His fist pummels down again. And again. And again, thundering over the sound of my screams.
"Stop!" I shriek with hoarse lungs, "Please! you're killing him Eiríkr, please stop!"
Again. And again. And again.
Bones crack and twist; cheeks, jaw, ribs, knees– all breaking into little pieces under the weight of the repeated blows. I haul my scarred hands towards him with all of my strength and futile effort, ripping back when my shoulder muscles tear under my flesh, restrained by the chains that anchor my wrists to the stone wall of the cellar once again. My throat constricts with every defiant movement forward as the iron collar around my neck threatens to suffocate away my consciousness.
Blood spills from Rurik's broken nose and out from his gaping mouth, pooling beneath his battered form as his screams gradually fade into a haunting silence. Desperation claws at my throat and I struggle against the chains anyway, my vision swimming with tears of anguish and rage. My heart is lurching in my chest, and all I can do is watch helplessly.
Again. And again. And again. Until they stop.
Eiríkr and the identical brothers finally step away from Rurik's lifeless body, a boot nudging him onto his back before me. Sobs escape over and over from my lips as I stare down at the beaten body of my friend. Reaching for him once more as if this time it will somehow be different, I begin to pray under my breath, begging for Rurik's absolution.
"Hear my plea, look with mercy upon him who now journeys to find you. Forgive his trespasses and welcome him to the halls of Valhalla, where brave warriors feast and fight by your side for eternity-"
Eiríkr's boot collides with a mighty force into my stomach, expelling my breath completely.
"You will not plead for him!" he roars, gripping my face with fury.
"Give him his sword Eiríkr, please! You killed a defenceless man! Give him his sword so he may be welcomed at the gates of Valhalla..." sobs echo through breathlessness and despair, "...please."
"Look what you've done, little bird," he taunts, voice dripping with contempt. Ripping his grasp from my face before throwing my head to the side in disgust and standing over me once again. "He risked everything for you. Loved you. And you let this happen to him."
I squeeze my eyes shut. Squeeze so tightly that I think they may burst inside my skull.
"Look what you've done!"
No. No. No, no, no, no-
A suffocating gasp erupts from my lungs, jolting me upright from the mattress below. I claw at my throat to rip the iron collar from its strangling grip, but it's not there. No iron and no heaviness and no chains. Panic continues to surge through me as I struggle to make sense of my surroundings, the remnants of the nightmare still clinging to the edges of my consciousness. The dim light of dawn is filtering through the cracks in the weathered walls. The cellar is gone, replaced by the confines of the peeling sage paint and weight of blankets draped across me.
I am not in the cellar anymore, I am in the inn. With trembling hands I press against my chest, feeling the rapid thud of my heartbeat beneath my fingertips. Taking a deep, steadying breath, I will my racing heart to slow its frantic pace. It was just a dream, a twisted figment of my imagination.
There is no sigh of relief. The remnants of the nightmare cling to the heat of my skin and the droplets that fall down the back of my neck. "Rurik found his way to Valhalla," I whisper, a feeble attempt at calming myself. "He died a warrior in battle and was welcomed through sacred gates."
YOU ARE READING
Ashes to Stardust | Sihtric Kjartansson
Fanfiction"You cannot mend what's broken with false promises and pretty words," I retort, my grip tightening on the dagger that rests at my hip. "You claim to be a man now; then prove it to me." ************ Stjarna is a passionate Dane woman born during a ra...
