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

20. Avina

20

AVINA

October 29th, Year 100, 9th Era

Treland Arena

“ I am not a whore.” Avina hisses to Helga’s unsettling laughter.

“You can tell yourself that, but the rumors you bribed guards to tempt Prince Sigvid say otherwise. Look at you, naked in his cell with that innocent act.” Helga halts as the brisk wind from the coast whips up and over the cliff, biting into their exposed skin.

“You think you are special,” Helga sneers. “You think he might care for you because he fucks you. Well, know this, Queen Avina, you are nothing to him. He will use you until he tires of you like all the others. And then he will toss you to the wolves.”

Avina’s fists shake.

Does she think I think myself to be remarkable?

After everything Sigvid subjected her to back there, how can anyone look Avina in the eyes and tell her that he holds any feelings for her beyond lust and anger? There is little doubt he will toss her to the wolves.

The better question is how long she has before he does .

Helga’s bitterness is too much for Avina, who still aches from the axe shaft.

Still, she can not help herself.

The words cross her lips before she can stop them. “And how many times has he rejected you, Helga?”

The shieldmaiden’s eyes narrow, and the subsequent slap across Avina’s cheek feels like her skin is splitting apart.

“I would take an axe for him. You think he is a man of base needs. But he is more than a man. At sixteen winters, he slew the great black boar of Tykk Woods. A beast who killed fifty people before our Lord Commander’s axe cut it down. At twenty, he braved the unforgiving waters of the South Sea to deliver food and medicine to those living on Fordersk Island. The waves capsized three of their ships, yet our Lord Commander navigated the treacherous swell in a dingy, bringing life-saving resources. If you believe the myths, he is the son of the Briny God by looks alone. A man of the gods does not need frivolous things such as love or pussy.”

Avina has heard of his unflinching courage and fierce devotion to his people, yet never heard these stories. After how he responded to her during the last three instances they were alone together, she is fairly sure this young Drengr has an overly inflated opinion of her Commander.

Helga drags Avina away from the monumental shadow of the Arena until they are almost in the surrounding woods. They quickly approach a group of seven Salt warriors perched on horseback. Avina spots two riderless horses awaiting their Commander.

Two horses? Who else does he intend to bring with him? I was an accidental find.

Not a word is spoken as they approach the confusing gazes of the men.

Avina desperately tries to conceal her sensitive areas. She quivers from the late autumn air blowing off the South Sea and wonders why Helga does not clothe her. Or is she hoping Avina will succumb to the elements, leaving Sigvid’s attention all for herself?

“Did he bring us a whore?” A young warrior with his hair pulled in a knot at the nape of his neck and bearing stubble along his jaw questions. He quirks his brow at their approach and cannot be many winters older than Avina. He leans over his horse’s neck and eyes her as if she is mud on his boot.

Helga hesitates before answering. “She is the Commander’s claim, Finn.” She shoves Avina forward for the Drengr to scrutinize.

“Is that…cum?” One of the soldiers leans over in his saddle to jab a finger at Sigvid’s seed, still painted across her.

Avina swiftly covers her breasts. She wishes they would avert their gaze.

“Fuck.” Another Drengr looks away as if observing Avina would sear him.

“I don’t see the problem.” The man named Finn leans back in his saddle.

“Lord Commander left his ownership mark. He never cares enough for his whores to take someone home.” The youngest boy in the group nods at Avina. His brown hair is cropped to his skull, and he bears the beginning of a scraggly beard.

It’s not that I want anyone to harm me, but why does this matter to Drengr?

“Sig wants her clothed and then everyone inside to release the combatants,” Helga instructs quickly. The seven dismount with a collective whoop of excitement.

“Finn.” Helga stops the man whose eyes have yet to leave Avina. “How is Slode? Does he need backup?”

Finn slowly pivots his head from Avina toward Helga. “They swiftly wiped the Arena guards out while you and Kar went inside. They returned to our border to wait for Prince Sigvid’s command.”

“Ma’am?”

Avina jumps at the sudden appearance of the youngest Drengr, who mentioned the ownership mark.

“These are not your size, but you’ll be warm.” He places an oversized brown tunic and long blue trousers in her arms. His icy eyes look anywhere else but at her naked form.

“Thank you.” She swiftly dresses and is grateful when another Drengr drapes a thick wool cloak over her shoulders.

Soon, she is alone along the forest edge with Helga and Finn while the other Drengr leave to help their Prince .

“Who is this, Helga? Commander would hardly have us protect a mere harlot.” Finn whispers.

“Queen Avina.”

“Why aren’t we fucking killing her, then?” Finn snarls.

Avina’s fists whiten as she eavesdrops on the conversation.

“She is a gift to our Lord Commander, who claimed her as his own.” Helga’s words slice through her teeth in a venomous spray. Avina can feel the warning in her tone.

Finn snorts in derision. “Because of war with that bitch and her husband, we lost good fucking men.”

Finn lost someone in the war .

Avina feels her cheeks burn, knowing nothing she can say will console him.

“He made it clear she is to be unharmed.” Helga shakes her head. “I dare not cross him.”

Avina still grapples to glean what is happening.

Why is everyone afraid to touch her just because she bore his seed on her skin? Rendel did that inside her pussy and felt no closer to her than he did a glass of wine.

Maybe even less so.

She is an amusing toy and a source of revenge for Prince Sigvid. Somewhere between his threatening gaze and deep obsession, she struggles to understand what she means to him. A bounty from the war that he can hold with pride, perhaps?

“He fucked you, what, that one time? After you were drunk?” Intentional cruelty laces Finn’s words to Helga. “Was he that good? That you’ll defend his current bedfellows.” Finn sneers.

Helga’s face and neck flush a deep shade of crimson. Even her jaw clenches as if she is restraining herself from saying something.

“I swore a blood oath to Prince Sigvid. I would follow him to the ends of the world.” She puffs out her chest.

“Yeah, I swore one too.” Finn circles Avina. His hungry gaze holds a deadlier edge than Sigvid's. “But getting revenge for my father’s death is far sweeter than remaining loyal so he can play peek-a-boo with her holes. ”

He steps close to Avina. His hand seizes her neck in an unyielding grip.

“Finn!” Helga’s voice cuts through them like a knife. Avina takes advantage of the brief moment of hesitation from Finn to bite his arm, drawing blood.

“Cunt!” He swats at her face with the back of his hand.

She dodges and stumbles away in the long trousers. “Get away from me!” She shrieks.

Finn’s murderous gaze follows her as she falters into the forest's depths.

“Where are you going, Your Highness? Are you going to lose yourself in the forest?” Finn mocks her, but she refuses to let him shake her nerve.

She needs to escape. She would rather die in the woods than be demeaned any longer.

A glint of metal catches her eye in the form of a sword dangling off the saddle of one of the horses. Without thinking, she grips the hilt and pulls, wielding a short sword with both hands.

“I will not be joining you,” She growls as her body shudders against the cool air.

Helga steps forward with her axe drawn. In three long strides, she stands glaring down at her.

“You are the property of Prince Sigvid. He now controls your fate.”

“I am Queen Avina of the Timber Province and rightful ruler of the Ridge. You will address me as Your Highness or Your Majesty.”

Helga’s hand whips through the air, but Avina blocks the slap with her blade.

“Dammit!” Helga grips her bleeding hand. “You bitch.” Droplets of red dribble onto the colorful fallen leaves at their feet.

“No one ever taught her respect.” Finn approaches her with a grin that raises all of the hairs on Avina’s body.

She glances over her shoulder, considering risking her chances in the safety of the trees.

“Don’t think about it, Majesty.” Finn leaps toward her with his sword pointed in her direction. She panics and swings erratically.

Unfortunately, he is faster and disarms her with barely a flick of his wrist.

Her sword flies from her hands, landing in the growing snow. The brief moment of her gaze following the discarded weapon is all Finn needs.

“Get off of me.” She snarls, kicking and scratching as her front collides with the crunchy leaves, his knees digging into the center of her back.

“Rope, Helga!” He barks.

Avina watches from the ground as Helga’s booted feet run back to the horses and dig in one of the packs. She returns and tosses the length to Finn.

He twists the scratchy rope beneath her breasts and pulls it tight, folding her arms so they are against her back.

“I will make this hurt. I have waited a long time to kill you, Your Highness .”

He ties the remaining rope so her ankles connect to her folded arms. The bend forces her body in half and makes her muscles burn. Her thick, squishier body is a far cry from pliable. The exposed position is vulnerable and humiliating.

“You won’t get away with this! Sigvid will kill,” he hesitates far too long searching for a word, “will surely protect me.” Avina attempts to capitalize on the seemingly collective fear of their Prince. However, the delivery of her words holds limp conviction. The sense of worthlessness that envelopes and drowns her in a sea of hopelessness fills her tone with bitter anguish.

Finn catches her weakness and pauses his tying. “Well, well, well. I couldn’t have asked for a better turn of events.”

Avina fights vainly against the bindings.

“How do you feel about the Lord Commander, Timber Queen? The man who has fated you to an almost certain brutal death.” He asks as Helga kneels beside him.

She can’t deny a budding desire for the man who seems to hold only eyes for her. Somehow, all her dreams and freedoms are tied to his actions.

Avina’s eyes burn with unshed tears as the uncomfortable bindings and stress of the day boil over.

“Leave me alone.” She shrieks through a new wave of tears. How dare they! How dare they exploit her feelings for laughs.

“Can’t you hear it, Helga? The faint quivering and blubbering. She cares for our Prince, and we know he only has eyes for tavern wenches.” Finn’s expression is joyous.

But something darker, more akin to understanding mixed with fear, flashes over Helga.

Why is Finn mistaking my physical pain and general misery for affection toward Sigvid?

That familiar sensation of being both alone and trapped squeezes her chest until she cannot breathe. She will die at Finn’s hands or on her knees for Sigvid. It means no difference. Either way, Avina is unloved and uncared for by those who come in contact with her. She can only pray to Gullveig, Goddess of Order, that Bertie will recognize she is missing and ensure her generals come to rescue her.

At least they like her enough.

“This changes everything,” Finn leans closer, so his breath chokes her senses. “Once our Lord has his fill of you, I will filet you alive, Highness. Guilt-free of his anger. Your skin will feed the sharks circling the beaches along the Toftlund coast. I will have my vengeance for my father!”

“Finn, you are making a horrible mistake!” Helga fervently grips his forearm. “I think you are overgeneralizing his lordship. Any threats against her would be unwise.”

“Fuck off, Helga.”

Avina is torn in a thousand different directions. How has she lived a quiet childhood where no one acknowledged her existence to the events of today? In such a brief time, three people claimed to use her for their end. She silently cries, wishing her Goddess would hear her prayers.

Please, Goddess Maeve, she begs , don’t you forsake me too. I need someone on my side.

“Help me lift her fat ass on the back of Sigvid’s horse,” Finn commands.

He and Helga lift her body and settle her on the back of Sigvid’s midnight stallion while she yells at them to let her go.

Finn mounts the horse and then turns backward to help Helga secure Avina. Her body feels like anything abrupt will send her flying off the side.

Once she is tight against the beast, she hears Finn inhale a breath.

“Are you truly going to kill her?” Helga sounds frightened.

“Not yet. We will let the Commander play with his shiny new toy. The least I can do is deliver her to him.”

“But he requested two horses be ready when he emerges. You cannot take his steed.”

Finn ignores Helga and grabs the reins of Sigvid’s horse, his own, and the spare before he rides away from the Arena. She observes a frustrated Helga push her horse harder to catch up with them.

Her heart pounds as the Arena fades into the landscape. Finn taking the horses will surely slow Sigvid and Kar down.

Why would he have done that to Sigvid? Is this revenge important?

She cannot decide whose vengeance she fears more.

They follow the packed dirt road until they enter another forest, and the terrain turns coarser, with more snow and towering pine trees. In the distance, the imposing peaks of the western region rise. The area’s dramatic fjords and inhospitable soil leave it breathtaking and dangerous.

Finn takes them across a stone bridge stretched over a deep channel cut into the landscape like a bleeding wound.

They are here.

The Salt Province.

She did not realize how genuinely close they were. Finn had not ridden for long. Avina turns her head, and from the side of the horse, she can see the remainder of the Drengr warriors.

The Drengr .

She shivers not from the cold but from the sheer number of brutal Salt fighters. He has two hundred men and women on horseback. If the legends are true, they all swore a blood oath to the Lord Commander.

One of the Drengr steps forward as they come to a halt. He is shirtless except for a thick bearskin cloak over a heavily tattooed, sculpted chest. His long black hair is braided tightly down his back.

“Where’s Sig?” He glares between Finn and Helga as they hop to the ground.

“On his way,” Finn answers dismissively. “I see you made quick work of the Arena sentries, Slode.”

Slode crosses his arms as he strides past the other two until he is eye to eye with Avina. “Who is this?” He looks her over suspiciously.

“Lord Sigvid wants a token to remember the Arena,” Finn announces to collective laughter from everyone but Slode.

Why can no one leave her in peace? For once, she’d give anything to blend into the background.

Slode tilts his head curiously. “Who is this?” He growls low.

Something about the dynamic between the three warriors keeps Avina quiet. Helga’s loyalty lies unflinchingly with Sigvid, while Finn is biding his time until the right moment to strike. Then there is Slode with black ink covering his neck and face, commanding unwavering respect from the onlookers.

“Who the fuck is this?” Slode demands.

Avina is overly aware of the Drengr, who silently observe the situation unfolding. Some have quieted while others whisper with dark expressions.

They know. They know who I am.

“She bore the Commander’s seed.” One of the Drengr she recognizes as the young man who gave her clothes trots his horse over. “He marked her, Slode.”

“She is Queen fucking Avina. Is that not clear enough, you bumbling buffoons!” Helga spits.

Slode pales. His monstrous back turns on Avina, and he rejoins the circle.

“Move,” Slode commands as he shoves Helga aside. “Calder,” he addresses the young Drengr, “Ride back to the Arena and bring two horses to Sigvid and Kar. Apparently, this asshole,” he gestures to Finn, “took Hest from Sig.”

Avina sees a dark wool cloak in Slode’s grasp when he faces her again.

“What are you doing? She’s fine.” Finn jests.

“She is turning blue, Finn. Have some damn humanity.” He steps to lay the cloak over Avina when Finn intercedes. His sword flies between Avina and Slode.

“If we kill the Timber Queen now, we can say she fell victim to the Arena’s neutrality. Dump her body back on the neutral side.”

Slode’s expression doesn’t waver. “If Sigvid wants his Queen, then he gets his fucking Queen.”

Finn unsheaths a dagger and thrusts the point against Avina’s neck.

“Kill me!” Avina hisses. “Be done with it. No one has ever wanted me alive. This situation is no different.”

“Excellent, then I send you to whatever afterlife you subscribe to.” Finn trades the dagger for his sword, laying the cold steel against the back of her neck.

Slode and Helga’s cries blend into the wind when the edge of his blade lifts.

How am I demonized for having defended my people against such a beast? Only to have one of his warriors blame me for his father’s death in a war beyond my control.

She can hear the steel slice through the air. Her eyes squeeze shut in silent acceptance of her fate.

Instead of the sword connecting with her neck, the blade clatters off another.

Avina’s eyes fly open to see Finn stumble backward into Helga’s horse. A triumphant smirk appears on Slode’s features.

“Oh shit!” Finn exclaims.

Sigvid’s answering roar shakes Avina to her bones.