Sigvid stops with a wicked grin on his lips. “I promisedIwould not kill you, Sammy. I said nothing about Grim.”
Samson’s wails accelerate when Grim’s arms close around his chest, dragging the Duke along the ground from the cabin like a grain sack.
Outside, two wooden stakes stand apart in the snowy ground as a deadly warning.
“I can pay! Sacks and sacks of gold from the Timber coffers!” Samson’s fist thuds against the dirt path away from the crumbling cabin. Mud and dirt coat his naked form as Grim lugs him across the snowy ground.
“You will find I have access to all the gold in the kingdom now with my lovely Queen.” Sigvid taunts as he lights his pipe, keeping his distance from the spectacle. “Grim will not stop until the ravens pluck the flesh from your bones!”
Chains dangle from the posts, prepared to restrain a man between their imposing shadows. The wind rattles the metal, clanking the links against the wood in a sinister ballad.
Grim fastens Samson’s arms apart while the Duke’s cowardly cries would make a maiden blush. His ultimate fate should not be shocking to him. Raping a woman is a crime. And harming the wife of one of the Salt Prince’s closest friends will land one in the worst style of execution conceivable.
Samson’s knees collide with the heavy white powder from Grim’s force on his shoulders.
“Let me make amends,” Samson whines.
Grim ignores his struggles against the chains, his wild concentration on the long knife he sharpens on the whetstone hung on a cord around his neck. Sigvid leans against the side of the cabin, inhaling the sweet smell of his tobacco and obeying his promise that his hands will not harm Samson. He trusts his friend to exact justice on the man who sought to break his Queen.
A raven caws overhead, settling along a barren tree branch overlooking the show. Samson continues to cry and scream a terrible plea for his life. Grim runs the flat edge of the blade up and down his spine, drawing feverish tears.
“Death is too swift a punishment for what you did to her. My Evie.” He growls in his ear, snarling so his teeth are barred. “Gods, I pray youaccept this sacrifice to help heal those he has harmed and send them to your halls with peace in their hearts.”
Sigvid forms a fist over his heart and begins a steady rhythmic pulse.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Grim poises the blade's tip at the top of Samson’s spine. His focus is like a snake right before it strikes true. Carefully and methodically, he inserts the knife under Samson’s skin. The blade carves downward along his spine, releasing a fountain of blood pooling at the seam of his back.
Avenge Evie, make this asshole pay.
He grins as Samson’s shrieks dull, slowing to a distant groan.
Grim slowly pulls the blade down the length of his back, exposing the white bone of his spine. Growls rumble low in Grim’s chest as he adds a cut across the top and bottom of the first incision. Blood flows like a flooded river as he unfolds Samson’s skin away from the backside of his ribcage.
Sigvid continues with his chest pounding. Had he known Rendel’s atrocities against Avina, he would have done far more than hack his head from his shoulders.
Let this be a fucking brutal message to anyone who crosses me or my Drengr.
He hands Grim one of his axes, and Grim uses it to break his ribs.
Snap. Snap. Snap.
One by one, he swings the blunt head of the axe down upon the bones, snapping them from his vertebrae with a sickening crunch. Samson’s blood stains all of Grim, yet he is highly focused. The Duke’s groans have ceased, and his shoulders no longer heave with life.
Samson’s body has one final horror to succumb to before they finish with him.
Grim twitches as one of the ribs puncture an organ, shooting him in the face with a spray of crimson. Samson’s shattered body hangs limp between the posts. A gust of wind howls through the clearing.
Finally, Grim reaches inside Samson’s back cavity and withdraws his left lung. He hangs the organ on a nail against the post at their side. He repeats the process with his right lung until his limp body appears supported by a pair of red wings.
Grim kneels beside Samson’s body, muttering prayers to the gods for their sins.
42
SIGVID
November 30th, Year 100, 9th Era
