Bk 1, Ch 5: A Dirty Business
Introduction:
Tales from the other side during the Town Raid
The sun had just risen in the sky. Zavala was ours. My plan had worked flawlessly. The townsfolk had behaved like cattle, and we’d herded them with ease. As I’d predicted, the arrows and our vicious charge had broken the enemy defense. Most of the townsfolk had fled towards the water—the obvious escape route—where Torstein gave them a violent reception. Maybe three dozen survivors from the beach had even come back to the town seeking safety in numbers. They were quickly subdued or killed.
With all real resistance crushed, my men began meticulously clearing the town; every street, alley, and house would be searched. Going house-to-house was a dirty business, full of its own unique dangers. Men, women, and children alike fought like cornered rats to defend their homes, lying in ambush with axes, kitchen knives, pots, and clubs.
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Her friends nicknamed her Annie the Acrobat. She loved climbing trees, climbing houses, doing cartwheels, and running around. Many of the girls her age were slowed by their ballooning chests, but Annie’s girlish figure helped her stay nimble. So when the invaders came, twelve-year-old Annie climbed into the rafters with a kitchen knife and waited. Her Mommy and Daddy had always taught her that she should fight if there was trouble. Annie had become separated from them in the chaos at the square and didn’t know if they were dead or alive.
She heard the front door burst open, heavy boots thudding on the dirt floor. A male voice grunted something, and the footsteps cautiously approached the bedroom in which she was hiding. The door banged open and a smelly man with a brown beard stepped inside, axe at the ready. Annie waited. Believing there was nobody inside, the man lowered his weapon and turned to leave.
Annie dropped from the rafters, but her foot caught on a beam and she toppled down head-first. Desperately, she reached out and wrapped her arms around the invader’s neck to break her fall. Yelling in pain as her knife slashed his arm, the man dropped his axe and tried to shake her off. Knife forgotten, Annie clung on out of pure instinct. The man reached down to his belt and grabbed a hunting knife, stabbing blindly backwards at the thing around his neck. Annie cried out in pain as the knife penetrated the “V” of her right hip, the tip of the knife grating on her pelvis. Her grip slackened, and the invader flung her against a wall where she lay screaming, clutching her hands to the wound as blood spurted from the wound and spilled over her crotch.
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Ashley lay back against the wall with a sigh of relief and tried to remain as still as possible. When she did that, the pain in her belly faded and she could almost forget about the arrow lodged just to the right of her navel.
She knew she was in a bad way. Getting stuck like a deer was never a good thing after all. Blood caked her bare belly and oozed down to her panties. But Ashley was never one to give up easy. At twenty-one-summers, she had seen her fair share of hardship and was determined to survive. The trail of blood leading through the door to where she now sat was proof enough of that determination.
But surviving was easier said than done with an arrow in the belly.
Ashley had escaped the slaughter in the square and made a break for the edge of town. The invaders were coming from the north, so Ashley figured her best chance for escape was east. She could hide in the wood line there and wait for the town warriors to repel the attack. She ran with about two dozen others who apparently had the same idea.
She had been a block away from the edge of town when the arrows started falling. A man about her age cried out with an arrow in his collar. A young boy of maybe eight or nine was hit in the face and crumpled.
The woman in front of Ashley threw up her arms and flipped backwards as an arrow punch through her breast. Ashley dodged right to avoid her. Off-balance, she stumbled and slowed.
It was at that moment that an arrow flashed in and embedded itself in her belly. Already off-balance to begin with, she fell hard, rolling and tumbling along the ground. The shaft snapped off, tearing up her insides in the process.
Fire filled her belly and she screeched at the uncaring sky as the pain took over her body. But Ashley fought to back. Through sheer force of will, she was able to push back the pain, regaining control of first her mind then her body.
I have to get to cover, she thought. She looked around and realized she had fallen half a house away from her aunt’s place.
Perfect.
Gritting her teeth, Ashley slowly rolled and lifted herself onto all fours. The arrowhead shifted slightly inside her and Ashley almost collapsed right then and there. But the wave of pain soon passed and Ashley slowly began to crawl towards her aunt’s door.
After what seemed like an eternity, Ashley finally made it inside and was able to prop herself up against the wall across from the door. She left a blood-stained trail in her wake. Where blood had dripped down the broken shaft, spots indicated her path. Where she had stopped briefly to overcome a wave of pain, tiny pools of blood had formed. And the one time she had collapsed in the dirt right outside the door, there was a puddle of dark-red blood mixed with her piss.
A strange man about her age with a shaved head and short beard followed the trail and entered the house. He looked around and quickly spotted Ashley. She regarded him with a mixture of detachment and curiosity. He was clearly one of the murderers who had attacked the village. Judging by the blood splattered on his clothes and dripping down his axe, he had already killed some of her friends or neighbors. It wouldn’t really matter if he killed her now though; he’d probably just be doing her a favor anyways.
He looked from her to the bloody path in the dirt and back to her. Then he walked past her into the next room without a second glance. She could hear him rummaging around, probably looting the place.
Not that she really cared–she had other problems obviously.
Ashley turned her attention back to herself. That collapse had been bad; the arrow had scraped against the dirt, tearing her insides. Blood flowed more freely down her front as a result.
She had to do something to slow the bleeding. She brought her left arm up to the wound, wincing as her fingertips brushed sliced flesh. Slowly, she pressed her hand against the hole, gasping as pain seared her belly. Then it was passed, and she brought up her right arm and did the same.
She stayed like that, hands cupped around the stump of the shaft, until the raider came back from the other room. He came out with some long strips of cloth bandages. He tossed them at her and they landed on her outstretched legs. Then he walked towards the door.
“Hey!” Ashley called weakly, “Are you just going to leave me like this?”
He stopped and turned towards her. She shrugged as if to say, “Well?”
The young man hesitated, looking furtively to the door, then to her. Then he turned around and went back into the other room to get two goose quills, which he split with a knife. Dragging her by the feet so that she lay flat on the floor, he knelt beside her and looked briefly into her eyes.
Without warning, he plunged the quills and his fingers into her wound. Ashley moaned sensually and writhed as he explored the hole. He kept working, searching for the arrowhead. When he found it, he slid the quills around the sharp edges of the point and gingerly slipped it out. Ashley cried out, arching her back high in the air before collapsing back onto the floor. Gently, he took the bandages and started to wrap the cloth around her pierced midriff. She arched her back once more–deliberately this time–to make it easier for him, grunting with effort as she did so.
When he was finished, Ashley lay back, panting. The man grabbed her under the armpits and hauled her back into a more comfortable seated position. Then he patted her on the shoulder as if to say, “Good luck”. Ashley nodded her thanks and he walked out.
Despite his help, she was still bleeding slowly. Alone now, she pressed her hands to the wound. His help had given her the best chance for survival. The rest would be up to fate and her own determination.
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Beth kicked down the door of a random house.
“Hurry, get inside!”
Sophie shuffled through supporting a limp Natasha. The screams of panicked townsfolk and the cries of the wounded and dying faded as Beth slammed the door.
With a grunt of effort, she and Sophie set their friend down by the fire pit. Natasha moaned, her eyes were screwed tight and her legs kicking weakly. Her hands pawed at the flesh torn by the smooth, feathered shaft below her ribs. Her normally white shirt was stained crimson.
“We have to help her!” cried Sophie hysterically.
“We need to remove the arrow,” said Beth. “Hold her still.”
Sophie knelt by Natasha’s head and held her shoulders as Beth gingerly wrapped her fingers around the shaft. Natasha groaned in protest as the arrow shifted slightly inside her. Beth looked at Sophie who sniffled, then nodded.
Beth yanked hard. Suction tugged at the arrow, and Beth had to yank a second time before it finally came free with a squelch. Natasha’s whole body spawned violently. She screamed shrilly and her eyes went wide before they rolled up into her head as she passed out. Her body stilled except for a few small twitches. The stain on her shirt expanded rapidly until it covered nearly her whole front. Another stain spread in her hide shorts as her bladder released.
“Grab some bandages while I take off her clothes,” said Beth. Sophie hurried to comply.
Gingerly, Beth began to pull Natasha’s shirt off. Her full, round breasts wiggled enticingly as Beth struggled to pull the shirt over them. Dark red blood gushed freely across Natasha’s bare chest, flowing down her side to form a puddle beneath her. Beth then pulled off Natasha’s shorts, wrinkling her nose at the stench and setting them aside.
Sophie ran in carrying long strips of cloth. Together, she and Beth wrapped them tightly around Natasha’s torso. Blood seeped through every layer, but its spread eventually slowed. Beth sighed, glad that the mad scramble was finally over. Maybe Natasha would still have a fighting chance.
Suddenly, there were strange voices outside. Beth and Sophie froze. They looked at each other, and Beth could see that Sophie was terrified. Boots crunched towards the door then paused. Quietly, Beth grabbed a spear that was propped against the wall and pointed it at the door. At sixteen, the two years of warrior training she’d had were about to be put to the test.
The door burst open and a tall man with a short, dark beard barged in. He saw Beth with the spear and grinned. Without hesitation he marched straight at her.
Beth lunged forward, aiming for his chest. He easily beat away the weak thrust with his shield. With a look of contempt, he flicked his sword downwards across her chest.
Time slowed for Beth as she fell to her knees. The spear fell from her hands and clattered on the floor. A solidly-built blonde woman, her hair in pigtails, entered behind the man. Beth was dimly aware that Sophie was screaming.
Beth looked down at her body. An angrily pulsating red line was drawn from her right collar to the middle of her upper belly. Her bra had been cut, exposing her budding breasts. Her left one was split like a piece of fruit, fatty flesh visible behind a river of blood. Below that, white bone was visible beneath sliced flesh. The bottom two ribs were clearly broken, the skin around the two irregular lumps already swelling and turning purple.
Beth keeled over and lay twitching on her undamaged side facing her two friends. There was no pain, only a sort of numbness. She watched as the blonde invader grabbed terrified Sophie by the hair and began to drag her out. The man said something to her and she stopped, barking back at him with anger. After a few seconds more going back-and-forth, the woman spat and yanked Sophie outside.
The man began to untie his pants and knelt straddling Natasha. Before pulling down his pants, he grabbed a long knife, which he used to cut free Natasha’s bandages. Natasha stirred lightly but remained unconscious. Still kneeling, he hauled her body close to his.
Then, he violently jammed two fingers into Natasha’s wound. Instantly, she was wide awake, screaming and thrashing in utter agony. The man laughed maniacally and began to dig around inside the wound. As Natasha inhaled and screamed anew, he thrust his erect cock into her vagina.
When he was done, Natasha was once again unconscious. The man had enlarged the hole in her belly to nearly double its size. The flow of blood had slowed, but Beth knew that was probably due to the fact that Natasha didn’t have any more blood to lose. Her theory was confirmed when Natasha’s body gave one last heave and her bowels voided noisily before she lay still.
The pain began to creep up on Beth as Natasha’s killer stood. By the time he finished tying up his pants, the pain had consumed most of her thought processes. Still, as the man walked over and gazed down at her, Beth was coherent enough to wonder if she would suffer the same fate as Natasha.
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Working in teams, Vikings barged into every house. Screams echoed from some houses as terrified townspeople were subdued by any means necessary. Other houses were silent and empty, their occupants bleeding out in the square or the street. Some contained only children and young ones, who had run home because they didn’t know what else to do. Sometimes, the screams of the townspeople were cut horribly short as another cornered rat was stamped out.
Elsa and Hjalmar threw a whole family out of their home. They held knives to the throats of the father and the oldest daughter as the mother drew the smaller children close, crying hysterically. Hakon shouldered down a door and was greeted by a desperate father with a woodcutter’s axe. He dodged the man’s wild chop and responded by chopping his own axe into the father’s neck. Eydis stepped into a bedroom and yelped in pain and surprise as a young man sunk a knife into her left side. She lashed out with her axe, striking him in the shoulder. Erik was close behind and finished him off as Eydis dropped her axe and sank to her knees clutching her bleeding flank. Arvid braced behind his shield and rammed open a door, yelping in surprise as an arrow impacted his shield with a solid thunk. Arvid quickly recovered from his surprise and slammed his shield into the young archer, sending her flying. Herleif punched a young mother in the face and dragged her unconscious body into the street. Her four-year-old child, fingers in his mouth, dutifully followed them out.
My soldiers were well-trained and efficient. When they were finished clearing one house, they would mark the door (or nearest intact wall) with a charcoal marker. A circle indicated the house was empty, while vertical lines marked the number of wounded. “X”s marked the number of corpses to be found inside. In addition to signaling that a house had been cleared, it would also help when it came time to clean out the dead and wounded. All told, the majority of the houses were cleared after only an hour and a half.
