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.
Constructive criticism welcome
© Paul Bramhall
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