.
Sita looked at Khara and frowned. I know him. Where have I seen him before?
Khara smiled as he ran the knife back along the bloodied line he had just drawn, slicing deep into some sinew.
‘Answer me,’ said Khara, as he slid the knife along Jatayu’s cheek this time, drawing some more blood. ‘Where is she?’
Jatayu spat at him. ‘Kill me quickly. Or kill me slowly. You will not get anything from me.’
Khara raised his knife in anger, about to strike and finish the job. It was not to be. An arrow whizzed in and struck his hand. The knife fell to the ground as he screamed aloud.
Raavan and his brother Kumbhakarna whirled around, startled. Many Lankan soldiers rushed in and formed a protective cordon around the two royals. Kumbhakarna grabbed Raavan’s arm to restrain his impulsive elder brother.
Other soldiers raised their bows and pointed their arrows in the direction of Sita. A loud ‘Don’t shoot!’ was heard from Kumbhakarna. The bows were swiftly lowered.
Khara broke the shaft, leaving the arrowhead buried in his hand. It would stem the blood for a while. He looked into the impenetrable line of trees the arrow had emerged from, and scoffed in disdain. ‘Who shot that? The long-suffering prince? His oversized brother? Or the Vishnu herself?’
A stunned Sita stood rooted to the spot. Vishnu?! How do the Lankans know? Who betrayed me?!
She marshalled her mind into the present moment. This was not the time for distractions.
She moved quickly, without a sound, to another location.
They must not know that I’m alone.
‘Come out and fight like real warriors!’ challenged Khara.
Sita was satisfied with her new position. It was some distance away from where she had shot her first arrow. She slowly pulled another arrow out of her quiver, nocked it on the bowstring and took aim. In the Lankan army, if the commander fell, the rest of the force was known to quickly retreat. But Raavan was well protected by his soldiers, their shields raised high. She could not find an adequate line of sight.
Wish Ram was here. He would have gotten an arrow through somehow.
Sita decided to launch a rapid-fire attack on the soldiers to create an opening. She fired five arrows in quick succession. Five Lankans went down. But the others did not budge. The cordon around Raavan remained resolute. Ready to fall for their king.
Raavan remained protected.
Some soldiers began to run in her direction. She quickly moved to a new location.
As she took position, she checked the quiver. Three arrows left.
Damn!
Sita deliberately stepped on a twig. Some of the soldiers rushed towards the sound. She quickly moved again, hoping to find a breach in the protective circle of men around Raavan. But Khara was a lot smarter than she had suspected.
The Lankan stepped back and, using his uninjured left hand, pulled out a knife from the sole of his shoe. He moved behind Jatayu and held the knife to the Naga’s throat.
With a maniacal smile playing on his lips, Khara taunted, ‘You could have escaped. But you didn’t. So I’m betting you are among those hiding behind the trees, great Vishnu.’ Khara laid sarcastic emphasis on the word ‘great’. ‘And, you want to protect those who worship you. So inspiring … so touching …’
Khara pretended to wipe away a tear.
Sita stared at the Lankan with unblinking eyes.
Khara continued, ‘So I have an offer. Step forward. Tell your husband and that giant brother-in-law of yours to also step forward. And we will let this captain live. We will even let the two sorry Ayodhya princes leave unharmed. All we want is your surrender.’
Sita remained stationary. Silent.
Khara grazed the knife slowly along Jatayu’s neck, leaving behind a thin red line. He spoke in a sing-song manner, ‘I don’t have all day …’
Suddenly, Jatayu struck backwards with his head, hitting Khara in his groin. As the Lankan doubled up in pain, Jatayu screamed, ‘Run! Run away, My Lady! I am not worth your life!’
Three Lankan soldiers moved in and pushed Jatayu to the ground. Khara cursed loudly as he got back on his feet, still bent over to ease the pain. After a few moments, he inched towards the Naga and kicked him hard. He surveyed the treeline, turning in every direction that the arrows had been fired from. All the while, he kept kicking Jatayu again and again. He bent and roughly pulled Jatayu to his feet. Sita could see the captive now. Clearly.
This time Khara held Jatayu’s head firmly with his injured right hand, to prevent any headbutting. The sneer was back on his face. He held the knife with his other hand. He placed it at the Naga’s throat. ‘I can cut the jugular here and your precious captain will be dead in just a few moments, great Vishnu.’ He moved the knife to the Malayaputra’s abdomen. ‘Or, he can bleed to death slowly. All of you have some time to think about it.’
Sita was still. She had just three arrows left. It would be foolhardy to try anything. But she could not let Jatayu die. He had been like a brother to her.
‘All we want is the Vishnu,’ yelled Khara. ‘Let her surrender and the rest of you can leave. You have my word. You have the word of a Lankan!’
‘Let him go!’ screamed Sita, still hidden behind the trees.
‘Step forward and surrender,’ said Khara, holding the knife to Jatayu’s abdomen. ‘And we will let him go.’
Sita looked down and closed her eyes. Her shoulders slumped with helpless rage. And then, without giving herself any time for second thoughts, she stepped out. But not before her instincts made her nock an arrow on the bow, ready to fire.
‘Great Vishnu,’ sniggered Khara, letting go of Jatayu for a moment, and running his hand along an ancient scar at the back of his head. Stirring a not-so-forgotten memory. ‘So kind of you to join us. Where is your husband and his giant brother?’
Sita didn’t answer. Some Lankan soldiers began moving slowly towards her. She noticed that their swords were sheathed. They were carrying lathis, long bamboo sticks, which were good enough to injure but not to kill. She stepped forward and lowered the bow. ‘I am surrendering. Let Captain Jatayu go.’
Khara laughed softly as he pushed the knife deep into Jatayu’s abdomen. Gently. Slowly. He cut through the liver, a kidney, never stopping …
‘Nooo!’ screamed Sita. She raised her bow and shot an arrow deep into Khara’s eye. It punctured the socket and lodged itself in his brain, killing him instantly.