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

21. Sigvid

21

SIGVID

October 29th, Year 100, 9th Era

Treland Arena

“ F ollow me, Kar. We need to retrieve a body.”

Kar scratches his head but follows his Commander without question. They run through the twisting corridors of the Arena until they reach the Assessment Room.

Sigvid glances around at the bodies from today’s matches lying in the hallway against the wall, draped in black sheets prepared for disposal.

Under the second sheet, he finds Grim's dark skin. His laugh lines are visible as if he has just shared one of his quips.

“Here, Kar, help me.”

They carefully unwrap his body, still saddled in his light combatant armor. Sigvid withdraws a tiny vial from his pocket and pours the contents into Grim’s mouth. He counts to fifteen and then watches his lips twitch.

“We need to give him a few moments to wake.”

“Hello there, Beast.” The Battlemaster strides out of the Assessment Room. His crossed arms barely fit over his barrel chest. “I had a hunch I’d see you after your friends decimated half my guards this morning.”

“I could not leave without saying goodbye to you, sunshine.” Sigvid mocks.

“In all of my winters, none of the combatants I processed have padded my pockets more than you. Would you believe me if I said that pretty Queen of yours wasn’t even the one to sell you to me?”

Sigvid bristles at his reference to the Timber Queen. Grim suggested that she wouldn’t have sold him. If this is true, and she did not condemn him, then who had?

“Spit it out. Who the fuck sold me here?”

“You will never guess which depository we sent the gold.” He smirks.

Sigvid is burning to know the truth, but now is not the time. “I do not suppose you will share?”

“Afraid not, Beast. Client confidentiality is important to the Treland Arena.”

“I see you still have your arm in a sling. How do you expect to fight me?”

“You think I became Battlemaster with my good looks?” He unsheathes a massive greatsword.

Sigvid acquiesces, pulling out his blackwood axes. “As you wish.”

“Kar, I have this one. But do me a favor, light the fire in that giant cauldron.”

His Drengr flips uncertainly between the human-sized black cauldron in the Assessment Room and Sigvid a few times before committing to his objective. As Sigvid squares off with the Battlemaster, he hears the sound of flint.

Sigvid yawns obnoxiously, awaiting the Battlemaster to make the first swing with his heavy-ass sword. The Salt Prince blocks easily when he finally lifts the blade and swings sluggishly through the air. As the sword arcs to the ground and the Battlemaster struggles to raise it again, Sigvid’s fist connects with his face, breaking his nose.

He takes advantage of the distraction and slices the enemy’s leg. “Are we taking a break already? I am not finished.” He growls.

The Battlemaster glowers at him and repeats the same swing as before.

“Really?” Sigvid blocks him. “You are the Battlemaster of the Treland Arena. This fight should be my hardest match yet.”

“Fuck you!” He shrugs his shoulders before blocking Sigvid’s strike.

Swiftly, Sigvid swings his other axe, embedding it in the man’s stomach with a sickening squelch, sending the Battlemaster to his knees.

His foe grins. “The Ridge.”

“Speak up.” Sigvid sinks the blade of his other axe into his shoulder blade.

The Battlemaster throws his head back, grimacing as blood oozes from his new wound.

“The depository of the Ridge Province accepted our coin for you.” He snarls. “In the name of Lord Leto.” His laugh sounds more like a bark.

That slimy son of a bitch. Paid me to remove Rendel’s head only to sell me to the bloody fucking Arena?

“This whole Arena deserves to burn. Kar,” Sigvid hollers, “help me with him.”

“Why can’t we just leave him?” Kar runs a frantic hand through his gray braid.

“We are cooking his ass.” Sigvid remains stoic as it takes both men to shift the giant man into the cauldron. “His head in the flames.”

At those words, the Battlemaster squirms in vain.

They hold him over the crackling fire and lower his head into the heat. His screams make Sigvid laugh.

“You should have more respect for other people’s property.”

The fire spreads up his body, and his shrieks quiet. With his head still in the cauldron, they drop him and allow the fire to consume the rest of his monstrous form. The wretched smell of burning flesh fills the small space.

At least now, I can enjoy the scent and softness of the little Queen’s hair whenever I choose.

Sigvid does not give the burning man a second glance, choosing instead to approach Grim, who slumps upright. “Welcome back.” Sigvid grins.

Grim blinks heavily as his head spins around the corridor.

“Did I kill you, too?” He mumbles in jest until his hand connects with the floor, and realization dawns on him. “ Why didn’t you kill me? That is the one thing you knew I wanted. To reunite with Evie.”

Sigvid recognizes the signs of betrayal that rake his friend’s expression. “I can not allow you to ascend. Not yet.” He kneels so he can meet his midnight eyes. “Because I found Samson.”

Partially true .

He knows Grim’s thirst for vengeance against Samson will evaporate any animosity he feels at being denied a chance to move on. Sigvid is also a selfish bastard who isn’t about to let his new friend die in the fucking Arena.

Grim’s lips curl up into a twisted smile. “Then I believe I am in your debt, Beast.” He starts to stand, then stops. “Wait, how did you do it?”

“I will explain on the way. If we do not get moving, we will have to fight the sentries again, and this time, there will not be a convenient backup.”

Kar and Sigvid lift Grim to his feet.

His test to knock out his friend was entirely theoretical. Good thing he was right. He would have needed to kill someone if Grim hadn’t survived.

The three abandon the smoldering remains of the Battlemaster. He catches Grim’s nose, sniffing in disgust as they pass the open door to the Assessment Room. There will be time to regale the story of their daring escape when the Arena is at their backs.

They enter the main hallway, wrapping around the combatant corridors to see every cell door open, allowing the combatants–man and creature–to escape.

Several fellow combatants run past Sigvid, thanking him, with a few even requesting to join his ranks.

“To everyone who will swear fealty to Sigvid Thordsson, follow me!” He hollers as the sound of frantic footsteps fills the halls.

Creaks and slams greet his ears as they emerge into the overcast sky.

“Where the fuck are my horses?” Sigvid demands when the Drengr, who should have awaited him with his and Grim’s getaway, are missing.

Kar gapes at the space in the trees. “We had your stallion, Hest, and a spare chestnut. Helga and the Timber Queen should have come this way.”

“Let’s get moving.” Sigvid growls.

“How did you avoid killing me?” Grim asks. Kar perks up, too.

Sigvid grins, proud to bursting. “Azure Blooms.”

Kar throws back his head, cackling.

“Hear me out.” Sigvid raises his arms in surrender. “In large doses, they can sedate a berserker. But in small doses, can they affect an ordinary man? Put him into a deep sleep where even his heart beats at a pace slow enough to fool a buffoon like the Battlemaster?”

Kar’s jaw dropped, and it is Grim’s turn to laugh. “You fuck! You could have actually killed me!”

“Was that not the goal? You died either way. At least you can continue your life as one of my Drengr.”

“How did you get the Azure?” Kar interrupts them.

“A decent Arena guard named Godwyn. He just made more coin on his bet for Grim’s death than any of the rich fucks spectating combined. He was the one who ensured Grim was ruled ‘dead’ and the one to unlock the outside doors in the combatant holding level.”

“How did your men know to arrive?” Grim asks as he jabs a thumb in Kar’s direction.

“Godwyn smuggled a note out to a courier who delivered my instructions and a set of keys to my inner circle.”

Sigvid wasn't about to die in this shit hole. Not when someone has to answer for selling him there in the first place. And then there is his delicious new slave waiting for him, even if her fate at his hands is unknown.

Grim wraps his arm around Sigvid’s shoulders and growls, “When do I get to murder that bastard Samson?”

Sigvid conjures an image of his beautiful Avina with her curls blowing in the Salt wind. A part of him suspects his lovely new whore will lead them right to her cruel ex-husband’s cousin.

“Sigvid!”

They all turn to a young Drengr, pulling two riderless horses behind.

“Calder!” Sigvid greets his first Drengr mentee with a grin. Except their fellow warrior shakes his head.

“Hurry, there is a situation with Finn!”

Kar helps Grim to a horse while Sigvid takes the other, and they ride hard to the meet-up point.

The Drengr army forms a tight circle on horseback and appears transfixed on whatever transpires in the center.

“That’s odd,” Kar remarks.

“Quite,” Sigvid growls back.

Sigvid dismounts and shoves his way through the crowd, having an inkling of what he is about to discover. A rage builds in his chest while he elbows to the center to find Slode and Helga watching Finn. He bounces on his feet with a sword at his side.

Avina is clothed as the Prince commanded, although rope curls across her body in a frantic criss-cross, tugging her legs and arms behind her back. His stallion, Hest, bears her body.

The familiar fury associated with his berserker mode twists up his spine.

As Sigvid watches Finn raise a sword to his little Queen.

He withdraws an axe from his hip. The blade whirs through the air, striking the sword off balance and knocking Finn backward into Helga’s horse.

He roars, garnering attention from his Drengr.

Silence follows.

“Sigvid?” He can hear a breathy whisper from Avina that frustratingly tugs at his heart.

He dares not spare a glance at her twisted form upon Hest. Already this scum will feel the might of Sigvid’s berserker, and taking in her situation will enrage him more.

Fucking Finn .

Sigvid should never have allowed the Timber Queen out of sight with anyone other than himself. This upstart swore him a blood oath, which he now feels well within his rights to collect.

His roar sends the horses rearing back as his legs tear across the circle, closing the distance between him and his traitorous Drengr.

“Commander? You got here quickly.”

His berserker mode is at full strength when his shoulder meets Finn’s chest, sending him flying back, gasping for air.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Finn waves his hands in the air. “It is not what it looks like!” They are far beyond reason. The young man sealed his fate when his fucking sword kissed her neck.

Sigvid clutches Finn’s blade by the edge. Blood oozes along the slice, forming in his palm.

He barely notices the sting.

The younger warrior throws punch after punch that bounces off Sigvid’s corded muscle. He narrows his eyes, done with this shithead. In response, his fingers close around Finn’s neck.

Without a word, Sigvid slams him against a tree, raining bark onto his body. Sigvid takes his sword and stabs him just below his sternum, taking care not to hit his spine. He needs him to feel the pain. Sigvid leaves him hanging on the tree by his sword.

“Anyone?” Sigvid gestures around, pleased to see he has everyone’s full and undivided attention. “Tell me my explicit instructions on the treatment I expect from someone marked in Drengr seed. A rule I allow at your fucking request.”

Some recoil at his outrage. His berserker power gives him a baritone voice, which is valuable in times like this.

“You marked her, sir. You have claimed her,” one of the younger Drengr at the front of the circle hollers.

“In my thirty-three winters, have I claimed a woman?”

“No, sir, you have never claimed anyone.” Helga’s voice carries over the area.

He snaps his fingers and nods toward Grim and Kar. At his back, he can hear Avina groaning as they release her from the position.

Finn tried to hurt her. And, as promised, heads are about to fucking roll.

Sigvid slams his fist into Finn’s face. Like a red grape, his blood bursts against his hand.

“Stop! Stop!” Finn’s now nasally voice begs.

Sigvid does not stop.

He seizes Finn’s left leg and, in his berserker power, tears it off his body, leaving jagged gore and veins hanging from the gaping, bloody wound. Even those in the Timber Province can surely hear Finn’s ear-piercing shrieks. Someone retches behind him as he drops the bloody leg along the pine needle-covered ground.

He has committed atrocious acts on countless enemies, yet never someone he once counted among his own.

Sigvid unsheathes his second axe and flips the handle in the air once before catching it. Finn sobs uncontrollably.

“We are just getting started, Finn Ormsson. Your father is churning in his grave.”

Using the razor edge of his axe, he skins the top layer off Finn’s arm.

“Stop!” He wails. “I am one of your Drengr! Why are you choosing this bitch over me?”

Sigvid halts with his axe over the next section of skin. “You disobeyed my direct orders. The Timber Queen is marked, and Helga can attest. I have allowed all of you this way of communication for your women and whores. And this is what you do to mine?” Sigvid’s voice now feels larger than life as many hunker away from the scene.

Snarling, Sigvid clutches him by the throat and rips him and the sword off the tree. Finn flies through the air, thudding onto the ground in the circle's center.

Finn tries to crawl towards Sigvid’s discarded axe, but he stomps on him before he can extend his fingers.

“You will not use my weapon against me!” He plucks the axe from the ground and sheaths it before kicking Finn in the mouth. Blood and broken teeth tumble out onto the ground.

Finn bleeds out onto the ground, unable to speak or move. His eyes finally reflect what Sigvid has been waiting on.

Inevitability.

He kneels over Finn, cocking his head to the side. “You swore a blood oath of loyalty to me. I acknowledge your pain from losing your father. However, you should have enough sense to know her hand did not wield the blade that struck Orm down.”

Sigvid lowers his voice so no one else can hear. “Avina’s life belongs to me. And you tried to take her away from me. My own Drengr.”

Finn shakes his head, his voice nasally. “I dint no she meant anyting.”

Sigvid pats him on the cheek, loosening another tooth to the evergreen needles. “Ah, but vengeance blinds us, Finn. You broke your oath to me. It is time you pay the price.”

Sigvid nudges his body so he lies on his back in the snow. He snarls as his axe sinks into the right side of Finn’s chest and slowly slices through his skin. He repeats the same on the other side, carefully connecting the cut under his abdomen. In one stroke, he rips the skin off his chest, revealing his rib cage.

Finn’s scream fills the space, and not a single Drengr flinches. Hidden beneath his ribcage is Finn’s slowly beating heart. Sigvid poises the butt of his axe over the organ.

“I am going to push my axe into your heart until you die slowly.” He whispers in his ear. “No one takes her from me. Fucking no one.”

Sigvid slowly pushes his axe into his heart. Finn’s scream quickly dies as he succumbs to the shock. He presses his axe until blood spurts out onto his hands. Sigvid shoves the handle of his axe straight through his heart. He leans over the carnage to watch Finn’s eyes go dark.

The surrounding Drengr watch in eerie silence. Someone in the crowd whispers, “Never break your blood oath.”

Sigvid stands and points to the three closest to him. “Prepare his body for the Depths.”

Before he abandons Finn, he digs in the boy’s pockets until he withdraws a medallion bearing a protection rune hung on a metal chain.

The mark of the Drengr.

Sigvid awards those who have passed the initial trials with one. He also removes a hand-crafted dagger bearing Finn’s name along the blade. All those who swear the blood oath receive one designed by Sigvid.

Having dishonored him, he forfeits his life and all marks of the Drengr.

“I will not suffer any more disobedience. If you will not follow me, step forward so I can end you now.” No one moves as Sigvid dares even one of them to move.

When everyone responds with nods, he pounds his fist in rhythm on his chest. Soon, the sound of two hundred others thumping their chests reverberates through the woods.

Bloody and exhausted, he finds the Timber Queen.

My bounty from the Arena. I will make you mine, Avina.

Grim wraps her in his arms, pressing her body against his side. Those wide blue orbs fix unblinkingly at the Salt Prince. To Grim’s credit, he holds her closely but platonically.

As he approaches, Grim slips his hand to rest on her lower back and gently pushes her toward him.

Allowing anyone to refer to her title is contrary to her becoming his slave. Even his diminutive name for her alone is contradictory to his actions.

Fuck, this whole situation is messy.

But he is long past the point of no return, and he will die before anyone else has her.

He presses his face into her soft curls to inhale the faint scent of roses and lavender, a reprieve from the metallic stench of blood. His fingers tangle in her hair, caressing her jaw. He trails along her soft skin to grip her chin in between his thumb and forefinger.

“Did he hurt you?” He watches her eyes and is shocked when they narrow.

“ He did not hurt me,” venom laces her words. “Why care about the safety of your prize? Surely, you will tire of me quickly.” She is shaking, and her nose scrunches in defiance.

Sigvid grinds his teeth. His hand tightens until she yelps, and he throws her head back, exposing her throat. He grazes his teeth along her neck column until he rests between her soft breasts.

When her breathing hikes beneath his lips, he smirks before biting into the top of her breast, wrenching a whimper.

“Slode,” he snarls, “bring me that rope. I want to ensure our captive is comfortably tied this time.”