Page 20 of Wolf of the Nordic Seas (Valiant Vikings #2)
Interwoven Fates
Clad in the white wolfskin cloak over his chain mail brynja and woolen breeches, Njord waited for Elfi in the sacred grove. When he spotted her coming out of the cave in the woods, she flashed him a dazzling smile which set his pulse racing as she extinguished the torch and stood it upright in the ground. “ Good day , elska minn.” He cast appreciative eyes over her leather armor, focusing on the snug fit of her trousers. As a surge of fire flooded his veins, he wanted nothing more than to skip the training session and go straight to the waterfall cave.
Njord adjusted his breeches and roared with laughter. “Thor’s thunder, I want you, Elfi of étretat. Even after last night…and this morning…I yearn for you all the time.” Like a stallion, he shook his head, tossing his long hair back while she taunted him with a sly, seductive smirk. Tamping down his raging lust, he grinned and refocused his attention. “But first, our weapons training and the dance with swords . Then, the delicious dance in the waterfall cave…”
Aware of the ardent response which flared in her eyes, Njord chuckled as he withdrew the dagger from the sheath at his hip and hurled it at the target attached to the beech tree. His blade thwacked as it struck the center. With a gloating grin, he strode across the clearing and withdrew the knife. When he returned to her side, challenge blazed in her shieldmaiden gaze as he handed her the dagger. “ Your turn. Show me how much you’ve improved.”
A visible thrill lit up Elfi’s beautiful face. With a fierce grin, she hurled the blade as he had taught her. Although she didn’t hit the inner ring as he had done, she did embed the dagger in the target.
He trotted up to fetch the knife and gave it to her, carved wooden handle first. “Again.” He flashed her a snide grin.
She fired a dozen more times, and although her accuracy striking the center varied, she never missed hitting the target.
“You have developed impressive skill quite quickly.” Njord complimented her progress as he returned the dagger to the leather scabbard at his waist. He gestured to Elfi’s bow, leaning against the beech tree. “And now, for archery.” Handing her the quiver of arrows and the yew wood bow, he smirked. “Impress me.”
Adrenaline seemed to spike in Elfi as she positioned herself before the target, aligning her shoulders and elbows in proper form as he had taught her.
Njord crept up behind her, needlessly helping her draw the bowstring back to anchor at her chin. “Lower the bow just a bit,” he whispered hotly in her ear, “and keep this elbow parallel to the ground.” As he adjusted her right arm, he pressed his hardened body against hers. With the evidence of his arousal poking her lush backside and his warm lips nuzzling the side of her neck, Elfi seemed flustered and much too distracted to concentrate.
His husky laugh obviously inflamed and irritated her when he stepped back so she could shoot.
As if determined to demonstrate her prowess, she shook her head, rolled her neck, and repositioned her body. With intense concentration blazing across her fierce but lovely face, she tautly drew the bowstring back to her chin, kept her eye on the target, and loosed the arrow. When it embedded in the center of the target, she spun triumphantly toward him, then fired the rest of the arrows from her quiver in quick succession. Although not every shot hit the inner mark, she still seemed inordinately pleased to have struck the target each time. Her widened eyes searched his face, eager for his approval.
“ Vel gert ! Well done, elska minn .” Njord beamed with pride as he helped her remove the arrows from the target and place them back into the leather quiver, which he leaned against the beech tree. When he turned toward her, Njord unsheathed his sword with a challenging grin. “ Búinn ?” Without waiting for her reply if she was ready or not, he lunged, forcing her to parry his strike and spin into a downward slice.
Like a graceful lynx, his shieldmaiden leapt and ducked, blocking his barrage of blows with her bossed shield. Slashing, spinning, and striking with Shadowbane , she reveled in their exhilarating dance of swords.
After nearly two hours of intense training, Elfi sheathed her blade and collapsed against him, breathless with unbridled joy and physical exhaustion. Pride and gratitude glimmered in her sea goddess eyes.
Njord sheathed his own sword. “You are a formidable opponent, elska minn . Your brother trained you well.” He eyed her slender waist and the alluring swell of her full hips. “And his leather armor fits you like a glove.” A savage hunger flared as he ran appreciative hands over her irresistible curves. He crushed his lips against hers and groaned into her open mouth. “I must have you, Elfi. My desire is a physical pain.”
She gazed up at him, her eyes as inviting as the hidden depths of the Mermaid Cove. Lust laced her sultry whisper. “Let’s go to the waterfall cave.”
Pulse racing, body thrumming, Njord strapped his bow across his back as Elfi secured hers. While she slung the quiver of arrows onto her shoulder and grabbed her shield, he retrieved the firesteel from the pouch at his waist and relit the torch. Holding the fyrbrand in one hand and his shield in the other, he grunted, his voice guttural and gruff. “Lead the way.”
****
The roar of the waterfall thundered behind him, the frothy spray filling the cave with mystical droplets of mist. Njord unlaced the leather plates and helped Elfi out of her lamellar armor, which he gently laid upon the stone floor next to his white wolfskin cloak. While she unfastened her padded chemise, he unstrapped his sword and leaned it against the wall of the limestone grotto. He removed his chain mail brynja, gambeson , breeches, and boots, to stand naked—his aroused body at full attention— before his siren with the sea goddess eyes.
She glowed in the ethereal light filtering through the cascade, her creamy skin translucent and tempting, her light brown hair gilded with shimmery streaks of gold. As Elfi removed the trollkors talisman which had been tucked beneath her armor, the glittering lapis lazuli gems reflected like the waters of the Mermaid Cove. Placing the amulet upon her quilted gambeson, she rose to her full height and stood before him like a radiant goddess.
Once again, an otherworldly, irresistible pull drew him to her, as if the Norns had woven the threads of their fate for them to mate in this waterfall cave.
He cradled her against his pounding chest, lowering his lips to claim hers. Soft and sweet, she yielded to him, opening to accept his probing tongue. Her taste drove him wild, his greedy lips devouring her as he sampled her neck and suckled her supple skin. Laying her down upon the wolfskin cloak, he parted her legs and feasted like a famished wolf.
When he entered her, Elfi wrapped her long legs around his waist, her slender arms behind his back, clenching him tightly, inside and out. He plunged into her warmth, rocking in rhythm like the waves splashing on the shore beneath the cave. As his passion crested in an inexorable peak, he sunk in and shattered, filling her depths with a pulsating plume, like the endless sea surging over the white chalk cliffs.
When his body calmed, he lingered for a few moments, savoring the sated glow which flowed through his veins. Njord shifted his weight to one elbow, leaning down to kiss Elfi softly. “Our last tryst in the waterfall cave. Lugh comes tomorrow.”
Excitement and regret warred in her wide, expressive eyes. “I can’t wait to see the weapons he’s crafted with the bones of your white wolf. I’m thrilled to go with him to the ?le de Sein. And learn to wield my mother’s sjóv?ttir magic. But…” she said, tracing a tender fingertip in the dark hair on his chest, “I will miss our afternoons here in the waterfall cave. And our swims in the Mermaid Cove.”
“We’ll be able to come here when you return.” He held her against his chest, stroking her soft, supple skin. He sighed and kissed her hair. “I must get back to the castle. There’s another wedding feast tonight, and I need to finish the final section of the wooden palisades before Jarl Rikard and his men ride to Reims tomorrow.” Njord reluctantly sat up, pulled on his hose, and stood to don his woolen breeches. He took Elfi’s hand and raised her to a stand. While she swept her braided hair over one shoulder, he secured the t rollkors talisman and kissed the back of her slender neck. “We have one last night together. Before you leave for the ?le de Sein tomorrow.” Njord grinned as he strapped on his sword. “I’m looking forward to another glorious night in your room. And Bodo cannot wait to spend tonight with Sif.” He helped Elfi secure the bow across her back and handed her the quiver of arrows. “That bloodstone ring—the one he bought from óttarr Skov—is incredible. It has completely cured his limp. Now he can dance with Sif all night long. I just hope we can keep him away from áki.”
As Njord lifted the torch to light the way back through the dark tunnel, Elfi grabbed her shield. “I’ll have Inga—the pretty blonde servant from the kitchen—dance with áki tonight. Odin willing, he’ll focus on her and forget about Sif.”
****
A long black cloak—adorned with raven feathers, bloodied bones, glittering gems, and eerie charms—draped like enormous wings across her narrow shoulders and down her slim back. Catskin gloves lined her long arms, and skeletal fingers clutched the carved wooden staff with its elaborately encased, glowing moonstone tip. Her striking oval face painted with deep blue woad, the Viking volva thumped her wand on the leafy ground rhythmically like a drum. Melodic voice as mellow as a harp, úlvhild chanted a vardlokkur to summon benevolent spirits and invoke the blessings of the Nordic gods.
While moonlight danced on white-capped waves which crashed against the craggy cliffs far below, the pagan priest at her side dipped an ash twig into the blood of the boar which had been sacrificed and roasted for the wedding feast. His white, chalk-painted face streaked with black Nordic runes, the goei splattered the newly handfasted couples with the liquid offering to the gods. As Njord and Elfi stood among the wedding guests gathered in the grassy clifftop meadow, the Viking priest poured the remains of the sacrificial blood onto the roaring flames within the stone enclosed altar. The crackling bonfire sizzled and spit, sending golden sparks soaring into the starry night sky.
Like every Frigg’s Day since Njord and his Danish army had arrived from Ribe, widows and warriors were handfasted in a mass pagan wedding near the bonfire under the stars.
Tonight, to honor the moon god Mani for the vibrant Viking feast, and to seek the blessings of the gods for the upcoming voyages which would take place on the morrow, castle servants had set up dozens of tables outdoors under the canopy of enormous oaks. Now, with the ceremony complete, the newly wedded couples dashed to tables laden with sumptuous food in the jubilant frenzy of the traditional bruehlaup bridal race. As the last place couple ceremoniously served goblets of mead to the winners, Njord settled Elfi at the head table where Jarl Rikard was seated with Count Sk?rde, úlvhild, Oda, Bjarke, and Varg. Taking his place at Elfi’s side, Njord accepted a mug of mead and perused the castle grounds.
Bodo and the úlfhéenar pack—along with several Danish warriors from Ribe— were at a table where Sif and the pretty blonde Inga were pouring generous mugs of mead. Odin be praised, there was no sign of áki. Exhaling in profound relief, Njord piled his plate high with baked haddock seasoned with thyme, a vegetable medley of wild carrots, peas, mushrooms, leeks and onions, and several thick slices of roast boar slathered with honey.
Sk?rde the Scourge—the burly blond giant once known as the Dragon of Denmark , now the ruling Count of the Pays de Caux —spoke to Njord from across the table. “Jarl Rikard informs me that you will be meeting Lugh tomorrow in the waterfall cave. That Lugh is crafting Ljsósálfar weapons from the bones of a sacred white wolf—the hámr spirit of your father, a Volsung warrior descended from Odin.” Fierce pride blazed across Sk?rde’s bearded, tattooed face. “Lugh was the one who forged my Ljósálfar sword, Duradrakk . As well as Jarl Rikard’s blade Aragil , and Dag’s stolen sword, Galadir. I am most anxious to see what weapons he has crafted for you.” The Dragon of Normandy raised his engraved silver goblet to Elfi.
“That will have to wait until I return from the ?le de Sein.” Barely able to contain her enthusiasm, Elfi squirmed in her seat, her excited voice a breathless whisper. “ After he brings the white wolf weapons to the waterfall cave tomorrow, Lugh is taking me there. To meet the legendary mermaids of the Gallizenae !” Exhilaration glittered in her sea goddess eyes.
When Sk?rde raised a curious eyebrow, the blue-faced volva seated at his side answered the unspoken question. “Elfi’s mother was Dúva, one of the nine billow maiden daughters of Rán. A sjóv?ttir sea spirit mermaid.”
“Lugh explained that the Gallizenae could teach me to wield her power. And learn to control the sea!” Elfi’s radiant face glowed like the moonstone in úlvhild’s carved wooden staff. “Perhaps I will need it on the voyage to ísland, when Njord reclaims his father’s Dwarven sword.”
Worry lines furrowed the crinkled skin around Oda’s eyes. “When will you sail for ísland?”
“After the Haustblót Festival, when faeir returns to étretat. And Galadir is properly buried with Dag in the sacred grove.” Hand shaking as she grasped for her goblet, Elfi downed a bracing gulp of mead.
Njord darted another glance at the table where Sif now sat on Bodo’s lap, her face alight with laughter. Thank the gods, still no sign of áki. He redirected his attention back to Elfi.
“Will you ride or sail to Chateaufort?” she asked Sk?rde, referring to his clifftop castle in nearby Dieppe.
“Sailing is quicker, and less physically exhausting for Ylva and our daughter Vivi, who is twelve winters old.” The Count of the Pays de Caux smiled wistfully and drained his goblet, summoning a servant for more.
“Sk?rde’s wife Ylva is Jarl Rikard’s daughter,” Elfi explained to Njord. “She and Sk?rde have two sons, in addition to their daughter Vivi.” Nostalgia glimmered in her sorrowful eyes as she smiled softly at Sk?rde. “Their oldest son, Skjold, used to train here at Chateau Blanc with Dag as a young boy. But for the past eight years, Skjold has been training to become a vitki— a Viking sorcerer with powerful galdr magic. In the wild north of Norway. With the Falcon of the Faroe Islands, Haldor Falk.”
Recognition dawned upon hearing that name. Njord remembered Bodo explaining how their king, Harald Bluetooth, had sent the úlfhéenar— including Njord’s father Brokk— to aid Haldor Falk in the Faroe Islands. Where Brokk had been killed by a Dokkálfar in the bloody Battle of Tórshavn.
Elfi sipped from her goblet and smiled before she resumed speaking to Njord. “Sk?rde’s second son, Tryggvi, is in Denmark. Training to become a warrior with his uncle, Sweyn Forkbeard—Sk?rde’s younger brother.”
“Tryggvi fought alongside Sweyn two years ago in the Battle of Heieabyr against the Franks. Their victory enabled King Harald to reclaim the Danish port from Otto the Red and his Holy Roman Empire.” A gloating grin stretched across Jarl Rikard’s craggy face. “And Otto’s royal cousin, the Frankish King Lothaire.” Richard the Fearless directed his ducal attention back to Sk?rde. “Tryggvi is sixteen winters. The same age you were when you fought at your father’s side in alliance with me against Lothaire. That decisive victory not only helped me defend Normandy against the Franks. It earned you the title Dragon of Denmark , warlord of King Harald’s Viking army.” Jarl Rikard raised his silver goblet in tribute, and all at the table drank to Sk?rde.
There was a lull in the conversation, and everyone returned to the delectable fare of the feast. As lively music filled the festive air, silver goblets glistened in the moonglow, and the crisp pine scent of la Forêt du Loup stirred his lupine blood, Njord filled his lungs with the saline breeze of the salty sea, reflecting upon the strands of fate.
The volva in Norway foretold that destiny would lead me across the Nordic Seas to my mate — the siren with the sea goddess eyes. When King Harald sent me to Normandy for a Viking alliance with Jarl Rikard, not only did I find Elfi, but another volva, who led me to Bodo. I’ve learned about the prophecy, my father Brokk, and that I have the úlfhéenar blood of the wolf. And now, I shall meet Haldor Falk, Falcon of the Faroe Islands. Ally of my Volsung father, my Viking jarl, and my Danish king. The three Norns have interwoven the threads of all our fates.
Jarl Rikard’s deep rumble interrupted Njord’s reverie. “It’s been eight long years since I’ve seen Skjold.” The weathered, leathery face of Richard the Fearless crinkled in a proud, paternal smile. “He’s a man now. Undoubtedly a powerful vitki . Like the shapeshifting sorcerer who trained him.”
Blue woad face painted with black runes, feathered cloak splattered with glittering gems like a star studded midnight sky, úlvhild leaned forward and mesmerized Njord. “Like you, Skjold is destined to fulfill a prophecy.” The volva’s golden eyes glowed like liquid amber, her oracular voice hallowed and haunting. “The eldest child born to the daughter of a Norman duke and the son of a Danish king will forge a dynasty to unite this land and rule for a thousand years.” A cryptic smile crept across her eerily beautiful face. “It appears the Norns have entwined Skjold’s prophecy with your own.”