Harald made a pretense of inspecting the wool. Keeping his voice lowered so that only Skårde could hear, he said, “I know of Anvarr’s betrayal. And that Lothaire has taken Fécamp. He has now ordered me to attackChåteaufort. To recruit an army and sail to Normandy on the fall equinox.” Harald smoothed his hands over the fleece in his lap, nodding his head and murmuring as if in approval. “Watch for my fleet to arrive at thePays de Cauxin late October. Have your sentinel on the eastern border at Le Tréport light the fire beacon to alert you when he sees my ships.” Ferocity blazed in Harald’s deep blue eyes, stormy as the Baltic Sea. “Lothaire will believe I’m attackingChâteaufort. But I’ll join you and Richard. To retake Fécamp.”
Although his pulse was pounding, Skårde calmly folded the fleece and placed it on the table, mimicking the completion of his presentation. He inclined his head, as if bowing before the king while he quietly warned his father. “Send Tova to Trelleborg Castle.Heiðabýris no longer safe.” He met his father’s shrewd, solemn gaze. “If you and I should fall in battle, Ylva will deliver Sweyn to his mother there. To ensure that the kingdoms of Norway and Denmark will have their legitimate heir.”
Harald rose from his throne, beaming in approval of the superior wool and profound relief from the clandestine message. “I am indeed pleased with the quality of theFrisian Royal Fleece. Please accept this as a token of my gratitude for today’s presentation and my intent to formalize a trade agreement for the future.” He handed Skårde a bag of silver and shook hands with each of the four disguised Frisian wool merchants as they disassembledthe display and prepared to depart.
"It has been an honor, Your Highness. TheFrisian Royal Fleecereflects our utmost respect and admiration for your kingdom. With this verbal agreement and silver exchanged, my colleagues and I eagerly anticipate a prosperous, enduring partnership." Skårde formally accepted the bag of silver and bowed with Gunni, Viggo, and Ildris before the powerful Viking king.
Armed guards escorted them from the royal longhouse, back toward the boisterous loading docks and lively quays along the shore which featured taverns, food merchants, and market stalls. As they stood under the wooden overhang of a nearby inn, the garlicky aroma of roasted meats, the tang of fresh seafood, and the sweet cinnamon scent of pastries wafted on the salty breeze.
“I’ll pay the tax on our transaction, to ensure everything appears legal and to dispel any possible suspicion. With your towering height and bulk, you might be recognized by one of the magistrates.” Viggo grinned at Skårde and withdrew a small pouch from the belt at his waist. He glanced toward the dock where theSea Sirenwas moored at the port and waved to the captain of their Frisian ship.“The crew has finished loading the supplies for our return voyage. I’ll head over to the administrative office and take care of the tariff, so we can set sail with the outgoing tide.”
Ildris suddenly stiffened at Skårde’s side. As his long fingers instinctively sought thegildirstarstone in the silver brooch which fastened his cloak, he hissed under his breath. “Take two steps to your left.”
When a tense, cautious Viggo complied, a dazzling ray of brilliant, blinding sunlight reflected off the glittering gem on theLjósálfar’sshoulder. As Ildrisdirected the radiant beam onto a short, swarthy male with wiry black hair and predatory, reptilian eyes, an eerie crackling and creaking sound, like the shifting of stone or the hardening of metal, petrified the dusky skin of theDökkálfarbefore their very eyes.
With preternatural reflexes, Ildris quickly draped the empty hemp sack which had transported theFrisian Royal Fleeceover the slate grey stone figure, shrouding it from view. In the shade of the overhang, at the base of the statue’s feet, lay a peculiar ring of darkmetal which he deftly ferreted into the leather pouch strapped to his belt. Hoisting the heavy sack with seemingly effortless ease, he announced to Skårde, “We’ll load this onto the ship. And dispose of it at sea.” He turned to Viggo, danger flaring in his feral eyes. “Forget the tax. We must leave at once—before thisDökkálfaris discovered missing.”
Aboard theSea Siren,they stored the statue among the barrels of fresh water and cargo of supplies for the return voyage. As the crew unfurled the square sail, raised the anchor, and maneuvered the mermaid-painted trading vessel out of the teeming port ofHeiðabýr, the captain steered the knarr ship through the narrow, winding channel of the fjord, out into the open waters of the Baltic Sea.
Once they had passed into the Kattegat strait heading northwest toward the Skagerrak and the North Sea, the crewmen Dachelin and Gosse started a fire in the contained hearth near the stern of the ship. As the talented cook Jehan simmered a stew from the scallops, mussels, lobster, and crab he’d obtained at the port, the savory aroma of steaming seafood and crisp pine woodsmoke filled the briny air. Seated with Viggo, Gunni, and Ildris on the raised platform in the aft, Skårde drank a mug of mead, watching the wake of the ship part the waves of the brackish sea.
Ildris rose from his seat, crossed the deck, and retrieved the hemp sack containing the stone stature of theDökkálfar. Hefting the heavy bag, he returned to the stern and motioned for Skårde to give him a hand. Together, they hoisted the sack and hurled it over the back of the ship into the vast ocean. “Rán, Mistress of the Depths, claim this vile stone creature for your underwater realm.” The loud splash as the statue sank reverberated against the wooden hull, the echoes of the stone sacrifice swallowed by the sea.
Under the watchful eyes of the fascinated crew, theLjósálfarlowered himself to sit upon an overturned barrel and withdrew the mysterious dark ring from his pouch.
Skårde studied the ominous talisman which lay on Ildris’ luminous palm.
Light silver runes—pulsating with sinister power—glistened in stark contrast to theshadowy, blackened metal of the gnarled, twisted band. Clutched within the sharp claws of a fearsome beast, an eerie blue sapphire stone glowed like an otherworldly eye. As Ildris held the ring in his left hand, the long, elegant fingers of his right bathed it in purifyingLjósálfarlight. The runes stopped pulsing and vanished, blending into the metal band. And the malevolent blaze of the sapphire dulled, dimmed, and disappeared. Ildris returned the nullified ring to his leather pouch.
Golden eyes gilded by the setting sun, Ildris stared pensively into the distance. “TheDökkálfarI turned to stone was Nithrak, a Dark Elven silversmith from Dorestad.” He took a long pull of mead, his otherworldly gaze focused on the calm horizon. “That ring was theDökkálfarDeath Claw, inflicting unbearable agony and eventual death, enabling Nithrak to obtain information from his enemies. While it’s possible he was atHeiðabýras a Frisian merchant, like us…” he grinned wryly at Skårde, Viggo, and Gunni. “…it is much more likely that he was sent as a spy.” The smile disappeared from his suddenly solemn face. “Nithrak and his brother Guldur—an unparalleled Dark Elven blacksmith—are the proprietors of the Sapphire Chalice Tavern. Named for the Carolingian heirloom bequeathed by the Frankish king Lothaire.”
A thunderbolt shot through Skårde as stark realization dawned. “Anvarr’s Dark Elven blade.” A violent shudder shook him at the memory of the Raven Warrior’s sinister sword. Guldur was theDökkálfarwho crafted it. If not for Ylva’sLjósálfargift ofnen glir,the infernal wound on his leg would have killed him.
“Once Guldur realizes his brother has disappeared, he’ll come toHeiðabýrto investigate. Witnesses will say they observed a blinding flash, followed by inexplicable dark shadows in the vicinity of the inn. With his keenDökkálfarsenses, Guldur will detect traces of solar radiance, stone petrification, andLjósálfarmagic at the sight. Once he does, he’ll be able to track me. For I will bear the residue of Nithrak’s shadow essence for the rest of my life. Which will enable Guldur to hunt me. And kill me to avenge his brother’s death.”
“Unless you kill him first.”Gunni’s brows furrowed as he tugged on his long red beard. “IsDökkálfarmagic more powerful than yours?”
“DökkálfarandLjósálfarpowers are quite evenly matched, though our magic abilities differ. Light Elves can cast an impenetrable shield of defense, but can be killed by aDökkálfarbefore the protective wards are in place. If Guldur were to catch me unaware, he could kill me with a Dwarven weapon. But I, in turn, could slay him with aLjósálfarblade through the heart. Or with agildirstarstone.” Ildris ducked his chin to admire the radiant gem in the brooch which fastened the cloak at his shoulder. He traced the clear oval stone with a reverent finger. When he smiled, his white teeth gleamed like perfect pearls. “Gildirnot only reflects sunlight. At night, it can radiate starlight.”
“So,Ljósálfarmagichas the advantage. You can kill with a Light Elven blade or agildirstone.” Viggo’s ragged voice was tinged with hope.
“But theDökkálfarcan track residual magic. Giving them the chance to hunt their prey and strike before theLjósálfarcan cast his shield of protective light.” Ildris drained his mug of mead. “Each balances the other.”
Jehan’s grinning, bearded face interrupted their ominous conversation. Wrinkled skin weathered by years at sea, fierce pride shone in his dark, gleaming eyes as he handed each member of the crew a wooden plate heaped with steaming, succulent shellfish.
As winds billowed the green square sail, and the iridescent scales of the mermaid shimmered in the golden rays of the setting sun, theSea Sirensailed swiftly across the Baltic Sea.
Home to thePays de Caux.
Chapter 28
Freyja’s Falcon
Ylva had been working diligently with Maeve and Úlvhild every day since Skårde had left forHeiðabýr, caring for the wounded in the Great Hall ofChåteaufort. Although many of the men injured in the battle of Fécamp had been able to return to their homes in the village, the Viking longhouses near the castle, or the lodging for the castle knights, thirty still required constant care. A corner of the Great Hall continued to serve as a healing chamber, where the seriously injured lay upon pallets along the north wall, tended by village women who volunteered to help by administering salves, cleansing wounds, or changing bandages. Kitchen attendants served soups, broths, and meals to those who were able to eat, while Ylva, Maeve, and Úlvhild brewed herbal infusions, tonics, and warm possets as healing beverages for their patients to drink. Servants frequently replaced straw in the pallet bedding or the sweet flag rushes on the stone castle floor, which Ylva insisted upon for their fresh floral fragrance, cleanliness, and crucial ability to repel insects.
A storage room near the castle kitchen had been transformed into an herbal workshop, where the three priestesses prepared salves, tinctures, and ointments each day. Together, they imbued crystals with healinggaldrmagic, stocking the shelves in Ylva’s antechamber and the storage room with herbal remedies and curative gems that they not only used to treat the injured in the Great Hall, but stocked in preparation for the warriors who would inevitably be wounded when Richard and Skårde attackedFécamp. Now, as she ground herbs with mortar and pestle in the herbal workshop, Ylva inquired about the Vikingvitkithat Úlvhild had summoned.
“How did you meet Haldor Falk?.” Ylva mixed the ground comfrey and yarrow into honey, storing the healing poultice in a ceramic jar and sealing it with a cork stopper.
