The Aryavarta Chronicles Kaurava: Book 2 Read Online Free PDF

as though Indra of the celestials himself sat on the imperial throne, for every dawn, if not every muhurtta, brought news of trade treaties with foreign nations, alliances with would-be invaders, and plans that promised development. The latter was a task to which the huge and well-trained imperial army had been assigned, effectively keeping the soldiers well-occupied and content in these times of no conflict. It was a brilliant plan, one that Devala knew the Emperor was completely incapable of devising on his own. The thought spurred a surge of hatred from the core of his heart for the man whose invisible hand had brought it all about. A man named Govinda Shauri.
    A loud snarl slipped from Devala as the name came to mind, startling a colourfully plumed bird that had been watching his progress without demur. Before the bird could cry out, his hand went to the sash at his waist, drew out a slim dagger and sent it flying. The blade beheaded the bird just as it unfurled its wings. Its dismembered body dropped to the ground without a flutter, even as Devala moved under the branch to retrieve his dagger from mid-air before the sound of it falling into the thicket below could give his position away. He considered the carcass before him with a touch of satisfaction, but the mild violence he had indulged in could nowhere near enough assuage his anger. Far too much Firewright blood had been spilt and for far too long.
    Once, his scholarly order had been the mightiest of powers in all Aryavarta, the mind, heart and sacred soul of this great empire. Till that miserable traitor of a cowherd, that rebel, Govinda Shauri, had destroyed them all for his own ambition. Govinda had ingratiated himself with the Firstborn, shed Firewright blood, and raised himself to power, building a new, mighty nation in Dwaraka. And then, when it had seemed that the death of the rebel leader Ghora Angirasa, the last Secret Keeper of the Firewrights, would change the face of Aryavarta and bring the true Wrights back to power, Govinda Shauri had again systematically destroyed them, this time under the pretext of building an empire in the name of Dharma Yudhisthir, the king of Western Kuru.
    Devala was on the verge of tears as he thought of all that he had faced, all that he had been through to stop that treacherous bastard Govinda from annihilating what remained of the few secret clusters of Wrights that had survived. He wished yet again that he had gone after Govinda himself, instead of sending those hired assassins. But revealing himself was not a risk he could take, without being completely sure that his quarry truly was Govinda. He was, after all, the most wanted man in the entire empire. Devala would gladly offer his own life as sacrifice to the gods if they blessed him with one chance to kill the man who had brought them to this. In return, he would anoint their altars with Govinda’s blood. Yes!
    Rage coursed through the Firewright, bringing him to a halt. Shaking as he tried to bring his emotions under control, he looked around him. This was, he decided, as good a spot as any to lay his trap. He glanced around the small patch of less dense foliage that was not quite a clearing and made his way to one of the large banyan trees that marked its edge. Assuring himself of the cover it provided, he stepped out into the clearing. He drew a thick, copper cylinder from a hide bag and poured out its viscous contents to form a circular border around the periphery of the clearing, taking care to not, at any point, touch the colourless, odourless ooze with his bare hands. He watched as the liquid hardened, drying immediately to form a brittle border. Satisfied, he stepped back into the shadow of the banyan tree.
    Soon, the forest around him came alive with an unnatural bustle as men attempted to close in on him from different sides. He had chosen his spot well, for no sound came from the direction of the banyan tree. He could easily escape that way once he had seen to