The Aryavarta Chronicles Kurukshetra: Book 3 by Krishna Udayasankar

dealt with.
    Govinda got to his feet, in the same move picking up the dead man’s shield and driving it right into a charging soldier’s face. Then, pulling the shield back, he threw it like a discus, beheading two men who rushed at him. A third man tried to circle around to attack him from the side, but ended up moving too close to Govinda’s horses. The steeds, already unsettled by the noise and the sense of being under attack, were pushed beyond control. Neighing and stamping, they crushed the soldier under their hooves, the man’s pitiful screams filling the glade. Two other soldiers were quick enough to move away from the rampaging horses. Govinda turned his attention to them, his blood-stained fist his only weapon. He smashed it into a mercenary’s face, feeling the man’s cheekbone shatter under the blow. Bringing his knee up, he connected with the doubled-over assailant’s ribcage, breaking through the bone to squelch his heart. The Yavana screamed; blood spurted from his mouth onto Govinda’s bare chest and soaked into his robes.
    More mercenaries emerged from the cover of forest. Pausing to regain his breath, Govinda did a quick count of the men around him. Five. Six, he corrected himself, cursing aloud as a jagged blade tore through the muscles of his back and right shoulder. The dagger remained stuck there, depriving his attacker of a weapon, as Govinda turned, wrapped his elbow around the man’s neck and slammed him down to the ground, breaking his spine. The effort, however, caused the sharp blade to shift deep in Govinda’s flesh, and he cried out in pain and stumbled. Sensing an advantage, two of the remaining mercenaries launched themselves at him. One drove a sword hilt into Govinda’s stomach, and the other used a shield to strike a blow across his face.
    Govinda managed to hit back, catching one of the men with a jaw-breaking punch, but the other moved out of his reach and struck him yet again with his shield.
    ‘Govinda!’ Daruka shouted out.
    Despite throbbing pain and the spinning inside his head, Govinda wanted to smile at Daruka’s use of his name. The dull thought arose in his mind that if the captain were so moved during a fight as to show concern, the two of them must really be in trouble. He tried to steady himself, but his left eye had begun to swell up from the shield-blow. He would have faltered, but right then a mercenary tried to stab Balahak, only to graze the stallion’s flank instead. Balahak let out a high whinny as a red gash blossomed against his silver-white hide.
    Anger renewed Govinda’s strength. His thoughts of Daruka left aside, Govinda lunged at his fallen sword, Nandaka. He grabbed it by the hilt, pulling it out of its scabbard as he launched himself in the air, slashing twice with the Wright-metal weapon as he came down. Twirling his wrist, Govinda caught the last but one mercenary in the abdomen. By the time Govinda’s feet had touched the ground, the glade was silent once again.
    The scarred Yavana remained as he had been at the beginning of it all, just as Govinda had expected. Daruka was still in his grasp.
    ‘You always were a peculiar man, Govinda Shauri,’ the Yavana said. ‘People mean little to you, isn’t it? Even animals matter more to you than those who’ve been loyal to you. Or perhaps that is the point – the more the loyalty, the stronger your sense of ownership and the more the impunity with which you use men and women to your purposes and leave them to their fate when your task is done…’ He sighed and pushed Daruka away. The stunned captain stumbled but remained on his feet, standing between Govinda and the mercenary.
    ‘Your choice,’ the Yavana said. ‘You can kill your own man and make it quick for him. Or else, you can take the risk of fighting me. If you win, you save both your lives and if you lose…I can promise you his death will be a painful one. Sound familiar?’ he asked, as he saw recollection spark to life in