Kurush: The First City - Chapter 38

Anka was dragged into a tent far larger than the others, made from the granite-scaled hides of ganas. It was lit by several oil lamps, casting flickering shadows around the humble abode – there was little except for a simple straw sleeping mat, a pot of water, a stack of bronze-tipped arrows and what looked like a simple shrine with small figurines of lishas standing on a mat. Tied to the trunk holding the tent up was another girl, slim and pale with a mousey face. Her hazel hair was matted as though she hadn’t washed in days. She was idly swaying from side to side like a blade of wheat in the breeze.

The lisha tied Anka’s hands to the same trunk, so high up that she was almost forced to stand on her toes. She had already been robbed of the purple curtain she’d been using as a cape, all she had was a chest band and loin cloth. The lisha leant down, almost touching her nose with his snout, his eyes aflame with hunger. He was the one who had carried her to the camp - he wore zig-zagging ochre face paint on his upper and lower jaws, as though he was trying to convince the world that his teeth were actually unnaturally large. He took a lungful of Anka’s aroma, licked his lips, then reluctantly left the tent.

The other girl was beaming at Anka. Her intense gaze made Anka somewhat uncomfortable, so she looked away.

“You’re from Kurush, aren’t you?”

Anka was surprised that a local could speak Oshuan, “Um, yes”

“I knew it! What’s it like? Do you live in a house that touches the sky? Does everyone live long, happy lives? Do you party every night? Do you, maybe, let yourself get gobbled up every so often?”

“Kurush was destroyed,” Anka said matter-of-factly, “it’s just a pile of burnt rubble now”

“Oh… Well, I guess we’ll just have to rebuild it then!”

“What the hell are you talking about? How can you be so chipper when we’re about to be eaten?”

“You don’t know that”

Anka’s face turned red, “We’re tied up in the middle of a camp full of hungry lishas, so I’m pretty fucking certain!”

“There’s no point being afraid of something until it actually happens,” said the girl as though it was obvious, “you never know what might happen before then”

“Like what?” said Anka, already exasperated by the conversation

“I bet my friend Lysta is looking for me. Don’t you have friends? They’re probably looking for you too. If something can still be done, even if it might not work, then it’s too early to give up. You’ve just got to hope and try and aim for the best. That’s the only way good things happen”

Anka looked at the ground. Are Oresh and the others looking for me? Even if they are, could they find me in time? I’ve come so close to being eaten so many times before, I’m almost used to being in this situation, it’s hard not to think that it’s my fate. But what if that’s the wrong way of looking at it? What if I should think about how many times I’ve been saved or I’ve saved myself? Is the fact I’ve brushed with death and still survived a good sign, a reason to hope?

A lisha swept into the tent. His scales were black and cracked, like the bark of a tree that had withstood a forest fire. He must have been ancient, and yet his head almost reached the ceiling of the towering tent. Like his underlings, he wore almost nothing, baring his long-toned muscles and a dozen deep scars. Sheathed at his side was the largest dagger Anka had ever seen, it was almost as long as she was tall. He looked down at the hurums with austere eyes.

He knelt down and inspected the girl, turning her this way and that in his giant, weathered hands, making her squirm. But he grunted in disappointment, and his eyes drifted to Anka. She started breathing rapidly. He moved closer, wrapped his hands around her chest and slowly led his tongue up her neck and over her cheek. She took his gravelly groan to mean that he liked her taste. His eyes became aflame with hunger. He opened his maw, forcing Anka to look at his jagged teeth, the strings of saliva between his jaws and the inescapable darkness of his throat. This is it, she thought, I’m dinner.

But the lisha didn’t move. He was frozen, distracted by something outside. He spun round and sprang out of the tent. It wasn’t long before the two girls could hear urgent shouting.

“It’s Lysta! I told you she’d come”

More voices joined the fray, accompanied by the sound of metal clashing against metal. Anka allowed herself to hope that the next person to enter the tent would be Oresh, looking around bewilderedly, only to smile his goofy smile once he saw her. But it wasn’t Oresh who came. The lisha who had carried her in, with the toothy face paint, now splattered with fresh blood, barrelled into the tent. He cut the rope tying Anka to the trunk with a claw, heaved her up onto his shoulder and ran into the night. She kicked his stomach as hard as she could, and despite her hands still being bound together she beat his back with all her might, she writhed and elbowed him in the eye, but he only tightened his grip.

“Oresh!” she screamed, “Oresh!”

He ran out of the fire and fighting of the camp, and into the stillness of the scrubland. Out of the darkness, a spear whistled through the air. Anka flew out of his grasp, and they both tumbled onto the rocky ground. The spear was lodged in his heel. He roared in agony and was about to pluck it out when another lisha emerged from the darkness – it was Oresh. He grabbed the spear’s shaft and drove it deeper until it hit bone, making the raider howl, then twisted it out of his flesh. Oresh stood over the lisha like a fisher ready to lance his prey.

Seeing his hesitation, the raider turned over, scrambled over the rocks and pounced at Anka. She could see the craving in his eyes, the desperation to eat her if it was the last thing he did. But with a crack like splintering wood Oresh’s spear pierced his nape and came out through his throat. The raider lay frozen in the dust, gurgling blood.

Oresh stumbled backwards and fell on his tail. He stared, his jaw dropped, at the gruesome sight of the spear sticking out of the lisha’s neck. Anka could scarcely believe he had in him to do that either. But it was over, she was safe. She ran and threw herself at Oresh, burying her face in his chest.

“At this rate I’m going to lose count how many times you’ve saved me”, she said through tears of relief

Oresh squeezed her tightly, “I’ll do it a thousand more times if I have to. I can’t lose anyone else I love”

The sounds of combat in the camp died down, and the surviving raiders scurried away, their shadows quivering against the starlit sky. In the tranquillity of the night, Anka and Oresh simply sat in silence and held each other.

Next chapter

Constructive criticism welcome

© Paul Bramhall

Kurush: The First City - Chapter 37

Oresh and some of the other refugees had spent most of the afternoon fishing in the shallows of the cove using spears they had whittled out of tree branches. They had caught plenty, but none were bigger than a hurum’s hand – hardly enough to fill everyone’s bellies. The hurums, as though by instinct, clustered together on the beach. The sky was growing dark, the Sun painting gold and violet streaks on the firmament as it sank behind the mountains.

He found sitting pensively by the bottom of the cliff-side path Pilesh, the blind old lisha who used to dictate his mind-numbing poems to Oresh. He had two fish left, he gave one to Pilesh and they enjoyed their meagre meal together.

“Ah, I’m so lucky to be here, to live long enough to see the end of hierarchy”, said Pilesh with a blissful smile

“Please tell me you’re being sarcastic…”

“I’m serious. Kurush was corrupt, miserable and doomed. It should never have been built in the first place. We should be celebrating, let’s dance the night away!”

Oresh felt his blood starting to simmer, “Did you somehow miss the fires, the riots, all of the hurums who spent their last moments in a lisha’s stomach? Thousands are dead Pilesh, thousands!”

Pilesh nodded sagely, “Yes it’s very sad, we should have dismantled Kurush in a more orderly manner, but it seems that wasn’t possible. Don’t dwell on the past boy, we’ve got a bright future ahead of us. We’ve returned to the state the Sun created us in. We can finally live in peace and harmony”

Oresh couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He wanted hope more than anyone, but having seen Askura try and fail to beg for her life, his mother’s blood-soaked corpse, his home aflame, and now stranded and destitute in a foreign land – where could he find hope? Did it only exist in the fantasies of an old man? He didn’t have the wherewithal to argue with Pilesh, so he slouched back and dozed in silence.

His eyes shot open when he heard someone running. It was Gamoz, scampering down the cliff path. Oresh’s heart suddenly twisted painfully – he was alone. Gamoz came to a stop once he reached them and doubled over, gasping for air.

“Where’s Anka?” said Oresh

“Raiders… took…”

Bukur rushed over, glaive in hand, with Lurush waddling in tow.

“What happened?” said Bukur

“Dusk raiders took Anka,” said Gamoz, “and killed Goresh”

Lurush’s eyes widened, “You’re wrong. Goresh isn’t dead. You don’t know how tough he is”

They heard heavy footsteps above them. A hapa was jumping down the cliff path, slipping on the rocks but being urged on by the lisha on its back. Bukur raised his glaive, and they came to a halt.

“Tents, tents, ah… camp! I know where!” the lisha woman said in broken Oshuan, “Come fight please!”

“What?” said Bukur

The woman had golden scales and a spear of her own, “They have your friend and my friend. Come come, please please!”

“Let’s go”, said Oresh without thinking

“Wait a minute,” said Lurush, “we can’t afford to make enemies of the locals. Let’s talk with them”

“These raiders have Anka,” said Bukur, “we need to get her back”

Lurush sighed, “I know you don’t want to hear this, but she’s probably already been eaten. Don’t jeopardise our survival by recklessly attacking-“

“There’s no time to waste!” said Bukur as he started towards the cliff path

“I am the only Ikarkur here,” said Lurush, “you will obey my command!”

“What does ‘Ikarkur’ mean anymore?” said Oresh

Before Lurush could think of a reply, everyone’s attention turned upwards. Atop the cliffs, there was a rustling among the trees and the sound of brash laughter. Lishas armed with spears and bows emerged from the shadows, looking down upon the cove and the encircled refugees.

“What’s happening?” asked Pilesh, “Have the locals come to welcome us?”

Lurush cleared her throat, “Fine inhabitants of Parua! We have found ourselves stranded in your beautiful land, would you do us the honour of letting us stay a while?”

"No, they're raiders!" said Gamoz panically

An arrow whistled through the air, which Lurush dodged by jumping inelegantly out of its way. Instead the arrow struck Pilesh in the chest - he cried out in shock and crumpled onto the ground. More arrows started raining down, and people ran for cover, but Oresh ran to Pilesh and knelt beside the poet.

“W-what do I do?” said Oresh frantically, “Do I pull it out?”

“I don’t understand,” Pilesh murmured, “I don’t understand…”

His face froze, his glassy eyes staring up to the inky sky. Oresh simply watched, powerless to help as the life drained from his mentor’s body, until an arrow striking the sand near his hand brought him back to the situation. He saw Bukur and the hapa-riding woman charging up the cliff-path. Oresh and some others followed them, hoping that they were agile enough to evade the arrows as they scrambled up the jagged rockface.

In the shadowy pine forest, Bukur was a whirlwind of bronze, slashing and slicing all of the lishas rushing from the right, while the hapa danced in circles as the woman pierced and impaled all of the lishas loping from the left. Oresh immediately regretted dashing into this chaos. The streams of blood flying through the air, the sight of flesh being ripped and torn made his stomach turn. A voice in his head was yelling at him that he didn’t belong there, that he had to run and hide somewhere safe. But it was already too late, a spear-wielding lisha already had him in his sights and was hurtling towards him.

However the hapa tripped over the assailant with its tail, sending him falling flat onto his face. His spear rolled to Oresh’s feet, who picked it up, infusing him with a burning need to do something for once. He stepped on the lisha’s chest before he could get up and pointed the spearhead between his eyes. Then he noticed that the lisha’s scales were the exact same shade of leaf-green as his – he must have been the same age, maybe even younger. He clenched his eyes shut, bracing himself for death. The spear trembled in Oresh’s hands.

Oresh looked up. The lishas the woman had been fighting were now either bleeding and groaning on the forest floor or fleeing, and the woman herself was riding into the night, her hapa bounding at full gallop. She’s headed for their camp, Oresh realised, to Anka. He stepped off his young assailant and ran after her, the spear still in his hands.

Next chapter

Constructive criticism welcome

© Paul Bramhall

Kurush: The First City - Chapter 36

The cove they had found was surrounded by towering limestone cliffs. A dozen smaller ships bobbed in the water around Lurush’s leviathan. Exhausted from rowing all night, lishas and hurums had jumped on shore to collapse and recuperate on the beach’s pure white sand. Inland, there were the shattered remains of huts and fishing boats, but other than that there were no signs of any locals.

As he wandered amongst the refugees, Oresh saw a teenage lisha sitting in the shade of a tree on the edge of the beach sobbing. It was his old neighbour.

“Ekur, where’s your mother?” he said as he sat beside him

“She… she…” Ekur didn’t look up, every word sounded painful to utter, “she brought home two hurums. A mother and daughter. They were screaming. She dragged them in and told me to eat the girl. But I didn’t want to. She was going to eat the woman. S-so I went to the kitchen and got a knife and… and…”

The tears made it impossible for him to go any further. Oresh put his arm around his shoulder, but had no idea what to say. Was there anything he could say to comfort him that wasn’t a blatant lie? Could he really say that he’d done the right thing?

Under the next tree over was a young hurum man with a goatee, his face blank as though he had long spent all of his emotion. Oresh recognised him from the day before, he had been helping mend ships after the wave.

“Excuse me,” said Oresh quietly, “you’re Oddyr’s brother, aren’t you?”

Iddyr slowly turned to him, “Yes”

“I saw him fighting lishas. He didn’t stop, even after he was surrounded. He didn’t surrender”

Iddyr cracked a tired smile, “I assumed as much. I doubt he’d want to go out any other way”

“I’ve never seen anyone so… fearless”, said Oresh

“Thank you”

Oresh was distracted by someone shouting, “Askura! Askura!”

It was Peshura, Sopri of the Sapphire Temple, Askura’s mother.

“I’ll find some fish and water for you,” Oresh said to Ekur, “I’ll be right back”

Peshura’s white tunic was singed, her voice hoarse from shouting, her face twisted with worry. She stopped frantically tramping up and down the beach when Oresh approached her. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. She looked deep into his eyes, searching for a glimmer of hope, but found only despair. She wailed and buried her face in Oresh’s chest. He lay his hand on her back as the tears welled up in his eyes.

“I… I’m sorry,” he said, “I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t do anything. I’m sorry” 

Running down the beach towards the water was Lurush’s gigantic bodyguard. She had ordered him to scout the area as soon as they had anchored in the cove. As gently as he could, Oresh prised Peshura from his chest and sat her down on the sand with a consoling hug. He waded into the water and followed Goresh up the rope ladder onto the ship.

Lurush was sat cross-legged in front of the rudder as though she was holding court. Looking out to sea, still wrapped in the purple blanket, Anka lay on the deck. Bukur stood keeping a watchful eye for any movement amongst the trees atop the cliffs. Goresh whispered something into Lurush’s ear.

“There’s a village about three miles away,” Lurush announced, “Anka, go and persuade them to supply us with food, water and anything else you can think of”

“Can’t someone else?” said Anka, still staring at the horizon

Lurush frowned, “No. You’re an elite negotiator, aren’t you? Well then prove it, or if you can’t, then why do we need you?”

“I don’t know the language”

“I can translate”, said Gamoz

“Okay then,” said Lurush, “you, Anka and Goresh will go to the village. Come on, enough sulking, we need to find a way to survive here. Get a move on”

Anka sluggishly rose to her feet.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Oresh asked her

She didn’t look him in the eyes, “Don’t worry about me”

 

***

 

Anka tied two corners of the purple curtain tightly around her neck, turning it into a cape, although she still had to hold it close to herself as she didn’t have much on underneath. With any luck the locals would think she looked distinguished and elegant, although she felt somewhat undignified and out-of-place. Iddyr lent her his sandals, and with that she was as ready as she could be.

She followed Goresh and Gamoz up the narrow path that zig-zagged up the cliffs. At the top there was a forest of parched and spindly pines, their brittle needles covering the ground. Once they reached the other side, Parua stretched out before them, with thick green shrubs coating the plateau. The mountains which flanked Parua had always been shadows on the horizon to Anka, now up close she could see their true majestic size and their titanic procession inland and out of sight. The sound of the gentle waves behind them faded. The rough path they followed snaked its way between boulders that gleamed white in the unrelenting Sun and laid back old trees filled with birds chattering to each other in the shade.

“Ah, it’s good to be back,” said Gamoz, “Kurush was so busy, so noisy, so cramped. Living in a place like that burdens the soul. But here, the soul feels at home”

Anka was not so carefree. She didn’t know Gamoz, the deep scars that criss-crossed his face made her nervous. He probably wants to eat me, she thought, that’s probably why he volunteered to come. But first he’d need to defeat or otherwise get rid of Goresh, and there’s simply no way he’d be able win in a fight against that giant of a lisha. And would Goresh, here in such a remote place, with no hope of a normal, comfortable life now that Kurush has gone up in smoke, would he be able to resist the temptation? No, Goresh will be the one who has me for dinner. With Kurush up in smoke, there’s no hope for any of us.

When they reached the crest of a ridge, Gamoz suddenly stopped in his tracks, then jumped into the shrubbery and wordlessly beckoned Anka and Goresh to join him. He pointed to another ridge some distance ahead of them. There was a band of ten lishas trekking across the scrubland. Some carried spears, all of them wore blood-red loincloths but little else. One with an imperious poise, his bronze helmet glinting in the Sun, was riding a hapa.

“Dusk raiders,” Gamoz whispered, “it’s when they usually attack. And they come from the duskwards plains. They first arrived in Parua when I was a boy. The bastards killed my family, they’re why I decided to make my life in Kurush instead. But it looks like I can’t escape them”

Anka noticed their scales were shades of light and dark green, they almost blended in with the foliage, “They look like Oshuans”

“There’s an old legend that Oshuan traders came riding hapas from the plains long ago. Maybe they’re your tribe’s long lost cousins”

“But I can’t see any hurums”

“Some say the dusk raiders ate all of their hurums. I think it’s more likely that they just stay in their homeland and leave raiding to the more restless lishas”

One of them cracked a joke, making the others guffaw. They disappeared behind the ridge, and Gamoz, Goresh and Anka continued along the winding path, being careful not to make any sound. After about another mile, they found themselves on the edge of a shallow valley. A clear blue river flowed down from the mountains, embraced on both banks by fields of wheat that glowed golden in the Sun as it hung low in the sky. The river forked and then converged again, creating a large island upon which stood white stone walls. Wisps of smoke rose lazily from the village.

Once they reached the edge of the fields, they suddenly realised that the path had taken them past a tree between whose roots a lisha was cradled. From his short stature and bright yellow scales, he was probably a teenager. A droplet of drool dribbled slowly down his chin. Anka was overcome with envy, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept that deeply, and both her mind and body were crying out for some rest.

He wearily opened his eyes, and once he saw that he was being examined by three strangers, he awoke with a snort and bolted for the village. They followed, wading through the wheat as it swayed like the waves of a tranquil sea. 

There was a causeway of wooden planks held up by posts lodged in the riverbed that led to the village entrance, although they had shut the gate as soon as the youth had got in. Two lishas with spears stood on the ramparts above the gate with cold eyes. One of them barked at them.

“He wants to know why we’re here”, said Gamoz

“We are refugees from Kurush,” said Anka, which Gamoz translated, “our home was destroyed by water and then by fire, and the winds brought us to your shores. Please allow us to settle here for at least a short while, and provide us food, water and shelter. Your generosity will be remembered and rewarded”

The two lishas whispered to each other before replying. The Paruan language used ‘z’ sounds so often that to Anka they spoke like angry snakes.

“They say they don’t have any food to spare”, said Gamoz

“We can help you harvest your fields, rebuild your fishing boats, anything you need doing”

“They say they can’t help us”, said Gamoz

Anka felt her face go red, “Stop wasting our time. You don’t understand what hell we’ve been through. We demand that you give us what we need”

“Are you sure?” said Gamoz

“Yes, say it!”

Gamoz dutifully translated, although he said it much more calmly and slowly than Anka had intended. Nonetheless, it was enough to make the Paruans raise their spears and spout a guttural tirade at them.

“They’re telling us to, er, spend more time with our mothers,” said Gamoz, “I think we should leave”

Gamoz and Goresh backed away, but stayed Anka rooted at the spot.

“We need your help!”

Gamoz put his hand on her shoulder and gently pulled her away. Reluctantly she turned her back on the village and followed them through the fields. They walked back along the path that winded through the scrubland. Each step was hard, and not just because her legs were exhausted. The humiliation of failing so badly at such a crucial task weighed on her shoulders like a boulder. What was she going to tell Lurush?

She was too busy looking at the ground to notice that Goresh had stopped in front of her. Walking into him snapped her out of her self-pitying reverie. Emerging from the shrubs around them were ten lishas – probably the same dusk raiders they’d seen earlier. They talked to each other in their coarse language, devilish smiles across their faces. Anka felt their eyes on her. Several of them were licking their lips.

Before she knew it, Goresh had picked her up, carrying her under one arm. He sprung forward and plunged his spear into the chest of the lisha blocking the way, before charging down the path and out of the ambush’s grasp. Gamoz raced alongside, overtaking Goresh.

Anka heard a grisly thud, and then another and another. Goresh fell forward, throwing Anka onto the ground. She rolled until she collided into a jagged rock. She looked up to see Goresh sprawled on his belly, three spears planted in his back.

“Goresh!” she cried as she crawled to him, “Goresh!”

His eyes were drooping apologetically. The dusk raiders had already caught up with them.

“Today just isn’t our day, is it?” said Anka, “Lurush was very lucky to have you as a bodyguard. You kept us safe like no-one else could. Thank you”

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything the raiders sank three more spears into him. Goresh gasped, and his eyes grew dark. One raider picked Anka up and put her over his shoulder, keeping a tight grip on her with one arm, even though she didn’t have any energy to resist.

They pulled their spears out of Goresh’s corpse, then the band started walking. They grumbled to each other about the loss of their comrade, whose body two of them lugged across the scrubland. In the distance Anka saw Gamoz watch in horror as she was carried off. He turned and ran towards the shore.

Next chapter

Constructive criticism welcome

© Paul Bramhall

Kurush: The First City - Chapter 35

The sky was perfectly clear, without a single cloud to blemish it. From atop the white cliffs, the sparkling turquoise sea was laid out before them, stretching to infinity. Ozoz, their hapa, was nibbling on the leaves of an olive tree. Lysta, being a lisha, was busy soaking up the morning sun. Hyza, being a hurum, didn’t need to but laid on the ground next to her doing the same anyway.

“We should probably get going”, said Lysta without moving a muscle

“Don’t you want your lunch first?”

Lysta’s eyes jolted wide open. Hyza sprang onto her chest, her messy hazel hair flowing onto Lysta’s golden-scaled face. Lysta curled her fingers around her waist and licked her lips.

“At the Yrsti, you’ll be sure to win me, right?” said Hyza, “I don’t want to find myself in anyone else’s stomach, so you better be ready to fight for me”

“Don’t say things like that. The next Yrsti probably won’t be for another ten years. Besides, we’re going to Kurush, aren’t we?”

“That’s right! Before we know it, we’ll be living in a house that touches the sky. We’ll have a stone lisha even larger than you guarding the front door. And all our neighbours will be lovely, kind people. I wonder if people in Kurush even know what the Yrsti is… hey, look!”

In the sea below them, a flotilla of longboats was sailing parallel to the shore at a leisurely pace. They could see the lishas and hurums on board, and hear their groans as they rowed across the tranquil waters.

Hyza jumped off of Lysta, “Do you think they’ve come from Kurush? They must be heading for Niarush. Come on, if we’re quick we’ll get there at the same time”

“But what about my lunch?” said Lysta

Hyza threw their rolled-up tent into the cart, along with a dozen heaving sacks of grain, a pile of copper ingots and two small amphoras of orokosa. When she whistled, Ozoz dutifully trotted over to her. She strapped the cart to his harness and stroked the long, curved crest that arced over the back of his neck, making him chirrup merrily.

They hiked along the dusty clifftop path, Hyza with Ozoz’s reins in hand, Lysta with her bronze spear. For the past three years, the three of them had made a living together trading across Parua. Ozoz did the hauling, Lysta did the protecting, and Hyza did the talking. Once they reached the point where the cliff-face turned inland, Niarush was in plain view in front of them. Atop a high peninsula jutting out into the sea, gleaming white stone walls shielded huddled cuboid homes. On the side closest to the sea was the dome of the chief’s hall.    

They descended the path, now snaking down the cliff-face, being careful that the cart didn’t tip over the edge. Once they were at the bottom, it was a short walk to the river Py. Its tributaries poured down from the mountains, intertwined across Parua, and flowed inexorably into the sea here at Niarush. Around them were empty, half-standing houses – the original site of Niarush before its residents were forced to move to the high ground. All that remained by the river were the docks, at least until a couple of nights ago. Some of the locals were still rebuilding the jetties. On the shore were several battered ships, still lain where the great wave had thrown them. Sitting in the shadow of the remains of a galley was a lisha wearing a tattered amber robe with his head in his hands.

“Is everything alright?” said Hyza

“Of course not! How could such a terrible thing happen to Tyroz, I mean, Gyroz the Honest? What have I done to deserve this fate? Thanks to that bloody wave, I’m stranded here in this backwards place, where the only choice of housing is tent or hovel. I refuse, by the Sun, I refuse! If I can’t have a country villa all to myself, I’ll just have to be a homeless vagrant”

“The wave hit a bunch of fishing villages too,” said Hyza, “but the cliffs protected the rest of Parua. We should count ourselves lucky”

The lisha raised his head, “Lucky? Lucky?!”

“Don’t worry, keep on dreaming about your villa and you’ll get there eventually. Look, here are some ships from Kurush! I can’t wait to see what they have to sell”

The fleet glided into the estuary and beached themselves on the silty banks. Green-scaled lishas clad in bronze armour jumped onto shore, followed by hurums of all ages wearing a dazzling array of colourful clothes. Something about the hurums made Hyza nervous – they stuck close to each other, didn’t move unless told, and were completely silent.

The chief of Niarush, an obese lisha with a gold medallion hanging around his neck, flanked by two spear-wielding lackeys, sauntered down from the town with his hands held high in greeting. A lisha with jade scales that shimmered in the sunlight and another lisha with golden scales wearing a black toga had a quiet conversation with the chief. Hyza became distracted by the golden head of a grinning lisha attached to the prow of one of the ships, but she jumped at a sudden shout that pierced the peaceful air. The chief collapsed onto the ground, blood pouring from a gash in his fat neck. His two lackeys dropped their spears and begged for mercy. The jade-scaled lisha casually stepped over the chief, blood dripping from the knife in his hand, and walked up the slope towards Niarush.

“We should go”, said Lysta

Hyza nodded, “I don’t want to see what happens next. Let’s go back up the coast”

She pulled on Ozoz’s reins. The three of them turned around and headed back to the cliff path, leaving Niarush to meet its new rulers.

Next chapter

Constructive criticism welcome

© Paul Bramhall

Kurush: The First City - Chapter 34

Anka and Oresh knelt at the stern, with Bukur gripping the rudder. They could not avert their gaze from the mountain of fire that Kurush had become, as though their eyes simply could not believe that such horrific destruction was possible.

“Bukur, where’s your mother?” Oresh asked

“The Rush”

“I saw her,” said Anka, “she was going to the Palace of the Ikark”

A moment later, they watched as the great statue of Makush sank into the Palace with a thunderous boom, followed by crushing silence.

“What the hell are you doing?” said Gamoz as he took hold of the rudder, “Hard to starboard, hard to starboard!”

They heard screams. There were dozens of lishas and hurums in the water desperately swimming towards their ship. Not far away there was a ship that was stationary and tilting, it had beached itself in the sands of the shallow waters that guarded the mainland’s coast. Another ship had hit the reef hidden under the surface and was quickly splintering. With dark clouds blocking the moon and stars, and with only the light from Kurush’s fires to guide them, even the most skilled sailor would have panicked in this treacherous sea.

Oresh rushed over to the port side and grabbed the arm of a hurum man who had managed to reach them, but as the ship continued to plough relentlessly through the water he was dragged behind. Oresh had to brace himself against the gunnel to stop himself from falling overboard, until the man found a handhold with his free arm, climbed onboard and collapsed onto the deck panting. Others in the water had reached the ship and were pleading for help as they tried to dodge the bow and the oars.

“We have to stop!” said Oresh

“We can’t,” said Gamoz, “look”

A host of ships was descending upon the island – the pirates were no doubt hoping to eat and plunder as much as they could before Kurush was reduced to ashes and rubble. A fishing boat filled with escapees was following them in their wake, but a pirate ship had caught up to it, a monster with savage teeth carved into the prow. They could do nothing but watch as ravenous lishas jumped onto the fishing boat and started wantonly devouring the hurums and slaughtering the lishas onboard. Two other pirate ships were clipping towards Lurush’s ship.

The ship already rammed with lishas and hurums, each oar already as many rowers as could hold it, Oresh saw Pilesh, bony and blind old man that he was, merrily taking part. He pulled him off of the oar and took his place. He knew he wasn’t much stronger than that shrivelled prune of a lisha, but anything to make the ship faster. He could hear the taunts and jeers of the pirates pursuing them, driving him to pour what strength he had into rowing. The thought of what they would do to his friends around him overcame the burning pain in his muscles, pushing his senses away, his body pulling and twisting in a frenzy. The thought even of helping those stranded in the sea had been blown away. He had no idea if he was actually helping, but he could not stop.

“They’re turning back,” said Bukur eventually, “they’ve given up on us”

Oresh let go of the oar and fell onto his back, his biceps on fire. Pilesh offered to take back his place, which Oresh gratefully accepted. He crawled back to the stern, where Anka lay watching Kurush burn in the distance, pulling the violet blanket she was wrapped in close to herself.

“What direction is the wind taking us?” said Bukur

“We’re heading to my homeland,” said Gamoz, “to Parua”

The world now seemed quiet and tranquil. There was only gentle sound of the ship as it glided across the water, as though the sea was trying to soothe their trauma away. Kurush looked like a flickering candle, alone and surrounded by the dark night. As they sailed further into the void, the light grew dimmer and dimmer, until eventually it was extinguished.     

Next chapter

Constructive criticism welcome

© Paul Bramhall

Kurush: The First City - Chapter 33

Tiuk hurtled through the narrow streets of the Rush, refusing to lose any momentum as she drilled through the soldiers in her way with her glaive. The tails of her magenta cape were on fire, but the sporadic showers of blood from her enemies kept the flames from spreading. Just a few hours ago these soldiers had been hers, but now they had painted this sinister symbol on their foreheads and renounced their allegiance to the principle of equality between lishas and hurums that Kurush was founded upon. They had joined the rot eating away at Kurush.

She decapitated Damesh – she had known his mother since they were little. She sliced off Mimura’s arm – she remembered how excited she had been the day she joined the guard. She disembowelled Karakur – just a few days ago he’d joyfully announced that his wife was expecting. Lekura, Asankur, Urush, Shankur, Ekshura, Gamash, Rugur, Nashura, Urnessa, Ishur, Sharesh, Anki… For Tiuk each needless death proved how far the rot had spread, how deeply she had failed as a commander.

She came to a stop, a trail of butchered lishas behind her, when she reached the Palace of the Ikark. Lishas were running across the square carrying ingots, vases, piles of silken gowns and every kind of precious object imaginable – some with panic-stricken faces as they fled their homes, some with the glee of looters who had struck gold. Some maniacally threw flaming torches over the walls of the elite estates, some of the pyramidal mansions had already become roaring mountains of fire. On the paving of the plaza lay Shakresh in his white toga, the shock of his demise still written on his face. Watching Tiuk from the steps of the Palace with a self-assured smile was Kisha.

“Why are you doing this, Kisha? My sister raised you to be better than this”

Kisha chuckled, “It’s all thanks to you, aunty dearest. You see, I was round Gilkush and Ragur’s house on the Night of Hunger. Ragur knew about a loose tile in the kitchen ceiling. We saw the whole thing. I’d never seen a lisha have so much fun before! I remember drooling so much I was afraid it would drip onto you, but I couldn’t stop watching. I vowed to myself that one day, when I was big and strong, I’d eat hurums too. You taught me the most important lesson of my life – that hurums belong in our bellies, because they are weak and we are strong”

Tiuk sighed. Her gigantic frame rose and fell as she caught her breath. The pain from the myriad wounds her soldiers had managed to inflict on her as she ploughed through them caught up with her. The weight of her shame crushed her broad shoulders. She had no retort to Kisha, but that did not change the fact that she had to put an end to this tyranny they were trying to found. It was the least she could do to atone for her sins.

She tightened her horned helmet, then launched herself up the grand staircase. Kisha raised her spear, ready to pierce Tiuk’s neck, but Tiuk dodged her thrust and charged past her in the hope of gaining the high ground. She did not count on Kisha swinging her tail, the end of which had four bronze spikes tied to it, slicing her ankles. She fell face-first, her lower jaw cracking against the edge of a stone stair, the cuts all over her body seething in protest. Her glaive escaped her grip. She rolled over onto her back just in time to catch the shaft of Kisha’s spear as it bore down on the point between her eyes. But she could not snap it, nor wrest it from Kisha’s grasp, such was Kisha’s lethal determination as she stood over her downed commander. Tiuk could not resist, but she bent the spear’s aim and the bronze tip sliced through her cheek.

As her spear hit the stone, Kisha lost her balance. Tiuk grabbed hold of her breastplate, dragged her down, and drove Kisha’s face into her helmet, its bronze horns chipping her teeth. Without giving her a chance to recover, Tiuk flipped the two of them over, pinning Kisha against the stairs with her unrivalled bulk. She poured her rage into her fist, and rained her fury down upon Kisha again and again. Her other hand pressed against her throat, crushing her windpipe, keeping her in place as she thrashed around like a terrified animal caught in a trap. Only when she started gasping for air, an unnerving rasping sound that did not seem natural for a living creature to make, did Tiuk loosen her grasp.

“I’m not so irredeemable that I would kill family,” said Tiuk as she stood up, picked up her glaive and started walking up the stairs, leaving Kisha to cough and splutter, “Run. Leave Kurush”    

Kisha glared after her, clearly considering one last attack, but instead she scarpered down the stairs and into the burning alleys. Once Tiuk had reached the top, she turned and looked out over Kurush. She saw only fire, from the slums of the Ekuan quarter to the mansions of the Rush. Waves of smoke were even rising from the offices that formed the base of the Palace, seeping through the gaps between the weathered stone blocks. The place she had sworn to protect, now swallowed by hellish inferno. I tried as best as I could, she told herself, this was the right course of action. But it wasn’t enough.

She walked inside to the Hall of Accords. There was no Gilkush, no huddled mass of hurums. No light, no sound. In the empty darkness she spied the five thrones of the Ikarkurs, but only one was occupied. In front of the Hall’s central column, Tadarur sat with his head lolled back, his jaw agape, the blood around the gash in his neck already dry. Tiuk inspected the corpse for a moment before hauling it off the throne, dumping it to the side and sitting in its place. As exhaustion caught up to her, she melted into the seat. Her blood dripped onto the stains of Tadarur’s. She chuckled to herself.

“My reign shall be a just and generous one,” she announced to no-one, “we shall start rebuilding Kurush at once. This is the dawn of a glorious new age!”

There was a thunderous crack that sounded like a mountain splitting in half. Then another. And then another. The Palace started to shake, and the rumble of falling stone grew louder and louder. The great stone column behind her leant further and further before eventually giving way. The colossal statue of Makush, the legendary lisha who built his trading camp upon this hill, his hand still reaching towards the heavens, crashed through the ceiling. Her shame of her failures, her sorrow at Kurush’s fate, her frustration that she could not save it, they all slipped away into the night at the last moment. Tiuk knew that there was nothing more to be done.

Next chapter

Constructive criticism welcome

© Paul Bramhall

Kurush: The First City - Chapter 32

After the great multitude of lishas and hurums had tried and failed to solicit the Ikark’s aid, Oresh and Askura had gone back down to the docks. Half of the Sunset Tower was still underwater, blocking the entrance to the canal. The two of them joined a dwindling band of volunteers who were fishing bricks out of the water and piling them in haphazard pyramids.

By the mid-afternoon, Oresh’s body was completely drained, so he found a quiet spot amongst the pyramids and let himself nod off. He awoke to the smell of smoke. The sky was opaquely black. As he fumbled his way through the darkness, he came across a hurum woman cowering behind a tower of rubble. As soon as she saw him, her eyes widened.

“Please! Please don’t eat me!”

“What? I’m not going to do that”

The woman shrunk into herself and started sobbing. The sounds of screams, shouts and a constant, unsettling roar reached Oresh’s ears. He ran to the docks – on each side of the canal, in the Ekuan quarter, on the slopes, even in the Rush itself, fires were raging, devouring whole swathes of Kurush, swelling into soaring infernos, belching viscous smoke into the sky. He could hear the cacophony of thousands of mud-bricks cracking and crumbling. Lishas and hurums were running this way and that, carrying children, chests and knives, but not one of them was carrying a bucket of water. Has the dream of Kurush finally died? Oresh thought, is this what reality looks like?

The thought of his mother pushed him out of his paralysing shock. She was probably alone and scared in their squalid flat. But no sooner had he started to run along the dock, a bloodcurdling scream made him stop in his tracks. Inside a half-collapsed warehouse that had been torn apart by the wave, Askura was between the jaws of a lisha, her pure white priestess’s robe strewn on the ground.

“Oresh! Help me!” she cried as she clawed at the lisha’s hands clasped around her chest, “Please help me! I don’t want to die! Do something! Anything!”

The lisha had dark arrowheads running down his face, the very same lisha who had been with them at the Rush’s gate. He was leisurely chewing on Askura, his eyes closed, apparently oblivious to her desperate flailing. Oresh ran forward, but his path was blocked by Lydda. Her stomach was bulging and moaning.

“Well if it isn’t our tenant. This is none of your business. Be on your way”

Oresh tried to push past her, but she grabbed him by the collar and hurled him onto the ground.

“Oresh!” Askura shrieked, “Help!”

Staroz started gulping. Her sapphire eyes wide, her face twisted with fear, screaming with all her might to the heavens, Askura slipped down into his throat. Oresh watched in horror as she travelled down his neck and into his stomach. Staroz made a guttural groan of satisfaction.

“Drink some orokosa!” said Oresh, “Please, I beg you!”

Staroz chuckled, “Make me. By the Sun she was delicious. What a day to be a lisha”

Sprawled on the ground, these two lishas grinning sadistically at him, fresh blood splattered on their tunics, Oresh felt numb. He had no orokosa, no allies, and certainly no strength or skill to fight. He knew he couldn’t save Askura. So he scrambled to his feet and kept running along the docks, but with each step his heart grew icier, the guilt of abandoning his friend to that horrific fate crushing his chest until it became hard to breathe. But fear pushed him forward.

As he ran, he passed lishas slumped on the ground patting their bloated stomachs, or some who had a pair of legs kicking the air wildly in their maws. In the meat market, the voluptuous woman was shrieking as several lishas climbed up her column. Surrounded by blazing buildings, Oresh saw the smith with the flame-red beard Oddyr swing his hammer this way and that, swirling in a furious dance as he cracked the bones of the lishas swarming around him, until eventually their blades and claws sank into his flesh. His hammer shattered the jaw of one last lisha, before he staggered and crumpled onto the ground.

Oresh made it to the Ekuan quarter, but the tight alleyways were thick with smoke. Fires were spreading quickly through the densely packed hovels. He fumbled his way through the maze of alleys, lishas and hurums constantly pushing past him, swarms of kamas scurrying along the walls. The air was so hot and thick with smoke that his throat burned. When he reached his flat, he saw the door was already open. He froze in the doorway. His mother lay on the floor, her vivid pink tunic drenched in blood, her eyes staring lifelessly at the ceiling. Meanwhile a hurum man, a bronze knife in one hand, his pockets stuffed with Gishka’s jewellery, was busy ransacking their possessions.

Oresh’s mind ground to a halt. She couldn’t be dead, yet the flat was full of the metallic stench of her blood. Her body lay there motionlessly, like some deranged trickster had replaced her with a macabre doll. Exhausted and with nowhere else to run to, his legs gave way and he fell to his knees. The robber jumped when he saw him in the doorway, then without second thought raised his knife and charged. Oresh’s muscles felt like syrup. What difference would fighting back even make?   

Suddenly Oresh was pushed flat onto the floor as someone barrelled over him and tackled the robber. The lisha with golden scales snapped the hurum’s fingers like they were twigs, making the knife clatter to the floor, before grasping his hair and battering his face against the wall until he fell limp. Gamoz’s face, usually jovial, was gristly in a way which matched his scars. He took one sombre look at Gishka, then dragged Oresh to his feet.

“We need to get on a ship. Let’s go”

Grabbing Oresh’s arm, Gamoz pulled him out of the flat and through the smoke-clogged alleys, leading him like a dazed animal. The image of his mother’s blood-soaked body, and the sound of Askura’s desperate cries as she was swallowed, burned in his mind, yet they felt like scenes from a nightmare. He’d wake up tomorrow and tell them what a horrible dream he’d had. Everything would be back to normal. But he knew that wouldn’t happen, he knew he would never see them again, he knew that they had left this world. And he hadn’t been able to say goodbye to them, much less save them from their harrowing, agonising ends. The tears trickled, then poured, then flooded as he wailed like a baby.

At the docks, amidst the chaos and fire, a shrivelled old lisha was hobbling along with his walking stick, laughing to himself as though he’d just thought up a rib-cracking joke.

“Pilesh, what are you doing?”

“Is that you, boy? Didn’t I tell you! Didn’t I tell you this would happen!”

Gamoz, without any questions about this strange man, picked him up, hoisted him onto his back and kept running. There were few ships left in the canal that weren’t ablaze and slowly sinking into the water. One that was still afloat was Lurush’s leviathan with the blood-red hull, it was already crowded with lishas and hurums. A gang of lishas paced on the dockside eying the hurums on board, but Bukur stood on the jetty, pointing his glaive and razor-sharp gaze at them. The gang eventually relented and left in search of easier meals.

“Oresh!” Bukur was haggard but clearly relieved to see his cousin, “Get on board, we’re almost full”

A moment later Goresh appeared, carrying Anka who was wrapped in a violet blanket. Her eyes were red and hollow. Oresh imagined his looked the same. Behind them came Lurush, huffing and puffing as she waddled as fast as she could.

“That’s… my… ship!” she said between wheezes   

“I’ve commandeered it,” said Bukur, “get on board now if you want to get out of here”

“Where are we going?” said Oresh

“How should I know?”

They clambered onto the ship as Bukur and Goresh untethered it from the moorings, before jumping on themselves. With the vast sail unfurled and the huddled passengers taking up the oars, the monstrosity lurched out of the docks, away from the fires and into the starless night.

Next chapter

Constructive criticism welcome

© Paul Bramhall

Kurush: The First City - Chapter 31

Anka woke up feeling exhausted. She lay motionless in bed, with no reason to get up. Opposite her was the mosaic of Lurush’s head with her creepy smile. To Lurush, she was nothing but a hostage and a potential meal, yet her mansion was the closest thing Anka had to a refuge. There’s simply nowhere in the world that’s safe for me, she thought, I’m just killing time.

She heard distant screams – was that what had woken her? Outside the sky was dark and smoke was rising from the other side of the Rush’s walls.

Dila burst into her room, her face pale, “There are soldiers at the door”

“Isn’t Goresh here?”

“He’s with Lurush, there’s a meeting of the Ikark. What could they want? What do we do?”

Anka sighed and laboriously rolled out of bed, “Let’s just go”

She went downstairs with Dila sheepishly tailing her and opened the door to the street. Both soldiers had a strange symbol drawn on their foreheads.

“Are there any other hurums here?” said one

“Nope”

“We need you to come with us. This is for your protection”

Anka knew he was lying, “Okay”

Dila grabbed Anka’s arm, “Are you sure?”

“Would you prefer to fight them?”

Anka went down the steps to the street, and hesitantly Dila followed after closing the door. The Rush was unusually quiet, the only pedestrians they saw were other hurums being escorted by soldiers in the same direction. The silence only made it easier to hear the shouts and screams coming from outside the Rush. Above them hung an all-enveloping black cloud turned fiery by the light of the setting Sun.

They were led to Gilkush’s mansion, and passed into the care of other soldiers once they crossed the threshold of the door set into the shimmering mosaic of the sunset. The crowd of hurums inside was so thick it was hard to move. Anka and Dila bumped into Lurush’s friend Sasha and her son Polur.

“What a bore this all is, eh? Hey you,” said Sasha to a passing lisha, “get me a drink, I’m dying of thirst here. Don’t ignore me, who do you think I am? What terrible service”

Erisha approached them, her beautifully sculpted face gaunt and lifeless. Behind her was a lisha soldier.

“Anka, it’s so good to see you again,” she couldn’t even crack a fake smile, “could you come with me?”

Anka could see the glint of a tear in her eye, “Sure. Goodbye, Dila”

Erisha led her out of the crowd and into the bowels of the mansion. They arrived at the kitchen, where a lisha woman wearing an apron was waiting.

“I’m guessing you’re the chef?” said Anka

“That’s right”

Anka sighed, “Okay, let’s get this over with”

Erisha left without a word. The soldier watched on as the chef removed Anka’s tunic and sandals, then lifted her up and placed her into a large bowl on the counter. Maroon cuts inflicted by Kisha’s teeth the previous night dotted her chest and back. After pouring a jug of water over her, the chef started scrubbing her down with a cloth. The chef’s hands were so firm and thorough it felt like a massage, and all the while she kept her snout close to Anka, savouring her aroma.

“It must be frustrating to prepare a meal you can’t have yourself”, said Anka

“You have no idea”

Once she was so clean that she was a little sore, the chef tied her ankles together and then her wrists with two lengths of sturdy rope. Kneeling in the bowl, with the soldier close behind, she was carried out and up the mansion’s grand staircase, surrounded by frescoes of soaring birds and ethereal clouds. In the study at the peak of the mansion, she was lain in one of the gigantic gravy boats that stood on a plinth. The other was already occupied.

“Didn’t I tell you?” said Myra with a grim smile

“Yup”

The sound of laughter came from the staircase. Moments later, Gilkush and Kyroz swaggered in, their eyes alight with desire.

“What a wonderful sight!” said Gilkush, “In all my days, I have never seen a more wonderful sight!”

Kyroz scurried over to Myra and started whispering in her ear, much to her chagrin.

“I’m surprised,” said Anka as Gilkush leant over her licking his lips, “I was expecting Ragur to be the one”

“Oh believe me he begged, he was on his knees, but there is no chance I am letting anyone else have you. You see, on that fateful night ten years ago, your parents came round to my house with some fish they had caught. But it wasn’t enough. Your mother was absolutely scrumptious, she was the most delicious, most satisfying meal I’ve had in my life. I’ll never forget her taste. If you’re anything like her, you’ll be exquisite. I was rather hoping to have your sister too, to think that some pleb ate her instead…”

Anka’s eyes grew cloudy, “A-and my father?”

Gilkush grinned, “You may remember, Tiuk and I were lovers back then. She may pretend to be above such desires, but she’s as much a lisha as I am, and that night she was as famished as the rest of us. It didn’t take long for me to get tired of her griping about how guilty she felt, she looked like she enjoyed your father quite a bit,” his stomach growled impatiently, “But enough about the past, it’s time to celebrate today’s victory. And I cannot think of a better way to celebrate than this!”

As he poured thick sauce along the length of her body, she started breathing deeply. Strawberry and peach, with a sprinkling of mint, a dollop of honey and a hint of cinnamon, just as he had always planned. The situation didn’t feel real. The lisha who ate my mother is about eat me, she thought, I should be exploding with rage and terror. But I’m not moving a muscle, I’m not saying anything, I’m not feeling anything, I’m just going to let him do what he wants with me. It’s absurd, but what’s the point of doing anything? What’s the point of fighting when he has me exactly where he wants me? This is simply my fate.

Gilkush moved to the spout of the boat, where Anka’s feet rested. With drool dripping from his jaws, he savoured the sight of Anka lain before him one last time before carefully lifting her feet into his mouth. She lay her head back and felt his breath on her toes, his tongue on her soles. Then Kisha burst into the room.

“Tiuk is in the Rush, she breached the gate!”

Gilkush spat out Anka’s feet, “By the fucking Sun Kisha, not now!”

“I’m sorry sir, but looters and arsonists followed her in. We can’t guarantee the security of this mansion, we need to evacuate. Right now”

Anka’s eyes met Kisha’s for a second. Is this just a ploy to save me from Gilkush’s belly, in the hope that she’ll get me in hers again? Anka thought.

“Fine, fine, let me speak to the hurums,” said Gilkush, “We don’t want them getting jittery. Don’t worry, I’ll be back for you Anka”

“Kisha, don’t let Tiuk reach the Palace of the Ikark,” said Kyroz, “We can’t let her take the heart of Kurush”

Kisha nodded, then followed Gilkush down the staircase with the other soldiers.

“Well Myra,” said Kyroz, “at long last, it’s time for you to meet your destiny”

“I hope I give you excruciating constipation”

Myra squirmed in disgust as Kyroz guzzled up her legs and his tongue thoroughly savoured the taste of her lean body. As she writhed in his mouth, she kept her eyes locked on Anka’s. Her eyes were steely as she braced for the fate she had long known awaited her, with a good measure of silent fury at the lisha taking such pleasure from her. But Anka could see the hint of a tear, the sad wish for a different fate, the fear of never seeing light again, the desperation to not be alone in her final moments. They didn’t say a word to each other as Kyroz chewed and licked and slurped and groaned.

She started panting with fear when he started gulping. With each jolt, more and more of her slipped into the throat, until her petrified face stared out from the back of his mouth. He swallowed and she disappeared. Kyroz staggered, his head thrown back, his arms raised to the heavens, his eyes closed as if he was experiencing some divine ecstasy. He stood there in quiet contemplation of Myra’s taste.

“It is done!”

He walked out of the room, not even glancing at Anka. Alone and bound, she lay in her boat, a dinner waiting for her diner. Gilkush’s study grew dark as the sun set. At first she treasured each minute that passed, but as time wore on the tension made her wish he would return and get it over with as soon as possible. Her heart and mind were laggard, but the anticipation of her impending devouring would not let her sleep. In the eerie silence, her thoughts wandered to her mother, her father, her sister. An unfortunate family, whose only legacy would be as four good meals.

Her heart started racing when she heard footsteps. Someone was running up the staircase. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, she told herself. Then it felt like a bubble burst inside her when Tiuk appeared in the doorway, her blood-stained glaive in her hand. Her eyes swept across the room before she noticed the boats.

“Anka? What are you doing here? Nevermind, where’s Gilkush?”

“Isn’t he downstairs? With all the hurums?”

“The whole mansion’s deserted”, said Tiuk

“They said something about evacuating…”

“Evacuating? Where to? Maybe they’ve holed up in the Palace”

Tiuk tore the rope around her wrists and ankles with her claws.

“You’re not going to eat me? Like you ate my father?”

Tiuk opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out. Anka subjected her to an unwavering glare, demanding a confession.

“Gilkush told you,” Tiuk sighed, “I know giving you excuses won’t help, I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but please understand that for ten years the weight of my shame has crushed me. I’m sorry for taking him away from you Anka, I’m so sorry”

Anka wanted to tell her that she thought about her parents everyday, that she knew her life would entirely different if they were still there to protect her and Shanessa, but she choked as a sorrow buried deep within her welled up. An irresistible wave of grief, anger and fear washed over her and she wailed like a hysterical child. She knew the noise spewing from her mouth was horrible, but it had been waiting to come out for ten years and there was no stopping it. Tiuk tore a lavish indigo curtain from the window and wrapped Anka in it.

“Let’s talk about this later. We need to get you to safety”

Tiuk ran down the staircase with Anka in her arms. Being rescued by the lisha who ate her father, carried like a swaddled baby, the strawberry sauce making her skin clammy, her eyes burning as tears streamed down her cheeks, she somehow felt even more humiliated than when she was being served for dinner. There was not a single other soul in the mansion, the grand hallways and corridors were silent.

When they reached the street, they found Lurush bent over huffing and puffing, with Goresh close behind.

“Dila? Where is she?”

“Gilkush has her”, said Anka

“I’ll get her back,” said Tiuk, “but you three need to get to safety. Go to the docks and get on a boat. Now”

She handed Anka over to Goresh, then charged towards the Palace of the Ikark, glaive in hand, without another word. Only then did Anka notice that the end of Tiuk’s tail was missing.

Next chapter

Constructive criticism welcome

© Paul Bramhall

Kurush: The First City - Chapter 30

Once Bukur had reached the Bloody Gate and climbed to the top of the wall, he could see a vast cloud as dark as night rolling inexorably across the sky towards Kurush from the island of Torimyz. It almost seemed to cover half the sky, it was already starting to block the Sun. A whole regiment was lined along the parapet looking out to sea.

“Bukur, we think there are two fleets, one on each side of the island. They must be waiting for nightfall”

“We’ll deal with the pirates later,” said Bukur, “Gilkush has taken control of the Rush, he’s shut the gate and won’t let my mother through. He spouted some nonsense about how hurums didn’t build Kurush, I don’t know what he’s planning, but it won’t be good for hurums. We need to go and help my mother right now, so that she can put an end to this coup”

Lekur, who had been a soldier for as long as Bukur had, stepped forward, “What if Gilkush is right? Kurush is like a sick old man, we all know it. If it’s going to survive, we lishas need to be strong. We can’t afford to be so compassionate towards hurums any more”

Bukur felt his blood rising to a boil. His mind frantically tried to put together a counter-argument, but his muscles knew there was no time for a debate. The blade of his glaive sailed through the air as swiftly and silently as a bird. Lekur’s head flew up towards the sky, over the parapet, and fell to the ground.

“If you think our job is to protect every citizen of Kurush, whether they have scales or not, then follow me”

He climbed down the wall and started running back up towards the Rush. He looked over his shoulder and was surprised to see a stream of soldiers following his lead. The lishas and hurums in the meat market moved out of their way, most of them watching the train of soldiers with bafflement. But some, who must have only just heard about Etenkur’s failed attempt to usurp his commander, cheered them on. We can do this, he thought, we have to do this.

When he reached the other side of the market and started to climb the hill, in the corner of his eye he saw a lisha jump out from an alleyway towards him. Before he could dodge, the lisha drop-kicked him, sending Bukur barrelling into a wall. The lisha had dark arrowheads running down his face. They had repaired the same ship together just a few hours previously, but now his face was filled with eager malice. The same cross and diamond that had been Etenkur’s forehead was on his.

The train of soldiers cantering behind him collided with a mob of knife-wielding lishas that erupted from the alleys, in an instant creating a chaotic brawl that was quickly obscured by the cloud of dust that rose from the ground. The weapons, armour and skill of the soldiers seemed outmatched by the zeal and hunger of their attackers, as they mercilessly lunged and swiped and stabbed, forcing the soldiers onto their back-feet.

Bukur picked himself up and started back up the hill, but his path was blocked by a colossus of a lisha with a scar across one eye. Bukur had never seen him in the flesh before, but he knew this was Hastoz, the king of Kurush’s underworld. Without hesitation, he swung his glaive at the giant’s head. Hastoz simply grabbed the shaft, as though he had been attacked by a twig. The glaive quivered as both lishas tightened their grip on it, until it slipped out of Bukur’s hands and Hastoz threw it over his shoulder. A smack that felt like he had been hit with a tree trunk made Bukur blackout for an instant. Scales had been torn from his cheek by Hastoz’s thick claws. As the other hand bore down on him, Bukur rolled underneath to his glaive lain on the ground. Hastoz turned to face him, but Bukur had already sprung into the air and rebounded off of a wall. The blade of the glaive slid between Hastoz’s ribs and tore into his innards. Bukur pulled it out and jumped back as Hastoz froze, his jaws open in a silent roar. He stumbled forward, his hands outstretched towards Bukur, but after two steps he collapsed like a felled tree.

By now the Sun was entirely blocked out by the dark cloud, draping Kurush in twilight. Bukur looked around – the brawl had swelled as more civilians had joined in. He pushed his way out and carried on running up the hill, but the chaos was spreading like wildfire. People were scurrying away, but some lishas were simply plucking hurums from the street and dragging them screaming into the alleys. He saw a gang of hurums swarm over a lisha woman, stabbing her until she keeled over, before stripping her of her jewellery and leaving her to bleed on the ground. As two lishas fought over a hurum girl, one threw an oil lamp at the other, sending a shower of flames flying and spawning fires across the street. Right in front of him Bukur saw a lisha swallowing a wailing hurum man – no sooner than he had finished gulping, Bukur’s glaive whipped through his neck and the lisha fell to the ground. Bukur kept running, but turned to see the man crawl out of the bloody gullet with relief. He wished he could do more, he wished he could stop every misdeed, but almost everyone in Kurush had got it into their heads that for better or worse they had been abandoned, that they could rely on non-one but themselves for protection, and that now was the time to fight their corner. The only person who could restore order was his mother.

Once he reached the market, he found a crowd of lishas and hurums, many of whom were holding flaming torches. The way they excitedly whispered in each other’s ears made him nervous. As Bukur pushed through them, a loud creak came from a nearby beer hall. The walls warped then crumpled, and the stone pillar holding up one corner of the building fell with a ground-shaking thump. Standing at its base, seemingly oblivious to the bricks and debris pouring over her, was Tiuk. Bukur ran over.

“Where’s everyone else?” she asked as she saw him

“There’s a riot, it’s just me”

Tiuk was unfazed, “Okay, I’ll take the front, you take the back. Once we’re through, go down to the docks and get as many people out to sea as you can”

“But what about-“

“There’s no time to waste”

They hauled the pillar onto their shoulders, and the crowd cheered as they carried it through the marketplace. They broke into a trot, and then into a sprint as they approached the square. Glinting arrows rained down on them from the walls of the Rush as they dashed across the open space, past Etenkur’s arrow-riddled corpse, and thrust the pillar into the reinforced mahogany gate with all their strength.

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Constructive criticism welcome

© Paul Bramhall

Kurush: The First City - Chapter 29

Gilkush walked up the grand staircase and into the Palace of the Ikark with Kisha silently in tow. Tadarur, Lurush, Myra and Rukur were already in the Hall of Accords. Shakresh in his white toga leant on his cane by the entranceway. Tadarur, as the eldest Ikarkur, sat on an ornately carved wooden throne in front of the central column that supported the statue of Makush on the roof.

“Gilkush, before we discuss the terrible disaster that the sea has inflicted on Kurush, we must address an absurd rumour that just now has reached our ears. Is it true that you dismissed Tiuk as the Ushi Karsh?”

Gilkush declined to sit and instead stood before his peers, “I might not have had to, if you had been able to pacify that rebellious mob this morning”  

Tadarur shrugged, “We’ll give them what they need eventually, but we’ve got to make them fight for it. If we gave into all their demands immediately, they’d only ask for more. Now don’t change the subject, you cannot decide who is or isn’t the Ushi Karsh by yourself. Something of that import must be agreed on unanimously by the Ikark. Etenkur’s appointment is invalid”

“Etenkur is dead,” said Gilkush, “let me introduce you to Kisha, the finest soldier in Kurush. She shall be our Ushi Karsh”

Kisha stepped forward and bowed her head, the cross and diamond Kyroz had drawn still clear on her forehead.

Tadarur banged his fist on the arm of his throne, “What did I just say, Gilkush? You cannot make decisions on our behalf like the dictatorial chieftain of some backward tribe”

Kisha walked forward until she towered over the elderly lisha, “I promise to be a strong and effective Ushi Karsh”

Tadarur rocked in his throne like a toddler in a tantrum, “Why is no-one listening to me?!”

Kisha placed her hand on his chest, unsheathed a bronze knife with the other and ripped it through the crusty scales of his throat. The other Ikarkurs leapt to their feet. Lurush’s gigantic bodyguard threw himself in front of her gripping his spear. Tadarur flailed and gargled, clasping at his neck in a futile attempt to stop the flow of blood, until his body fell limp and his head lolled back.

“I have one other announcement,” said Gilkush as though nothing had happened, “we have a new Ushi Sopri, my good, pious friend Kyroz. Shakresh, I’m sorry, but the Sun no longer shines His blessing on you”

Shock at the sudden death of his friend switched to fear for his own life. Shakresh turned and hobbled as quickly as he could out of the hall. Kisha calmly walked after him.

“What’s happening?” said Lurush, her eyes spinning as her mind tried to keep pace with events, “Why are you doing this?”

“Lurush, Rukur, go home and stay there. I’ll look after everything,” said Gilkush, “Myra, come with me my dear. We’re assembling all of the hurums in the Rush in my house, for their own safety on this most chaotic of days”

Myra’s eyes were aflame with hatred as she faced Gilkush’s smug grin, his hand outstretched as though he was offering salvation. But silently she acquiesced, and they walked out of the hall together, his arm around her shoulder. Just ahead of them, Kisha had caught up with Shakresh at the top of the grand staircase. With a swift kick to his back, she sent the decrepit old lisha tumbling down, his brittle bones cracking against the stone steps, until he rolled onto the plaza paving. The mediator between Kurush and the Sun, the man who had once saved Kurush from tearing itself apart after the Night of Hunger, now lay motionless on the ground.

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Constructive criticism welcome

© Paul Bramhall

Kurush: The First City - Chapter 28

“The day of reckoning is upon us! Today we must take what is ours!”

The abandoned warehouse in the Ekuan quarter was packed with lishas jostling and roaring as Kyroz enflamed their souls. Only Hastoz was calm as he eyed Kyroz whilst leaning on the wall. They all had the cross and diamond in black oil on their foreheads.

“Last night, the Sun gave me a radical idea. I call it ‘slavery’. All hurums shall become property, we shall buy and sell and do with them as we please, just like any other animal. Just think, tomorrow you will own your own hurums! Imagine that freedom! It is ours by right, go now and seize it! Tear down this weak, corrupt, hurum-loving regime, and take your rightful place at Kurush’s pinnacle!”

Tiles fell from the already half-collapsed roof and a cloud of dust rose from the ground as the seething sea of lishas stomped and beat their chests. A hundred starving predators, their eyes wild and roars anguished, piled out of the warehouse.

Kyroz took Staroz aside, “Thank you lad for getting the word out”

“We can do this! I know we can”

“Yes, yes, absolutely. But if the hurums pull some dastardly trick on us, come find me in Parua. One way or another, we’ll set things right”

Staroz nodded, “I will”

“Right, I need to go back up to the Rush. Fight like a noble savage”

“You’re going to the Rush? Now?”

“There’s something I need to attend to,” said Kyroz, “Something I’ve wanted for the longest time”

 

***

 

Tiuk was striding up the hill so purposefully Bukur was struggling to keep up with his mother. She had her helmet under one arm, her long glaive in the other, her magenta cape flowing behind her.

“Shouldn’t we just sound the horn?” said Bukur, “Etenkur would order reinforcements to the outer wall”

“I need to explain the situation to the Ikark, they’ll come to some moronic conclusion otherwise. And the last thing we need is to be fighting amongst ourselves. I need you in top form today. Use your head, follow my orders, and by the Sun don’t die”

“Yes ma’am”

As they crossed the square in front of the Rush, they spotted Kyroz in his black toga ahead of them, slinking through the gate. The two guards had strange black symbols on their foreheads. As soon as they saw Tiuk, they slipped inside and closed the heavy wooden doors behind them.

“I am the Ushi Karsh, you imbeciles!” Tiuk roared, “I will pull out one of your teeth for each minute you keep me waiting!”

“Tiuk!”

Standing atop the wall, between the two heads of the gigantic stone lizards, was Gilkush and Etenkur.

“I’m sorry you had to find out this way,” said Gilkush, “but you have been relieved of your duties. Etenkur is now the Ushi Karsh. Although your loyalty was lacking, you will always be remembered as a tenacious and-“

“I don’t have time for your games, Gilkush. A host of pirates is preparing to attack. Let me in. Now”

“This is necessary for the survival of Kurush. Your sympathy for hurums has been sapping our strength. We need someone committed to rebuilding the rightful order to lead our soldiers. Etenkur understands that lishas built Kurush, not hurums”

“Enough of this nonsense, let me in!”

Gilkush turned to Etenkur, “What do you think, Ushi Karsh?”  

Etenkur smirked, “I don’t think so”

“Since the founding of Kurush, each new Ushi Karsh has only been given the title upon the death of their predecessor,” said Tiuk, “Do you want to be the one who breaks that tradition, Etenkur? Do you believe your soldiers will follow a man too cowardly to face the one he would usurp?”

His smirk collapsed into a grimace. When he turned to go, Gilkush took hold of his arm and hissed something in his ear. But he wrested his arm from his grasp and walked out of view, leaving Gilkush to curse to himself.

Moments later, the gate opened and Etenkur walked out with a glaive in his hand and steely determination in his eyes. He had the same strange symbol, a cross over a diamond, on his forehead. Tiuk donned her bronze helmet, which had a sharp horn above each eye and shining sun-like crest. Etenkur doused the blade of his glaive with oil, then dragged it along the dusty ground until a spark lit it. Bukur stood watching from the edge of a crowd that had gathered in the square, giving the two lishas more than enough space. An empty silence that was out-of-place in the heart of Kurush descended upon the square as they eyed each other with their hands gripping their weapons.

Tiuk lunged forward and thrusted her glaive, but he darted out of its way. The bronze blade whistled as it sliced the air as she swung it in wide arcs again and again, but again and again he hopped out of reach. Tiuk was not surprised – she was the larger and the older of the two, he was banking on his agility and stamina. But he is a fool indeed if he thinks he can outsmart me, she thought, he never learnt that there’s more to strategy than licking the sandals of the right people. She barely plodded a few steps as he circled around her like a shark patiently waiting for the right time.

“What the hell is this dance routine?” said Tiuk, “Fight me, you traitor!”

This irked him enough to make him stop in his tracks, then charge forwards. She swung her glaive, but he ducked whilst keeping his momentum. She dodged his strike at her legs, but now he was behind her, and before she could turn to face him she felt his flaming blade slice her tail. The searing heat of the wound quickly rose, she roared like an enraged beast. Half her tail spasmed pointlessly on the ground, the blood filling the air with the acrid smell of metal.

The pain and the sight of Etenkur smirking as he had never smirked before made Tiuk bristle with resolve. I cannot let them win, she thought, I cannot spend my last moments wondering how sadistic a tyranny they will inflict on Kurush. Rooted to the spot, pointing her glaive towards him, she braced herself for Etenkur’s attack.

He took some steps back before rushing at her, launching himself into the air, his flaming blade screeching towards the final blow. But Tiuk caught the blade between her helmet’s horns, careening against the bronze, whilst her own blade skimmed up the shaft of his glaive and severed his fingers. Etenkur had no time to reel back before she spun down and swung her glaive at his feet, slicing his ankle’s tendons. He fell back and collapsed onto the ground, his glaive clattering beside him. Tiuk stood over him and lowered her blade between his jaws.

“Mow, leez!” he spluttered, his eyes begging for forgiveness

A quiet voice at the back of Tiuk’s head told her that level-headedness was the path out of this crisis, but it was drowned out by the fury she felt at this scheming traitor, this sycophantic fool, this self-serving bastard who would kill her for her title. To tolerate this snake for a second longer was unthinkable. She pushed down, and with a crack that echoed around the square her blade hit the ground. The top half of his head rolled away, leaving his throat open in a perpetual silent scream.

She looked up at Gilkush atop the wall, whose face was twisted with rage. He growled an order before walking away. A troop of archers took their positions and pulled back their bows. Tiuk heaved Etenkur’s limp body up and used it as a shield as arrows rained down upon her. The crowd of spectators ran in terror, leaving Bukur frozen in shock.

“Get reinforcements from the outer wall!” Tiuk barked at her son as she backed away holding up the half-headed corpse of her former deputy, “Now!”  

Glaive in hand, Bukur turned and ran.

Next chapter

Constructive criticism welcome

© Paul Bramhall

Kurush: The First City - Chapter 27

Gilkush sat on his throne on the terrace of his mansion, his chin resting on his hands as he focused on the horizon in silence, his jade scales glistening in the midday sun. If Kisha didn’t know better, she’d think he was drenched in sweat.

“We don’t have to worry about the plebs getting over the wall,” said Ragur as he lounged nearby, “they’d need really big ladders”

“Shut up, idiot boy! Kisha, I can’t thank you enough for keeping an eye on my son. I’m sure you’ve saved him from being caught doing less-than-legal things countless times”

“It’s my pleasure”, she said in what she hoped was a convincing tone

Etenkur, his unfaltering smirk as mischievous as ever, led Kyroz and Hastoz onto the terrace.

“Kyroz, would you care to explain to me why half of Kurush was outside the Rush this morning?” said Gilkush, “I’ve been spending a gold ingot a month on you, has that been a complete waste?”

Kyroz readjusted his black toga, “Of course not, esteemed Ikarkur, there are many lishas who are devoted to the cause, who have seen the pure light of truth and want to restore the righteous order of-“

“Yes, yes, you don’t need to spout all that here,” said Gilkush, “Etenkur, where is Tiuk right now?”

“She is on the outer wall. There have been sightings of pirates. This morning I took the liberty of arranging patrols such that soldiers close to her will be posted on the outer wall, and those more aligned with our thinking are in the Rush”

“Excellent, now is the time to strike. Hastoz, can we rely on the cooperation of you and your employees? We can discuss fair compensation for you in due course"

Hastoz snorted in what Kisha assumed was approval.

"If all goes to plan, if we all play our roles well, by the end of today Kurush will be in its 'righteous order', as Kyroz puts it," said Gilkush, "But in case we fail, know that in the basement of this mansion there is a hidden entrance to a staircase that descends into the rock. The previous owner vanished into thin air after he was caught defrauding several Ikarkurs, presumably he’s the one who built it. It goes under the Rush wall, under the outer wall, and comes out near the old docks on the river. Our ships there survived the wave. Etenkur, could you show Kyroz and Hastoz?"

"Gilkush," said Kyroz, "about our deal..."

"You can have her," said Gilkush, "as long as you play your part"

Kyroz bowed in gratitude before he and Hastoz were led back into the mansion by Etenkur. Gilkush's eyes returned to the horizon.

"Hurums see lishas as monstrous predators that are ravenous for their flesh. Lishas see hurums as wild beasts that need to be tamed. The truth is that they're all animals, they all need to be tamed. That is true now more than ever, because Kurush is a husk. It’s completely hollow. Perhaps the only person who still believes in Kurush is Tadarur. It made him rich, so he thinks that if someone can’t succeed, the problem must be with them, not Kurush. He can’t see that it’s broken, but everyone else can. They’re looking for someone to blame, and those of us at the top have targets on our backs. They will tear us limb from limb if they get the chance. The only way we survive is if enough plebs direct their rage somewhere else, preferably towards those who are surplus to requirements, those who can’t defend themselves, or those who want radical change. Or change that’s expensive, at least. The Sun smiles on us, thankfully there are nutters out there like Kyroz already willing to harness their rage. But we have to make sure he succeeds, you understand? Through Kyroz, we can preserve some order, and preserve ourselves. If he fails, then will Kurush eat itself”

“But can lishas really be distracted so easily?” said Ragur

“We’ll find out today. Come on, let’s go”

Gilkush, Kisha and Ragur joined Etenkur, Kyroz and Hastoz in the atrium, and together they strut through the Rush. With Gilkush in the lead, his supercilious aura was enough to part the sea of lishas and hurums in the narrow streets. As soon as they arrived at the barracks, Etenkur gave the order for all soldiers to assemble in the training yard. They poured out of the tower, some with the stone faces of discipline, some gleefully joking with their comrades. Once there was a monolith of silent soldiers standing to attention, Kyroz stepped forward.

“Today is a glorious day! Today Kurush shall regain its strength! And you shall be our saviours!” he pulled out a pot of oil from the folds of his toga, “The cross and diamond is an ancient Ekuan symbol for the Sun. With it, you shall be transformed. You are no longer mere mercenaries, you shall become holy soldiers, destined to remake the world as the Sun always intended”

He walked up to Kisha, who bowed her head. He dipped his index claw into the glossy black oil, and drew a diamond and then a cross over it on her forehead. She knew it was bullshit, she even suspected he knew it was bullshit. But she could feel her cold blood starting to simmer as it coursed through her body. Finally, she thought, it’s time to show the weak the meaning of strength.

Next chapter

Constructive criticism welcome

© Paul Bramhall