THE AKCHIY MASSACRE
A dozen horsemen descend a steep path to the river. While the horses drink greedily, snorting and shaking their sides, the dismounted warriors also quench their thirst, scooping icy water with their palms. The Ak-chiy River at this time of year is not particularly turbulent, but to cross to the other bank, one must find a ford. The path leading to it is about two hundred steps from here — there, the bushes lean over the waters, and a wide shoal glistens in the sun.
The horseman riding ahead suddenly cries out, jumps off his horse, and rushes into the bushes. From there, his inarticulate exclamations filled with horror can be heard.
— Hey, Japak! — asks the warrior riding behind. — What happened? What did you see?
Oh no! — was all Japak could reply. And there was reason for it. The approaching riders were met with a horrific sight: a small child's body, carried by the water, was caught in the bent branches. Its little body was swollen and blue, and a painful grimace was frozen on its wrinkled face.
The warriors were silent for a long time. Finally, the warrior hoarsely said:
— Who committed such a heinous act that darkens the skies? Take the child; we will ride ahead and find the perpetrator.
— Oh, Taylak-batyr! — said another horseman. — Look! Over there!
Just upstream, behind a large stone, another small body was swaying in the water.
— And there’s another one!
— And another!
— And another!
In tiny backwaters, among tangled roots, behind boulders — everywhere the swift water was powerless, dead bodies swayed: women, children, the elderly, strong men. And all showed signs of violent death: there a face was slashed, there a belly was ripped open. The warriors had long dismounted, trudging along the shore, leading their horses by the reins. Yet the dead kept appearing. Taylak-batyr mournfully exclaimed:
— Oh, Akchiy! Who fed you such a terrible feast? Who are they, unworthy to be called humans?
The youngest among them was sickened. He said apologetically, as if to excuse himself:
— I drank this water.
Finally, Taylak-batyr signaled: the warriors mounted their horses. Such a multitude of dead could not be buried in a single day and for an entire clan.
They rode for a long time up the gorge until they reached a wide green glade. It looked terrible: charred remains of yurts, scattered, blood-soaked rags... And everywhere — corpses, corpses, corpses... Among the owners lay dead dogs with bared teeth...
— This is all that remains of the Hasan-biy clan, — grimly said Taylak-batyr. In the distance, a moan was heard. The warriors immediately rushed there. An old man, frail, with a severed arm and a pierced chest, struggled to rise. Taylak knelt before him:
— Who did this, father?
The old man replied with gray lips, barely audible, as if he sighed:
— The Cins...
The dead demanded vengeance. The people's hero Taylak, an unwavering and loyal ally of Jangir-khodja, led the Kyrgyz militia. Before the punitive forces could retreat from the devastated and plundered ails, they were ambushed in the gorge by the people's avengers. The Cin detachment was utterly defeated. Its commander — General Bayanbatu, in despair, took his own life, knowing that the emperor would never forgive him for this defeat.
The Manchurian-Chinese troops attempted several more times to seize the Kyrgyz pastures, but each time unsuccessfully.
Myths and Legends