Atrocity

The heavy thuds, the sounds of grappling, and the woman's shrill screams poured over Webber and Tom like ice water, instantly driving away the numbness that despair and exhaustion had brought over them.

The two exchanged a glance, and both saw shock, fury, and a newly kindled trace of resolve in the other's eyes.

In this purgatory about to be swallowed by the flames of war, such filthy atrocities were still taking place!

"We're going up to take a look!" Webber lowered his voice, his tone chopping iron and cutting nails, leaving no room for doubt.

He glanced at Jenny, who was guarding the stairway with a pale face. "Jenny, hold here! If anything's wrong, warn us at once!"

Jenny nodded hard, both hands gripping the rough wooden club tightly. Her body trembled slightly from fear and tension, but she still stood firmly in front of the stairs leading to the first floor.

Webber took a deep breath, drew the short sword at his waist—its edge already nicked and curled, yet still sharp—and gave Tom a look.

Tom understood, tightening his grip on the broken half-spear in his hand. One in front and one behind, the two crept up the creaking wooden stairs to the second floor.

The higher they went, the clearer the sounds became.

A man's vicious laughter, heavy panting, the sound of clothes being torn, and a woman's desperate sobs and resistance all mixed together, making their scalps prickle.

The second floor was a short corridor, with three rooms side by side.

The wooden door to the first room was half-closed, dim light leaking through.

Webber pressed silently close to the crack in the door and peered inside.

He saw a disheveled, thin man pinning a frail woman down hard on the dust-covered floor.

The woman struggled