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

24. Sigvid

24

SIGVID

November 3rd, Year 100, 9th Era

Somewhere in the Salt Province

I almost lost her. I almost fucking lost her!

The ice opening up to consume Avina to the depths is a permanent fixture in his mind’s eye. He can not seem to cease recalling her final scream, the eerie chill of her skin, as he nearly flew with her back to his tent. How he all but threw her body into the fire to thaw her bones.

But this is not what haunts Sigvid.

No, the actual pain was watching her descend into the icy void. The fear pounded through his veins as even the arrogant warrior could not guarantee the fate of his worst enemy.

Why did he fucking care if she died? Shouldn’t he be grateful that her Goddess is willing to take her from him? What made him furious beyond all measure was the moment when he had her naked in his arms, and she remained still. Cold. Blue.

How dare she take so long to awaken!

I do not care for her—the little Queen. I was distressed that I might lose my toy before even beginning to savor it .

He tells himself.

Sigvid strokes his extended auburn braid that dives down his neck, settling onto his back.

He should have dragged her to the center of camp and fucked her silly. Fulfilling the promised punishment. Yet, the thought of any of his Drengr glimpsing her in a state of pleasure enrages him beyond belief.

Avina is mine and mine alone.

As the tents cluster together, his hand at his side tightens before quickly flattening against his legs. A quick conclave of his Inner Circle–Kar, Slode, and Helga–is critical before they return to Toftlund.

All three are superb warriors in terms of strategy and skill. Yet, he craved Avina’s knowledge most now. She would have insight into Lord Leto's identity and how to apprehend Samson. However, he doubts whether his warriors would accept any guidance from the Timber Queen.

He winds his way through the clustered tents and roaring campfires. Collective smoke rises over the tops of the canvases to touch the cloudy night sky. Ahead is one of the giant bonfires, where Slode converses with a group of the younger Drengr. After sending him off to hunt down Helga, Sigvid finds Kar alone, deep into a horn of mead.

“The other two should be here shortly.” Sigvid kicks up a log beside Kar’s crackling fire while his Drengr ignores his sudden presence.

Kar drains his horn and faces Sigvid with blazing dark eyes and a throbbing vein in his forehead. “Is this all sport to you? Was the war that killed hundreds of our fighters nothing but a game?”

“This is not a game, Kar. You should know more than anyone. Those who died did so with the highest honor.”

“Then why is the enemy now your plaything? She was waiting, naked outside your cell like a common fucking whore !” He bellows the last word. “Why did we go to war with Timber in the first place? Was this all so you could abduct the Timber bitch as your slave?”

Where is this coming from?

“I do not know why she was outside my cell naked,” Sigvid replies calmly.

I do not know the answer to the ‘why’ part, even if I understand the ‘how’ of her invisibility .

“We went to war because an unstable man needed unseating before dismantling all of us.” Sigvid maintains the lie he told his troops until Slode and Helga arrive, when he can admit the truth. “When his wife took over, she went at us hard. We were not able to back down.” Sigvid pauses before adding. “Yes, I wish to use her at my pleasure and on my command. Is it wrong to take my enemy for myself?”

Slode and Helga join the circle around Kar’s tent and campfire. Both remain silent.

“The actions you took in that corridor were more than a hungry, sex-depraved man. The Timber Queen should be taken home as a prisoner of war. King Thrain and his Council should decide her fate.” Kar spits his words.

Sigvid laughs at the thought of Thrain cast in such an important role. “I do not trust my weak brother to rule on something as crucial as her life.” He fires back, his anger rising at Kar’s abrupt attack.

Damn, I can smell the sweet scent of mead wafting off his body. How much has he put away?

“And how significant is our enemy, Sigvid ?”

Kar drops all formality. “Valuable enough to bed every night until you grow bored and run her through yourself? No doubt you’ll bury her used body somewhere on that depressive farm of yours?”

How dare he insinuate anything regarding the Timber Queen

And my farm is just fine.

“I do not need you or Thrain dictating how to handle Avina.”

“She’s not yours, Sigvid! Can’t you see that?” Kar leaps to his feet, shouting so loud that the surrounding area quiets.

“She is the Queen of Timber, the sole heir to the Ridge. She is one territory away from ruling all fucking Treland! Yet you think you can play with your toy without any consequences? Or complications?” Kar sways as he yells. “What will happen when the other provinces send armies to return her? How many Salt men will die to defend your right to diddle her in your cold, drafty lodge?”

Drunk or not, Kar has just crossed the fucking line. Regardless of the accuracy of his statements.

“Go to bed, Kar. You are drunk.” Sigvid knocks him to the ground. “ Get out of here before I end you myself.” He towers over Kar, watching him struggle to get his feet under him.

No one moves as Kar stumbles into his tent, leaving Slode, Helga, and Sigvid alone.

The blood of the berserker pulses through Sigvid’s veins. He should rip him limb from bloody limb for his words. He will see a thousand men die to keep Avina alive.

All so he can use her, of course.

“You summoned us, Sig?” Slode slips from the tree to take Kar’s stump by the fire.

“As Kar tactlessly pointed out, we have been at war for a long time. It is time that I explain to my Inner Circle the truth as to why.” Sigvid settles back onto a discarded stump with slumped shoulders. His fury rolls off into something resembling shame. “Thrain and I convened on the war long before axes crossed. We met with a Ridge nobleman, Lord Leto. His payment saved the lives of our people, and in exchange, we drew Rendel into a war, all to deliver his head.”

Slode and Helga remain speechless while he struggles to admit how they ended up here.

I deserve their disapproval. We have become nothing but mercenaries.

Sigvid grabs his horn and chugs it down. This mead is piss .

“After we killed Rendel, we had fulfilled our contract with Leto. And then Avina picked up the torch and gave us a fight worthy of an accomplished general.” He refuses to contain a prideful smirk.

“We should have ended the war after that, but I could not stop myself. I had someone who could challenge me strategically in battle.” Sigvid clears his throat. “I tell you both this so that you may understand how we arrived at this moment.”

It is Helga who breaks the silence. “This Leto must have needed the Salt crown, or he would not have manipulated the involvement of your axes by using our impoverished citizens.” She sighs and studies the starless night overhead. “I will not pretend to understand your fixation with the Timber Queen, but I respect you as a warrior and as my Lord Commander to follow you.”

Slode grumps and uncorks another bottle of mead. “Why do I suspect there is more to the story? ”

Sigvid purses his lips, focusing intently on the crackling orange and blue flames licking at the logs. “It would seem Lord Leto saw fit to remove me from the battlefield and sold me to the Arena. And I would like to know why,” Sigvid mutters.

“We can easily find the scum and drag his ass back to Toftlund.” Slode leaps up in anticipation.

“Before we go on a revenge mission,” Helga interrupts, “we have a problem back home.”

Sigvid tilts his head to look up at Slode. What has Thrain done now? “Yes, Helga?”

“Our drinking water is contaminated. The entire city is affected, and Thrain seems more concerned about renovating his home.” Helga’s fists quiver in her lap. “He has sent workers to investigate the aqueducts, but they have no answers.”

“I expect my brother to spend more time playing decorator than taking action in a crisis.” If Thrain isn’t schmoozing wealthy Salt lords, he is fondling their wives. Sigvid strokes his beard. “What has been done to provide fresh water?”

“Most are walking to the springs of Fjell Mountain and boiling pots. But not all are well or able to make the journey.” Helga laments, causing Sigvid to wonder how many they have lost to this situation.

He stands, cracking his neck. “Anything else?”

Helga glances at Slode, who leans away, narrowing his eyes. “Do you not trust me enough to relay your report?” He spits.

She bristles, and he knows the information must be essential. “I trust only his lordship.” After some hesitation, she clears her throat, “I have no proof, but Thrain had a hand in you ending up in the Arena. This ‘Lord Leto’ may have made the judgment, but Thrain, at the least, approved the decision.”

“Big fucking surprise Thrain is involved.” Sigvid huffs.

“There’s more.” She sighs. “While you were in the Arena, Thrain left the Salt Province. Twice.”

Sigvid leans forward, the firelight dancing in his eyes. “Where, Helga?” His brother has no reason to leave the province.

“Timber, My Lord. ”

Fuck, there is only one reason that ass would go to Timber. What does he want with Avina?

When he returns to his tent that night, he finds his captive passed out on the fur rug beside the cot. A single blanket wraps around her contorted body, wrapped in on itself to conserve heat.

Avina, why are you on the floor?

Avina’s sweet form shivers violently in her restless sleep. He grunts as he bends at the knees, cursing himself for pushing the Army on such an arduous ride.Once he cradles her in his arms, the stress of the days ahead fades away, and all that matters is this damned woman.

A rare calm washes over him as he drinks in her pink lips and soft features. Carefully, he lays her on the cot. Sigvid retrieves extra fur pelts and then curls at her back as she presses against his chest. He wraps both of them in the warmth, holding her tight against him.

Fuck, perhaps I do not wish for Avina to die.