The Beast of Salt (Saga of the Gods #1)

2. Sigvid

2

SIGVID

July 27th, Year 100, 9th Era

Scarwood Citadel, Timber Province

S igvid has lost the war.

As he awakes, he feels the familiar, uneasy side effects of the Azure Blooms leaving his system. Surrounding him is a thick haze similar to being submerged in murky water.

Did she kill me ? Am I descending to the halls of the Depths?

Distant voices echo as if taunting him from the seashore. The stench of piss and unwashed man lingers like a foul cloud. His blue eyes lazily open, revealing a jail cell packed with people.

Nope, this is worse than death.

“There is no reason why a ruler, let alone a Queen, should be in the dungeons.” A gentleman's smooth voice scolds someone in the haze.

“I agree,” replies a scratchy-sounding individual. “Small confines with a dangerous prisoner is no place for a lady.”

Sigvid’s gaze grows clearer until he finds himself staring out at five people.

The obvious torturer–wearing a black apron and gloves to his elbows–prepares steel implements on a high wooden table against one of the walls.

Near the door is a tall, slender, regal man with silver hair and a matching beard. The formal gray vest he adorns looks unsoiled, as does the pair of velvet black pants.

To his side is a much shorter figure shrouded in a Timber green cloak with thick symmetrical knots embroidered along the arms.

On the opposite wall are two Ridge guards. Both have their eyes trained on Sigvid.

He jerks forward to find chains encircling his wrists and fastened to the wall at his back with zero slack.

“I cannot protect you here. The childish games you play in that naive brain of yours must cease! He is a mindless killer–a beast.” Sigvid now realizes the regal man must be King Ceowald Bloodstone of the Ridge.

And Avina’s father.

“I shall leave my men. I do not trust his berserker not to come out and play.” King Ceowald pats a hesitant hand on the cloaked figure’s shoulder before leaving. As if providing even a slim amount of comfort to his only child is too much for him.

Queen Avina .

Sigvid feels himself quivering in anticipation of tugging her body at the seams until she screams. Even chained across the room in rusty irons, he can almost taste her on his tongue. Oh, how he would savor the sweet flavor of his vengeance.

“We finally meet, my little Queen.” His voice strains against the non-use.

She shifts her hooded head. He could meet her concealed gaze if the flames from the sconces were a tad brighter.

Remove your cloak and let my eyes feast upon you. Give me the satisfaction of selecting which part of your body I will darken first.

“Good day, Sigvid Thordsson.” The torturer addresses him with a slimy smile. “Prince of the Salt Province, first son of the late King Thord Hilmirsson, and Lord Commander of the Salt Province troops. Forgive me if I do not call you Prince here. You’re nothing more than a canvas for my cold steel.”

Sigvid does not deign the man with a response. Instead, he keeps his eyes fixated on the cloaked Queen.

How did she surprise him? The Azure Bloom trick is not well-known outside of Salt. He is known to be a sore loser, and her win settles like curdled cream.

“Her Royal Highness Queen Avina of the Timber Province has questions for you.” The torturer continues.

Oh, does she now? Sigvid snarls. “And why does she not ask me herself?”

Before the torturer can respond, she leans off the wall with a hand extended toward her lackey, signaling him to wait. She steps forward until she stands in the center of the room, yet her entire form remains frustratingly hidden from him.

“She intends to, Lord Thordsson.” The same soft, firm voice that addressed him when he entered the castle's bowels now speaks to him.

But he had heard her voice before. But, dammit, where?

“Let us start with a simple question. Why did the Salt Province break the Peace Concord and attack the Timber Province? You decimated two villages, forcing King Rendel to declare war. Why? Why break from over five hundred winters of peace among us?”

A haunted laugh erupts from his chest at her formality. How would she respond if she knew the truth?

She hides from me, as if she knows her fate already. What a naive woman. She is adorable, yet she is not able to handle my answer.

“I asked you a question, Lord Thordsson!” Her voice wavers ever so slightly at the end.

He can fucking smell her fear rolling off her in waves, beckoning him to dive in and wreck everything she holds dear.

“Shall I?” The torturer asks, a little too eager.

“No!” She flips from stately to furious, “After everything he has done to the Timber people... he will answer for his crimes.”

Sigvid chuckles darkly at the emotion permeating her tone. “ Timber people? Interesting, they are not your people.”

“You will not answer my questions, but you pick apart my word choice?” She hisses, almost catlike.

Anger looks good on her. I intend to savor this .

“Just interesting you distance your Ridge roots from the married Timber. I cannot imagine why.”

Now, it is her turn to remain silent.

“Come closer, Queen Avina.” Sigvid snarls around her title.

Head up, back straight, and with an air of defiance even concealed. She strides until he can almost touch her. Gods, he wishes she would remove her hood.

Sigvid looks down at her form and whispers, “When I escape, I will force you to the ground of this grimy cell, and then I will take these chains and wrap them around your throat. I shall pull until my might and the weight of the chains rip your head from your shoulders.”

Her silence lingers for several moments. Without moving from her position, she whispers loud enough for the torturer to hear her words. “Break him.”

“Let us play, my little Queen!” Sigvid thrusts his body forward against the chains. Although he cannot shift far, he does his best to frighten her. In response, she jumps at his sudden movement, but remains silent.

The two Ridge guards unchain Sigvid from the wall and bring him to his knees, securing him to the hard points along the damp floor as the torturer steps forward.

“Are you ready to scream?”

“Do your worst, big boy.” He snipes.

The torturer withdraws a long, jagged knife from his black, stained bag. He strides back to Sigvid, laying the cold blade on his shoulder over his raven tattoo. With his stern gaze focused on Sigvid’s hunkered body, he teases the steel over his muscled shoulder and down his hard, inked chest. “Last chance, do you want to talk?”

“Was that a feather you used on me? If you are going to torment me, would you just fucking do it already!”

The torturer stabs the blade deep into the muscle of his chest with a broad smile. He drags the edge further along his ribcage until, at last, he removes the dagger and then punches Sigvid square in the face.

“My niece of thirteen winters hits harder than you.”

While Sigvid watches his blood pool under him, he hears the jostling of glass. Glancing upward, he can discern the torturer withdrawing a small glass jar filled with a clear liquid from his bag. He returns and douses his shoulder in the clear, mystery fluid. The liquid congeals and then follows the blade's cut, burning Sigvid as it trickles into his wound.

Never had he felt such blinding pain in all his life. It is unbearable, as if his skin were lit aflame while a cursed poison replaced his blood.

“You fucking nutless ass! What is that?”

This is not torture. You beat. You cut. You punch.

He grinds his teeth to keep from screaming. His body feels as if he is burning alive from the inside out.

“You are far from done, barbarian.” The torturer punches his cheek, splitting the skin along his cheekbone. He then grips the handle of his blade from the table. The tip tears across Sigvid’s chest in two swift slices, carving a large, bloody ‘X.’ Again, the man in black pours the burning liquid on both his shoulders. The potion redirects to the cuts, burning into his body. This time, Sigvid is screaming as he pulls on his chains.

“Fuck your mother!” He cries out as the pain sinks below his skin, settling into his veins. Somehow, the potion must be infecting his bloodstream. He wheezes into a cough, spitting up blood.

The torturer grins so wide he can count every tooth in his mouth. He strikes Sigvid in the stomach, ripping the wounds further until his chest is stained crimson.

Tears slide down Sigvid’s cheeks as the poison courses beneath his skin as if the liquid had been boiled first. As if his insides burn and there is no escape from the misery.

“You will tell Queen Avina everything you know.”

Sigvid glowers at the filthy stone floor. Blood drips into a growing puddle of crimson around his knees. His breaths come in haggard gasps as he struggles to speak. “What do you want to know?

“Not yet.” The torturer’s voice is cheerful. “You are not broken enough, and the Queen paid me handsomely to make you suffer.” He digs again in his bag of tricks, much like a child in a toy chest.

Sigvid lifts his eyes from the torturer over to her shrouded form. “At least you paid for a good one.” He chuckles slightly, noting her flinch at his words.

“You used up an entire bottle of my fire extract.” The torturer removes another glass jar of the clear liquid and a small dagger. “No matter, we have more.”

Once again, he splashes the contents of the bottle onto Sigvid. This time, he stabs him with the blade into his leg. Deep enough, it strikes bone. The fire extract twists and turns over his body until diving into the wound in his leg.

“Fuck!” Sigvid struggles to stand but can’t because of the chains. “Tell me what you want from me!”

She halts the torturer with her fist up in the air. The wretched excuse for a man slumps his shoulders and returns to his side of the cell.

“Why did the Salt Province break the Peace Concord with the other two nations?”

“Make him leave the room.”

“Not a chance.” The torturer crosses his arms.

Her cloaked head tilts to the side as silence passes. “Leave, Lenzo.”

The torturer glances at the Queen with a look of disgust. “You can’t possibly be serious, Your Highness. He is a monster-”

“You have five seconds to vacate this cell before I reassign your position.”

His fists shake as he fumes over her command. But, eventually, he leaves them alone.

“Please don’t make me regret this.” She kneels to his level.

A floral scent wafts off her, cutting through his blood's metallic taste and stench. He has inhaled it once before. Perhaps even tasted the luscious bouquet.

Dammit, the Azure Blooms still muddle his mind.

“Good girl.” He licks his lips, relishing the momentary ease of the fire extract.

He spits more blood out at her knees and takes a deep breath, “We started the war because I was paid a bloody king's ransom to do it.”

“Who paid you?”

“Lord Leto. He wanted your dear king’s head severed from his tiny neck.”

Even if he wanted to ensure that you two married.

He shifts in the chains, still feeling the burning under his skin, even if the intensity has lessened .

She pauses as if in disbelief at his words. “Were you paid to continue the war after his death? Why was I so lucky to spar with you?” She spits.

Sigvid lets out a dark laugh. “No, Leto did not pay Salt to continue the war.”

She bristles under her cloak. “All of those we lost… I don't understand. Why would you continue the bloodshed?”

His gaze finds her hood, wondering if her beauty matches her voice. His cocky demeanor falters. “You are an excellent sparring partner,” he begrudgingly admits. “You gave me a wild year.” He twists his lips into a smile despite the pain. “I initiated the war and assassinated Rendel for the money. However, no one else has proven the challenge you did. I kept up the war because I enjoyed you .”

“You’re lying.” She hisses between her teeth.

“I despise lies and prefer people to say what they mean. Truthfully, I was reluctant to end our game. The pleasure of playing with you was too great.”

“Why?” Her voice hardens.

“Why?” With a sarcastic grin, he answers. “You were the only one who rose to the challenge. Accept it, Avina. The war continued because I desired it to.” Despite his teasing words, there is a hard edge to him.

A light chuckle bubbles out of her chest and then quickly devolves into hysterics, which ends with her sitting on the floor, clutching her chest and crying.

“Well, I did not know I was that funny.”

He is concerned about this reaction. Why did his words elicit such a response? Deep down, he senses that her laughter is a release from some cruel darkness she has stuffed far down in the pit of her soul.

Sure, they played a strategy game against one another, but her mind is truly magnificent. Sigvid may want his revenge against her for defeating him, but damn if he didn’t respect the fuck out of Avina.

“To be clear, you are not the least bit comical.” Her voice hitches, and she stands to summon the torturer back. “I believe you have caused him enough torment for the evening. Guards, return him to his upright position.”

The torturer roughly gathers his tools, muttering under his breath, while Ridge Guards force Sigvid to stand against the stone wall as they chain his wrists and ankles.

“Come back tomorrow, big boy. I will be waiting for you.” Sigvid winks.

If looks can kill, the torturer would have struck him dead with his dull, lifeless gaze.

Once they are alone again, Sigvid turns his attention back to Avina. “Will we meet again tomorrow, little Queen ?” Her title falls out of his mouth in a sneer.

She lifts her head slightly so he can only briefly glimpse her full lips. Despite the pain that continued to wreck his body and his utter hatred for the woman, all he wants is to bite into those pink, plump lips. Smack his hand against their softness before he devours them. How would they feel wrapped around his cock?

“Sleep with the stone, Sigvid.” She repeats the Ridge goodbye she spoke yesterday before he succumbed to the Azure Blooms. It is such a quaint little phrase that it reels in his mind, leaving him wondering where and when he had heard that voice say it before.

June 27th, Year 100, 9th Era

Scarwood Citadel, Timber Province

E verything hurts.

Gory battles and creatures of the Abyss are nothing compared to the torture that bitch subjected him to. With no window to the outside world, it is impossible to determine how long he has been unconscious and supported by chains.

Without any other form of entertainment, he studies the walls. Carved names and tallies are commonplace in a jail cell such as this. Yet, a bit of scratching does catch his eye—the letters “Q.A.B.” followed by fourteen tick marks.

Queen Avina Bloodstone?

A foreign sensation slithers through his innards. Had Rendel…no, su rely he would not have imprisoned his wife. What reason would he have to imprison his Queen? The initials must be a mere coincidence.

Wood creaking pulls him away from his thoughts as the cell door creeks open. A short, cloaked figure enters and sets a small lantern on the torturer’s table, basking his prison in an eerie glow.

“Back for more?” Sigvid’s voice croaks.

A cup presses gently to his cracked lips, and he eagerly pulls the water in as if he will never drink again.

“I am here to heal your wounds,” a faint feminine voice whispers. He is not paying much attention to this visitor in his painful stupor.

Despite his exhaustion, he catches her cloak fluttering to the ground. When his piercing blue eyes find the unmasked intruder illuminated by the pale light of the lantern, he is rendered speechless.

She is a spirit of the Briny God himself.

Her hair is sunshine in a meadow, curling into tighter ringlets to frame her fair features before cascading down her back. An urge to dig his fingers into her locks and pull her head back until she cries his name blazes in his chest.

My mind is playing tricks on me. She can not be real.

She steps hesitantly closer as if he will lunge. Then, he drinks in the beauty of her eyes—so blue the sea must weep with envy. His gaze travels along the voluptuous, thick curves of her soft body, which can no doubt withstand the punishing he can put her through.

Oh, the things that he wants to do to that body. If only she will be kind enough to unchain him. Alas, she seems unaware of his heated gaze upon her flawless skin.

Without a doubt, this woman is simply the most lovely creature he has ever beheld. In his addled state, a nagging voice reminds him of his words to a similar lady three winters ago…

She steps so close that he can taste her warm breath on his tongue. Her short stature forces him to angle his head to look down upon the top of her curls, stopping a head shorter than him.

So, she is not a figment of my imagination. Yet, she is memorable. I have dove into those eyes once before.

Her lithe fingers bury themselves into the two braids in his auburn beard with a hint of longing. The quiet, tender moment is unlike any the harsh warrior has ever experienced, yet it is uncannily familiar.

He turns into her touch, allowing his nose to rub against her wrist, resisting the urge to sink his teeth into her flesh. Sigvid is unprepared to inhale the sweet aroma of roses and lavender.

Who is this ghostly apparition taunting him in his time of need? And where had he smelled her scent before? The ache of the fire extract dulls his senses and distracts him from the warning tugging at the back of his mind.

She steps away from him and returns with a ceramic jar of foul-smelling ointment.

“This may sting.” She mumbles.

He closes his eyes while her fingertips trace his deep incisions with the healing balm. Despite his flinching, she persists until his body cools, relaxes, and mends itself. When she finishes, he surprisingly feels whole, his senses more alert.

She seals the ointment as her eyes trail across his body, stopping at the raised fabric around his hardened cock.

“You see what you have done to me.” He growls, enjoying the way her body shivers from his words.

She locks eyes with him and kneels before his feet, setting the balm aside. Somehow, his member responds even further to his mysterious healer’s silent submission.

“Good girl.” Who is she?

He feels his member spring from the confines of his pants. The way her hands grip his shaft with reverence is so fucking comfortable that he knows he is experiencing deja vu.

“Perfect.” He sighs when she takes him in her mouth. He has undoubtedly descended to the Depths of the afterlife in the hall of the Briny God.

He grunts impassionately at the feeling of her teeth gently scraping down his member as she sucks him in an erratic and inexperienced way. The need to show her exactly how he needs to pump his cock into her warm mouth overwhelms him.

“Fuck. You feel amazing.”

She wraps her lips tighter around him and begins to suck the tip while her tongue teases his sensitive skin. Sigvid lets out a heavy groan. His cock throbs as her lips and mouth hug his length with eager desire.

I want to grab her curls and thrust into her pussy. I bet she has the tightest fucking hole.

She slides him out of her mouth with a pop. Lovely curls cascade onto her face as she sits back on her heels. Her fingers curl around his shaft and push him up against his lower abdomen. He can feel her cradle one of his balls as she guides it into her mouth and slowly licks the tip of her tongue along his sensitive skin.

Sigvid pants as she draws her tongue in tight circles. He throbs as she rubs his shaft in firm, swift strokes while her tongue laps at his tight sacks.

Damn, these chains! I need to be inside her! He strains against his bindings, fighting to get to her. She should not have this much control over me. I am the one in control. I will be in control.

The mysterious woman slides his cock back inside her warm mouth. He can feel he is starting to build to his release the more she strokes the base of his shaft. His cock slides along her tongue and cheek. The feeling is pushing him closer to cumming down her throat.

Her tongue flicks along his shaft earnestly, as though she desires him as much as he does her. Sigvid wishes he could take a bunch of those curls and shove her onto him until she gags. What he wouldn’t give to see her eyes water from him forcing himself into her mouth rather than the gentleness of this moment.

Once his tip connects with the back of her throat, she chokes over his cock, and he shoots streams of cum down her throat. Fuck, it is like he may never stop.

“Drink it down.” He commands roughly.

He does not need to tell her twice. She swallows his seed like she is dying of thirst. Those soft fingers clutch at him as if she can not get enough. His haggard breathing fills the cell as she returns his cock to his trousers.

His relief seems to unveil the fog hanging around his thinking, and he suddenly recalls her identity.

I do remember you. My gorgeous, sexy woman I nearly fucked in King Ceowald’s study before the war .

“Will you share your name?” Sigvid breathes heavily. “You must remember our time in the Sapphire Palace. My beautiful lady.”

I have not touched another woman since you. Tell me your name so I may taste it upon my lips. When the Queen sentences me to death, at least I will have known the most lovely woman ever to have walked Treland.

Silence remains the only answer while she gathers her cloak. She pauses at the door with a devious smirk crawling across her lips. The light shifts as she raises the lantern to reveal her features.

“Sleep with the stone, Sigvid.”

His entire body goes rigid and cold for the first time in his life.

Her voice… how did I not hear her clearly earlier?

Queen Avina leaves him shaking his restraints with the force of an army. Wrath, as he has never known, assaults his senses. Yet again, she tricked him! This same woman has haunted his mind for three winters!

And Avina is the real torturer—a vicious seductress designed to lead him astray, even if she is the only opponent worthy of the Salt Prince.

Fuck her! Damn the bitch! His roar thunders throughout the dungeon.