Dream - A Karna SI

20. CONTACT

Karn - 18 years
Yudhisthir - 15 years
Bhima & Duryodhan - 14 years
Arjun - 13 years
Nakul & Sahdev - 11 years

Karn's POV
The moonlight painted the landscape in a pale, eerie glow as I crouched behind the hillock, my heart steady despite the tension in the air. We had done this before-dozens of times now-raiding, ambushing, striking with precision and disappearing into the night like shadows. This was just another raid, another calculated strike against Jarasandha's forces, yet the weight of responsibility never lightened.
Six of my men had already ridden out, tasked with drawing the enemy into our trap. They knew their roles well, and I had no doubt they would succeed. My mind, however, was not entirely at ease. The raids had been successful so far, weakening Jarasandha's forces, but every new encounter brought with it fresh dangers. We were pushing the limits of our strategy, and I knew that sooner or later, our luck could run thin.
I watched the horizon, waiting for the signal, the distant sound of hooves galloping in the night growing louder. The trap was about to be sprung.
"Ready yourselves," I whispered to the men around me. My voice was calm, masking the undercurrent of tension that rippled through my thoughts. We had forged something new-an unconventional force, unlike anything the enemy had faced. Yet, with every battle, I couldn't shake the thought that Jarasandha's men would eventually adapt, that they would learn from their losses.
The first of the enemy riders appeared over the crest of the hillock, charging forward in pursuit of my decoy team. There were about five dozen of them, armed and armored, but their focus was entirely on the men they chased, oblivious to the ambush that awaited.
"Now!" I commanded, the word slicing through the night air.
In an instant, my men unleashed a volley of arrows. The enemy riders had no time to react, many falling before they could even comprehend the trap they had stumbled into. The air was filled with the deadly hiss of arrows and the heavy thud of bodies hitting the ground.
We had honed our skills over countless raids, and the efficiency of my company showed in every move they made. Spearmen followed with practiced precision, cutting down those who managed to stay in the saddle. The fight was swift, brutal, and decisive, just as it had been in our previous engagements.
Yet, even in the chaos of victory, my eyes caught sight of a single rider who had managed to break free. He spurred his horse forward, racing away from the battle. My heart tightened with a sudden jolt of urgency. If he escaped, he could reveal our tactics to Jarasandha, compromising everything we had worked for.
Without hesitation, I grabbed my bow, nocking an arrow in one fluid motion. My focus narrowed, the world shrinking to the fleeing figure. He was almost out of range, but I could not afford to miss. I drew the string back, my breath steady, and released.
The arrow flew true, striking the rider squarely in the back. He slumped forward and fell from his horse, motionless. Relief washed over me, but it was tinged with the lingering unease that had become all too familiar. Had I truly silenced the threat, or had he managed to survive long enough to pass on what he had seen?
"Gather the horses and weapons," I ordered, my voice low and firm. "We need to move quickly."
As my men efficiently stripped the fallen of anything useful, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were walking a fine line. We had been successful so far, but the uncertainty of what lay ahead gnawed at me. This was just another raid, but it felt like we were inching closer to a tipping point, where our daring tactics might meet a formidable counter.
We vanished into the night, leaving no trace of our presence, but my thoughts lingered on the battles yet to come.

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Meanwhile, in Jarasandha's camp, the mood was anything but calm. The sound of clattering weapons and low, angry murmurs filled the night air. Jarasandha himself stood in the center of his tent, his massive form tense with barely contained rage. His generals and advisors surrounded him, their expressions grim.
"These damned dacoits!" Jarasandha spat, his voice a thunderous growl. "This land has fallen into lawlessness under the weak and feeble rule of the Yadavas. But mark my words, I will bring order to this chaos once I've killed every last one of them-and Krishna's head will be mine."
His fists clenched as King Hansa, one of his most trusted allies, entered the tent. The king's face was ashen, his eyes downcast. He had bad news.
"My lord," Hansa began, his voice heavy with defeat, "we've lost yet another company of men. The dacoits struck again, just before dawn. They came like shadows, swift and deadly. By the time our forces could react, it was too late."
Jarasandha's fury erupted like a storm. "How many this time?"
"Fifty, perhaps more. It's difficult to tell," Hansa replied, wincing under the weight of his lord's gaze. "In total, over three thousand of our men have fallen to these attacks, and our supply lines have been cut to pieces. We are losing valuable time and men, my lord. At this rate, it will take us months just to reach Mathura."
Jarasandha's face darkened with a murderous scowl. "Three thousand men... to these cowardly thieves?" His voice dripped with contempt and disbelief. "These Yadavas have turned to cowardice, hiding behind bandits and trickery instead of facing us in open battle."
Hansa hesitated, then pulled something from his cloak-a finely crafted arrow, its shaft straight and true, its fletching expertly tied. He handed it to Jarasandha.
"We found this," Hansa said, "embedded in the back of one of our men who tried to retreat. We couldn't see who fired it, but the shot was made from a considerable distance, from a hillock. This is no ordinary arrow, my lord. It is the work of a master archer."
Jarasandha's eyes narrowed as he examined the arrow. The craftsmanship was exquisite, the kind that only a true warrior could command. Realization dawned on him, and his rage turned to cold calculation.
"A maharathi," he murmured, almost to himself. "The Yadavas have enlisted a warrior of supreme skill. This is no mere dacoit. He is a maharathi fighting from horse back. We have been fooled."
He turned to his gathered commanders, his eyes blazing with renewed determination. "Krishna, that wily trickster, is behind this. He knows he cannot face me directly, so he resorts to these cowardly tactics. But he has made a grave mistake-underestimating my resolve."
Jarasandha straightened, his voice rising as he addressed his commanders. "We will not be deterred by these attacks. We will press on, but with greater caution. Send out scouts in all directions, double our patrols, and set traps for these so-called dacoits. And find me this archer. Whoever he is, I want him dead."
The commanders nodded, their faces set in grim determination as they hurried to carry out Jarasandha's orders. The great king watched them go, his mind already plotting his next move. He would crush the Yadavas, one by one if necessary, and Krishna would pay the ultimate price for his defiance.
But deep down, even as he steeled himself for the battles ahead, a small doubt gnawed at Jarasandha. Whoever this archer was, he had already inflicted significant damage, and the road to Mathura was growing longer and more perilous with each passing day.