Chapter 3 - Soldiers

I am packed into the church along with most of the women and children from our village.

“Don’t look out the window, Ayla,” Mom says, her arms wrapping around me.

“I need to see,” I struggle in her grip, and she relents. I peek out through the cloudy glass.

The soldiers are marching into town, grimy and sweaty men in chainmail cuirasses. Most of them carry swords, but a few have maces or spears. Two of them have strange looking charred and gnarled wooden staves, and are wearing long black cloaks over their armor.

A group of villagers stand in their way, but they don’t have any armor. The only one on our side with a proper weapon is old Pastor Blackwood, who pulled a fancy sword out of the basement of the church. Otherwise, it’s just a terrified looking group of men and boys with farming tools. At least in terms of numbers, we seem to roughly match up to them.

Then the two groups clash, and it is immediately clear that we don’t stand a chance.

The men with the staves raise them, and roaring surges of flame erupt from the charred wood. Our men scatter as the fire disrupts their ranks, and then the soldiers charge. They chase down our brave protectors like prey.

The soldiers are bigger, faster, and so much stronger.

Mr. Fisher is hit in the head with a mace, there’s a spurt of red and he goes flying, tumbling head over heel before slamming into a house. He drops down on the ground, totally limp.

I almost scream, but I manage cover my mouth. Is he dead?

The soldiers look so happy.

“Last village on the path, men! Let’s fuck em’ up good!”

“Woo hoo!”

“Where are the women? The houses seem empty.”

One of the men with a stave points his implement at a house, and sets it on fire. The other one heads straight towards Uncle’s farm. I can’t see from this angle, but smoke quickly begins rising from that direction.

Our village’s men are all dying. The soldiers cut them down with gleeful abandon.

I pull back from the window, trembling.

I have to protect Mom.

“We shouldn’t stay here. They’ll find us. We should hide in the forest.”

A few of the women stare at me, considering my words. “I agree,” one of them says.

“Soldiers won’t fight inside a church,” Mr. Fisher’s daughter says. She wasn’t looking out the window. She doesn’t know what they did to her dad. She didn’t see. She doesn’t understand.

“These ones will,” I say.

“There’s a back door to the church. Once we’re out, we should scatter,” Mrs. Miller says.

Many of the women nod in agreement, others seem apprehensive.

“We’re staying,” Mrs. Fisher says, holding her daughter tight.

“Suit yourselves,” Mom says. “Come on, Ayla.”

More than half of the women and children decide to follow Mom and me. We go to the back of the church and open up the back door. It leads to a garden with walls of thornbushes on either side, and a wrought iron gate that opens up towards the northern forest.

We run across the garden, open up the gate, and run into the forest.

“Look!” I hear a soldier shout as the last of us are running into the woods.

My stomach drops. They found us.

“Spread out!” Mom says.

I stay with Mom as everyone fans out. Hopefully the soldiers can’t follow all of us. We just need to find a place to hide until the soldiers leave.

They said this was the last village, they were happy about that. They must want to go home. Maybe they won’t try too hard to search for us.

“Ayla behind me!” Mom screams.

There’s a spider, as big as a dog, with eight beady eyes, a shiny black carapace, and big fangs. It’s crawling towards us.

I get behind Mom, and she picks up a heavy stick. The spider pounces, and Mom brings the makeshift club down on its head. She hits it again and again, a sickening crunch resounding each time, until it stops moving.

“Come on let’s go!” Mom says, pulling my hand. I can’t help but stare at the mangled spider as we run by it.

So these are the monsters Mom was talking about. I never knew Mom could fight them too. Mom is so amazing!

We’re safe for sure.

“Stop right there, or I shoot your kid.”

Mom freezes at the voice. We look back to see a man with a crossbow. He’s pointing it at me.

“Ayla run,” Mom says calmly, staring the man down.

I do as Mom says, but I don’t run far. I find a bush to hide behind, so I can watch her fight the soldier and make sure she wins. I promised to protect Mom. I can’t leave her alone.

The soldier points the crossbow at Mom. She stares back at him, unflinching.

“I don’t like that look in your eyes.”

The soldier lowers his weapon, steps forward, and smacks Mom across the face. Mom goes sprawling into the brambles, bleeding from her lip. The solder grabs her by the ankle and drags her to a more open area of the forest where the ground is mud and leaf litter.

“My orders are to kill you, but you’re a pretty one, so maybe I’ll be nice and spare your life if you spread your legs and thank me for my kindness.”

Mom is going to kill him. Mom is going to get up and take his crossbow and shoot him.

“Okay,” Mom says, crying. “But please, if you see my daughter again, don’t hurt her.”

The man laughs. “You think you’re in a place to negotiate? How about this. You try your best to please me. And that way your daughter has more time to run away.”

Mom is sobbing now. “Yes, I understand. I’m sorry for talking back. I’ll take care of you.”

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The man growls, a grin forming on his face as he drops his crossbow and climbs onto Mom, lifting up her skirt. He wraps a hand around her face and presses his thumb into her mouth.

“I like obedient girls. I wonder if your daughter takes after you.”

The man doesn’t notice me until I am right behind him.

“GET OFF OF HER!” I scream.

“Ayla no. Ayla run! RUN!” Mom cries.

I pick up the man’s crossbow, point it at him, and pull the trigger.

“Aaah! Fuck!” He screams.

He stands up and pulls the crossbow bolt out of his shoulder. A little bit of blood dribbles down his arm.

I pull the trigger again, but nothing happens. Oh no, I have to reload it. I need another bolt.

The soldier chuckles. “I have to hand it to you. Your little girl here, she already put up more of a fight than all the so-called men in your village combined.”

“Ayla run, please,” Mom whimpers, tears streaming down her face.

“She deserves a warrior’s death, don’t you think?”

“No!” Mom screams. “Don’t hurt her! I’ll do anything, just please don’t hurt her!”

“Don’t worry, bitch. I’ll make sure to give you a replacement.”

“You won’t kill me, and you won’t kill my mom!”

I pick up the big stick that Mom used to kill the spider. It’s still coated in the monster's ichor. Maybe it’s poisonous. It’s really heavy, but that means it will hit harder.

“Ayla,” Mom is sobbing.

I will protect her. I promised.

The soldier laughs.“She actually wants to fight me, do you see this? What did you teach her?”

“Why are you doing this?!” I scream. “Why can’t you just leave us alone?!”

The soldier smirks. “You northern peasants had the audacity to attempt a rebellion. The king has ordered that you be exterminated. We’ve burned down every village north of Korwind, burned your crops, taken your food, salted your fields, and cursed your land. Even if you somehow survive this, you’ll probably starve to death by the end of winter. Dying by my hand will be a mercy for you.”

This is because of Dad? Did he lose? Did they kill him too?

I see the smoke rising from the fields. They’re burning our wheat? They’re taking our food?

It’s so horrible. It’s evil, complete evil. How can anyone do this? Why is he smiling?

I want to stop this. I have to stop this, but I can’t. He’s not afraid of me. He knows he will win. I’m not strong enough to fight him.

Mom already understood. She knew that begging for mercy and making him happy was the only way to survive, and I messed it up. Now he’ll probably kill us both.

“I’m sorry Mom,” I say, dropping the stick.

“Oh? Where’d that fighting spirit go?” The soldier asks.

“Let me take Mom’s place. You can kill me if you want, but let her live.”

“No! Ayla no!” Mom screams.

He considers it for a moment. “Nah, I’m not interested in kids.” He walks over to me and grabs me by the hair, lifting me up with one arm. “What happened? Why did you suddenly give up?”

“I realized I should have done what Mom did. I shouldn’t have fought you. I’m sorry.”

He laughs. “Good. I like that! You get to live. Since you learned your place, I’ll let you watch. That way, when you’re older, you’ll understand how to properly serve the king’s men.”

He punches me in the stomach. The whole world spins, and I can’t breathe. He drops me on the ground, and I can’t move.

He pulls out a dagger and cuts Mom’s dress down the middle.

“Don’t watch Ayla, please,” Mom says.

I do as I’m told and close my eyes, but I can still hear her cries. I can hear how the soldier grunts like an animal. How he beats her and makes her thank him over and over.

Dad will hate me now. I broke my promise. I wasn’t able to protect her.

This is all my fault.

When the soldier is done, he makes Mom thank him one last time, and tells her she was good.

“I hope you learned something, little girl,” he says to me.

Then he picks up his crossbow and walks away without another word.

I open my eyes. Mom is covered in bruises, and she’s bleeding. I run over to her.

“Mom,” I kneel beside her. I can’t stop crying. She grabs my hand.

“Ayla? You’re alive. I’m so happy,” she says quietly.

“You’re covered in bruises. We need to take you to Pastor Blackwood.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m totally fine. Everything is okay,” Mom says.

“You’re okay?”

She sits up slowly, only wincing in pain a little. She wipes the blood off her lip.

“Nothing happened, okay Ayla? There was no soldier. It was all just a bad dream.”

I break down in tears. Mom pulls me close and hugs me. She’s lying. It happened. I can still smell his stench on her.

“Nothing happened,” I choke out between sobs.

“You’re so brave Ayla, so strong. We’re going to stay right here until the soldiers leave, okay?”

“What if there are more spiders?”

“Then I’ll beat them all up. Don’t worry. Everything will be okay. I promise.”

“Mmm!” I nod, pressing my face against her breast. Mom is alive. I’m alive. Nothing is wrong.

“We can rebuild the town. We can make a new farm. You don’t have to worry,” Mom says.

Yes, everything is going to be okay.

I don’t know when I fall asleep, but when I wake up, it’s late at night. The remains of Mom’s dress are covering me like a blanket. There are a couple more dead spiders on the ground. Mom is standing guard, covered in mud and blood, holding the ichor-coated stick.

“Did the soldiers leave?” I ask.

“Oh, you’re awake sweetie? Maybe. I think so. We should head back to town soon.”

I give Mom back her dress, and she wraps it around herself. She’s shivering. We walk back to town together. When we get close, we peek through the trees to make sure we’re not seen.

The soldiers are gone, but so is everything else. All the houses have been reduced to piles of charcoal and smoldering embers. The only stone building was the church, so it’s the only one that remains standing, but its doors have been busted open.

The ground is covered in burned corpses. I can’t even recognize some of them. Many of the corpses are children. They didn’t even spare the children. I was lucky.

“Let’s go to the church,” Mom says. “It will be our home from now on.”

When we step inside, it smells awful. All the benches have been burned. Nobody is alive inside. Mrs. Fisher and her daughter are dead. Their throats are cut, and their clothes are all torn.

“We should have a funeral,” I say.

“Yeah,” Mom says, covering her mouth with her hands.

Mother and I startle. There’s something moving in the back.

“You survived.” It’s Pastor Blackwood. The old man is covered in soot and blood. He’s still holding his sword, his knuckles white. His eyes are staring at us blankly.

“Pastor Blackwood! You have to help heal my Mom! She was hurt!”

“What? Yes. Yes of course. Come here. I’m low on magic, but I’ll do my best.”

“Treat Ayla first,” Mom says.

“No Mom, you’re hurt worse.”

“I have to agree with your daughter. You first, Maria.”

Mom reluctantly allows Pastor Blackwood to treat her wounds. He draws a strange picture in the air with his finger, and a soft light envelopes Mom’s wounds, cleaning out the dirt and pus.

He can’t heal wounds, but he can purify them and make it so they don’t get infected.

Mom bites her lip, trembling. “Can you make it so I don’t get pregnant?” She asks.

“I can try,” he says. He draws the magic picture on her belly. It’s hard to tell if it does anything.

After Pastor Blackwood is done purifying our wounds, we all work together to drag the dead bodies out of the church.

Throughout the night, a few more women and children come back into town from the forest. The only people who survived are Pastor Blackwood, and around half of the people who ran out of the church with Mom and me.

The wheat farm has been burned to the ground, and all our food is gone. The soldiers have poured salt on our soil. Mom says we won’t be able to grow anything there next year.

We have nothing left.

Everyone huddles up in the church that night, getting what little rest we can. Many of the women who fled to the northern forest came back with wounds, and Pastor Blackwood helps all of them as best he can.

The next morning, we all hold a funeral for the dead. There are too many bodies to bury, so we burn them, starting a funeral pyre with the remaining pieces of wood from our homes, and the leftover embers from the fire.

Of the hundreds of people in our village, there are only around thirty of us left alive, and more than half are children.

“Should we travel south?” Mrs. Miller asks.

“To where? They did this to every village between here and Korwind. We would die before even getting halfway there,” Mom says. “Even if we found a city that wasn’t burned to the ground, there would probably be countless other refugees there. Do you think we’d be taken care of? No, we have to rebuild.”

“But winter is coming. We have no food.”

“We’ll figure something out. We have to.”

“We can do it,” I say. “We can hunt animals for food, and we still have the church for shelter.”

“Less of us means less mouths to feed at least,” Mrs. Miller says.

“Everyone will need to contribute. If we all work together, we can survive,” Mom says.

After the funeral, we all scavenge through the remains of the town for any supplies that might potentially be useful. Everything we find, we bring to the church, so we can decide together how it would best be used. We don’t find any food, but there are some tools and some rope, and various other basic items that survived the blaze.

We will survive this. We can endure winter and rebuild the town. We just have to work together.

Everything will go back to how it was. Then one day, we’ll all be able to eat bread again.

I will make it happen with my own two hands.