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

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

Kurush: The First City - Chapter 38

Anka was dragged into a tent far larger than the others, made from the granite-scaled hides of ganas. It was lit by several oil lamps, casting flickering shadows around the humble abode – there was little except for a simple straw sleeping mat, a pot of water, a stack of bronze-tipped arrows and what looked like a simple shrine with small figurines of lishas standing on a mat. Tied to the trunk holding the tent up was another girl, slim and pale with a mousey face. Her hazel hair was matted as though she hadn’t washed in days. She was idly swaying from side to side like a blade of wheat in the breeze.

The lisha tied Anka’s hands to the same trunk, so high up that she was almost forced to stand on her toes. She had already been robbed of the purple curtain she’d been using as a cape, all she had was a chest band and loin cloth. The lisha leant down, almost touching her nose with his snout, his eyes aflame with hunger. He was the one who had carried her to the camp - he wore zig-zagging ochre face paint on his upper and lower jaws, as though he was trying to convince the world that his teeth were actually unnaturally large. He took a lungful of Anka’s aroma, licked his lips, then reluctantly left the tent.

The other girl was beaming at Anka. Her intense gaze made Anka somewhat uncomfortable, so she looked away.

“You’re from Kurush, aren’t you?”

Anka was surprised that a local could speak Oshuan, “Um, yes”

“I knew it! What’s it like? Do you live in a house that touches the sky? Does everyone live long, happy lives? Do you party every night? Do you, maybe, let yourself get gobbled up every so often?”

“Kurush was destroyed,” Anka said matter-of-factly, “it’s just a pile of burnt rubble now”

“Oh… Well, I guess we’ll just have to rebuild it then!”

“What the hell are you talking about? How can you be so chipper when we’re about to be eaten?”

“You don’t know that”

Anka’s face turned red, “We’re tied up in the middle of a camp full of hungry lishas, so I’m pretty fucking certain!”

“There’s no point being afraid of something until it actually happens,” said the girl as though it was obvious, “you never know what might happen before then”

“Like what?” said Anka, already exasperated by the conversation

“I bet my friend Lysta is looking for me. Don’t you have friends? They’re probably looking for you too. If something can still be done, even if it might not work, then it’s too early to give up. You’ve just got to hope and try and aim for the best. That’s the only way good things happen”

Anka looked at the ground. Are Oresh and the others looking for me? Even if they are, could they find me in time? I’ve come so close to being eaten so many times before, I’m almost used to being in this situation, it’s hard not to think that it’s my fate. But what if that’s the wrong way of looking at it? What if I should think about how many times I’ve been saved or I’ve saved myself? Is the fact I’ve brushed with death and still survived a good sign, a reason to hope?

A lisha swept into the tent. His scales were black and cracked, like the bark of a tree that had withstood a forest fire. He must have been ancient, and yet his head almost reached the ceiling of the towering tent. Like his underlings, he wore almost nothing, baring his long-toned muscles and a dozen deep scars. Sheathed at his side was the largest dagger Anka had ever seen, it was almost as long as she was tall. He looked down at the hurums with austere eyes.

He knelt down and inspected the girl, turning her this way and that in his giant, weathered hands, making her squirm. But he grunted in disappointment, and his eyes drifted to Anka. She started breathing rapidly. He moved closer, wrapped his hands around her chest and slowly led his tongue up her neck and over her cheek. She took his gravelly groan to mean that he liked her taste. His eyes became aflame with hunger. He opened his maw, forcing Anka to look at his jagged teeth, the strings of saliva between his jaws and the inescapable darkness of his throat. This is it, she thought, I’m dinner.

But the lisha didn’t move. He was frozen, distracted by something outside. He spun round and sprang out of the tent. It wasn’t long before the two girls could hear urgent shouting.

“It’s Lysta! I told you she’d come”

More voices joined the fray, accompanied by the sound of metal clashing against metal. Anka allowed herself to hope that the next person to enter the tent would be Oresh, looking around bewilderedly, only to smile his goofy smile once he saw her. But it wasn’t Oresh who came. The lisha who had carried her in, with the toothy face paint, now splattered with fresh blood, barrelled into the tent. He cut the rope tying Anka to the trunk with a claw, heaved her up onto his shoulder and ran into the night. She kicked his stomach as hard as she could, and despite her hands still being bound together she beat his back with all her might, she writhed and elbowed him in the eye, but he only tightened his grip.

“Oresh!” she screamed, “Oresh!”

He ran out of the fire and fighting of the camp, and into the stillness of the scrubland. Out of the darkness, a spear whistled through the air. Anka flew out of his grasp, and they both tumbled onto the rocky ground. The spear was lodged in his heel. He roared in agony and was about to pluck it out when another lisha emerged from the darkness – it was Oresh. He grabbed the spear’s shaft and drove it deeper until it hit bone, making the raider howl, then twisted it out of his flesh. Oresh stood over the lisha like a fisher ready to lance his prey.

Seeing his hesitation, the raider turned over, scrambled over the rocks and pounced at Anka. She could see the craving in his eyes, the desperation to eat her if it was the last thing he did. But with a crack like splintering wood Oresh’s spear pierced his nape and came out through his throat. The raider lay frozen in the dust, gurgling blood.

Oresh stumbled backwards and fell on his tail. He stared, his jaw dropped, at the gruesome sight of the spear sticking out of the lisha’s neck. Anka could scarcely believe he had in him to do that either. But it was over, she was safe. She ran and threw herself at Oresh, burying her face in his chest.

“At this rate I’m going to lose count how many times you’ve saved me”, she said through tears of relief

Oresh squeezed her tightly, “I’ll do it a thousand more times if I have to. I can’t lose anyone else I love”

The sounds of combat in the camp died down, and the surviving raiders scurried away, their shadows quivering against the starlit sky. In the tranquillity of the night, Anka and Oresh simply sat in silence and held each other.

Next chapter

Constructive criticism welcome

© Paul Bramhall

Kurush: The First City - Chapter 37

Oresh and some of the other refugees had spent most of the afternoon fishing in the shallows of the cove using spears they had whittled out of tree branches. They had caught plenty, but none were bigger than a hurum’s hand – hardly enough to fill everyone’s bellies. The hurums, as though by instinct, clustered together on the beach. The sky was growing dark, the Sun painting gold and violet streaks on the firmament as it sank behind the mountains.

He found sitting pensively by the bottom of the cliff-side path Pilesh, the blind old lisha who used to dictate his mind-numbing poems to Oresh. He had two fish left, he gave one to Pilesh and they enjoyed their meagre meal together.

“Ah, I’m so lucky to be here, to live long enough to see the end of hierarchy”, said Pilesh with a blissful smile

“Please tell me you’re being sarcastic…”

“I’m serious. Kurush was corrupt, miserable and doomed. It should never have been built in the first place. We should be celebrating, let’s dance the night away!”

Oresh felt his blood starting to simmer, “Did you somehow miss the fires, the riots, all of the hurums who spent their last moments in a lisha’s stomach? Thousands are dead Pilesh, thousands!”

Pilesh nodded sagely, “Yes it’s very sad, we should have dismantled Kurush in a more orderly manner, but it seems that wasn’t possible. Don’t dwell on the past boy, we’ve got a bright future ahead of us. We’ve returned to the state the Sun created us in. We can finally live in peace and harmony”

Oresh couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He wanted hope more than anyone, but having seen Askura try and fail to beg for her life, his mother’s blood-soaked corpse, his home aflame, and now stranded and destitute in a foreign land – where could he find hope? Did it only exist in the fantasies of an old man? He didn’t have the wherewithal to argue with Pilesh, so he slouched back and dozed in silence.

His eyes shot open when he heard someone running. It was Gamoz, scampering down the cliff path. Oresh’s heart suddenly twisted painfully – he was alone. Gamoz came to a stop once he reached them and doubled over, gasping for air.

“Where’s Anka?” said Oresh

“Raiders… took…”

Bukur rushed over, glaive in hand, with Lurush waddling in tow.

“What happened?” said Bukur

“Dusk raiders took Anka,” said Gamoz, “and killed Goresh”

Lurush’s eyes widened, “You’re wrong. Goresh isn’t dead. You don’t know how tough he is”

They heard heavy footsteps above them. A hapa was jumping down the cliff path, slipping on the rocks but being urged on by the lisha on its back. Bukur raised his glaive, and they came to a halt.

“Tents, tents, ah… camp! I know where!” the lisha woman said in broken Oshuan, “Come fight please!”

“What?” said Bukur

The woman had golden scales and a spear of her own, “They have your friend and my friend. Come come, please please!”

“Let’s go”, said Oresh without thinking

“Wait a minute,” said Lurush, “we can’t afford to make enemies of the locals. Let’s talk with them”

“These raiders have Anka,” said Bukur, “we need to get her back”

Lurush sighed, “I know you don’t want to hear this, but she’s probably already been eaten. Don’t jeopardise our survival by recklessly attacking-“

“There’s no time to waste!” said Bukur as he started towards the cliff path

“I am the only Ikarkur here,” said Lurush, “you will obey my command!”

“What does ‘Ikarkur’ mean anymore?” said Oresh

Before Lurush could think of a reply, everyone’s attention turned upwards. Atop the cliffs, there was a rustling among the trees and the sound of brash laughter. Lishas armed with spears and bows emerged from the shadows, looking down upon the cove and the encircled refugees.

“What’s happening?” asked Pilesh, “Have the locals come to welcome us?”

Lurush cleared her throat, “Fine inhabitants of Parua! We have found ourselves stranded in your beautiful land, would you do us the honour of letting us stay a while?”

"No, they're raiders!" said Gamoz panically

An arrow whistled through the air, which Lurush dodged by jumping inelegantly out of its way. Instead the arrow struck Pilesh in the chest - he cried out in shock and crumpled onto the ground. More arrows started raining down, and people ran for cover, but Oresh ran to Pilesh and knelt beside the poet.

“W-what do I do?” said Oresh frantically, “Do I pull it out?”

“I don’t understand,” Pilesh murmured, “I don’t understand…”

His face froze, his glassy eyes staring up to the inky sky. Oresh simply watched, powerless to help as the life drained from his mentor’s body, until an arrow striking the sand near his hand brought him back to the situation. He saw Bukur and the hapa-riding woman charging up the cliff-path. Oresh and some others followed them, hoping that they were agile enough to evade the arrows as they scrambled up the jagged rockface.

In the shadowy pine forest, Bukur was a whirlwind of bronze, slashing and slicing all of the lishas rushing from the right, while the hapa danced in circles as the woman pierced and impaled all of the lishas loping from the left. Oresh immediately regretted dashing into this chaos. The streams of blood flying through the air, the sight of flesh being ripped and torn made his stomach turn. A voice in his head was yelling at him that he didn’t belong there, that he had to run and hide somewhere safe. But it was already too late, a spear-wielding lisha already had him in his sights and was hurtling towards him.

However the hapa tripped over the assailant with its tail, sending him falling flat onto his face. His spear rolled to Oresh’s feet, who picked it up, infusing him with a burning need to do something for once. He stepped on the lisha’s chest before he could get up and pointed the spearhead between his eyes. Then he noticed that the lisha’s scales were the exact same shade of leaf-green as his – he must have been the same age, maybe even younger. He clenched his eyes shut, bracing himself for death. The spear trembled in Oresh’s hands.

Oresh looked up. The lishas the woman had been fighting were now either bleeding and groaning on the forest floor or fleeing, and the woman herself was riding into the night, her hapa bounding at full gallop. She’s headed for their camp, Oresh realised, to Anka. He stepped off his young assailant and ran after her, the spear still in his hands.

Next chapter

Constructive criticism welcome

© Paul Bramhall

Kurush: The First City - Chapter 36

The cove they had found was surrounded by towering limestone cliffs. A dozen smaller ships bobbed in the water around Lurush’s leviathan. Exhausted from rowing all night, lishas and hurums had jumped on shore to collapse and recuperate on the beach’s pure white sand. Inland, there were the shattered remains of huts and fishing boats, but other than that there were no signs of any locals.

As he wandered amongst the refugees, Oresh saw a teenage lisha sitting in the shade of a tree on the edge of the beach sobbing. It was his old neighbour.

“Ekur, where’s your mother?” he said as he sat beside him

“She… she…” Ekur didn’t look up, every word sounded painful to utter, “she brought home two hurums. A mother and daughter. They were screaming. She dragged them in and told me to eat the girl. But I didn’t want to. She was going to eat the woman. S-so I went to the kitchen and got a knife and… and…”

The tears made it impossible for him to go any further. Oresh put his arm around his shoulder, but had no idea what to say. Was there anything he could say to comfort him that wasn’t a blatant lie? Could he really say that he’d done the right thing?

Under the next tree over was a young hurum man with a goatee, his face blank as though he had long spent all of his emotion. Oresh recognised him from the day before, he had been helping mend ships after the wave.

“Excuse me,” said Oresh quietly, “you’re Oddyr’s brother, aren’t you?”

Iddyr slowly turned to him, “Yes”

“I saw him fighting lishas. He didn’t stop, even after he was surrounded. He didn’t surrender”

Iddyr cracked a tired smile, “I assumed as much. I doubt he’d want to go out any other way”

“I’ve never seen anyone so… fearless”, said Oresh

“Thank you”

Oresh was distracted by someone shouting, “Askura! Askura!”

It was Peshura, Sopri of the Sapphire Temple, Askura’s mother.

“I’ll find some fish and water for you,” Oresh said to Ekur, “I’ll be right back”

Peshura’s white tunic was singed, her voice hoarse from shouting, her face twisted with worry. She stopped frantically tramping up and down the beach when Oresh approached her. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. She looked deep into his eyes, searching for a glimmer of hope, but found only despair. She wailed and buried her face in Oresh’s chest. He lay his hand on her back as the tears welled up in his eyes.

“I… I’m sorry,” he said, “I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t do anything. I’m sorry” 

Running down the beach towards the water was Lurush’s gigantic bodyguard. She had ordered him to scout the area as soon as they had anchored in the cove. As gently as he could, Oresh prised Peshura from his chest and sat her down on the sand with a consoling hug. He waded into the water and followed Goresh up the rope ladder onto the ship.

Lurush was sat cross-legged in front of the rudder as though she was holding court. Looking out to sea, still wrapped in the purple blanket, Anka lay on the deck. Bukur stood keeping a watchful eye for any movement amongst the trees atop the cliffs. Goresh whispered something into Lurush’s ear.

“There’s a village about three miles away,” Lurush announced, “Anka, go and persuade them to supply us with food, water and anything else you can think of”

“Can’t someone else?” said Anka, still staring at the horizon

Lurush frowned, “No. You’re an elite negotiator, aren’t you? Well then prove it, or if you can’t, then why do we need you?”

“I don’t know the language”

“I can translate”, said Gamoz

“Okay then,” said Lurush, “you, Anka and Goresh will go to the village. Come on, enough sulking, we need to find a way to survive here. Get a move on”

Anka sluggishly rose to her feet.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Oresh asked her

She didn’t look him in the eyes, “Don’t worry about me”

 

***

 

Anka tied two corners of the purple curtain tightly around her neck, turning it into a cape, although she still had to hold it close to herself as she didn’t have much on underneath. With any luck the locals would think she looked distinguished and elegant, although she felt somewhat undignified and out-of-place. Iddyr lent her his sandals, and with that she was as ready as she could be.

She followed Goresh and Gamoz up the narrow path that zig-zagged up the cliffs. At the top there was a forest of parched and spindly pines, their brittle needles covering the ground. Once they reached the other side, Parua stretched out before them, with thick green shrubs coating the plateau. The mountains which flanked Parua had always been shadows on the horizon to Anka, now up close she could see their true majestic size and their titanic procession inland and out of sight. The sound of the gentle waves behind them faded. The rough path they followed snaked its way between boulders that gleamed white in the unrelenting Sun and laid back old trees filled with birds chattering to each other in the shade.

“Ah, it’s good to be back,” said Gamoz, “Kurush was so busy, so noisy, so cramped. Living in a place like that burdens the soul. But here, the soul feels at home”

Anka was not so carefree. She didn’t know Gamoz, the deep scars that criss-crossed his face made her nervous. He probably wants to eat me, she thought, that’s probably why he volunteered to come. But first he’d need to defeat or otherwise get rid of Goresh, and there’s simply no way he’d be able win in a fight against that giant of a lisha. And would Goresh, here in such a remote place, with no hope of a normal, comfortable life now that Kurush has gone up in smoke, would he be able to resist the temptation? No, Goresh will be the one who has me for dinner. With Kurush up in smoke, there’s no hope for any of us.

When they reached the crest of a ridge, Gamoz suddenly stopped in his tracks, then jumped into the shrubbery and wordlessly beckoned Anka and Goresh to join him. He pointed to another ridge some distance ahead of them. There was a band of ten lishas trekking across the scrubland. Some carried spears, all of them wore blood-red loincloths but little else. One with an imperious poise, his bronze helmet glinting in the Sun, was riding a hapa.

“Dusk raiders,” Gamoz whispered, “it’s when they usually attack. And they come from the duskwards plains. They first arrived in Parua when I was a boy. The bastards killed my family, they’re why I decided to make my life in Kurush instead. But it looks like I can’t escape them”

Anka noticed their scales were shades of light and dark green, they almost blended in with the foliage, “They look like Oshuans”

“There’s an old legend that Oshuan traders came riding hapas from the plains long ago. Maybe they’re your tribe’s long lost cousins”

“But I can’t see any hurums”

“Some say the dusk raiders ate all of their hurums. I think it’s more likely that they just stay in their homeland and leave raiding to the more restless lishas”

One of them cracked a joke, making the others guffaw. They disappeared behind the ridge, and Gamoz, Goresh and Anka continued along the winding path, being careful not to make any sound. After about another mile, they found themselves on the edge of a shallow valley. A clear blue river flowed down from the mountains, embraced on both banks by fields of wheat that glowed golden in the Sun as it hung low in the sky. The river forked and then converged again, creating a large island upon which stood white stone walls. Wisps of smoke rose lazily from the village.

Once they reached the edge of the fields, they suddenly realised that the path had taken them past a tree between whose roots a lisha was cradled. From his short stature and bright yellow scales, he was probably a teenager. A droplet of drool dribbled slowly down his chin. Anka was overcome with envy, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept that deeply, and both her mind and body were crying out for some rest.

He wearily opened his eyes, and once he saw that he was being examined by three strangers, he awoke with a snort and bolted for the village. They followed, wading through the wheat as it swayed like the waves of a tranquil sea. 

There was a causeway of wooden planks held up by posts lodged in the riverbed that led to the village entrance, although they had shut the gate as soon as the youth had got in. Two lishas with spears stood on the ramparts above the gate with cold eyes. One of them barked at them.

“He wants to know why we’re here”, said Gamoz

“We are refugees from Kurush,” said Anka, which Gamoz translated, “our home was destroyed by water and then by fire, and the winds brought us to your shores. Please allow us to settle here for at least a short while, and provide us food, water and shelter. Your generosity will be remembered and rewarded”

The two lishas whispered to each other before replying. The Paruan language used ‘z’ sounds so often that to Anka they spoke like angry snakes.

“They say they don’t have any food to spare”, said Gamoz

“We can help you harvest your fields, rebuild your fishing boats, anything you need doing”

“They say they can’t help us”, said Gamoz

Anka felt her face go red, “Stop wasting our time. You don’t understand what hell we’ve been through. We demand that you give us what we need”

“Are you sure?” said Gamoz

“Yes, say it!”

Gamoz dutifully translated, although he said it much more calmly and slowly than Anka had intended. Nonetheless, it was enough to make the Paruans raise their spears and spout a guttural tirade at them.

“They’re telling us to, er, spend more time with our mothers,” said Gamoz, “I think we should leave”

Gamoz and Goresh backed away, but stayed Anka rooted at the spot.

“We need your help!”

Gamoz put his hand on her shoulder and gently pulled her away. Reluctantly she turned her back on the village and followed them through the fields. They walked back along the path that winded through the scrubland. Each step was hard, and not just because her legs were exhausted. The humiliation of failing so badly at such a crucial task weighed on her shoulders like a boulder. What was she going to tell Lurush?

She was too busy looking at the ground to notice that Goresh had stopped in front of her. Walking into him snapped her out of her self-pitying reverie. Emerging from the shrubs around them were ten lishas – probably the same dusk raiders they’d seen earlier. They talked to each other in their coarse language, devilish smiles across their faces. Anka felt their eyes on her. Several of them were licking their lips.

Before she knew it, Goresh had picked her up, carrying her under one arm. He sprung forward and plunged his spear into the chest of the lisha blocking the way, before charging down the path and out of the ambush’s grasp. Gamoz raced alongside, overtaking Goresh.

Anka heard a grisly thud, and then another and another. Goresh fell forward, throwing Anka onto the ground. She rolled until she collided into a jagged rock. She looked up to see Goresh sprawled on his belly, three spears planted in his back.

“Goresh!” she cried as she crawled to him, “Goresh!”

His eyes were drooping apologetically. The dusk raiders had already caught up with them.

“Today just isn’t our day, is it?” said Anka, “Lurush was very lucky to have you as a bodyguard. You kept us safe like no-one else could. Thank you”

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything the raiders sank three more spears into him. Goresh gasped, and his eyes grew dark. One raider picked Anka up and put her over his shoulder, keeping a tight grip on her with one arm, even though she didn’t have any energy to resist.

They pulled their spears out of Goresh’s corpse, then the band started walking. They grumbled to each other about the loss of their comrade, whose body two of them lugged across the scrubland. In the distance Anka saw Gamoz watch in horror as she was carried off. He turned and ran towards the shore.

Next chapter

Constructive criticism welcome

© Paul Bramhall

Kurush: The First City - Chapter 35

The sky was perfectly clear, without a single cloud to blemish it. From atop the white cliffs, the sparkling turquoise sea was laid out before them, stretching to infinity. Ozoz, their hapa, was nibbling on the leaves of an olive tree. Lysta, being a lisha, was busy soaking up the morning sun. Hyza, being a hurum, didn’t need to but laid on the ground next to her doing the same anyway.

“We should probably get going”, said Lysta without moving a muscle

“Don’t you want your lunch first?”

Lysta’s eyes jolted wide open. Hyza sprang onto her chest, her messy hazel hair flowing onto Lysta’s golden-scaled face. Lysta curled her fingers around her waist and licked her lips.

“At the Yrsti, you’ll be sure to win me, right?” said Hyza, “I don’t want to find myself in anyone else’s stomach, so you better be ready to fight for me”

“Don’t say things like that. The next Yrsti probably won’t be for another ten years. Besides, we’re going to Kurush, aren’t we?”

“That’s right! Before we know it, we’ll be living in a house that touches the sky. We’ll have a stone lisha even larger than you guarding the front door. And all our neighbours will be lovely, kind people. I wonder if people in Kurush even know what the Yrsti is… hey, look!”

In the sea below them, a flotilla of longboats was sailing parallel to the shore at a leisurely pace. They could see the lishas and hurums on board, and hear their groans as they rowed across the tranquil waters.

Hyza jumped off of Lysta, “Do you think they’ve come from Kurush? They must be heading for Niarush. Come on, if we’re quick we’ll get there at the same time”

“But what about my lunch?” said Lysta

Hyza threw their rolled-up tent into the cart, along with a dozen heaving sacks of grain, a pile of copper ingots and two small amphoras of orokosa. When she whistled, Ozoz dutifully trotted over to her. She strapped the cart to his harness and stroked the long, curved crest that arced over the back of his neck, making him chirrup merrily.

They hiked along the dusty clifftop path, Hyza with Ozoz’s reins in hand, Lysta with her bronze spear. For the past three years, the three of them had made a living together trading across Parua. Ozoz did the hauling, Lysta did the protecting, and Hyza did the talking. Once they reached the point where the cliff-face turned inland, Niarush was in plain view in front of them. Atop a high peninsula jutting out into the sea, gleaming white stone walls shielded huddled cuboid homes. On the side closest to the sea was the dome of the chief’s hall.    

They descended the path, now snaking down the cliff-face, being careful that the cart didn’t tip over the edge. Once they were at the bottom, it was a short walk to the river Py. Its tributaries poured down from the mountains, intertwined across Parua, and flowed inexorably into the sea here at Niarush. Around them were empty, half-standing houses – the original site of Niarush before its residents were forced to move to the high ground. All that remained by the river were the docks, at least until a couple of nights ago. Some of the locals were still rebuilding the jetties. On the shore were several battered ships, still lain where the great wave had thrown them. Sitting in the shadow of the remains of a galley was a lisha wearing a tattered amber robe with his head in his hands.

“Is everything alright?” said Hyza

“Of course not! How could such a terrible thing happen to Tyroz, I mean, Gyroz the Honest? What have I done to deserve this fate? Thanks to that bloody wave, I’m stranded here in this backwards place, where the only choice of housing is tent or hovel. I refuse, by the Sun, I refuse! If I can’t have a country villa all to myself, I’ll just have to be a homeless vagrant”

“The wave hit a bunch of fishing villages too,” said Hyza, “but the cliffs protected the rest of Parua. We should count ourselves lucky”

The lisha raised his head, “Lucky? Lucky?!”

“Don’t worry, keep on dreaming about your villa and you’ll get there eventually. Look, here are some ships from Kurush! I can’t wait to see what they have to sell”

The fleet glided into the estuary and beached themselves on the silty banks. Green-scaled lishas clad in bronze armour jumped onto shore, followed by hurums of all ages wearing a dazzling array of colourful clothes. Something about the hurums made Hyza nervous – they stuck close to each other, didn’t move unless told, and were completely silent.

The chief of Niarush, an obese lisha with a gold medallion hanging around his neck, flanked by two spear-wielding lackeys, sauntered down from the town with his hands held high in greeting. A lisha with jade scales that shimmered in the sunlight and another lisha with golden scales wearing a black toga had a quiet conversation with the chief. Hyza became distracted by the golden head of a grinning lisha attached to the prow of one of the ships, but she jumped at a sudden shout that pierced the peaceful air. The chief collapsed onto the ground, blood pouring from a gash in his fat neck. His two lackeys dropped their spears and begged for mercy. The jade-scaled lisha casually stepped over the chief, blood dripping from the knife in his hand, and walked up the slope towards Niarush.

“We should go”, said Lysta

Hyza nodded, “I don’t want to see what happens next. Let’s go back up the coast”

She pulled on Ozoz’s reins. The three of them turned around and headed back to the cliff path, leaving Niarush to meet its new rulers.

Next chapter

Constructive criticism welcome

© Paul Bramhall

Kurush: The First City - Chapter 34

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.     

Next chapter

Constructive criticism welcome

© Paul Bramhall