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

8. Sigvid

8

SIGVID

September 19th, Year 100, 9th Era

Treland Arena

A s soon as the guards have hands on him, he is shackled and hauled away. Chains are attached to his cuffs, giving him slack throughout half of his small chamber.

Worth it .

“Can you reach your meal tray?” Champ’s voice asks from his neighboring cell.

Sigvid sits on the bed in his cell, huffing as his eyes fall to the steaming plate of sausages, sliced garlic potatoes, fresh bread, and an apple dumpling—his favorite meal. He made several attempts to reach his supper, only to feel the chains tug him back.

“I’ll take that as a no. Sorry, Beast. The apple dumpling is better cooked this time. I can’t believe the other combatants eat gruel.”

“This fun bit of torture is the Battlemaster’s doing. He has had it out for me since she sold me to him.”

“The Battlemaster hates everyone.” There’s a pause, and then Champ continues. “You know that didn’t happen, right? With Queen Avina.” Champ’s mouth is full of delicious apple delight, igniting envy in the Salt Prince. “She outsmarted you and, yes, had you tortured, but selling you to the Arena seems a bit of a stretch for someone who can tap into the coffers of the Ridge and Timber Provinces.”

Sigvid pulls on his chains again, trying to reach his meal. “Fucking ass.” He mutters, sitting back on his bed and staring at the tray. “You are right. She has the gemstone mine gold of the Ridge. Why sell me? Oh, right, because she is a bitch.”

He walks to the end of his chains and lies on the floor on his back. He stretches his legs out and can grab the corner of the platter with his toes. He slides the wooden tray toward him and digs in. “You are right. The apple dumpling is cooked better.”

Who else would have cared to condemn me? She wanted my end to be a tortuous prospect.

“Just so I am clear, you beat the shit out of Face earlier because of the Queen?”

“To be fair, anyone who meets that man would beat the shit out of him.” He roughly stabs a sausage with his fork. And, yes. I would do it again.

“I get it. After those monsters pushed my wife to the edge, I did unspeakable things.”

“What exactly happened to your wife?”

An unusually long silence fills the space between them. Sigvid suspects he crossed a line when Champ clears his throat.

“It was my fault. Night after night, I picked the bottle over being home with her. When she was pregnant, I panicked. We could barely make ends meet. Truthfully, I couldn’t confront myself. It was an autumn evening, the night it happened. I was in Scarwood drinking to the bottom of a barrel while she was home alone. A group of lords visited the house because I owed them coin. They thought,” Champ chokes on his words. “Sorry. I’ve not had to revisit that night in a long time.”

“It is okay, Champ. Forget I asked.”

“I need to talk about that night. I need to move on.” Champ answers throatily. “They took turns violating her body. All to send me a message and motivate me. By the time I arrived home, it was too late. They broke her soul, and it never returned. Within a week, she hung herself off the weeping willow behind our home. She and my child were gone.”

Sigvid is speechless, something that doesn’t happen often. “Fuck, man. I am sorry, Champion. What did you do?”

“I hunted them down like animals.” He says through gritted teeth. “I slaughtered them in gruesome ways–all but their cowardly leader. When the Timber guards finally sought fit to arrest me, I overexposed the lead lords' dealings, and they knew a formal trial would further shine a light on the corruption in the nobility of Timber. Instead, they sold me to the Arena, where I’ve been ever since.”

“I would have done the same in your place. Those men got what they deserved.” Sigvid strokes his beard. “I want to know what lord is trying desperately to cover this up. Timber is not exactly known for their kindness to women.”

Champ scoffs. “It is no secret. He is a duke now that his father died. Duke Samson Manchineel.”

Rendel’s fuckhead cousin? Why has no one annihilated the Manchineel line? They are not even the true heirs to the throne.

Sigvid vows that if he ever escapes this shit hole, he will help avenge Champ and his wife. “Of course, the more corrupt you are, the higher you rise.”

“My only regret in life is that I will die, trapped in here, and Samson continues to live on without justice.”

“I will get you out. You will have your vengeance.”

Champion’s deep laugh rumbles through their cells. “I respect your angry determination. If I’m honest, I seek not retribution for Samson but redemption for me. My selfish actions endangered the person who mattered most to me, and they took advantage of that.”

Sigvid has never loved anyone enough to feel Champ's selflessness toward his late wife. “What does it feel like to love someone so deeply you would sacrifice anything for them?”

“You’re asking the wrong question.”

When Champion does not elaborate, Sigvid’s frustration gets the better of him. “Fine, what question should I ask?”

“Why do you carry such hate for everyone?”

Sigvid scoffs. “ That is absurd.”

“Is it?”

It’s Sigvid’s turn to remain silent. After his father tasked him with his life’s purpose at thirteen, he spent his free time reading and analyzing his mind or training his body. The nameless women of his life were brief jaunts.

Only one woman has ever captivated his mind enough to drive him insane. And she would never be more than a secret.

“I hope I am not too brazen, but there is a thin line between love and hate.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Sigvid spits with an intensity he did not realize feels.

Sigvid settles onto his cot, munching on his cold potatoes, considering Champ's words. He can never conceive of holding anything other than hostility toward the Timber Queen.

Footsteps echo in their private hallway. Sigvid rises, wondering what someone would be doing at the combatant level at this time of night.

“Beast.” A guard appears outside his cell, and he can hear the clinking of a key in the lock of his cell door. “This is a gift from your sponsor. I will slide the box to you, and you may open it inside your cell. You may never hold the items inside when approached. You must always slide the items to the wall. Do you understand?”

What in the Abyss? “Sure.”

The guard slides a heavy box across the floor of his cell. Quickly, he scampers out, slamming the door and locking it up before disappearing.

“What is it?” Champ asks curiously.

Sigvid opens the flaps of the box and stares dumbfounded at the contents. Nestled on blue satin pillows are two gorgeous hand axes. He runs his fingertips over the smooth handles crafted of the unique Salt Blackwood trees found only in his home. Black leather wraps around the shafts for grip. He flicks his thumb against one of the ebony blades and draws blood. He smiles at the gift, wondering ever more about the identity of his mystery sponsor.

“Axes for a Beast.” He calls over to Champ.

“Damn. Your sponsor must swim in gold.”

Sigvid stands and spins them in his hands, enjoying the perfect weight and balance in his grip .

Giggles jolt his attention like a frigid bath. He huffs at the interference out in the corridor.

“Hello there, Champ.” A seductive woman’s voice addresses his neighbor. Sigvid can hear Champ’s lock turn and the sound of his visitor entering.

It must be the weekly night of the harlots.

Arena sponsors can gift their combatants a special visit once a week. Sigvid had not received this specific type of comfort, not that he sought it anyway.

There is one woman who matters to Sigvid. When he breaks out, he will find her and drag her to his home. She will spend the rest of her captive life on her knees, pleasing him.

August 19th, Year 100, 9th Era

Treland Arena

I finally get to kill that fucking Face.

While Sigvid practices with his new axes in his cell, he hears footsteps further down the corridor. “Come on, let me out. I am ready to fight.”

“Weapons down, Beast.”

He slides his axes to the door. The guard’s hands reach inside and withdraw his weapons before three men rush in to attach chains to his wrists.

As they head toward the nearest combatant gate, Sigvid tows the two guards with grips on his shoulders. He is amazed they can reach him, considering he towers over them. Knowing the third asshole has any amount of skin touching his new axes has him seeing crimson.

One of the guards trips and falls, struggling to keep pace. Before he can stand, Sigvid continues striding to the gate, towing him behind.

“Open this gate, you worthless shits.” Sigvid outstretches his shackled wrists. “I have an issue to deal with.”

The guard who tripped lies on the ground, swearing.

“Hold on there, Beast.” Godwyn, Sigvid’s biggest fan and one of the Lead Guards, shoves past the man on the ground to reach Sigvid. His head stops short at Sigvid’s chest as he removes the chains and returns his new axes.

Sigvid spins the weapon in his right hand. “Get out of my way.”

Godwyn hastily leaps back as the metal gate crashes between him and Sigvid. “My bets on you. Make me rich, Beast.”

Sigvid smirks, keeping his back to them as he trudges up the bloodied ramp until he stands behind the portcullis leading into the stadium. He is eager to start smashing Face’s fucking limbs.

Across from his entrance is another lowered metal grate with a figure pacing on the other side.

There is that motherfucker.

He faintly hears the cheery voice of the announcer proclaiming the fight statistics between him and his opponent. As the crowd applauds, the combatant gates sluggishly rise, raining sand.

Sigvid charges out while Face saunters across the dirt with a bored expression. He still wears a wrap around the hand Sigvid broke a few evenings earlier. The hand hangs worthless at his side.

Sigvid raises an axe clutched in his grip, positioning it as he reaches Face. With a resounding clang, his edge connects with Face’s sword.

“Allow me to pretty up that face.” Sigvid presses his left blade along Face’s cheek. He thrusts Face away and uses the butt of his axe to smash his broken hand again.

Face’s sword clatters in the sand at their feet. “Are you doing this all for the Queen? What is she to you?” He screams.

“Get up.” Sigvid kicks him in the gut. “Where is that mighty protector of King Rendel? Fight like a real warrior.” He circles him like a ravenous wolf, stirring up dust in his wake.

Face picks up his sword in his non-dominant hand. “I will kill you, Salt Prince,” He points the tip of the blade at him, “and then I will end the Queen like King Rendel should have done.” He swings at Sigvid’s head, only to be blocked and disarmed.

Sigvid uses his other axe to slice down Face’s back until he howls in pain. “Pick up your sword.” He commands.

Face plucks his sword from the dirt and attempts to swing, but Sigvid’s axe slices off his non-dominant hand before his blade can cut through the air. Face screams as blood sputters onto the dust.

“This was supposed to be a fair fight.” Sigvid glares down at his wailing opponent. “But with you acting like a little bitch, we can forget it.” He kicks his chest, knocking him back to the ground.

“Tell me the name of the other guard. I know he is here.” He hisses, his axe hovering over Face’s heaving chest. “The one Rendel hired and used to torture her.”

“Pretty Boy.” He cries out.

Sigvid slides his axe up the enemy combatant’s chest, leaving a deep red line before blood pools. He swings at his knee, lobbing off his leg. Sigvid smiles as Face's misery intensifies. The amount of blood around him stains the dirt in a gory pond.

“You deserve this.”

The crowd cheers as Sigvid tosses the man's still-bleeding leg into the stands to wild cheers. He leans down and, using the sharp blade of his new axe, slices his other wrist clean off and then his jugular vein.

Sigvid spits in Face’s dead eyes before he struts back to the gate, the crowd chanting “Beast!” thrums in his ears.