When both horse and rider suddenly tumbled to the ground, Kandhamaaran’s mind did not waver in the slightest. Even as he rose to his feet, he seized his spear and stood up. His attention was already fixed on the horse that had reached the opposite bank. The man who had mounted that horse—there was no doubt in Kandhamaaran’s mind—it was Vandiyathevan.

The old friendship Kandhamaaran had once cherished for Vandiyathevan had now turned into bitter enmity. In many ways, he believed, Vandiyathevan had betrayed their bond. For all the disgrace that had befallen him and his family, Vandiyathevan was the cause! The secret Vandiyathevan had learned while staying at his house—he had revealed it to many. He had even told the royal family. Why? Was it out of devotion and loyalty to the Chola dynasty? Not at all! He had betrayed the secret to win their trust, only to betray them in turn! There was no doubt that he had aided the Pandya conspirators. Whether this double treachery was done at Nandini’s instigation or for his own selfish gain, Kandhamaaran could not say. True, he himself had been ensnared for a time in Nandini’s web of illusions! Yet, could he ever have conceived, even in a dream, of committing such terrible acts of betrayal?

Beyond all this, Kandhamaaran’s heart seethed with boundless rage against Vandiyathevan for having corrupted the mind of his beloved sister, Manimekalai. Kandhamaaran had wished to see Manimekalai crowned Empress, adorned with the imperial diadem upon the throne of the empire. But that wretched deceiver had driven that guileless maiden to rave before all, “It was I who killed Karikalan!” Could such a villain, guilty of such heinous crimes, be allowed to escape with his life? Was he to stand by and watch? Never! If he could capture Vandiyathevan alive, that would be best. If not, he must at least return with the grim satisfaction that he had slain him.

With this resolve, Kandhamaaran set out on his human hunt.

Now, his horse had unexpectedly stumbled and fallen. Its survival was doubtful. The same fate had befallen the horse of Pinagapani, the physician’s son. Vandiyathevan had almost reached the opposite bank of the river! It would take a little while for the soldiers following behind to arrive there. Even if they did, it would be impossible for them to cross the flood and reach the other side to capture Vandiyathevan. Therefore, the only thing left to do was to kill him…

All these thoughts flashed through Kandanmaran’s mind in the span of a few moments and vanished. Rising from the ground, he planted his feet firmly, raised the spear in his hand, took careful aim, and hurled it with all his might.

With a sharp “veer” sound, the spear flew through the air and, in the blink of an eye, struck Madurantakan. With a “veel” sound, Madurantakan fell into the water. His horse, startled and confused, tried to scramble up the bank.

All these events, which transpired in the briefest of moments, were watched from a tree branch by Karuthiruman. His heart trembled, and his body shuddered in fear. He had never imagined things would unfold in this way. He had thought that those who were caught under the horses that had come rushing and suddenly stumbled would, if they escaped with their lives, rise with broken limbs.

Everything had happened in a manner he had not anticipated. One of the fallen men had risen, hurled a spear, and it had struck Madurantakan without missing its mark, casting him into the flood. Overcoming the initial shock, Karuthiruman leapt down with a terrifying scream.

With the demonic strength born of furious rage, he struck Kandanmaran, knocking him down, and rushed past him. At that moment, the physician’s son, who was just recovering from his fall, tried to stop him. By now, Pinagapani’s fear of ghosts had vanished, and he had realized that the man in the tree was none other than Karuthiruman.

Pouring all the fury boiling within him into his actions, Karuthiruman stabbed Pinagapani with the small knife he held and pushed him down, then ran towards the bridge.

Kandanmaran, Pinagapani, and the soldiers who had arrived on horseback saw a man running across the bamboo bridge. From what they could deduce, they guessed at the events that had taken place before their arrival and halted their horses there.

Kandanmaran shouted, “Catch him! Catch him! Seize the man running on the bridge!”

All four of them leapt from their horses with a thundering sound and ran across the bridge, following closely behind the dark figure who had gone ahead.

For a moment, Kandhamaaran, who had been thrown down headlong for the second time, lay stunned and motionless from the shock. But soon, he recovered himself, got up, and ran after the four warriors.

The physician’s son, though grievously wounded by the knife, was seized by a frenzy and followed them onto the bridge. But before he could take even five or six steps, his life force ebbed away. His vision darkened, his head spun, and though he tried to steady himself, his legs gave way. He staggered and fell into the floodwaters of the river. None of those who had gone ahead noticed his fall.

Alas, the physician’s son, Pinagapani, who had built so many castles in the air, died with none of his desires fulfilled! All the palaces he had constructed in his imagination sank and vanished in the Vadavaru’s flood! The mighty current of the river became his burial pit.

The dark figure, who had shoved Kandhamaaran aside, stabbed the physician’s son with a knife, and then sped across the bamboo bridge, paused for a moment after covering three-quarters of its length. He turned and looked back. Only then did he notice the men who had come on horseback now leaping down and reaching the end of the bridge. Instantly, he performed a strange act. At the spot where he stood, the bamboo poles were