The Story of Huran

The story you may be familiar with is lost in the mists of prehistory. There are few mentions of it in old books. Historians know only a fraction of the truth, which may never be fully understood. Why? Perhaps because it is impossible to extract the true story from beneath the mounds of myth, the historical turmoil, and the weakness of human memory. Just as it is impossible to know the true history of Troy, the Vikings' visit to America, Atlantis, the first human cities, Popiel, Roland, and many others.

Huran the Wild, for he is the one we are talking about, was the son of Beran the Strong. The nickname Beran the Mighty, bestowed upon him by posterity, did not come from nowhere. This man was renowned for his great strength. It was said that he could lift a horse, wrestle bears, and the weapon he wielded could be lifted with difficulty by two men. It should be noted that the average man, a voivode, could easily break horseshoes in his hands. Perhaps the metal wasn't the best, but Beran's strength was hard to overestimate.

A famous story of his time was how Beran, still a youth, participated in a knightly competition organized by one of the then lords, Siejba. Probably mentally weak, he decided to marry off his daughter, Gnieszka the Red, to the one who could win the tournament without losing his health. The conditions were harsh, but many volunteered to try their luck.

Gnieszka was considered a truly beautiful woman. She had sparkling eyes, white, even, and healthy teeth—a rare and highly prized gift in those days—shapely breasts, wide hips, and fiery hair. Moreover, her face was admirably smooth. She could ignite a fire in any man, which consumed many. Winning Gnieszka wasn't easy, on the one hand because of her considerable mind and consequently high standards, and on the other because of her father, who frowned upon suitors, and her brothers, who guarded her as if she were her most precious treasure, even though they themselves indulged almost without restraint.

Gnieszka, for her time, was exceptionally well-read, considering that few were, and even rarer were, women. She had numerous books in her chambers, for which Siejba paid handsomely, even though he himself couldn't read. The price only became high later, when a pile of salt extracted from the mines could buy a village or two. She also wrote, but there was no one to appreciate her virtues, aside from her undeniable physical attributes. Loneliness bothered her, as she rarely had the opportunity to converse with anyone knowledgeable. Her temperament was considerable, and her days must have passed bitterly.

Beran met the force of time before the tournament, and seeing his smiling, intelligent eyes and his otherwise decent personality, she fell deeply in love with him. They happened to talk, and Gnieszka immediately recognized his extraordinary mind. This further strengthened her resolve to woo Beran. She saw, in his eyes and actions, a great desire to get to know him better.

It's not hard to guess who her gaze followed during the tournament. A few words remain about the reason for organizing the tournament. Siejba had wanted to marry off his daughter earlier, but she had repeatedly rejected the candidates. This was viewed with surprise, as it was unusual in those days for a daughter to oppose her father's will. However, Gnieszka knew the weaknesses of her father, who loved his only daughter very much. Therefore, she knew how to quell his anger.

If Beran had been one of the candidates, the matter would have been simple. However, he, being from a relatively distant land, and despite being the son of a powerful lord, was not the best candidate. Finally, losing patience, her father decided to organize the tournament.

Beran couldn't pass up this opportunity. As soon as he learned of the tournament, he donned his finest armor, asked his parents for permission, explaining the purpose, took a handful of armed men with him, and set off.

The young men must have looked at each other wistfully during the tournament. Beran proved to be incredibly agile and strong. Even the mightiest warriors were no match for him. He could face anyone, and it was rare for anyone to escape the arena unscathed. This was how Beran approached his coveted prize.

The road ahead, however, was not easy. The bravest and strongest man of the time entered the tournament. He was called Poplin the Grim. Apparently, no one escaped his clutches alive. As luck would have it, the two met at the end of the tournament, when only two remained. Siejba's favor was on Poplin's side. He would have been a strong ally, as he owned vast tracts of land and subjugated neighboring castles and their lords. Beran, being young and without worldly possessions, though he was the heir, couldn't be considered a serious candidate. They decided to help Poplin.

Apparently, before the duel, Beran was given a weapon of flimsy metal. When the fight began, after only a few blows from Beran to Poplin's shield, his axe changed shape, bent, and could only be used as a club. The shield warped just as quickly. Beran found himself face to face with death. Poplin knew no mercy and charged at his defenseless opponent.

Then, as the accounts say, Beran hurled his weapon at Poplin to gain time. Then he lunged at him. He dodged the blow and grabbed his opponent's arms. The weapon quickly flew from Poplin's hand. They locked in a bear hug, and the people watching the scene gasped in surprise, then fell silent in concentration. During this wrestling match, the only sounds were the neighing of anxious horses and the creaking of metal. Poplin must have quickly recognized Beran's strength. He began to retreat, trying to summon his last remaining strength against the young opponent's infernal force. It was to no avail. He quickly weakened and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. Beran released Poplin. He had won. Gnieszka was his.

He then approached the fence where Siejba, his sons, and his daughter Gnieszka were sitting. He removed his helmet and bowed. Suddenly, it turned out that Poplin had not yet surrendered. He raised his axe and threw it at Beran. Weakened, he missed; the axe flew past him and embedded itself in a beam right next to Siejba's head. Beran picked up his crumpled axe, ran up to Poplin, and furiously struck the shielded head. It didn't end there; he stopped when blood poured from the iron rod embedded in the ground.

So goes the oral legend. The truth was more prosaic. Beran was already a man of advanced years, supposedly fifty, when he met Gnieszka. As he was approaching the end of his prime and had no children, he needed to secure an heir to inherit his father's legacy.

At a meeting he organized to rally the people against the Huron tribe attacking from the south, he met Siejba's daughter, a ruler from a rather distant region. He quickly wanted to win his daughter for himself. However, he was reluctant to give his consent, having previously spoken with another lord, Poplin.

Poplin was reportedly a man of enormous stature and incredible strength. His domains were vast, stretching from the Żółcinka River to the Baranie Mountains. He was a harsh lord. He had no restraint on his slaves, nor did he spare his own people, which is why he was feared, not only in his own lands but also in the surrounding area.

Beran faced a difficult task. Poplin and Siejba were to be united by family ties, which were accompanied by military alliances. Siejba had long suffered from raids by the Malce tribes from beyond the Wirna River. Poplin promised to send his men to help them invade their warlike neighbors, slaughtering some and enslaving the rest. Beran, however, was not a timid man, and being at once confident, bold, and honest, he told Poplin of his plans, looking him straight in the eye. He had previously placated Siejba by promising to take upon himself help in the fight against the Malces and Poplin's wrath.

He wasn't wrong about the anger. Poplin wasn't used to anyone getting in his way, and since he also liked Gnieszka, he couldn't bear the thought of anyone taking her away. They reached out for Beran, but Beran was prepared, leaping back, grabbing a large metal goblet, and, spilling the rest of the wine, smashing it into Poplin's head. He killed him instantly. His skull cracked like a clay pot.

His brother, Purnal, took over after Poplin. The two didn't get along, so Purnal didn't investigate the causes of his brother's death with particular zeal. Since the fight was a small group, the matter was quickly settled. Officially, Poplin tripped and hit his head so badly that he lost his life.

Beran quickly took Gnieszka as his wife. He also soon had a male heir, named Huran. He had previously fulfilled his promise. He sent his troops to aid Siejba and defeated the Malc forces. It's likely that Gnieszka was pregnant with Beran's son while Poplin was still alive.

From a young age, Huran had two passions: one was fighting and all things related to it, the other was books and learning. On the one hand, his father dragged him on military expeditions and trained him in the art of leadership and weaponry, while on the other, his mother instilled in him a love of knowledge.

Initially, Gnieszka was responsible for Huran's education, but over time, they began to consider bringing in someone more learned in the scriptures, as it soon became apparent that Huran had nothing to learn from his mother. He was an exceptionally gifted child.

As luck would have it, during one of Beran's expeditions with his son, they encountered warriors of the little-known Nurik tribe, who were leading a group of prisoners. These prisoners were dressed in exceptionally strange attire, likely in Far Eastern fashion. They carried a number of chests, and one of them spoke clearly, though with a distinct foreign accent. The man pleaded for his release and the release of his men, or they would face death. Beran took pity on them; he knew the Nuriks didn't hold prisoners. So he slaughtered them and captured the prisoners himself.

It turned out that the freed man was a scholar from the eastern lands, sent by his master to explore distant lands. This was likely Rezon II, king of the Menar. This scholar was called Merachim, hence the later known "Books of Merachim." He made maps and collected all possible data on plants, animals, the inhabiting tribes, and their culture. It's difficult to imagine today's culture without Marachim. It would certainly be much poorer.

Beran took the rescued men home. Merachim was ordered to care for Huran and educate him.

The two quickly found common ground. They sensed a similarity in each other. Huran was developing rapidly, and Merachim played a significant role in this. Sometimes they would spend entire days and nights studying topics that interested them.

Young Huran once saw an oblong device in Merachim's hands. He asked about it. The device turned out to be a telescope. This device intrigued Huran greatly. He observed almost everything he could through it. As one might imagine, he also looked at the night, starry sky. He was surprised that when he did so, the telescope didn't seem to work. In fact, it didn't zoom in. Merachim explained to Huran that these objects were too far away for such a small device to be useful in observing the sky.

This problem began to torment Huran. He spent days pondering how to observe the sky and the shining Luner more effectively. He later wrote in his journal: "As I sat on the balcony, listening to the crickets and observing the sky, I pondered what I was seeing. I knew that the telescope magnified the observed objects five times. The lunar in its eye was also larger; you could see irregularities on it, something like craters left by a stone hitting the sand. I sat there all night, gazing now at the lunar, now at the stars forming a longitudinal strip. In the morning, when the Salar rose above the earth, I understood. From then on, I resolved to do everything I could to better penetrate the secrets of the sky." Disputes over what Huran understood continue to this day. It seems most likely that he grasped, in a general way, the structure of what he later called the Disc-Star Cluster and Terra's place within it.

Over time, Huran developed his many talents, expanded his knowledge, and discovered more and more previously unknown laws and objects. Together with Merachim, he developed the design of the telescope. He polished glass himself, designed navigational instruments, and determined the positions of stars and the distances to visible planets. He also discovered three new ones, naming them Perun, Rgiel, and Swantewit.

He also designed war machines. He is said to have forged his own swords. These were usually slightly curved blades, allowing for a more powerful strike, and were also light and therefore fast. They could penetrate armor made of the hardest steel of the time. He also studied medicine and wrote books about human beliefs and circulating fairy tales. He is the author of a unique guide to devils, demons, and gods, "From Białog to Veles, or a Book of the Deities Believed in by the Peoples Living in the Confluence of the Berza and Darłyga Rivers."

Some of his works have been lost. Some are known only from translations to which they added their own reflections. Others were likely destroyed by priests who disliked the conclusions drawn from Huran's work. This was done only after his death, as fear of a dangerous lord curbed the dark ambitions of ambitious priests. He was a known enemy of the sects that had a large influence on his land and sought to incite the people. Huran himself strove for as much knowledge as possible among his subjects. There is no doubt that he was a truly enlightened man, free from the prejudices and superstitions of the time.

Huran's father, Beran, died at the age of 18. Therefore, he had to assume power over the people and the land. Gnieszka was still quite young, but she did not attempt to seek a husband again, even though she had many suitors. Beran was given a magnificent funeral. We know quite a bit about him because his guests later described it in letters and diaries. Mirba, lord of the Łęka Lands, writes of the funeral ceremony: "Four rows of four horses each, all richly attired, marched. On wooden structures covered with cloth lay Beran's corpse. The structure, pulled by horses, rolled on covered wheels. Next came the immediate family. Gnieszka, over forty years old but still an eye-catcher, next to her was her son Huran. The heir, who, although young, surpassed many a stately man in his mind. A belligerent lord and a good steward, at that. Another family followed, lords from surrounding estates, lords from the neighborhood. It was a rich burial, but not ostentatious. Decorated with dignity, because it was for a worthy person."

Protar, probably Poplin's illegitimate son, describes the event differently. He will be mentioned later, as this figure deeply marked Huran's history. He wrote to his friend: "A crowd had gathered, the common folk everywhere. The crowd was flocking to bid farewell to their lord. I tell you, there was so much dust that it was impossible to breathe. The Salar was blazing hot. You wouldn't believe it. Every nobleman had to come in armor. To avoid being conspicuous, I came too. Luckily, everyone had taken off their helmets during the burning. The heat intensified the heat. It was hard to stand. Gnieszka and her son, Huran, were standing there. Gnieszka is a gallant woman. I tell you, she must be noble in bed. It's surprising that she and Beran only had one child. I look at them and my hand reaches for a sword. I have to restrain myself by force of will. The time will come when they will remember me, even though they don't know me now..."

The future sheds light on this mysterious letter. The aforementioned Protar gained fame for his warlike nature. As the supposed son of Poplin, he was respected by the people, as his father's fame long lingered in their memories. Moreover, his deeds quickly began to eclipse his father. In a bloody coup, Purnal was overthrown. All those connected to him in power, along with their families, were executed, as if fearing revenge. The irony of fate. Purnal himself was publicly and brutally murdered. All his limbs were severed and placed in various parts of the main city. His severed head was impaled on a pole and displayed at the entrance for anyone entering the city to see. Thus began Protar's reign, and it was no less a beginning than an end.

Meanwhile, Huran's fame spread ever wider. He enjoyed growing recognition in his own lands, among his neighbors, and in distant lands. When Huran turned 24, something happened in his life that would shape his entire future. As you might guess, he met a woman.

Huran's letters to his mother and friends paint a picture of his acquaintance with a mysterious woman. Mysterious because information about her remains uncertain to this day. Among historians, two stand out, amidst various hypotheses, some quite absurd. One of them speaks of Yemlina, daughter of Philippus, a little-known ruler of the eastern canten, Rechez. Terpentius, the historian of Rechez, mentions a child with a similar-sounding name: "...and so a child was born, marking the days all the more happy, because after three sons, a female offspring emerged from the womb. She was named Yemena in honor of the Yemen festival..."

These words don't tell us much. However, something can be gleaned from them. The festival mentioned by Terpentius is none other than the summer solstice. A successful harvest was celebrated and, at the same time, gifts were offered to the gods, promising to show equal generosity in the future.

It is quite likely that the Yemen festival, known across the continent by other names, is a custom adopted in our country, the Yembóg custom, during which agricultural produce and artfully tied flowers were poured into rivers during the summer solstice. The distortion of the name can be explained by a different pronunciation of the words, as well as by the time, or by a mistranslation, which would clearly indicate that it is a false sign.

The second hypothesis is that Jemlina was supposedly the daughter of the Racha lands, not of Philip, but of the almost legendary Turem. The same one who united the Rachaean tribes in their fight against the wild Ugi tribes attacking from the south. It is very difficult to determine the exact time of both events, as the original records, if they existed, have been destroyed, and those we know of are distant echoes of events both large and small. Turem, as legend has it, fell in the Battle of Obradok, losing to the rest. However, he managed to relocate his family, along with their goods and people, far to the east, which likely saved their lives. The united Rachaean forces did not disperse after the lost battle. Reinforcements of the Opole tribes, brought from the east, after uniting with the Rachaean forces, effectively resisted the Ugi in the largest battle of that time, the Battle of Skalne Łby.

So it's possible that Turem's descendants settled in the east and, although they retained their traditions, were well-received in the Opole region.

Whichever story is true, it's true that Huran met a woman named Jemlina and took a liking to her. She came from a family that was already impoverished. This wasn't a problem for him, however. His fortune was growing steadily, and he didn't have to worry about a potential dowry. Besides, he wasn't a man who paid much attention to such matters. The betrothal took place eight months after they met, and the marriage a year later.

It wouldn't hurt to shed more light on Huran's intended. Many things are speculative, and we shouldn't take everything for granted, especially since the author himself lacks such knowledge.

As we've learned, Jemlina may have been Turem's daughter. He sent the family east when she was not yet two years old. Therefore, she had no memory of her father. Her mother, Joma, raised her. From a young age, the child was isolated from "high society." This was her mother's decision, to protect her daughter from the nobility who, through blood relations, wanted to mix her blood with Turem's child. Jemlina was not informed of her parentage until she turned twenty-one. Thus, Huran had no idea who she was associating with, having met Jomlina when she was barely twenty. She herself was also reluctant to reveal the secret. This was perhaps a ploy by Joma, who suspected anyone who showed any interest in Jemlina of impure intentions.

Jemlina was, apparently, a very beautiful woman. Dark hair, blue eyes. She was more beautiful, it was said, than Gnieszka in her youth. She was also very intelligent. It wasn't easy for Huran to win her. Those eight months until the engagement were very difficult for the young ruler. He himself was losing hope at times, but he never abandoned his intention. As one might guess, all this was planned by Jemlina, for she had already begun the wedding plan a month after meeting Huran. How do we know this? She confided it to a friend, who, many years later, carelessly revealed the secret in a letter to her husband.

All sorts of strange things were later said about the wedding. The fact that most of the game in the surrounding forests was slaughtered, and that over two thousand people gathered. We don't need to refer to these uncertain records, for we have other sources. Once from the notes of the scribe of Huran's court, and twice from letters from many guests and the heroes themselves. Several hundred people gathered, each bearing a multitude of gifts. Despite all the effort put into the wedding, it wasn't lavish, though it lasted three days.

Huran and Jemlina lived happily, for they were a good match and complemented each other well. She oversaw the affairs of the castles, the rights of the people, and spread culture. Huran, on the other hand, was occupied with science, politics, and the military. He had many other occupations, but there's no space to list them here. They loved each other deeply. Their first child was born a year after the wedding. He was named Duran. Over the next ten years, with two-year breaks, other children were born: Marun, Beran II, Jureza, Slavia, and Huran the Younger.

As we will soon learn, the happy days were drawing to a close. Protar was remembered, and the name became etched in people's memories for a long time. To this day, to frighten little children, mothers and grandmothers used to say, "I'll give you to Protar," or "Let Protar take you."

Returning to the topic at hand, while Huran happily ruled the lands, Protar grew in power. He hadn't forgotten what he had done to his father, Poplin Beran. The time had come for him to retaliate for past wrongs.

Times were becoming unsettled. Bad and disturbing news began to reach Huran's ears with increasing frequency. Someone, entering into cahoots with the Ug tribes, was conquering one city after another, taking the people into captivity, murdering, and burning them. The experienced Huran, anticipating future events, began to arm himself and gather his men. He knew that only by united forces could he resist the invasion. However, the speed with which Protar advanced, seeking revenge, surprised those preparing for defense. It was expected that Protar, whose name had become famous surprisingly quickly throughout the vast territory of Teran, would want to wait, replenish his weakened strength and set off only in the spring, because the first snows had begun to cover the fields and forests, and the winters, which had been mild in recent years, now announced extraordinary frosts and snowfall.

And so it happened. Winter, with its force, surprised the people. That year, as the chronicles record, the Zaydal Sea froze, creating an icy bridge with the Hrotmu islands. Regardless of the weather, Protar pressed forward. This allowed him to partially surprise Huran's forces. However, he did not disband his men and put up a valiant resistance within a network of defensive strongholds. He sent his family to safe areas. A devastating war began, the end of which was impossible to predict.

The scales of victory tipped first one way, then the other. Huran waged a guerrilla war, simultaneously defending the most strategically important strongholds. It was a sound tactic. Over time, Protar's forces dwindled, as he had no means of bringing in reinforcements. The people began to grumble and rebel, and upon learning of this, Protar ordered many of his men beheaded. Wanting to capitalize on this opportunity, Huran decided to take the main fortress of Nosal by surprise, which would be an excellent staging point for recapturing further enemy positions. He set out with a detachment of five thousand men, sending ahead several hundred troops to retrieve the tongue and scout the area. One of these detachments encountered Protar's ten-thousand-strong army, which led a captive force of several tens of thousands, along with herds of horses, oxen, and other animals.

Informed of this, Huran decided to rescue the men and loot. Perhaps the bloodiest battle of the campaign took place on the outskirts of the village of Kolanek. Utilizing his excellent knowledge of the terrain and his excellent tactics, Huran struck by surprise. With a bold maneuver, he split the enemy forces and forced them to flee across the frozen Lake Słuba. The ice, insufficiently thick, could not withstand the heavy cavalry and broke, burying over two thousand soldiers. The rest were either killed or captured.

Certain of defeat, Protar had to flee the battlefield. He knew, however, that if he didn't act quickly, his revenge would be unfulfilled. It can be surmised that spies had discovered the hiding place of Huran's family. Upon learning of this, Protar gathered his most loyal men and set out. That location turned out to be Lisica, a village on the Ratka River. Arriving there, he attacked the manor house, burned it, and slaughtered the people.

It is difficult to determine whether he found what he was looking for. We only know that Huran, after driving the enemy from the region, returned to his estates. The rest of his fate is very uncertain. We do know that his estates began to decline over time. Vague accounts suggest Huran's departure and supposed visits to western and southern countries. The fate of his family is equally uncertain. Some sources claim that Protar slaughtered everyone, not sparing even the children. There are also mentions that offer some hope, stating that the family was supposedly deported to an unknown destination. Here Huran's story ends abruptly. He and his family vanished without a trace.

In later times, people often claimed kinship with Huran. After all, he left behind a vast fortune, and his fame lingered among the people for a long time. Many pretenders lost their lives, and some even rose to high office. Perhaps his descendants are still alive. It's also possible that one of the pretenders was telling the truth. However, this is not the story I want to tell you now. This is neither the time nor the place.