Tuesday, 2 April 2024

Kurush: The First City - Chapter 40

The thatched dome of the chief’s hall in Niarush kept it cool and dark. The inhabitants of the town mainly used it as a food storehouse, and that’s how the lishas from Kurush were using it too, keeping the hurums they had brought with them locked in the basement.

Kyroz walked past Ragur, who was sprawled on a straw mat and snoring obnoxiously. He was wearing one of his zanily-patterned waistcoats, now with a light dusting of dirt. Sleeping elegantly next to him was his father’s consort Erisha. She was the only hurum allowed to roam as she pleased, thanks to Gilkush insisting that an exception be made for her. Kyroz scowled – yes she was polite, cheerful and delightfully curvaceous, but that she walked amongst lishas as though she was their equal, as though she was more than a mere animal, made his scales crawl. 

On the ocean-side of the hall, a narrow doorway led onto a wide balcony facing dawnwards. There Kyroz found Gilkush and Kisha.

“How are you going to replace all of the soldiers you lost?”

“I-“

“You know, we were waiting at the old docks for quite some time,” Gilkush continued, “and we were quite surprised that you were alone when you eventually did turn up. You’re lucky we didn’t just leave without you. I don’t need an Ushi Karsh who can’t keep her soldiers alive”

“I defeated Tiuk,” said Kisha, “I think I deserve some credit for that”

“Well done for defeating a batty old woman. Go and find me some more soldiers”

“Yes sir”

Kisha didn’t look at Kyroz as she stormed back into the hall. Gilkush beckoned Kyroz to come closer and turned to stare at the horizon.

“I knew Parua was backwards,” said Gilkush, “but to think this shabby thing is the grandest building in the region. Perhaps in the world, since Kurush fell. We’ll have to fix that, we’ll have to convert this into worthy palace. And on the roof, we need a statue, at least as tall as the statue of Makush”

“And the statue will be of…?”

Gilkush grinned, “Who else? Makush founded Kurush, and I founded Niarush. I will be venerated for the rest of time as a wise, strong and just ruler, as the lisha who transformed this piddling backwater into a place of glory and beauty. They will say that the Sun shone through me, that I was the Sun. New heights will be reached, and there I will be, at the zenith surveying it all”

Kyroz’s attention was drawn to the sea below them. A fleet of ships was sailing along the coast, towards the river estuary. They had savage-looking monsters carved into the prows, but each sail had a large cross and diamond painted in black. Had they stolen the pirates’ own ships? Kyroz silently backed away.

“Who are this lot?” said Gilkush as he leant over the balustrade to look down the cliffs

Kyroz drew a bronze dagger from the folds of his black toga, sidled behind the Ikarkur and slipped the blade between two vertebrae above the base of his tail. Gilkush shrieked like he had been plunged into an icy lake. He swung round, swiping at Kyroz with his claws, but his legs were frozen. He span and slipped and crashed onto the floor. Kyroz crouched down by his head as he twitched and howled in agony.

“You’re no god. History will remember you as the man who burned down Kurush for fear of losing his gold. A callous, jealous, pathetic man willing to sacrifice thousands to protect his own prestige. Tell me, how has your grand strategy panned out?”

His face twisted with rage, Gilkush lunged at Kyroz with a hate-filled roar, but Kyroz stamped on his hands, pinning him to the ground as he leant down to slit his throat. Gilkush’s groans petered out and he stopped resisting. Kisha charged onto the balcony, her spear raised. Her eyes darted from Gilkush’s blood-soaked body to the dagger in Kyroz’s hand.

“Traitor! Do you have a death wish?”

“Our allies, the faithful Ekuans, are about to arrive,” said Kyroz, “if you kill me, you’ll have to explain to them why you got rid of the man who led them down the path of righteousness”

Ragur stumbled onto the balcony. He became petrified by the sight of his father’s corpse, standing rooted to the spot, aghast and speechless. Erisha pushed past him and ran to Gilkush, her tears falling on his lifeless face as she knelt beside him.  

“Gilkush was not a pious man,” said Kyroz, “he cared not for the Sun’s commandments. He cared only for power and wealth. Such a man could not lead us into an age of righteousness. We shall transform Niarush into a holy fortress, where lishas and hurums are in the places ordained for them by the Sun. And for that to happen, we must be guided by the Sun and those who understand His will”

“How convenient for you”, said Kisha

“Ragur, it is a shame it had to come to this. But can I count on your faith? This hurum belonged to your father, yes?” Kyroz laid his hand on Erisha’s head, “She is yours now”

Erisha and Ragur looked at each other uncertainly.

“In fact, why don’t you eat her now?”

Erisha gasped, the blood quickly draining from her face.

Ragur struggled to find words, “I… I’m not hungry”

“She is a reward for your loyalty,” said Kyroz, “but you’re turning her down?”

“No, of course not”

Erisha leapt to her feet, but Kyroz grabbed her by the arm. Ragur inched forward, carefully avoiding the pool of blood around his father.

“Please!” said Erisha as she tried to wrest herself from Kyroz’s grip, “I’ll be a slave, I’ll be a good slave, I swear! Please!”

Ragur curled his fingers around her chest and lifted her up despite her kicking and screaming. Ragur looked at Kyroz, tears in his eyes. Kyroz only gave him a steely stare.

“Wait, wait!” said Erisha, “We’re friends, aren’t we, Ragur?”

“I’m sorry”, Ragur said quietly

With one hand he took hold of both her feet and shoved them down his throat. Kyroz watched with glee as she descended writhing into his maw begging for her life. But once her head was between his jaws, she gave up. With a quiet yelp, she was swallowed. Ragur didn’t move as his belly bulged, his arms limp, his eyes hollow.

“Kisha, sound the horn,” said Kyroz, “let us welcome the soldiers of the Sun”


Next chapter

Constructive criticism welcome

© Paul Bramhall

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