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.
Constructive criticism welcome
© Paul Bramhall
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