But Njord’s hand on his shoulder kept him kneeling as the hall emptied.
“There is still one more duty left for us to attend,” Njord said, rising from his throne and offering Thori his hand.
Reluctantly, Thori allowed the sea god to pull him to his feet. His legs felt unsteady after kneeling for so long, and Njord’s firm grip on his arm was both welcome and mortifying.
The guard who’d presented the allegations waited for them outside the hall.
“Everything is prepared, my Lord,” she said.
Thori felt a flicker of irritation at the adoring way she looked at Njord.
“Thank you, Gylfa.”
“Shall I accompany you?”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
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 endwas 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.”
