As a younger man, he contemplated raising a child in the Drengr life, carrying on his vision as Lord Commander of Salt, and becoming the next Guardian. Yet, as he stares at Avina, he feels his breathing rip through his chest in haggard gasps.
This child will be another piece of Avina. A portion of her on the Endless Shore that he can adore. A little family with Thora he can tuck away inside Blackwood.
He shakes his head, seeing more clearly. If he succeeds in destroying Thrain, there will be no hiding. She will take the throne of Treland andKeeper of the Stones. And Sigvid will be at her side, protecting her until she draws her last breath.
He kneels on the ground and presses his hands to her stomach.
Protect your mother while I dispose of your uncle.
Movement through camp suggests he is not the only one unable to enjoy a good night’s sleep. Slode and Grim are awake and hunch together over a fire. Bertie lays his head against Slode’s back, yawning loudly.
Sigvid slips to the encampment's boundary, staring out at the field of brown, dead from the winter chill.
What happens if I lose?
I cannot lose.
I will not lose.
I will triumph for my Queen, our people, and our child.
He removes a whetstone from his pocket and sharpens his axes.
They must be strong enough to cut through Thrain’s thick head. He should have left Avina alone and could have lived. No, he overstepped with his power plays and now will pay the cost.
He can feel his anger simmering. He runs his thumb along his axe blade, drawing a trickle of blood.
It is time to die, brother.
He slides his axes in his belt loop and lights his pipe.
I will prevail for my Queen.
He strides out onto the smooth dirt just as his Drengr appears from the shadow of the encampment. They follow their Lord Commander, fists thudding against their chests in a steady rhythm at his back. Slode, Grim, and Kar materialize at his side, their heads held high as they stride beside him.
They march to the designated spot on the deserted field. Across the way, the remaining Salt Army and drauger stand in wait.
Through the thunder of fists against leather, Sigvid holds up his arm, halting his warriors. Thrain ambles across the way, stopping short before coming too close to the Drengr. Sigvid cracks his neck and closes the distance between himself and his brother.
“It is time, brother.” Sigvid hollers. “You and I fight to the death.”
Thrain’s cocky smile has his blood boiling. How dare he attempt tokill Avina and then stand there boldly as if they are about to stroll into the sunrise.
“You always were a mindless brute, Sigvid. Only focused on blood. I, on the other hand, have a coronation to plan and a whore Queen to beat until she loses your child.”
The brothers waver a few paces away, staring daggers at one another. A faint crackling in the air tickles Sigvid’s exposed skin. The sheer importance of the moment threatens to strangle him before he gets a chance to fight.
“Now, Sig, I don’t want you using your power. Let’s keep this a fair fight.”
“I do not need to berserk to kill you. I can accomplish that with one arm tied behind my back.” He spins his axes, waiting to strike. “Only one of us dies today.”
Thrain slowly unsheathes his axes, tilting his head to the side. “Let the best man seize the throne.”
“Cute.” Sigvid lunges forward with a yell.
He swings his axes from each side, aiming for Thrain, who dodges with a parry and knocks Sigvid’s arms away.
“Fucking coward! Just like when you ordered our father killed instead of doing it yourself.” He leaps back, waiting for his next attack.
