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

15. Sigvid

15

SIGVID

Two Winters Ago

Year 98, 9th Era

Battlefield, Timber Province

A top the hill of the battle sets Sigvid’s command tent. King Rendel’s ignorant strategy led Sigvid to pin him along a gulley in the Timber Province, giving his army an advantage over the high ground.

“Slode,” Sigvid addresses the man he’d grown up beside. “Across the battlefield, do my eyes deceive me, or is that a glint of gold armor?”

Only a fool would spend an excessive amount of coin to wear gold armor—a glistening sight but worthless in protection. The exact affront Rendel would commit upon a battlefield packed with hardened warriors.

Slode chuckles. “Our friend is out of hiding. Should we take him now?”

Sigvid sheaths his dual axes at his hips. “ I have to take him. Remain here while I collect his head. Oh, and ensure the battle goes our way.”

Raging on all sides is the thrill of bloodshed. Sigvid’s eyes narrow, examining the enemy soldiers until he catches a glint of gold. His query is more apparent this time as he cowers behind his tent.

Fucking coward .

Sigvid gears his momentum and runs through the sea of warriors. As he races, he can hear screams, metal on flesh, and the clanking of weapons.

Music to my ears.

A few Timber soldiers are dumb enough to stand in his way only to find themselves cut down at his feet.

Ten more lie dead from Sigvid’s path when he reaches the enemy King. Flanking his golden-clad form are four Timber Province guards.

Sigvid unsheaths a dagger and slices the throats of the two closest. Blood sputters from their gashes as they collapse into the mud with a squelching noise.

“Stop in the name of the King!” The other two withdraw their swords and shields and charge him.

“Do not make me laugh.” Sigvid grins as his axe leaves his right hand, embedding into the face of the soldier on his right. He is already ripping his axe from the dead man before his body can hit the ground.

Once the final guard falls to the mud, he turns to the golden-clad commander. “King Rendel, long time no see. You are smart enough to know why I am here, chicken shit.”

The Timber King pulls his shoulders back in a failed attempt to appear taller despite the top of his head barely reaching Sigvid’s shoulder.

“I understand you are here for me,” he replies, stuttering from fear. “Sigvor, I will pay anything if you call off your Drengr and walk away.”

Did he mispronounce my name? We’ve been at war for a year. Did he really just forget my fucking name?

“I will not stop the battle. I honor my promises. Which means you will die by my hand.”

Sigvid has to hand it to Rendel.

Even facing certain death, he still removes his golden sword to defend himself.

Before Rendel can adjust to the weight of the sword in his grasp, Sigvid punches him in the face. He rips the golden blade from his grip and slices his abdomen open.

Rendel's high-pitched screams nearly split his ears as the King clutches his intestines.

Astrid, Goddess of Strife, Sigvid prays. We don’t talk much. That is my doing, but if you can barren the womb of Rendel’s Queen, I promise a sacrifice in your name.

Sigvid clutches Rendel by the throat and stares into his eyes. “My name is Sigvid Thordsson, and I am the man who killed you.” He reaches into Rendel’s abdomen, feeling around for his spleen, which he rips out in one lurching movement.

Sigvid crams the spleen into Rendel’s mouth before shoving him away. Using the man’s sword, he swings and slices into Rendel’s neck. Because of the blade's dullness, his neck does not give way easily. The unsharpened sword forces Sigvid to hack thrice before the body drops to the ground, leaving him to clutch Rendel’s head.

“Good fucking riddance.”

Sigvid returns to the summit at the Salt Province side of the battle. He roars while holding Rendel’s head above the battle.