A LITTLE FROM—THE VANISHING TRIBE. Ivan waited until the last possible moment before giving the order to throw their spears, and many of the leading Mongols fell to the ground mortally wounded and were trampled by the hundreds who followed; Ivan called over his shoulder to Calina, pleading with her to try to save herself. She ignored his pleas and stood ready, a hatchet in one hand and a dagger in the other. Ivan stood in front of his wife to try to protect her, and he was continually shouting for her to flee. An axe thrown by a Mongol silenced Ivan’s cries, the blade burst through his chest and penetrated deep into his heart. The force of the blow knocked Ivan backwards into Calina as he fell; his weight knocked the wind out of her as she hit the ground. She lay there unable to move with the weight of her husband’s body, the blood from his wound soaking her clothing. She wriggled around desperately trying to move his lifeless body in an attempt to get back to her feet, but Ivan was a massive man and she struggled in vain. Calina was desperate to avenge his death but was helpless; she lay there unable to move. A massive wild eyed and blood soaked Mongol saw her plight and moved towards her wielding a scimitar, his almost toothless mouth grinning lecherously as he easily dragged Ivan’s body to one side. Calina jumped to her feet and stood there defying him, her hand which held the dagger pointed towards him. Calina was well aware of the bestial treatment she would receive from a Mongol and she started to move sideways, her eyes darting from right to left looking for an escape route. The Mongol warrior looked at her scornfully as she stood there with her puny weapon, his outstretched arm holding his scimitar pressed against her chest forcing her back, blood trickling from the small cut he’d inflicted as she felt herself pressed against one of the log cabins. He was toying with her and with a deft flick of the razor sharp blade he cut through the fastenings on the simple top she wore, another quick movement and the band holding her hair in place fell to the ground, her long dark hair tumbled down to her waist. Calina was a very attractive woman who drew admiring looks everywhere she went, her loose top slipped from her shoulders as she tried to move while the blade was still in the air, and her movement allowed her top to slip further revealing a glimpse of her breasts. The slobbering Mongol was distracted by the sight of her ample white flesh, which gave her a split second to react. She ducked and lunged at him with her knife outstretched, and the Mongol let out a cry of pain and looked in surprise at the knife sticking in his belly. At that moment, Calina swung the hatchet which was concealed behind her back and it bit deeply into his shoulder, he let out a roar of pain and anger, grabbing the handle of the dagger to pull it from his body, this resulted in a spurt of blood which poured down his legs. The hatchet had cut into his left shoulder but he held the scimitar in his right hand. Calina was now swinging her blood spattered hatchet wildly as she tried to keep him at bay, but the scimitar scythed through the air and took her head from her shoulders, her lifeless body flopped to the ground and her head rolled to his feet. The mortally wounded Mongol staggered around as his life’s blood poured from his wounds, he would ravage and kill no more, he fell onto his back with a thud; the surprised expression was still on his face at the thought that a mere woman had taken his life. Calina’s mocking eyes were only a few inches from his as he took his last breath.
Posted on: Sun, 07 Sep 2014 18:06:54 +0000
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