Didn’t someone say that Aditya Karikalan had gone hunting long ago and might have even forgotten the art of archery? But those who witnessed him hunting in the forests along the banks of the Veeranarayana Lake that day did not think so. Countless wild beasts fell prey to the arrows that flew from his bow that day. Hares, deer, bears, and leopards fell dead at his feet. When no animal appeared before his eyes, his arrows soared at the birds flying in the sky. Hawks and peafowls shrieked and tumbled to the ground. Karikalan’s bloodlust only grew fiercer as time passed.

Those who accompanied him had little to do. The noise of the horses and men moving in a group startled the wild animals, causing them to scatter and flee from their hiding places. That was the extent of the others’ contribution to the hunt. Karikalan would not even allow them to shoot arrows or throw spears at the beasts that charged at him. Once, Kandanmaran shot an arrow at a bear that lunged at Karikalan. Karikalan turned to him and asked, “Kandanmara! Did you try to kill the bear? Or did you try to kill me?” Mockery and scorn flashed across Kandanmaran’s face. After that, he did not bend his bow again.

By the time the sun reached its zenith, everyone was exhausted. The thought of resting a while and then returning home arose in everyone’s mind. But Karikalan, instead, drove his weary horse deeper into the forest paths.

All morning, Kandanmaran had been riding close to Karikalan. But after Karikalan asked him, “Did you try to kill me?” Kandanmaran fell back and joined Parthibendran. He began to complain to him about the prince’s rough manner and harsh words. Parthibendran tried to pacify him.

At this moment, Vandiyathevan approached Karikalan. The two of them rode ahead together. Vandiyathevan had not brought a bow or arrows. He was not much practiced in archery. He carried only a spear in his hand. Therefore, in Karikalan’s hunt... Without interruption, Vandiyathevan proceeded cautiously. He was ever prepared to use his sword should any danger arise along the way. Yet, until midday, there was no need for such measures.

Kandamaran said to Parthibendran, “Isn’t today’s hunt enough? It seems as though he intends to wipe out every beast in this forest in a single day. To quench his hunting frenzy, we must take him to the Kolli Hills! Please, tell him, ‘Enough for today; let us return home!’”

To this, Parthibendra Pallavan replied, “Brother! There is a storm raging in the prince’s heart. Is it an easy thing to relinquish a vast empire? He is venting all that fury in the hunt. For now, that is well and good. Otherwise, he may turn that wrath upon you and me. Let him tire of it and declare, ‘Enough.’ We need not interfere.”

At that moment, a thunderous roar echoed through the forest, making the wilderness tremble. A sign of fear appeared on Kandamaran’s face.

“Alas! A wild boar! Tell the prince to stop!” he cried.

“Why such fear of a boar? Tigers and bears have already fallen to the prince’s hand—what is a boar compared to them?” Parthibendran asked.

“You speak without knowing! The boars in these woods can tear tigers and bears to shreds! They can topple elephants with a single charge! Horses are no match at all. Arrows and spears, when they strike a wild boar’s hide, simply glance off—they never pierce its flesh!… Sir! Sir! Please, stop!” Kandamaran shouted.

At that very moment, a commotion like a small whirlwind swept through the undergrowth. In the next instant, two massive, dark forms—like young elephants—emerged from the thicket: wild boars of enormous size. For a moment, they stood still, fixing their gaze upon the horses and the men who approached.

“Careful, sir! Be careful!” Kandamaran cried out.

By now, some of the hunters following behind had caught up. In frantic haste, they beat their drums and clashed their cymbals, shouting, “Ka koo!” at the top of their lungs.

What thoughts stirred in those boars’ minds, none could say. Perhaps they were thinking of their young, driven by the instinct to protect them from harm. Or perhaps the sudden clamor of drums and cymbals— Startled by the sound, the wild boars might have been frightened. Both boars, tearing through the undergrowth, began to run in opposite directions.

Watching this, Kandhamaaran said, “Prince! Let them go and vanish. Without five or six hunting hounds, it’s impossible to chase and kill a wild boar!”

Karikalan paid no heed to these words. He bent his bow and loosed an arrow. The arrow struck one of the boars squarely on its back. Seeing this, the young prince let out a cry of triumph, “Ah-ha!” In the very next moment, the boar gave its body a violent shake. The arrow was flung aside and fell to the ground; the boar ran on, unscathed.

At this, Kandhamaaran’s laughter carried a note of mockery. Karikalan turned to him and said, “Kandhamaaran! Let us make a wager! Vandiyathevan and I will pursue that boar, kill it, and bring it back. You and Parthibendran chase the other boar, kill it, and return with it! None of us shall return to the palace without having slain these two boars!” So saying, he spurred his horse forward. Vandiyathevan followed at his side.

For a while, they could track the boar’s path through the forest, for the shrubs, creepers, and thickets along its way were all disturbed and broken. But soon, a small canal crossed their path—a channel that carried the rainwater from the forest to the lake. After reaching this spot, it became impossible to tell which way the boar had gone. Had it crossed the canal and entered the woods beyond? Or had it run along the bank, either this way or that? There was no way to know.

At that moment, a scene unfolding on the broad expanse of the lake, visible along the