“You are Skårde’s fated mate. Your blood must seal the three runes as we—a triad of priestesses—imbue them with a trinity of Celtic, Gaelic, and Nordic magic.” Úlvhild handed Ylva the knife. “Pierce the finger that bears your wedding ring. When the blood pools, allow three droplets to fall into each rune as you cast your spell. Imbue this protective talisman with your essence, your love, and your blood. The three of us will chant as I drum my staff, channeling our magic into the runes with your blood.”
Úlvhild retrieved her wand, the luminous moonstone glowing like an otherworldly orb within the bronze filigree casing. She tossed a handful of fragrant juniper seeds into the fire, the snap and crackle releasing a sweet, spicy smoke. As thevölvabegan to chant—thumping her staff on the ground in a rhythmic cadence like a drum—Maeve and Ylva joined in the incantation, the vibrations of velvety voices amplifying the energy and power in the room.
Chanting in Old Norse, Ylva pricked her finger with the sharp pointed tip ofFreyja’s Whisperand watched as the dark red blood oozed from the wound. Using the precise vocalizations, intonations, and vibrations she’d beentaught, Ylva cast her spell, imbuing layer upon layer ofgaldrmagic into the emerald talisman. After she’d successfully infused three drops of her blood into each of the three runes, she ended her enchantment with a prayer. Through theAnsuzrune and deep red garnet onFreyja’s Whisper, Ylva asked the Nordic Goddess of love and magic to bless the protective amulet.
“Freyja, hear my prayer and grant my favor. Please bless the blood from my veins, the love from my heart, and the magic from my soul that I have infused into these sacred runes. Through this sacred blood ritual with the knife that bears your divine name, may this emerald talisman guide and protect the man I love. Now and always.”
The ritual complete, they ceased chanting, and Úlvhild dumped the unused ashes from her silver chalice back into the fire. “We’ll allow the ring to set until the silver has cooled and hardened.” She rinsed the soot from the glittering vessel, placing it back on the shelf and returning to the table to fetch her sacred knife. “I’ll wash the blood fromFreyja’s Whisper, and we’ll pay tribute to the goddess and the talisman with a goblet of golden mead.” Wiry black hair falling over her shoulder to her waist as she bent to pick up the knife, Úlvhild grinned from ear to ear.
“I’ll pour the mead.” Maeve fetched three pewter goblets from the shelf in the kitchen area and filled them from a small wooden barrel under the counter.
Ylva stood transfixed by the table, in awe of the emerald talisman. Like the enchanted ring on her finger, the deep green stone pulsed with power. Her legs shook violently and her stomach quivered from the intense ordeal of the ritual.
I pray this will protect him for the voyage to Denmark. The battle against the Raven Warrior. And the rescue of his young brother Sweyn. Dear Divona, Rán, and Freyja, please imbue this talisman with your divine blessing. And bring Skårde safely home to me.
Úlvhild wiped off the table with a linen cloth, and Maeve placed the three goblets upon its clean top. Once they’d settled into the chairs, thevölvalifted her chalice. “A trio of runes etched in blood. A trinity ofgaldrmagic. From a triad of priestesses. Thrice the sacred number three. May this talisman protect the Dragon of Normandy who defends thePays de Caux.”
They toasted the talisman, and Ylva savored the sweet flavor of the honeyed mead. She was anxious to return to the castle and present the amulet to Skårde. Perhaps he and the men had completed their morning work and had come back for the midday meal. “Thank you both very much for helping me create this talisman. I’d like to give it to Skårde right away. He and his men were finishing the watchtowers this morning. I’m hoping to catch him before he goes back down to the port this afternoon.”
Maeve rose from her chair. “I’ve got some chores to do as well. Helpin’ Gillie tend the garden, feed the pigs, clean out the chicken coop.” She kissed both Úlvhild and Ylva on the cheek, “Lessons tomorrow afternoon?”
Úlvhild glanced at Ylva, who nodded in agreement. “We’ll practice a chant to bless the voyage to Denmark. When Skårde departs, the three of us will go down to the dock and send him off with a blessing from the gods and benevolent spirits.”
“Au revoir, mes amies. Goodbye, friends. See you tomorrow.” A smiling Maeve headed out the door.
Úlvhild crossed the room to her cluttered shelves and retrieved a black leather cord. “This will be strong enough to last for years.” She threaded it through the silver loop at the top of the pendant and handed the talisman to Ylva. “I have a silk pouch you can put it in.” Amidst the potions, charms, and trinkets, thevölvafound a small black drawstring sack, which she offered to Ylva.
Securing the enchanted amulet safely inside the silk pouch, Ylva kissed Úlvhild goodbye and thanked her again.
When she exited the cottage, her guards were instantly alert. And escorted her up the pebbled gravel road to the castle at the top of the cliff.
****
“He and the men were here, but they ate quickly to return to the port. Now that the two defense towers are finished, they’re fitting the chain boom across the mouth of the river. I had no idea what a chain boom was, but Skårde explained that it’s a heavy chain that will keep enemy ships out of our port. And it’s retractable, so they can allow our own ships toreturn from sea.” Gyda ate her last bite of apple tart and leaned back in her chair for Dagny to remove the empty plate.
Ylva was disappointed she’d missed Skårde, but she would give him the emerald talisman tonight at dinner. On impulse, she decided to go to the waterfall cave. She felt inexplicably compelled to immerse the amulet in the sacred spring and imbue it with Divona’s divine protection. Since she and Gyda had finished their meal, now would be a good time to go. “The salmon was delicious,” she said, as Norhild cleared away her wooden plate. She turned to Gyda. “I’m going down to the shore to make an offering to Divona and Rán. I want to pray for Skårde’s safe journey to Denmark.” At Gyda’s look of concern, she quickly added, “With my guards, or course.” Ylva rose from the table and kissed Gyda’s soft, crinkled cheek. “Are you going to do more embroidery?”
Skårde’s grandmother nodded and smiled at Dagny, who had come back into the solar to attend Gyda. “Indeed I am. I’m almost finished with the decorative stitching on the neckline of a new gown. Dagny and I are working together in the courtyard, under the canopy of trees.” She allowed her faithful servant to help her stand, clutching Dagny’s arm for support. “Enjoy your visit to the waterfall cave. I’ll see you when you get back.” While castle servants cleared the remaining dishes from the table, Gyda tottered from the solar with Dagny.
Norhild and Eydis accompanied Ylva upstairs to her chamber. “Sit here, my lady, while I braid your hair.” Norhild ran an antler comb through Ylva’s waist length blonde locks, braiding a section of hair on either side of her face.
Eydis placed a slender silver coronet upon her head. “The perfect adornment for the Lady ofChåteaufort.” Pretty face aglow with pride, her large brown eyes sparkled in the afternoon sun.
“Thank you both. I’ll see you later this afternoon.” Ylva slipped out of her room.
Kallez and her personal guards escorted her out of the castle, across the wildflower strewn meadow, and down the grassy slope to the shore at the bottom of the cliff.
The warm sun kissed her upturned face, and the saline breeze blew through her long hair. Ylva glimpsed a flock of white gannets soaring over the sea, reminding her of the swans inFreyja’s Whisper.Sheltered within the protective curve of the white chalk cliffs, the thunderous cascade tumbled from the precipice, splashing and sloshing into the effervescent pool. Ylva ordered her guards to wait nearby, affording her a bit of privacy as she withdrew the emerald talisman from the black silk pouch at her waist and immersed it in the ebullient waters of the sacred spring.
Chapter 22
A Precious Gift
Ylva whispered a prayer as she plunged the amulet into the waterfall pool. “May the waters of her sacred spring imbue this talisman with Divona’s divine blessing.” She removed the pendant, tucked it safely into the silk pouch, and secured it at her waist.
Standing in front of the thunderous cascade, she stared into the frothy depths of the water, her essence flowing into the cool, clear liquid. A sudden darkness—like an impending storm—engulfed her in swirling shadows. As she gazed at the water’s surface, a startling array of images emerged, bursting like bubbles in the turbulent pool.
She recognized the red and white stripes and dragon prows of Skårde’sdrakkarwarships. But once again, she glimpsed a fleet of unfamiliar vessels whose white sails displayed the emblem of a huge black raven. Transfixed, Ylva stared in stunned silence as hundreds of axe-wielding warriors poured from the raven ships onto a bloody, beleaguered beach. Swords clashing, shield shattering, armored knights whose surcoats bore her father’s heraldry—two golden lions rampant on a background of red—battled the invading horde. Alongside her father’s besieged knights, Skårde and his men, clad in the distinctive green and silver colors of the Dragon of Normandy, desperately defended a compromised harbor. Paralyzed with horror, Ylva watched as a Viking beast with a disfigured face slashed Skårde with a long, sinister sword.
