Page 22 of Wolf of the Nordic Seas (Valiant Vikings #2)
White Wolf Weapons
Droplets of mist reflected the morning sunlight like a glittering array of glistening jewels. The thunderous waterfall tumbled from the rocky clifftop, down over the open entrance of the hidden cave, into the turbulent turquoise waters of the inlet below. As Njord stood the burning torch in the leafy grass just outside the woodland tunnel, Elfi ducked into the opalescent grotto behind the deafening cascade of the waterfall cave.
When she set the leather satchel upon the rocky cave floor, he joined her, wrapping strong arms around her back and kissing the top of her head. “I’ll miss you with every fiber of my being. But I’m thrilled that you will learn to wield your inherited power, just as I did mine.” He cradled her inside the white wolf cloak, against the comforting expanse of his broad chest. “It was exhilarating, discovering that I was one of the úlfhéenar. And challenging, learning to control my power and shift into a wolf at will. But I did, with the help of Bodo and the pack, just as you will, with the Gallizenae mermaids of the ?le de Sein .”
Elfi snuggled into his warm embrace, nuzzling her nose into the dark hair at the base of his throat, under his neatly trimmed beard braided with glistening blue gems and shimmery silver beads. She inhaled his saline scent deep into her lungs, to take part of him with her to the distant island off the coast of Bretagne. In the vast, wild ocean which the Normans called la Mer de l’ Ouest. Far to the west of the Pays de Caux and the familiar coastline of the White Chalk Cliffs.
She threaded her fingers through his thick, dark locks, rising up onto the tips of her toes to meld her lips with Njord’s. Her tongue danced with his, drinking him in, merging his essence with hers. Lowering herself back down onto the rocky cave floor, she stepped away from him, immersed in the waves of longing and love that flowed over her from his deep blue gaze. As her eyes held his, Elfi knew that Njord glimpsed the same profound love reflected in the endless depths of her own.
“You have my scent in your mustache. And now I have your taste on my lips. May they endure until we’re together again.” Flashing him her bravest smile, she fetched Dag’s flute from the leather satchel. And poured her soul into the clear, limpid notes of the fluid melody which flowed from her heart.
Njord’s ears perked up, and he spun toward the dark recesses of the cave. “Lugh is here. I can sense him, just like I can with the úlfhéenar.”
Luminous and radiant as starlight, the tall blond Ljósálfar emerged from the dark shadows behind the curved wall of the cave. Like dazzling emeralds, his deep green eyes glowed with an otherworldly inner brilliance. “Your crystalline music is divine.” His sunlit smile illuminated the cavern, casting a pearlescent glow on the limestone walls and ethereal mist inside the waterfall cave. “Should you ever need me, Elfi of étretat, play your brother’s whalebone flute. The ephemeral notes will float to me like the evanescent waters of álfheim . And I shall cross the crystal bridge into Midgard. And come to you, through the portal of a waterfall cave.”
“There are others— like this one?” Elfi’s heart skipped a beat at the exhilarating thought.
“There are three. One in northern Denmark, near the village of Thybor?n. Another, in the wild north of Norway, on the remote Lofoten Island of Skrova. And this one, in the heart of the Pays de Caux. The Land of the White Chalk Cliffs.” Lugh’s deep, sonorous voice resonated in the cave and reverberated into Elfi’s bones .
Lugh shook Njord’s hand, one eyebrow raised in admiration as he appraised the glorious fur of the white wolfskin cloak. “As magnificent as the sacred bones.”
Tossing one side of his dark green cape back over a broad shoulder, the silver haired Ljósálfar retrieved a large black deerskin pouch belted at his sinewy waist. He opened the bag and withdrew a dagger sheathed in dark green leather with an intricate pattern of overlapping, shimmering plates. “The scabbard is crafted with the scales of a dragon, like my own Light Elven armor.” Lugh’s emerald eyes blazed with verdant fire.
Elfi examined the exquisite details of the elaborate dragonscale scabbard. Along the top edge of the sheath, a trio of droplet shaped, glittering gems—the exact same stones that lay in three tiers at the base of her neck—made Elfi’s breath hitch in her throat. Centered between a light blue turquoise gem and a deep blue lapis lazuli stone streaked with strands of gold lay a faceted emerald whose vivid brilliance glimmered like Lugh’s virid gaze.
He referred to the trio of gems in the dark green leather sheath. “Three gems imbued with Ljósálfar magic. Encased in the same dragonscale leather as my Light Elven armor. And the enchanted blade is light, sleek silver. Enhanced with Ljósálfar wards of protection to guard against the dark magic of Svartálfheim .”
Lugh unsheathed the dagger and offered it to her. “ úlfblad. Wolfblade. Crafted especially for you.” A palpable power rippled up Elfi’s tingling palm as she gripped the carved ivory handle. With a delicate fingertip, she traced the trio of Nordic runes inscribed into the jawbone of Njord’s sacred white wolf.
Algiz, for the protective strength of the elk. Laguz, the rune of water, the essence of my sjóv?ttir power from the sea. And Ansuz, the rune of divine communication and connection with Odin, whose Volsung blood once flowed in this sacred white wolf.
The sleek length of the elegantly curved, pointed blade shimmered like pure silver, etched with Elven markings and intricately inscribed with Ljósálfar scrolls. At the crossguard, where the carved bone handle met the razor sharp blade, a clear oval gem sparkled like a captured star. Luminous and iridescent, it exuded radiant light, like the glittering gem in the silver clasp which fastened Lugh’s dark green cloak.
The Ljósálfar’ s deep voice interrupted Elfi’s reverie. “A gildir starstone. Like the gem in my brooch. And the stone in Dag’s Light Elven sword, Galadir.” Lugh’s long finger lovingly traced the astral orb. “Imbued with enhanced Ljósálfar magic, capable of killing a troll. Use the gildir gem to reflect sunlight during the day. Or starlight at night. Either will kill a Dokkálfar Dark Elf or a troll, petrifying them into stone.” He slid his lean finger down the sinuous silver curve inscribed with intricate scrolls. “Or kill them with this enchanted blade. By hurling Light Elven magic straight into their darkened hearts.”
Lugh turned to Njord. “Give me your hand.”
Njord complied without hesitation.
Placing the new dagger onto Njord’s outstretched hand, Lugh withdrew his own knife from the sheath at his waist. He carefully sliced the tip of Njord’s finger and meticulously placed three droplets of blood into each of the three Nordic runes inscribed in the wolf bone handle. Fingers floating over the runes as he murmured an incomprehensible incantation, Elfi surmised that Lugh spoke in an ancient Light Elven tongue. The gildir starstone glimmered and glowed with brilliant, otherworldly light.
When Lugh had finished adding three drops of blood into each of the trio of runes, he took Elfi’s hand and placed the dagger onto her flattened palm. “A trinity of Nordic runes,” he explained, sheathing his own Elven blade. “Imbued with three drops of úlfhéenar blood. The sacred number nine.” His radiant smile illuminated the entire opalescent cave. “Like the nine days that the Allfather hanged himself from Yggdrasil, the World Tree.” With a luminous fingertip, Lugh traced the blood-etched runes. “Inscribed into the jawbone of the sacred white wolf, the hámr animal spirit of Njord’s father Brokk . A Volsung warrior with the blood of Odin.” Lugh’s otherworldly gaze entranced Elfi. “Thrice the protection of the wolf. Your mate’s úlfhéenar blood. His father’s wolf spirit bones. Both descended from the divine Allfather. A sacred trinity of the wolf, blessed with the blood of Odin.”
Limbs shaking, mouth parched, Elfi stammered, “A priceless gift. Thank you.” She sheathed her Ljósálfar dagger into the dark green dragonscale scabbard and handed it reverently to Njord. “Please hold this for me while I unbuckle my belt. I want to wear úlfblad strapped at my waist when I go to the ?le de Sein .” Elfi unfastened her leather belt, and Njord handed the dagger to her. Feral pride blazed in his fierce lupine eyes as she slid the dragonscale scabbard onto her leather belt and secured it on her hips.
“And now, the second weapon.” Lugh retrieved a long, curved ivory instrument that tapered to a sharp point, suspended from a thin black leather cord. Carved into the smooth, polished bone were three runes which Elfi recognized at once. Uruz, for strength. Algiz, for protection. And Tiwaz, for the valor of a warrior. “ úlftiri. Wolf whistle ,” Lugh announced, handing the leather cord to Elfi. “It produces a sound that only wolves can hear. Blow it to summon the warrior wolves of the úlfhéenar. And wolves from the sacred grove and the enchanted Forêt du Loup.”
Elfi held the long, slender bone whistle in her hand. Beneath the shaped mouthpiece at the top was a hole, with a second, smaller one at the bottom, just above the sharp endpoint. She glanced up at Lugh, questioning him with her eyes.
He laughed, the deep notes of his velvety voice like a mellow, otherworldly harp. “Don’t try it now. With their extraordinary lupine hearing, the úlfhéenar will detect the wolf call from twenty leagues away. As will all wolves in the sacred grove and la Forêt du Loup . And with the Ljósálfar magic I have embedded in the úlftiri , they will be compelled to come to your aid.”
Elfi wondered if she would need to summon wolves on the ?le de Sei n . She’d heard tales that the remote island was uninhabited, except for nine Gallizenae mermaids who controlled the tumultuous sea and the tempestuous storms of la Mer de l’ Ouest. The Celtic people of nearby Bretagne believed the Gallizenae were shapeshifting Druid priestesses who commanded the tides and lured enemies to their deaths by shipwreck along the rocky, craggy coast. Among the Vikings of Normandy, sailors warned that all ships who had ventured into the impassable passage known as La Chaussée de Sein had been sacrificed to the Sea Goddess Rán. Elfi looked up at the towering, silver-haired Ljósálfar. “Will I need my wolf weapons on the ?le de Sein ? Could I encounter a Dokkálfar or a troll?”
“ Nei, the island is enshrouded by defensive wards of ocean magic, with dangerous tides, hidden rocks, and perilous shoals. It is only accessible by sea—or through the waterfall cave of this Mermaid Cove. Protected by Dúva’s sjóv?ttir spirit.” Lugh’s luminous smile flooded Elfi with reassuring light, as comforting as her mother’s essence which swept over the waters of the sheltered inlet and into the cave to caress Elfi’s cheek.
Elfi released the breath she was holding and placed the úlftiri back into the black leather pouch, securing it with Dag’s flute safely inside her satchel.
“I shall escort you through this portal,” Lugh said, indicating the tunnel concealed behind the curved wall of the waterfall cave, “to the mouth of the sea cave which opens onto the ?le de Sein .” He adjusted his long, dark green cloak, the gildir starstone in his ornate silver brooch glistening in the early morning light. Verdant and mystical as a sacred forest, Lugh’s emerald eyes entranced hers. “But only females may set foot on the island. And only women seeking the divine wisdom of the Gallizenae . For prophesies, healing, or wielding magic.”
A shiver shuddered through Elfi. My mother’s sjóv?ttir power. Pulse pounding, legs trembling, she turned toward Njord, who pulled her close, wrapping her inside his white wolfskin cloak.
He leaned down and brushed his bearded lips against hers. “Embrace your fate, daughter of Dúva. My siren with the sea goddess eyes.” Njord glanced up at Lugh. “You said that Elfi’s training would last three days. Will she play Dag’s flute to signal her return and summon you?”
Lugh nodded, his Elven eyes fixed on Elfi. “And I shall escort her safely back to the castle.” He grinned at the úlfblad dagger sheathed in the dark green dragonscale scabbard at Elfi’s waist. The gildir starstone in the wolf bone hilt glimmered like the gem in Lugh’s brooch. And the trio of enchanted stones in the dragonscale sheath pulsed with power like the jewels in the necklace around her throat. “But now that you have taught her to wield a dagger,” he grinned at Njord, “and she has the Ljósálfar white wolf blade…Elfi can defend herself against the Dokkálfar or even a troll. As well as you or I.”
Elfi’s shieldmaiden heart soared like swan wings of a Valkyrie.
Rising up onto her toes, she kissed Njord one last time. “I love you, my Wolf of the Nordic Seas . I’ll be back in three days.”
When he nodded, his fierce lupine eyes fixed upon her, Elfi hoisted her satchel firmly onto her shoulder and adjusted the úlfblad dagger at her waist. She strode across the rocky floor of the waterfall cave, casting one last glance at Njord, filled with all the love in her sjóv?ttir mermaid heart.
She accepted Lugh’s proffered bent elbow, hooking her arm through his.
And disappeared into the dark, otherworldly portal which led to the ?le de Sein .