Monday, 1 April 2024

Kurush: The First City - Chapter 39

When Anka woke up, it took her a few moments to remember where she was. Lishas were sluggishly clambering up to their roofs of their cuboid, whitewashed homes to bask in the sun, while hurums filed through the village gates to fill pots with water or huddled around the communal mud-brick oven as their bread was baked. Ganas in their pens moaned until their troughs were filled with straw.

Last night Hyza, the girl who had also been captured, and her friend Lysta had vouched for the refugees and persuaded the villagers to open their gates to them. It was the same village Anka had visited the day before, built on an island in a crystal blue river surrounded by golden wheat. She learnt they called it Potamyz. Hyza had also persuaded the villagers to lend Anka one of their spare tunics. It was undyed, itchy and rather tight around the waist, but it was a lot better than nothing.

She was nestled in Oresh’s lap, his arms wrapped around her. She gently stroked his scales with her fingertips, they were so smooth and cool it was almost like skimming her fingers over water. His eyes were clenched shut, but under their lids his eyes were jumping from side to side. He woke with a start.

“Good morning,” said Anka, “are you okay?”

Oresh looked around with bleary eyes, “Uh… wh… yeah”

His muscles relaxed and he leant back against the stone wall, but his brow was still furrowed.

“Are you thinking about what happened last night?”

“That lisha…” said Oresh, “he must have had parents, brothers, sisters, maybe even children…”

“He obviously didn’t care much about them, if he left them to go raiding. He chose to come to Parua, he knew people would defend themselves. He must have been prepared to die. Or if he wasn’t, then it’s his fault for having such a big head”

“What if he had hopes and dreams…”

“He did – to eat lots of hurums,” said Anka, “The dusk raiders are making Parua a dangerous, a horrible place to live. You made the world a slightly better place. One less scumbag people have to deal with”

Oresh huffed and looked up to the sky pensively. Anka sat up, gently pulled his snout back down and looked him in the eyes.

“If you hadn’t killed him, I’d be dead. You did the right thing. And I’m very glad that you did”

“I know. There’s no way I’d have persuaded him not to eat you. The idea that sadists just need to listen to reason and that will solve all our problems… it’s just a fantasy. But, you said he must have been prepared to die. I suppose now I need to do the same. If I’m ready to kill, I’ve got to be ready to die”  

“Who knew that deep inside you waiting to come out there was a fearsome warrior?”

The two chuckled, but they were interrupted by someone clearing their throat. Bukur was sitting cross-legged nearby, his glaive resting on his lap.

“Acting recklessly won’t solve any problems. If you shed blood, do it cautiously, do it intelligently, and only do it if there’s no other choice”

“I don’t think we have to worry about Oresh going on a rampage”, said Anka

“My mother was reckless,” Bukur continued, “she challenged Etenkur to a duel, then when he lost she sliced his head open. Maybe that was the one and only time in her life she lost her reason, but the madness spread and it wasn’t long before Kurush was up in flames”

“Kurush had been mad for a long time already,” said Anka, “but we’re here now. We have to make a life for ourselves in Parua. We have to build a society where we can live in peace”

Oresh looked at her quizzically, “I don’t remember ever hearing you say the word ‘society’ before”

“It’s what you’d say, isn’t it? As long as we’re still alive, we can’t just give up on living. And the only hope for us to survive is to reshape Parua, to make it somewhere where both the Paruans and we refugees can be safe and thrive”

“Yes!” said Oresh, “That’s exactly what we need! So, what’s the plan? How do we do that?”

“I… I’m not sure,” Anka looked at the ground, “we routed one camp of raiders, and got one village to trust us. But that won’t be enough. Gamoz said the dusk raiders have been creating chaos here since he was a boy. The Paruans would have already sent them running home to their mothers if it was easy”

They sat in silence, the scale of their task weighing on them. They were distracted when lumbering through the gate, her eyes sagging, came Lurush. She slumped onto the ground next to Oresh.

“I found Goresh,” she said, her voice hoarse, “I tried to drag him to the beach. To give him a proper burial in the sea. But by the Sun is he heavy. I just laid some rocks over him for now”

“He was a good man”, said Anka

“He’s been my guard for thirty years. The thought that he isn’t nearby… and who knows where Dila is. What am I going to do? Without them, without my gold, I’m just an old, useless sack of fat”

Her eyes met with Anka’s. She thought Lurush was hoping to be contradicted, but nothing came to mind. The awkwardness was suddenly shattered by the sound of a horn echoing around the valley. The lishas sunning themselves on their rooftops raised their heads. A young hurum man riding a hapa came through the gate, and the hurums of the village flocked around him as he made his proclamations. Anka leapt from Oresh’s lap when she saw Hyza in the crowd and tapped her shoulder.

“What’s happening?”

“The High Shaman wants the chiefs of the villages to meet, what with the great wave and the arrivals from Kurush”

“This High Shaman already knows about us?”

“You’re not the only ones to arrive here,” said Hyza, “So, do you want to come? I bet people will want to hear about the daring attack on the dusk raiders”

Anka looked at Oresh, “Maybe this is the first step”

“Maybe it is,” said Oresh, “let’s find out”

Later that morning, the chief of Potamyz wearing a crown made with the arcing crest of a hapa strode out of the village, surrounded by an entourage of spear-wielding lishas and followed by a contingent of the refugees. Despite the invitation, Lurush decided to stay in the village. She sat by the river and watched as the procession left to trek across the sweltering Paruan scrubland. 


Next chapter

Constructive criticism welcome

© Paul Bramhall

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