Page 24 of Wolf of the Nordic Seas (Valiant Vikings #2)
Le Chant des Sirènes
“We Gallizenae may assume the form of humans, as you have already seen. But we may also shift into any sea creature, from the largest whale to the tiniest fish.” Hefring’s lavender hair and amethyst eyes mirrored the mauve hues of the sunset sky.
“Or the Mélusines. Our warrior form.” The reverberations in Kólga’s velvety voice resonated inro Elfi’s bones. “Two hundred foot long sea dragons, capable of sinking any ship.”
“Once we activate your sjóv?ttir magic with le Chant des Sirènes —the Sirens’ Song—you will be able to summon the Gallizenae . Or call for the aid of the Mélusines .” Himingl?va began to chant, her melodic vocalizations reminding Elfi of the vardlokkur that úlvhild always sang for sacrifices and ceremonies to invoke the blessing of benevolent spirits. As the limpid notes of le Chant des Sirènes soared like graceful seabirds over the rolling waves, the melodies of the other mermaids joined the sirens’ song , their ephemeral voices blending like fluid lutes, lyres, and flutes.
As the chant gained momentum, an enormous wave arose from the tide, cresting and curling, the mermaids’ song summoning the strength of the sea. An eerie, evanescent light glowed within the swelling surge, which rose to the height of the craggy cliff high above the mermaids’ heads. The mammoth wave peaked and crashed upon Elfi, the thunderous cascade inundating her like the roaring waters of the waterfall cave.
When the force of the wave flooded her body, a sizzling jolt of energy shot through her, from the top of her human head to the tip of her mermaid tail.
Thoroughly drenched, with rivulets of sea water dripping from her blue green hair, Elfi reveled in a triumph far more exhilarating than the thrill of wielding her Shadowbane sword. Tremendous power surged through her body, surpassing the human strength of her shieldmaiden self. The magic of the sea now flows through my veins. My sjóv?ttir power has awakened.
“With le Chant des Sirènes, you may summon the Gallizenae . Simply touch the sea and call our name. As mermaids or Mélusines , we will come at your command.” Bylgja’s bright eyes sparkled like the emerging stars shining in the twilit sky.
“If you need one of us—touch the water, call our name, and tell us where to come. To summon me, you would say, ‘Himingl?va, hear my siren’s song. Come to Elfi in the Mermaid Cove of étretat.’ I shall hear le Chant des Sirènes and swim to the waterfall cave.” Moonlight cast an opalescent glow on Himingl?va’s silvery hair as she swam in the sheltered inlet.
“You can also summon the Mélusines with the sirens’ song.” Kólga’s blue black hair and sapphires eyes were a striking contrast against her alabaster skin. “Tomorrow, when we return from your training, I will share the vision I have foreseen. For you will need to summon us as sea dragons warriors . To attack enemy ships .”
úlvhild predicted that I must accompany Njord on the voyage to ísland. Perhaps this is why. To summon the Mélusines to sink Frankish ships!
“We shall leave you now. There are dried chamomile blossoms in a woven basket on the shelf inside the cottage, if you would like to prepare a tisane. In the green ceramic container, you’ll find ground barley to prepare a porridge to break your fast. And there are ripe blackberries on the shrubs just north of the cottage. We’ll return in the morning. Remember, you may call any one of us individually—or all nine of us together—with le Chant des Sirènes. ”
As each mermaid swam forward to kiss her on both cheeks in a fond farewell, Elfi’s body still quavered from the awakening of her sjóv?ttir magic. “Thank you for welcoming me to the ?le de Sein ,” she stammered. “And for reviving my magic. I am thrilled to be able to shift into a mermaid. I cannot wait to continue training.”
“Tomorrow, we shall teach you to wield the power of sjósongr. To summon the strength of the sea.” Blóeughadda’s blood red hair gleamed black in the darkening night sky. “Goodnight, Elfi. We shall return at sunrise. Sleep well, daughter of Dúva. Bonne nuit.”
Elfi watched the Gallizenae disappear into the dark depths of the secluded cove, tailfins glimmering in moonglow and starlight. When they were gone, she swam to the shore and rose out of the water, shifting into human form and wringing the salt water from her light brown hair. She fetched a swath of linen and dried off, wrapping her long locks in the cloth on top of her head. She donned her chemise and dark blue gown, pulling on her leather boots and fetching a pitcher from inside the cottage, which she filled in the stream. When she returned to the hut, she set the pitcher upon the table and crossed the room to the pile of timber stacked near the hearth. Placing a long thin piece of driftwood into the banked embers, she lit the candle on the bedside table, selected a small tin kettle from the wooden shelves, and poured some water from the pitcher to heat over the fire. Elfi lowered the sealskin to close the cottage door, securing the flap onto hooks driven into the earthen floor.
Among the willow baskets and ceramic jars lining the wooden shelves, she found the dried chamomile flowers, placed a spoonful into a pewter mug, and fetched her antler comb from the leather satchel she had left on the bed. While waiting for the water to boil for the herbal tisane she hoped would relax her still-jittery limbs, Elfi worked the tangles out of her tousled hair, plaiting it into a long braid down her back and securing it with a small leather thong. When the kettle was ready, she wrapped her hands in the linen cloth, carefully pouring the steaming water over the crushed herbs and setting the kettle on a flat stone to cool upon the wooden shelf which served as a kitchen counter. Once the chamomile blossoms had sufficiently steeped, she strained the herbs with her spoon and settled down at the table to enjoy her tisane .
The sweet floral fragrance and mild fruity flavor of chamomile reminded Elfi of the apples which were abundant in Normandy and would soon be harvested for the Haustblót festival to welcome her faeir home. She pictured Njord, in his Viking longhouse in étretat. She wondered if he, too, were gazing up at the stars, thinking of her. How proud he will be to see me as a mermaid. I cannot wait to show him! Elfi thought of her stubborn father, and how opposed he was to women wielding weapons or training like men. No wonder her mother had kept her sjóv?ttir powers secret from him. Unlike Njord, her father would not have understood.
I am grateful my mate is a shifter like me. His úlfhéenar blood comes from his father, a Volsung descendant of Odin. And I have inherited sjóv?ttir magic from my mother, a billow maiden daughter of Rán. Both Njord and I share the blood — and magic — of the Nordic gods!
She sipped her tisane, tracing the intricate silver swirls and gleaming gildir starstone in the úlfblad dagger that Lugh had crafted which she had placed on the table beside her. At the top of the dark green dragonscale sheath, the trio of enchanted gems glittered in the incandescent light. The same stones as my bridal necklace. And the colors of my mermaid tail.
The chamomile tisane soothed her twitching limbs, and Elfi yawned as weariness set in. On the morrow, she would ask the Gallizenae about the impending voyage to ísland, for she had come to the ?le de Sein not only to learn how to wield her mother’s magic, but to seek knowledge from the otherworldly seeresses blessed with the divine gift of sight. Perhaps they could reveal how Elfi would aid Njord. And what the prophecy foretold he must accomplish once he reclaimed his father’s Dwarven sword .
Rising from the table, she stretched her arms overhead and walked across the cottage to the straw bed piled with furs and soft wool blankets. She placed the sheathed Ljósálfar dagger upon the bedside table. Elfi removed her gown, folded it neatly, and set it on the table beside the candle, which she extinguished. As she slipped into bed and snuggled into the soft covers, she looked out the open window at the starry night sky. The same twinkling stars that watched over Njord. She thought of Jarl Rikard and his men, riding to Reims to fetch her father. “May the gods protect you, my love. And bring my faeir safely home.”
****
Elfi was scrubbing the remains of her breakfast—barley porridge and blackberries—from the pot and pewter bowl, rinsing them in the freshwater stream which flowed near the cottage, when she heard le chant des sirènes coming from the sheltered cove. The fluid notes floated over the gentle waves on the salty breeze, calling to her mermaid soul. Like the innate bond Njord recognized when he met Bodo and his úlfhéenar pack. The same kindred spirit that he’d sensed from the white wolf in Norway . Elfi’s sjóv?ttir magic stirred at the sound of the sirens’ song.
Heart racing, mouth suddenly dry, she dashed across the sandy beach. The smiling faces of the nine Gallizenae greeted her from the turquoise waters, their lustrous hair and fluttering tailfins a stunning array of blues, greys, lavenders, and greens.
“ Bonjour , Elfi! Leave your gown in the cottage and join us. In mermaid form.” Hronn’s pale aqua hair glimmered in the early morning sun.
“I’ll be right there!” Elfi raced into the cottage, dropped the clean dishes onto the shelf, and quickly unstrapped her úlfblad dagger, setting the dragonscale scabbard and sheathed blade upon the table. Leaving her boots on the rush-strewn earthen floor, she removed her gown and chemise, folding and placing them beside her trollkors amulet and tiered necklace, which were carefully laid upon the bed. The úlftiri whistle—made from the bones of Njord’ s sacred white wolf—was tucked inside her leather satchel, sitting on the bedside table. Satisfied that her belongings were safe, Elfi exited the cottage, lowered and secured the sealskin door, and sprinted across the soft white sand. When she arrived at the water’s edge, she stepped into the foamy waves lapping at the shore. And—drawing the essence of the sea deep into her soul—dove into the cove as a mermaid.
Swirling under the curling waves, she followed the nine billow maidens out to sea. When they surfaced, so did she, amidst a flurry of frothy, white-capped waves, buffeted by the open ocean winds. All around her, sunlight danced on the turbulent sea like thousands of glimmering jewels. In the distance, a small island with rocky shores and craggy cliffs rose above the windswept water.
“The sirens’ song called to your soul. And your spirit knows the song of the sea. Sjósongr. The sjóv?ttir magic of your mermaid mother, daughter of the Sea Goddess Rán.” Kólga’s dark blue eyes glistened like sparkling sapphires. “Sing from the depths of your soul. And summon the strength of the sea.”
“Just as you draw the ocean into your body when you shift into mermaid form, pull the power of the sea with your sjóv?ttir magic. And hurl its tremendous force against those rocks.” Eyes widened with anticipation, Himingl?va watched Elfi wield sjósongr for the very first time.
Like a song sung from the depths of her soul, a thrumming rose within her, unfurling and unleashing her magic. Fingers clenched like powerful claws, she extracted the essence of the sea, pulling an enormous wave from the bottom of the ocean floor. She lifted her arms high above her head, the wave rising to an astonishing peak twice the height of a Viking drakkar warship. Remembering the technique Njord had taught her, Elfi hurled the wave like a dagger toward the target. As her arm slammed against the surface of the water in front of her, the swelling surge crashed upon the island shore, splattering sea foam and shattering rocks high into the salty sky.
A triumphant thrill rippled down Elfi’s spine to the twin tips of her mermaid tail.
“Very well done. Now do it again.” Himingl?va’s melodic voice was laced with encouragement and pride.
Elfi hurtled another huge wave which pummeled the craggy shore.
“Create two waves—one with each hand—and fire them in opposite directions toward the same target.” Kólga’s sapphire eyes glinted with thrilling challenge.
Arms extended at either side, Elfi clutched the raw power of the sea, pulling it up into a pair of towering waves high above her head. Crossing her arms in front of her bare torso, she launched them together. And shrieked in gleeful triumph as they pounded the tiny island on opposite shores.
“That is how you could sink an enemy ship. Inundate the deck with one wave, and capsize the vessel with another. Or crack the hull in two with a simultaneous strike.” Sunlight glimmered upon the frothy waves and reflected in Bylgja’s bright blue gaze.
Elfi’s heart hammered in her chest, her entire body shaking with her newfound power. “Can I wield my sjósongr magic as a human, or only in mermaid form?”
“Both. And you may summon us with le chant des sirènes in either form as well .” Himingl?va pointed to a group of small islands to the south. Swim to the nearest shore, walk up onto the beach. And hurl a wave as a human.”
Elfi submerged under the cold surface, flicked her mermaid tail to propel herself forward, and emerged onto the rocky bank of the island upon two long legs. Wind whipping her hair and salt stinging her bare skin, she summoned the magic of sjósongr from the depths of her mermaid soul. And fired a rapid succession of enormous waves, each one striking a different island target.
Victory surging through her veins like the waves she had just hurled from the sea, Elfi shifted into a mermaid and swam back to join the Gallizenae.
Under the watchful eyes of her mermaid mentors, Elfi practiced wielding her sjóv?ttir magic throughout the afternoon. Finally, as the sun began its descent in the western sky, they swam to an island to rest upon the rocks.
Opalescent scales shimmering in the golden light of the setting sun, Himingl?va smiled at Elfi, her perfect teeth like lustrous pearls. “You have mastered the magic of sjósongr and now wield the sjóv?tir power of the sea. For today’s final lesson, you must summon the Mélusines with le Chant des Sirènes .”
Elfi’s breath hitched in her throat. The Mélusines were the warrior form of the Gallizenae . Enormous sea dragons, reminiscent of the legendary Jormungandr , the gigantic ocean serpent of Nordic tales. And I shall summon them with the sirens’ song!
With a slender finger, Himingl?va indicated a trio of islands to the north. “That first islet is called Les Rochers de la Vieille— the Rocks of the Old Woman—named for the treacherous rocks which protect the realm of Rán. The second is known as Les Rochers de la Porte because the rocks form a passageway, like a portal. The third, Les Rochers de l’ écume, is named for the seafoam that collects along the rocky shore. Swim to whichever one you choose. Walk up onto the beach and place your hand upon the surface of the sea. Identify the island where you wish us to appear. And summon the Mélusines with le Chant des Sirènes . ”
Elfi slipped into the cold water, shivering from the delicious chill of the sea and the thrill of anticipation. As she swam, she was inexplicably drawn to Les Rochers de la Porte , as if an otherworldly force beckoned her. The closer she got to the island, the stronger the pull, her sjóvéttir magic responding to an intrinsic, instinctive bond.
When she arose from the ocean and walked up onto the shore, she was stunned to see a thunderous waterfall cascading from a craggy cliff, tumbling over the open mouth of a hidden sea cave into the turbulent waters below, much like her beloved waterfall cave in the Mermaid Cove. Power pulsed from the darkened depths inside the cave, but Elfi intuitively sensed a benevolent presence. A kindred spirit which sang to her soul .
Rather than venture alone into the mysterious grotto, Elfi decided to summon the Mélusines as she’d been told. Perhaps the Gallizenae knew of this mystical cavern. Or would at least accompany her inside to explore.
Elfi walked to the edge of the shore and bent down to place her hand upon the ocean water, pouring her sjóv?ttir spirit into the sea. “ Mélusines,, heed le Chant des Sirènes . Send the sea dragons to les Rochers de la Porte .”
As Elfi stood on the rocky beach, peering into the swirling surf, nine mammoth beasts appeared beneath the turbulent waters, each dark shape twice the length and width of the Viking longships Njord had brought from Denmark.
Monstrous reptilian heads with huge, pointed horns and elongated blue snouts rose above the roiling surface of the sea to display sharp, serpentine fangs. Massive scaled bodies with barbed dorsal fins and powerful spiked tails churned and whipped the choppy sea as the Mélusines formed a whirling circle. The giant sea dragons swirled in a spiral, creating a maelstrom in the darkened depths, from which a thirty foot wave swelled into a curling peak which crashed against the rocky shore.
Although Elfi was standing on the opposite side of the island, the surge slammed the coast with such force that it shook the ground beneath her, spraying seawater high into the sky to rain down and drench her.
Limbs trembling, hair dripping, Elfi shook violently before such magnificent power. The Mélusines can shatter ships with those spiked tails. Impale survivors with pointed horns. Gnash bodies with their massive fangs. Adrenaline surged as recognition dawned. This is why I must accompany Njord to ísland. To hurl waves as I wield my magic. And summon the sea dragons to sink enemy ships.
While Elfi stood in awestruck silence, naked and shivering, the Gallizenae shifted back into mermaids and swam close to the shore. Hefring’s lilting voice was as soothing as the lavender of her hair. “Well done, daughter of Dúva. Each of us heard le Chant des Sirènes.” Admiration glimmered in her amethyst eyes . “Your mother would be very proud.”
“Indeed she would.” Drofn beamed at Elfi, who returned the smile before glancing back at the alluring waterfall.
“I felt drawn to this island, as if something beckoned me. Do you know what is in that cave?” With a jut of her chin, Elfi indicated the mysterious grotto whose dark depths were hidden behind the roaring cascade.
Several of the mermaids exchanged knowing looks while Himingl?va flashed her a patient, pearlescent smile. “Let’s go back to the cottage now. You must be famished. After dinner, we shall tell you all about Les Rochers de la Porte .” Himingl?va waited in the ocean water with the billow maidens, watching the turquoise, emerald, and lapis lazuli scales reappear in Elfi’s mermaid tail as she slid from the shore, back into the sea.
“We’ll grill fish and shrimp, roast a few wild carrots, steam some sea kale.” Unnor grinned at the blue-haired mermaid swimming beside her. “And Bylgja can make her delicious barley cakes, topped with heather honey and buckthorn berries!” With a ripple of laughter as fluid as a flute, she dipped beneath the surface and flicked her mermaid tail, following Himingl?va back to the stone cottage on the ?le de Sein .
* * * *
The tart, tangy orange fruit contrasted delightfully with the sweet taste of honey and the nutty, earthy flavor of barley cake as Elfi swallowed the last bite of Bylgja’s delectable dessert. She swallowed a sip of chamomile tisane, anxious to hear about the mysterious cave at Les Rochers de la Porte . She wanted Kólga to explain her intriguing vision about Elfi summoning the Mélusines . And she still hoped to obtain answers to her many unasked questions.
Elfi decided to start with the prophecy. “In étretat, I learned that my betrothed Njord—the Wolf of the Nordic Seas —would reclaim his father’s Dwarven sword in ísland, and that I would accompany him on the voyage.” She turned to Kólga, wiping suddenly damp palms against the sides of her woolen gown. “You mentioned a vision where I would summon the Mélusines to sink enemy ships. Please tell me more about your sighting. And what my mate must do once he reclaims the prophesied sword.”
Kólga’s ethereal voice was hallowed and haunting. “The white wolf must slay the Svartálfar. The Dark Elf who crafted the weapon which killed Dúva’s son. And the malevolent sword which nearly slew the Dragon of Denmark.” Firelight danced in her dark sapphire eyes. “The Dokkálfar blacksmith of Dorestad.”
Elfi’s breath hitched as she inhaled sharply. The Dark Elf who crafted the enchanted spear which impaled Dag on the castle ramparts. And enabled the Count of Soissons to steal Galadir.
“You will summon the Mélusines to sink enemy ships,” Kólga continued, rousing Elfi from her morbid memory. “And you, daughter of Dúva, must kill the treacherous troll.” She pointed to the úlfblad dagger, sheathed in the dragonscale scabbard which lay on the table beside Elfi’s bed. “With that Ljósálfar blade.”
Blóeughudda abruptly lifted her head and flared her nostrils, as if catching the scent. “I smell blood. May I examine your weapon?”
“Of course.” Elfi rose from the bench, crossed the room, and fetched the dagger. She handed the sheathed blade to the flame-haired Gallizenae and resumed her seat at Kólga’s side.
All eyes fixed on Blóeughudda as she unsheathed the Ljósálfar weapon crafted by Lugh.
The blood-haired Gallizenae inspected the intricate pattern of shimmery swirls in the curved, sharply pointed silver. With long, delicate fingers, she traced the trio of Nordic runes inscribed in the ivory handle made from the jawbone of Njord’s sacred white wolf. The hámr protective spirit of his father, Brokk. Efli’s heart fluttered like the wings of Freyja’s swan.
“A trinity of lupine blood to protect you,” Blóeughudda murmured, her voice a barely audible whisper of wonder. “The Volsung blood of the white wolf in Norway. The lupine blood of your úlfhéenar mate . And the sacred blood of the Allfather Odin.”
Bára’s midnight hair gleamed like black obsidian. “That gildir starstone is imbued with the essence of Ljósálfar light to defend against Dokkálfar darkness. Use it to petrify the Dark Elves. As you help your mate fulfill the prophecy in ísland.”
Warning flared in Himingl?va’s wary voice. “A darkness has aligned with the Dokkálfar . Shrouded by powerful, malevolent magic.” An otherworldly haze clouded her sky blue gaze. Like a blind woman groping through darkness, Himingl?va raised tentative hands before her sightless, all-seeing eyes. “The hunter and his troll plan to trap you, daughter of Dúva. You must marry your mate in ísland. A Ljósálfar wedding whose Light Elven magic will enable you to triumph over darkness.”
Elfi’s spirit soared at the thought of a wedding in ísland. “Njord’s mother is a Ljósálfar. She shielded him from the Dokkálfar with powerful wards of protective magic when he was a young child in Norway. íssla is also the guardian of the Dwarven sword. Njord and I shall both meet her when he reclaims it. Perhaps she can help us plan a Ljósálfar wedding.”
Himingl?va’s eyes finally cleared, and Hefring carefully poured more chamomile tisane from a ceramic pitcher into everyone’s earthenware cups. As she sipped the delicate herbal brew, Elfi thought of the mysterious grotto on the island which had beckoned her. “You said you would tell me more about Les Rochers de la Porte . What is hidden inside that cave?”
Kólga’s opalescent teeth glistened in the incandescent light of the candle which flickered on the oak table. “Someone who is anxious to finally meet you. Tomorrow, we shall return to Les Rochers de la Porte and present you to our mother, la Déesse de la Mer. Your grandmother, Elfi. The Sea Goddess Rán.”