Read Prince of Dharma for Free Online Page B

mossy ledge overhanging the path below and peered over the rim. Its keen eyes easily picked out the figure of the sudra hunter far below, striding north at a determined pace. 
     
    The disguise did not deceive it. It was familiar with creatures that changed their bhes-bhav at will. Even at this distance, the seermage’s aura was as keenly visible to its preternatural senses as a halo around a blue-skinned deva. Its bright golden eyes followed the hunter’s striding form until he disappeared over a rise a mile distant. Then it chittered and scratched repeatedly at the mossy ledge underfoot. Its yard-long talons drew deep grooves, sending the thick damp moss flying in shredded strips, exposing the rock. The tips of its claws drew sparks from the rock as it raised its head and issued a blood-curdling scream. The cry was almost human and the traveller on the path below heard it and recognised its source, but strode on without slowing. An ordinary sudra hunter would have been terrified out of his wits; the great seer-mage Vishwamitra barely gave the cry a second’s attention. 
     
    The creature chittered again, frustrated. It now wished it had attacked the traveller while he was still in the dense jungles of Bhayanak-van, the darkwoods. The seer-mage had been aware of its presence from the very outset, it knew, so it had made no attempt to conceal itself. But rather than glance up fearfully at the gigantic shadow lurking overhead as most ordinary mortals would have done, the sage had simply strode on relentlessly, as if it had been a mere raven or crow flying overhead, not the legendary Jatayu itself, first of its name, a name that struck terror into the hearts of mortals across the Arya nations. Furious at being ignored, weary of circling endlessly to compensate for the far slower pace of the earth-bound mortal, Jatayu had longed to plunge down, down, strike at the dhoti-clad human and rip him to shreds. 
     
    But its orders had been clear: follow and observe. Nothing more, nothing less. The Dark Lord of Lanka had been explicit in his instructions. 
     
    It scratched the ledge one last time, hard enough to draw a cracking noise like a dry twig being split. Its great talons had caused a fissure in the rock. Turning its enormous bald head skywards, it considered its next move. It had a long way to travel, in the shortest time possible. Lanka was a whole subcontinent away and the news it carried was important. The Lord of the asuras would not be pleased to learn the seer-mage Vishwamitra’s destination, but he would certainly be pleased at his spy’s diligence. 
     
    It spread its wings; first the left one, then the right, unfolding them slowly, painfully, sighing as it did so. They were weary from the long journey. What was more, its belly rumbled with hunger. It had been able to snatch a few small prey on the wing, a pair of parrots, a duck that had strayed from its fellows, even a juicy pregnant bat. But they were barely snacks for its enormous appetite. 
     
    If it could just stay awhile, forage around until it found the burning ghats where it knew these Ayodhyans must cremate their dead, it would have food aplenty. After all, if it was part-human, it was also part-vulture. And the vulture part craved human flesh. 
     
    But Lanka was thrice as far as the distance it had flown already. Even with brief rests, the journey would consume precious time. Hopefully, the seer-mage would stay in the city that long. These holy men usually took their time when they made their rare forays back into civilisation. And this particular one had broken his retreat after a considerable time, even by Jatayu’s count. Over two hundred mortal years, it reckoned. Which meant there had to be a very good reason for Vishwamitra’s visit to Ayodhya. Which meant in turn that the Lord of Lanka would not appreciate the news being delivered late. 
     
    Sighing in frustration, Jatayu began the arduous task of flapping its mighty wings, trying to