Soul of Furies (Book Three)

Chapter 22: Soul of Furies

I groan as I awaken, struggling off the cold floor of the prison cell. The light from outside is slightly brighter than that of the night, showing me that it's morning. I push myself up and slump against the wall, looking down to see that I fell asleep with my necklace clutched tightly in my hand. I sigh and lift the broken chain, slipping it around my neck and tying it in the best knot I can. I have to wear it.

Footsteps sound from the stairs, but I don't look up. The pounding feet get closer and closer until they cease for a moment, only for the harsh metal of the cell door to creak open. Two sets of beefy hands grasp my arms, underneath my armpits, and jerk me to my feet before dragging me unceremoniously up the stairs. I remain limp and submissive, silent.

The sky is overcast outside, as usual, when the guards drag me outside. I look through the curtain of hair covering my face, noting that Vikings have started to trickle over to this general area and form a crowd. No one looks even remotely content, their faces gaunt with misery.

The guards bring me to a tall wooden post, setting me in front of it before forcing me to my knees. I wince as they yank my arms behind my back and chain my wrists in place, tugging on the metal links to check for breaks before marching back to their spots. I see Eret standing next to Alrek, but he refuses to meet my eyes. Demon dragons are staggered everywhere, keeping the crowd in place or watching Alrek, but no matter what they're doing I get the creeps from seeing them. They're so unnatural.

Alrek waits for the crowd to become larger before he saunters forwards, unleashing my father's sword from the sheathe on his belt and lifting the shimmering weapon to the sky. Fear shoots through me and I shut my eyes momentarily. You would think that death doesn't scare me anymore, yet the idea of being on the receiving end of that blade again still makes me cringe.

"Vikings of Berk!" Alrek hollers to the crowd, making their murmurs fall silent. He points one accusing finger at me. "This is a madwoman. She has infiltrated your village, stolen your belongings, and plotted against you and your families. She attempted to destroy our way of life."

I keep my mouth clamped shut. Just like him to add false accusations onto a sentence. Alrek gives Eret a pointed look.

Some Vikings mutter disapprovingly to themselves and a few cry out in fear. Some people look genuinely appalled by their leader's words, believing his lies, while others look too scared by him to argue. Eret shifts in place and casts me a quick look.

"The sentence for her crimes is death," Eret announces, his voice quivering just enough for me to catch.

I look towards the horizon, searching for any sign from the gods. I almost wish they would just tell me that I've failed, that they would come and take me back to Valhalla now. Somehow, I think their way of soul retrieval would be a lot less painful than getting cut down by Alrek, tied to a post like an animal for slaughter.

Instead of a godly figure, I see a sleek black shape on a faraway peak, one that I recognize as a Night Fury even from this distance. She's come to see me die. I almost smile, glad that I've been able to see her one last time.

"I shall deal the final blow," Alrek announces, a grin curling across his aging face.

He takes a step towards me, sweeping his cape. I keep myself from visibly flinching, my heart starting to race so fast that I feel it may fly out of my chest. Before the red-haired Viking can take another step, Eret reaches out and grasps his shoulder.

"My lord, this isn't right," he utters, his voice loud enough for both Alrek and I to hear.

"She plotted to kill me, Eret," Alrek retorts, a menacing look in his eyes. "Get back in line with your men or there'll be a lot more than just her corpse to clean up." Eret doesn't budge, giving a defiant look that makes Alrek's mouth twist into a sneer. "My demons will find your friends easily, captain. Don't test me."