Authors note:
Here are two extra chapters i promised if we reach 50 collections we have reached it thank you for your support keep supporting like this next goal hundred collection and 10 extra chapter rewards there will be two chapters more in evening.
Chapter 40: The First Cut
The land did not open again.
It tightened.
Not into a trap they could see, but into something more dangerous—space that allowed movement, yet denied certainty. Ridges overlapped. Low ground held shadows longer than it should. Sound carried in fragments, never fully revealing its source.
They had broken pursuit once.
That did not mean they were free.
—
Arshdeep did not slow.
But he did not push harder either.
Speed had served its purpose.
Now it would betray them.
—
The group remained scattered, moving in broken lines that shifted with the ground. No single direction held for long. No pattern formed long enough to be read.
Jawahar Singh rode closer again, though still not beside him.
"They'll regroup," he said.
—
"Yes."
—
"They won't make the same mistake."
—
"No."
—
That was what made the next moment inevitable.
—
They would not be chased blindly again.
They would be cut.
—
Arshdeep's eyes moved across the terrain ahead.
Not searching for movement.
Searching for intention.
Where would he place men if he wanted to stop someone like himself?
Where would he wait—
Not to follow.
But to end it.
—
"There," he said quietly.
—
Jawahar Singh followed his gaze.
A narrow rise ahead, not high enough to dominate, but placed perfectly between two lower stretches of ground.
—
"Too clean," Jawahar Singh said.
—
"Yes."
—
No natural formation held that kind of advantage without reason.
—
Arshdeep raised his hand.
The scattered movement slowed.
Then settled.
—
He dismounted again.
Not out of caution.
Out of certainty.
—
"They'll be there," Jawahar Singh said.
—
"Yes."
—
"How many?"
—
Arshdeep did not answer.
Because numbers would not change the choice.
—
"If we turn now, they close from behind," Jawahar Singh continued.
—
"Yes."
—
"If we wait, they tighten both sides."
—
"Yes."
—
Which left one option.
—
"We go through," Arshdeep said.
—
Jawahar Singh did not react immediately.
Then nodded once.
—
"But not like before."
—
Arshdeep's eyes sharpened slightly.
—
"No."
—
He turned toward the others, who had begun to draw closer, sensing the shift without being told.
—
"Listen carefully," he said.
His voice did not rise.
But it carried.
—
"They are ahead."
No confusion.
No hesitation.
—
"They will wait for us to commit."
—
A pause.
—
"We don't give them that."
—
The men watched him closely.
Not for reassurance.
For direction.
—
"We move in two cuts," he continued.
"First draws them."
Another pause.
"Second breaks them."
—
Jawahar Singh understood immediately.
"Who goes first?"
—
Arshdeep looked ahead.
Measured distance again.
Time.
Reaction.
—
"I do."
—
Jawahar Singh's expression tightened slightly.
But he did not argue.
—
"You take the second," Arshdeep added.
—
Jawahar Singh nodded.
Once.
—
The plan formed without further words.
Because it did not need complexity.
It needed timing.
—
Arshdeep mounted.
Turned his horse toward the rise.
Not directly.
At an angle that would bring him into view without appearing deliberate.
—
The others held position.
Waiting.
—
He moved.
Steady.
Visible.
—
No attempt to hide.
No attempt to deceive.
—
He wanted them to see him.
—
For a moment—
Nothing.
—
Then—
Movement.
—
The ridge came alive.
Shadows shifted.
Men rose where none had been visible.
—
There.
—
Jawahar Singh exhaled quietly.
"They took it."
—
Yes.
They had.
—
Arshdeep did not slow.
He rode closer.
Close enough to confirm their attention.
Close enough to commit their focus.
—
Then—
He turned.
Sharp.
Sudden.
—
And broke away.
—
The response was immediate.
Riders moved from the ridge, cutting down toward his path, trying to close distance before he could escape.
—
That was the moment.
—
Jawahar Singh moved.
—
Not toward Arshdeep.
Toward the ridge.
—
The second group surged forward, no longer hidden, no longer scattered. They hit the rise from the side, from angles the defenders had not prepared for.
—
The ground erupted.
—
Steel flashed.
Horses surged.
The first clash came not as a line, but as impact—unbalanced, unexpected.
—
The men on the ridge turned too late.
Their formation broke before it fully formed.
—
Jawahar Singh drove forward, not stopping at the edge, not engaging in prolonged fight.
Breaking through.
—
That was the point.
Not to hold.
To shatter.
—
Behind him, the others followed, cutting through gaps created in that first moment of confusion.
—
Arshdeep circled back.
Not into the center.
Around it.
—
The trap had been sprung.
But not on them.
—
One of the opposing riders turned toward him, raising his weapon.
Arshdeep did not slow.
The clash was brief.
Controlled.
A single strike to force space.
Then he was past.
—
No lingering.
No pursuit.
—
This was not a battle.
It was a breach.
—
The ridge no longer held.
Men scattered, trying to recover position that no longer existed.
—
Jawahar Singh broke through the far side.
Turned once.
Checked.
—
Arshdeep rejoined.
Others followed.
Not all at once.
But enough.
—
"We move," Arshdeep said.
—
No one stayed.
No one looked back.
—
Because stopping now—
Would undo everything.
—
They pushed forward.
Beyond the rise.
Beyond the broken line.
—
Behind them, the ground settled again.
But not the same way.
—
The control that had been there—
Was gone.
—
"They won't try that again," Jawahar Singh said.
—
"No."
—
"They'll come harder next time."
—
"Yes."
—
Arshdeep did not slow.
—
Because now—
It had changed.
—
Before, they had been watched.
—
Now—
They had been tested.
—
And they had answered.
—
Ahead, the land stretched deeper, leading further toward Sindh.
—
No longer silent.
—
Now aware.
—
And whatever waited beyond—
Would not wait quietly again.
RAAZ.