Page 6 of An Arrow to the Heart

Ardál had just relaxed his shoulders, his arm slack as he turned with a toothy grin to Ortolf, whom he intended to celebrate with when suddenly all he felt was pain.

Instantaneous burning gut-wrenching pain tore through his leg as though he’d just stepped into a lake of fire. Before he could even look down to take stock of the damage or register what had happened he collapsed onto the ground from the onslaught of pain.

Ortolf was immediately at his side calling out for a healer.

“No, no, I don’t nee…” Ardál whimpered, his voice much weaker and shakier than he’d anticipated, before his consciousness began to weigh, the edges of his vision blurring.

The last thing he could recall before the darkness took him was a gorgeous pair of big tits hovering over his face.

He surmised that he had to be dying.

Perhaps he was already dead.

For the image was one that couldn’t be lovelier.

CHAPTER FIVE

-Sylvie-

The terror-inducing screams had come out of seemingly nowhere, the cries of panic sobering Sylvie right up. She had been enjoying a bottle of cloudberry mead whilst she and Valeska chatted, as they so often did.

Sylvie shot to her feet as Ortolf hopped over the bar without delay, grabbing his battle worn two-handed axe from under the bar as he did.

“Get the vulnerable into the cellar,” he commanded Valeska, she gave a quick nod and she herself sprung into action.

“I’ll cover you best I can from the windows,” Sera quickly announced as she disappeared up the stairs.

“This way, come on… this way,” Valeska’s voice echoed through the space, her tone remaining steady, as she led folk toward the kitchen.

Sylvie immediately followed suit, drawing her dagger, she wasn’t prone to using it or violence but she had no qualms about defending herself if pushed. She always carried it, strapped to her outer thigh, easily accessible through the slits of her dress.

She gripped the bone handle of her simple iron blade tightly as she headed into the main street calling out for anyone unable to fight to make their way into the Alehouse. She was met with the sounds of metal clanging against metal, faces etched in terror and that all too familiar smell of blood.

Fire raged in the background, a malevolent dance of oranges and red consuming the thatched roof of one of the outbuildings. Her heart pounded in her chest. Guttural shouts accompanied anguished cries as they echoed down the cobbled street. The mountain peaks beyond, adorned in pink and golden hues from the setting sun, bearing witness to the chaos below.

“August!” Sylvie called out to the young lad, she knew he could be trusted and that he’d be quick. Plus he had helped with matters of healing before so was her best option.

“Go to my cottage and grab my emergency bag, it's a big dark green bag just by the entrance door, and then go into the infirmary and grab as many clean rags as you can. Be careful and don’t let yourself be seen. Hurry, and bring them to the Alehouse,” she said, handing him the keys to her cottage and without hesitation the lad was on his way. She prayed to the Gods above that he'd be safe and quick.

Sylvie, with the aid of Lonan had quickly ushered any folk unable to fight into the Alehouse, shutting the large doors behind them, her knees buckling as she leant back against the door. And there was nothing left to do but wait.

Sylvie heard rattling against the kitchen door and immediately made her way toward the noise, hand gripped firmly around her dagger. She sighed with relief when she heard August proclaim it was just him. She hurried across the stone floor and unlatched the door, urging him inside quickly.

“You’re okay?” She asked, not bothering to conceal the worry in her voice as she held her hand to the side of the boy’s face, checking him over.

“Fine,” he sputtered between heavy breaths, handing her the supplies. He’d clearly ran the entire way to her cottage and back.

August had managed to bring her all she asked for. “Great, thank you,” Sylvie said. “Now go and put as many of the big pots on to boil water for me.” The lad nodded and without a word got to work on his task in the kitchen.

And, so Sylvie continued to wait, as she paced back and forth between the front doors and the kitchens. It felt as though time had been stretched for the minutes that passed felt more like hours.

It wasn’t long until the sounds beyond the large oak front door began to quieten. Lonan unlocked the door, and looked out into the streets, quietly assessing. Sylvie followed close behind him, daring to take a peek.

“I think they’ve pushed them back to the eastern edge,” he said to her, sending a wave of relief through her. Although the fighting hadn’t ended yet, it was prudent she got to the injured.

“We need to get to the wounded,” Sylvie said, as she grabbed her medical bag and ventured into the blood-soaked street, the waning sound of the injured calling to her.

The street was a sea of bodies, both alive and not. She passed a number of fallen fighters, thankfully most looked to be raiders, but as she took a quick look around she could see there were a number of townsfolk she needed to tend to.