Kisha dragged a hurum girl out of the basement of the chief’s hall by her hair, then lifted her up in the air. She savoured her aroma - beneath the earthiness that was to be expected from unwashed food, there was the exhilarating scent of sweet meat. After weeks of loyally following his commands, Kyroz had finally given her leave to dine on one of their captives. Her stomach happily rumbled in anticipation. The girl was limp, but Kisha could feel her heartbeat racing.
“Please don’t eat me”, the girl whimpered
“Louder”
“Please don’t eat me!”
“Come on, put your heart into it,” Kisha grinned, “maybe I’ll
let you go if you beg hard enough”
She forcefully licked her cheek, making the girl tremble.
Then they heard a horn blow from outside. Kisha’s face soured. She threw the
girl back into the basement, locked the door behind her and charged outside. The
lishas and hurums of Niarush were cowering in their hovels. When she reached
the gate, she saw Kyroz climbing down from the ramparts.
“Open the gate”, he ordered
A host of dusk raiders was stood outside. The muscle-bound
lishas were restless, but there was no eagerness in their faces or voices, no
thirst for battle and victory. Instead it looked like they’d rather not be
there.
Kyroz walked out flanked by Kisha and Staroz. Leading the
dusk raiders was a lisha with cracked black scales, his toned chest chequered
with deep scars. He looked down at Kyroz with unwavering, austere eyes. A lisha
woman with emerald green scales stepped forward.
“You stand in the presence of Jikuj, chief of the Ujuans in
Parua,” she said, “I am his daughter Unja. My father does not speak Oshuan, so
I speak for him”
“It is a pleasure to welcome you to Niarush,” said Kyroz,
“may I ask why you have come?”
“For many years, we have taken what we needed to survive
from the Paruans. But since the great wave, this has become… more challenging. The
Paruans started attacking our camps, somehow they always knew where we were. We
joined our bands together to take one of their villages, but when we arrived,
they were already waiting for us – a whole horde of them. We couldn’t defeat
them. There are lishas and hurums from Kurush helping them. You are from Kurush
as well, yes?”
“That’s right,” said Kyroz, “but the simple Paruans and
their wicked allies don’t like those of us who walk the path of righteousness. Their
traders refuse to sell us any metals. When we double the price, still they lie
and say they have none”
Unja nodded, “The paths around Niarush have been quiet
lately. But we did capture a hurum on a hapa running between villages. We think
he was a messenger”
“Where is he?” said Kisha
Unja grinned and patted her stomach, “Where he belongs. But
he was carrying this”
She handed a clay tablet to Kisha, “It says ‘fish moon camp
high sea…”
“Give it here,” said Staroz, “I thought you Oshuans knew how
to read? It says ‘Calling all Paruans, lisha or hurum, defend your homeland. If
you can fight or forge, or want to learn how, find us atop Cracked Skull Hill. Bring
one standard copper ingot, two gana steaks and five loaves of bread per person,
also any spears, axes, knives, arrows, helmets and hapas you can spare. The
dusk raider camp has moved to the base of the Quartz Waterfall, about three
hundred lishas remain. Avoid the vicinity of Niarush. We outnumber the enemy,
we will be the wave that washes Parua clean. Led by Sapesh and Galka, Paruan
heroes of old, we will build a paradise not seen since the days of legends,
where lishas and hurums have no fear of war or each other. The foundation of this
new world will be the New Sapphire Temple. Together we will write a new legend.
Baked on the eleventh of Ululu.’ That’s only half of it, I don’t understand the
rest”
Kyroz looked over his shoulder, “It’s the same again but in
Paruan. They’re teaching the Paruans the script we Ekuans invented, the
treacherous scum. And they think they can build a new Sapphire Temple? Why
rebuild that brothel?”
“They’re preparing to attack Niarush,” said Unja, “we can
help you. We both need the Paruans to understand their place. But we can’t be
of much help while we’re on this side of your walls”
“Do you really think we’d just let you through our gates?”
said Kisha, “Letting you camp in the shadow of our walls would be generous
enough”
Kyroz turned to the chief, his eyes steely and inscrutable.
“There are no hurums in your tribe. Why is that?”
“Not in Parua,” said Unja, “They slow us down. They have
little appetite for bloodshed and plunder”
“They are weak and deceitful creatures, are they not?” said
Kyroz, “They are not blessed with the Sun’s strength like we are”
“I suppose so…”
Kyroz pointed at the cross and diamond painted on his
forehead, “This is a sign that I uphold the Sun’s righteous order, that I see
hurums as they truly are – animals fit only as labour and food. Any lisha who
has this sign is welcome in Niarush”
Unja relayed what was said to her father. He chuckled, a
gravelly laugh a hunter might make once he’d cornered his prey. He stepped
towards Kyroz, making Kisha spring forward with her spear. But he casually
pushed the spear away, keeping his eyes fixed on Kyroz. The savage towered over
the prophet, the two men unblinkingly peering into the depths of the other’s
soul, searching for any glint of doubt. Then Jikuj lowered his head.
“Kisha, fetch the ink,” said Kyroz, “and Staroz, bring out
the finest dishes we have from the basement. Let us welcome our new friends
with a feast!”
Constructive criticism welcome
© Paul Bramhall
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