En lite historia som jag skrev för många år sedan som nu får återse dagens ljus efter att ha försvunnit i ett plattformsbyte. Den är på engelska, men jag hoppas att det ska fungera ändå.
The torturers blade dug deep into his flesh yet again and once more the seering pain flooded through his broken body. Deep within the pain changed and grew deeper, more primal. He felt it fill his soul and fuel the rage within him and he lifted his gaze to look at the torturer holding the blade with silent defience radiating from his gaze.
“Damn you, why will you not break?!” The torturers eyes was filled with both fear and confusion, unable to understand how anyone could endure the pain he inflicted, pain which would have broken even the strongest warrior, let alone this beggar.
Blood filled his mouth, but he grinned against his tourmentor while his eyes glowed with unrelentless hate.
“I was born a Northman, son of the wild and frozen dark. The midnight child, a seawolf. A tiger with the heart of a lion and soul of the wolverine. Break my bones, cut my flesh and condemn me to eternal pain and I will still defy you to my last breath.” With every word he pushed harder against the bonds that held him until it begun to cut through the flesh surrounding it.
The torturer took a step backward with eyes filled with disbelief.
“I will burn out your eyes and send you back into the darkness you claim to be so familiar then.” The torturers voice betrayed his fear despite his attempt to sound harsh and freightening. A swift move and a shimmering of red sparkles from the red hot branding iron was followed by the sickening sound when it boiled the left eye in it’s socket.
The pain was hot like the branding iron inflicting it and as it transformed into an unsational thirst for retribution it was accompanied with pure white hatred and defiance. He let out a growling between cracked teeths.
The sissling sound slowly faded and for a moment the silence was deafening as the torturer waited for the reaction from him, a reaction expected to be fear and suffering like so many victims had responded with before.
Slowly he turned his head and looked at the torturer. The black crater on his left side made the clear blue eye next to it seem to shine with an unatural glow. He pushed even harder against the bonds and a soft crackling sound indicating that bones was beginning to break under the pressure.
“Even when blinded I will be guided by the northstar, so go ahead and take my other eye.” There was no fear in his voice, no studdering or shiver from pain or exhaustion. Only an unyielding determination and unforgiving hatred.
The torturer pushed the branding iron deep into the glowing eye that taunted him and as it boiled the second eye from the man’s face the torturer noticed that he did not even flich, let alone tried to move his head away from the suffering of the branding iron. The torturer knew in that instance that this man would never break and if not killed he would find a way to take vengence for his suffering.
For the first time in a very long time he felt the cold shiver of fear down his spine…