Page 17 of Wolf of the Nordic Seas (Valiant Vikings #2)
Wolves and Waves
Moonlight filtered through the dense foliage of gnarled beech and ancient oaks, illuminating the foggy, salty mist from the nearby sea in a haze of silvery shadows. An owl hooted from the darkness amidst a rustling of leaves, the croaking of frogs in a nearby pond, and the high-pitched yip of a creeping fox. His lupine senses heightened and alert, a tense Njord stood in the clearing of la Forêt du Loup, encircled by the warriors of his úlfhéenar pack.
“This enchanted forest is encased in Lugh’s protective shield. If you are ever wounded, come here and shift. You will heal much more quickly as a wolf.” Brawny arms stretched wide, úlf gestured to the expansive Forêt du Loup. “ But remember— if you are injured by a Dokkálfar weapon, coming here is not enough. You must be cured by a Ljósálfar healer within three days. Even a mere scratch will prove fatal.”
The mammoth blond warrior, cloaked in the fur of a great grey wolf, strode across the woodland glade where they trained every evening, toward the giant beech tree at the edge of the clearing. He turned to face Njord, blue eyes ablaze with challenge. “You must learn to become a wolf at will, not when triggered by an innate, unrestrained urge.” úlf withdrew a wrapped parcel from the leather belt where his weapons were sheathed. “We must retain human form to disarm a Dokkálfar . Then shift into a wolf for the kill.” He meticulously unfolded the leather enveloping the package with enormous, scarred hands. “In some situations, being a wolf is preferable. For enhanced senses, speed, endurance… even disguise. But sometimes, when and where you shift is a matter of life or death. You must control your inner power.”
The alpha wolf of the úlfhéenar laid a broken dagger on the leaf-strewn ground. Sinister swirls on the deadly blade shimmered like smoke, and malevolent marks pulsed and glowed in the starlight. “This is a Dokkálfar weapon. Resist the primal pull. Channel your focus. And remain human.”
Searing flames roared through Njord’s veins like plumes of fire as the rank, repulsive odor assailed his flaring nostrils. Adrenaline flooded like molten liquid, his limbs shaking as he furiously fought for control. Unable to resist the irrefutable force, his overwhelmed body succumbed to instinct.
Thick white fur now covered his skin, four pointed claws jutted from his paws, and sharp, curved teeth lined his elongated maw. In frustration, fury, and failure, he howled at the opalescent moon.
“Shift back and try again.” úlf bellowed over Njord’s raging roar.
Human once more, Njord’s muscles began to spasm uncontrollably at the noxious odor of the Dokkálfar dagger. White fur sprouted in sparse patches from his tautly stretched skin. His traitorous body writhed and twisted as sharp claws appeared, then retracted, into his long lupine paws. Gripping his head in agony as his jaw extended and teeth curved, he resisted the transformation, willing himself to remain human. Like a drowning man struggling against a tumultuous sea, Njord wrestled with his savage inner wolf.
This time, although he managed to remain mostly human, tufts of wiry wolf fur covered his partially clad body.
Howls of laughter rippled through the moonlit forest from his mocking úlfhéenar pack.
“Again.” úlf barked the brusque command.
As Njord shook like a shaggy dog to resume human form, Bodo hobbled toward him, bearded face feral and fierce. “You’re the Wolf of the Nordic Seas . Let ocean waves ice the wolf’s inner fire. Focus on calm as you float on the sea.”
Njord stared into the shrewd, lupine eyes of the warrior who had been his father’s closest friend. The úlfhéenar that Brokk had asked to train him. The mentor he had grown to trust.
Wrapped in the white wolfskin of the otherworldly guardian his father had sent to protect him, Njord deeply inhaled the soothing brine of the cool nocturnal breeze. The saline scent of the sea.
He gazed at the Dokkálfar dagger. The fetid odor of death invaded his preternatural sense of smell. His limbs twitched, his skin stretched, and molten fire flowed in his veins. As the engulfing flames of transformation sizzled up his spine, he imagined being a boy again in Bj?rgvin , plunging into the icy fjords of Norway to squelch the blistering heat.
Sweat beaded on his furrowed brow. Rage roared through his shaking limbs. But he remained human.
He had tamed his inner wolf.
“You did it! You controlled the shift. Vel gert. Well done .” úlf rewrapped the Dokkálfar blade and sheathed it in the wooden scabbard at his waist. “Now, show the pack you can shift at will. Become the white wolf of the úlfhéenar .”
Like bellows over a blazing forge, Njord stoked the flames of his internal furnace. He remembered the revolting, infernal stench of the Dokkálfar dagger and unleashed the fiery fury.
Wiry white fur blanketed his skin. Leaves and twigs snapped under the thick pads of his massive paws. As Njáll the tracker howled to indicate the wild boar he had selected for their prey, Njord loped through la Forêt du Loup .
Behind úlf. Between Hrolf and Fólki. In front of Bodo.
His position in the úlfhéenar pack.
****
Two hours later, after a successful hunt, the wolf warriors returned to the forested clearing and shifted back into human form, heading off to their longhouse or huts in the village.
Njord adjusted his white wolfskin cloak and glanced over at Bodo, who seemed uncharacteristically withdrawn and surly as he tightened the leather strap around his maimed foot. Tomorrow was Frigg’s Day, with another mass wedding celebration planned. Njord was looking forward to the jubilant revelry. And the chance to dance with Elfi under the stars. He strode across the glade toward Bodo, hoping to cheer him up. “I’m looking forward to the wedding feast tomorrow night. Dancing under the moonlight. Lively music. Plenty of mead. Will you dance around the bonfire with Sif?”
Bodo grunted, stretching out his back as he rose to full height. “I’m not going. I can’t dance. And I’m sick of the pity in her eyes. She deserves a man who is whole , not a cripple. Someone who can dance with her all night long. Like your friend áki. He can’t keep his bloody hands off her.”
Njord scoffed. “She doesn’t want áki, she wants you . Even if you can’t dance, you can still hold her. Sway to the music. Kiss her in the moonlight.” Njord gripped the brown fur-clad shoulders of his despondent, dejected mentor. “Thor’s thunder, don’t be a fool. Sif’s as smitten with you as you are with her. Don’t throw that away. Come to the wedding feast.”
Eyes like granite, jaw clenched tight, Bodo snarled, “Come on. Let’s go home.”
In sullen silence, under the mournful light of the waning moon, the two wolf warriors of the úlfhéenar withdrew from la Forêt du Loup .
****
While Elfi sat at the small vanity table in her chamber, Sif undid the braids and ran an antler comb through her mistress’ long brown hair. “I can’t wait for tomorrow night. Evelin and Linot—two of the thralls from the kitchen—promised to serve my tables so I can slip away to dance with Bodo.”
“Oh, Sif, I am so happy for you!” Elfi squeezed Sif’s hand. “I love dancing around the bonfire. When Njord wraps his arms around me, I simply swoon.” Like the wings of a white gannet taking flight, her heart fluttered wildly at the exhilarating thought. “Now you can feel the same thrill with Bodo.”
Sif’s expressive brown eyes danced with delight. “I cannot wait!” With a hopeful smile and dreamy sigh, she set the antler comb down on the table and gestured to the lamellar armor carefully laid out upon a bench in the corner of Elfi’s chamber. “I’ve cleaned the leather and polished it with beeswax. Not only will it shine for tomorrow’s training session with Jarl Njord, it has a sweet, subtle scent. Like honey.” A glimmer in her twinkling eyes and a teasing grin on her pretty face, Sif raised Elfi to her feet, unlaced and removed her mistress’ woolen gown, and eased her into a soft cotton chemise. She helped Elfi into bed and bent to kiss her cheek. “Sleep well. Bonne nuit. See you in the morning .”
After Sif had slipped into the small adjacent room where she slept with her mother Vilde, Elfi gazed out the window and watched the wispy clouds whisk across the full moon. Tomorrow, after the dance with swords in the sacred grove, she and Njord would go to the waterfall cave once again. The thought of his wondrous lips, wicked tongue, and glorious Viking body sent a flood of warmth straight to her loins. She smiled as an idea bloomed.
After making love with her wolf warrior, she would invite Njord to swim in the secluded inlet. They could jump off the rocky ledge, through the waterfall, and plunge into the turquoise waters of the Mermaid Cove, like she and Dag always used to do.
And tomorrow night, under the starlit sky, she would dance with her beguiling betrothed.
Her fated mate, Njord ívarrsson,
Wolf of the Nordic Seas .