Chapter 20 Justice #2
Thori sent her a haughty look, momentarily pleased that Njord intended to take him to the event Gylfa was so keen on attending.
Whatever that might be. He followed Njord through the silent, dark corridors of the fortress, descending level after level until they reached a part Thori hadn’t seen before.
The air grew colder here, thick with the smell of salt and sea.
And as they stepped out onto the battlements, a sharp wind ruffled them.
“What are we doing here?”
The elation after their brief encounter with the guard had vanished as fast as it had come, leaving Thori with an uneasy feeling in the chilly air.
“We watch,” Njord said simply, settling against the stone railing.
“What’s there to watch?”
Njord pointed down the ramparts, and Thori stepped up to the railing at his side, his apprehension mounting.
“There,” Njord said, gesturing to the rocky outcrop just beyond the fortress walls.
Below them, far down at the foot of the fortress, the top of an iron cage rose out of the waves.
Half of the construction was already underwater, and Thori could only guess that it had been accessible from the fortress by a curved bridge that the waves had already swallowed.
The rocks that were still visible around the cage were wet and covered with shells and seaweed, a clear sign that the rising tide would soon engulf the entire area. Thori’s breath caught in his throat.
Inside the horrible cage, uselessly clawing at the bars, was Egil the merchant. And although Thori had thought of little else than the drowning cage since Njord had mentioned it, the reality seemed much worse, chilling him to the bone.
Despite the height, he could make out Egil’s features, distorted by fear as the water crept steadily higher. It was already past his waist, each wave bringing it closer to his chest.
“You’re quick to deliver your justice,” Thori choked, barely able to conceal his horror.
He’d seen many vile people being executed. He’d seen raiders and thieves hanging from the branches of an ash tree, and he’d beheaded some traitorous warriors himself. But this—
“The tide waits for no one,” Njord said, stoic and cold, and Thori shuddered.
Was this how Njord intended to kill him, too? A drowning, dishonorable and unfitting for a warrior god. He’d belong to Njord even in death.
“How long will it take?”
“Not long now.”
Thori wanted to look away, but he found himself transfixed by the horror unfolding below. The wind carried away Egil’s screams. His desperate pleas for mercy went unanswered. And hadn’t Njord promised he’d drown Thori too, all these years ago in the golden halls of Nidavellir?
When the water reached Egil’s shoulders, his struggles became frantic. He pressed his face against the top bars of the cage, gasping for air between the waves that now crashed over his head. His cries became gurgles, horrible coughs. Then silence followed.
Thori watched it all, and anger overrode his fear. How could Njord be so cruel? Sure, the man had been scum, but this end was even crueler than a badly executed hanging. Egil’s body went limp, bobbing in the cage like driftwood, but Thori couldn’t tear his eyes away.
“It’s done.” Njord’s quiet voice cut through his frantic thoughts. “Justice has been served.”
“Justice?” Thori whirled around, his anger finally boiling over. “How can you speak of justice after you drowned a man like an unwanted dog?!”
Leveling him with a stern glare, Njord stepped closer, and Thori had to fight down the urge to retreat.
“I’m Njord of the sea, and if anyone breaks the laws of my realm, if anyone is as cruel and greedy as Egil had been, then I will send the sea to take them.”
The words shook Thori to the core.
Breaking the laws of the Vanir? Being cruel and greedy? That’s surely how Njord saw the AEsir. Especially Thori. And that meant—
“Did you enjoy watching him die?” Thori spat.
“I take no pleasure in death.” Njord’s eyes flashed dangerously, but his voice remained level. “But I won’t hesitate to deliver it when justice demands it. When I pass judgment, I watch it carried out. That’s the burden of ruling.”
“Burden?” Thori laughed bitterly. “You looked comfortable enough watching him drown.”
“Is that so?” Njord’s expression was unreadable. “Tell me, little prince, how many executions have you witnessed? How many doomed men have you killed yourself?”
“Dozens,” Thori replied with fierce pride. “And I’d kill dozens more to uphold the rules of Asgard. But the AEsir kill with honor.”
“Egil wasn’t deserving of honor, though. He skinned a man alive for gold, practiced forbidden seier that could corrupt the very land. Would you have shown him mercy?”
“I would have executed him cleanly. A sword. A clean strike. Not drown him like a rat in a cage.”
“A sword is too good for such filth. Let him taste the terror his victim felt. Let the sea judge him as he judged others.”
“Pah! Everyone knows the useless cruelty of the Vanir!”
“Careful, thrall.”
But Thori was past caring about consequences. The image of Egil’s desperate face pressed against the cage bars was still fresh in his mind, and all he could think about was Njord’s promise delivered after that disastrous raid.
Drowning isn’t a pleasant way to die.
“What’s next, then?” Thori snarled, stepping closer despite every instinct screaming at him to retreat. “Will you display me like a gilded prize? Make me serve mead to your warriors while they mock me?”
“If that’s what I choose. Yes.” Njord’s calm was infuriating. “You are mine to do with as I please.”
“I belong to no one! I’m a prince of Asgard, I’m the god of storm and thunder, and I will not—”
“You’ll do exactly as I command,” Njord said, still so very calm.
He closed the distance between them, backing Thori up against the damp stone wall and trapping him in place with a firm hand on his chest. Thori tried to control his breathing, but it was no use; his breath too quick to convey a calm he didn’t feel.
Trapped between Njord’s solid body and the cold stone, he felt more vulnerable than he’d ever admit, and his thunder stirred restlessly beneath his skin, lightning begging to be released. But the cursed collar held it in check.
“This is your punishment. You’re mine, and the sooner you accept that, the easier all of this will be.”
“I will never accept it,” Thori growled, meeting Njord’s stormy eyes with all the defiance he could muster. “Never.”
For a long moment, they stared at each other; the wind whipping around them and the sound of waves far below filling the silence.
Then Njord stepped back.
“We’ll see about that. Come. It’s time we returned to my chambers.”
The walk back through the fortress passed in tense silence.
Thori kept his head high, ignoring the curious stares of Njord’s people, but he had to hide the trembling of his hands by balling them into fists.
The image of the drowning cage wouldn’t leave his mind; the man’s desperate scrabbling, the water rising, the terrible stillness at the end.
When they reached Njord’s chambers, the sea god gestured toward the comfortable chairs by the fireplace, where an inviting evening meal had been set up on the narrow tables.
“Sit.”
“I’m not hungry,” Thori said instinctively, though his stomach betrayed him with a quiet growl.
“I didn’t ask if you were hungry. I told you to sit.”
Njord’s tone brooked no argument, and despite himself, Thori found his legs carrying him to one of the fur-covered chairs. Njord took the seat opposite him and filled a plate with bread, cheese, and dried fruit.
“Eat.”
“I said I’m not—”
“And I said eat.” Njord’s voice held the same quiet authority that had made Thori kneel in the throne room. “You’re pale, and you’re trembling. You’ll eat, or I’ll feed you myself.”
The threat sent an unwelcome thrill through Thori, but he forced himself to glare.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re clearly not. You’ve been on edge since the trial. What’s bothering you?”
Are you serious? Thori wanted to say. It’s the cage, the drowning, the way you look at me like you’re going to devour me.
But he wouldn’t let Njord know that he’d gotten under his skin. So, he just tore off a piece of bread and chewed angrily.
“Nothing troubles me,” Thori lied. “I simply don’t appreciate that you tortured and killed an innocent man.”
Calling Egil innocent may have been a bit excessive, but Thori was so confused and angry that he couldn’t think straight.
“Innocent?” Njord said predictably. “Didn’t you hear the charges? Murder and the practice of forbidden seier?”
“I heard them.” Thori took another bite to stall for time. “But drowning a man in a cage like an animal? That’s barbaric.”
“And what would you have done?” Njord leaned forward, watching him curiously. “How would the noble Asgardians have punished such a crime? And don’t tell me again that you’d given him the honor of the sword.”
Thori swallowed hard. Truth be told, Odin would’ve probably come up with a sentence just as cruel. Being clubbed to death by the crowd in the market? Carved up into a blood eagle if he were of noble blood? But Thori wouldn’t admit that.
“He may have been hanged from an ash tree,” he said snappishly. “But a hanging can be fast if executed properly.”
Njord studied him for a long moment, and Thori had the uncomfortable feeling that he could see right through him.
“Finish your food,” Njord finally said. “It’s late. I want to retire.”
The thought of sleep sent a chill through Thori. Would Njord make him sleep on the floor or drag him into his bed? Both options seemed equally unsettling.
Thori ate as slowly as he could get away with. But eventually the food was gone, and Njord rose and moved toward the sleeping chamber.
“Come.”