“This is why my foot is permanently mangled. It’s the wolf trap that aDökkálfarset to snare me. So they could torture or enchant me into divulging the location of Brökk’s Dwarven sword.” Bodo seemed inordinately pleased at Njörd’s revulsion to the vile trap. “Fortunately, Lugh found me first and brought me toÁlfheim—the land of theLjósálfarLight Elves—where I was healed. But the damage to my foot could not be undone. Lugh nullified the dark magic in this trap so that I could show it you. Because you are the reason I came to thePays de Caux. To train you. As your father once trained me.”
Njörd’s pulse quickened at the feral gleam dancing in Bodo’s dark lupine eyes.
“Brökk told me that fate would lead you to your mate in the Land of the White Chalk Cliffs. So, after I rejoined the Viking warriors andÚlfhéðnarin the Faroe Islands and sailed back to Norway, I kept track of the son of the fisherman’s daughter from Bjørgvin who became known as the infamousWolf of the Nordic Seas. When I learned that Harald Bluetooth planned to send you—the Danish Jarl of Ribe—to the alabaster coast of Normandy, I came here to find you. That’s when theDökkálfartrapped me and Lugh saved my life.”
Bodo hefted the heavy metal trap and lugged it back to the wooden chest at the foot of his bed. Storing it inside a burlap sack, he locked the latch and hobbled back to Njörd’s side. “You— like your father and me—are one of theÚlfhéðnar.A wolf spirit warrior capable of killing the nearly invincibleDökkálfarDark Elves. By shifting into the form of a wolf.” He flashed a wicked grin, revealing sharp canine teeth. “I will train you. And introduce you to the others. Because, like wolves, weÚlfhéðnarhunt and fight as a pack.” Exhaling in disgust, he gestured to his maimed foot. “Although I no longer run as quickly as I once did, I can still kill theDökkálfar. And train you to be as fierce a wolf warrior as your father Brökk.”
Pulling abrynjashirt of chain mail over his woolen tunic, Bodo strapped on his sword. “TheÚlfhéðnartrain every evening inLa Forêt du Loup—the Forest of the Wolf—a grove of dense beech trees that Lugh cloaked inLjósálfarmagic to hide us from the Dark Elves who hunt us.We’ve been training there, waiting for you to join us.”
From an elaborately carved oaken chest on the floor near the stone sculpture of Brökk, Bodo retrieved an enormous cloak with the massive head and thick fur of a huge brown wolf. He draped it over his chain mail armor and transfixed Njörd with a mesmerizing, challenging stare.
Lupine senses awakened, wolf spirit alive, Njörd shook as a powerful swell of energy flowed intohim like pounding waves of the Nordic Seas.
“Come,” Bodo said, heading toward the exit door. “We’ll stop by your longhouse so you can fetch the white wolfskin. Then I’ll take you toLa Forêt du Loup. To meet theÚlfhéðnarpack.”
Chapter 12
Blood of the Wolf
In the gloaming of twilight, Bodo led Njörd southeast, away from the castle, and into the dense forest ofla Forêt du Loup. At the base of an enormous beech tree, four warriors clad in chain mail armor covered with wolfskins grinned at their approach. Njörd recognized the men, for he’d seen them training in the castle courtyard among the warriors camping in tents nearle Château Blanc. His pulse raced with a sudden spike of adrenaline.
“This is Njörd Ívarrsson, the Danish jarl of Ribe. LegendaryWolf of the Nordic Seas.” Bodo introduced Njörd to theÚlfhéðnarpack.
A towering blond beast with broad shoulders and braided beard—cloaked in the fur of a great grey wolf—lumbered forward to shake Bodo’s hand. His nostrils flared, catching Njörd’s scent, as his icy blue eyes narrowed in recognition. “I’m Úlf,” he growled with a wolfish smirk, offering Njörd an outstretched hand. “A fitting name,nei?”
Njörd clasped the mammoth grip, a shock of energy sizzling up his arm. “Vel mælt,” he replied respectfully, meeting Úlf’s challenging stare. With a confident but cautious grin, he shook and released the leader’s mammoth hand.
Úlf gestured to an even taller warrior with lanky limbs, wiry torso, long black hair and beard, clad in a striking black wolfskin. “That’s Njáll, my second. He’s our tracker.”
As Njörd shook Njáll’s hand and experienced a similar jolt of cracklingenergy, a Viking with a powerful, stocky build—a rare russet wolfskin draped over his long red hair and braided beard—approached to welcome him. “I’m Hrólf Redbeard,” he said with a firm handshake. “And this is Flóki, our fastest runner.”
The shortest and slightest of theÚlfhéðnarpack, Flóki greeted Njörd, sending another current sizzling up his arm with a gripping handshake. A wolfskin blend of grey, brown, and white covered his chainmail armor and dark brown hair. Fraternity and ferocity blazed in his dark brown eyes.
“Njörd knows that his father Brökk was leader of theÚlfhéðnarin Norway. That Bluetooth sent the six of us to aid Haldor Falk in the Faroe Islands, where Brökk died in battle. I told him about the Dwarven swordÚlfsongr,and how I must help him fulfill the prophecy.” Bodo nodded to Úlf. “Now he needs to learn to fight as a wolf.”
“Your senses have always been extraordinary, haven’t they?” Úlf’s pale blue eyes were as icy as the winter skies of Norway. “Exceptional hearing, sight, and smell. Superior strength and speed. Quicker reflexes, more stamina. No warrior could ever match your skill.” The bearded blond giant withdrew a leather-bound weapon from the sheath at his waist and held it in his outstretched, flattened palm.
Dread, death, and despair hovered in the heavy air.
“Like us, you have the blood of theVölsungwarriors descended from Odin who can shift into wolves at will.” Úlf’s piercing gaze blazed with ice blue fire. “In lupine form, we can kill the Dark Elves of theDökkálfar. But their insidious weapons—like the unerring spear that impaled your father Brökk—are always fatal to theÚlfhéðnar.Unless we are quickly healed by Light Elven magic.”
The amber eyes of the black wolfskin glowed in the twilight above Njáll’s long, angular face. “The first time you are exposed to aDökkálfar, a troll, or Dark Elven magic, instinct takes over—and you shift into a wolf.” Sharp canine teeth sparkled in the emerging starlight. “If the Norns have determined that you should prevail, you will kill the enemy and survive. But a DarkElven blade can inflict a fatal wound, and a wolf cannot wield a weapon. That is why it’s essential that you learn to control your gift. And shift at will rather than on impulse or instinct.”
“Wear your wolfskin cloak and battle as a human—with supernatural senses and strength—to block, parry, and deliver blows. Once yourDökkálfarenemy is disarmed, shift into wolf form for the kill.” Hrólf Redbeard enhanced his rousing speech by demonstrating with shield and sword.
Senses stirring, muscles twitching, Njörd stared uneasily at the wrapped object in Úlf’s enormous palm. Revulsion and rage rippled through him, raising the hackles on the back of his neck.
Flóki stepped forward to caution Njörd with an outstretched arm. “Your lupine senses detect theDökkâlfardark magic, even though the blade is completely concealed. Be careful it does not break your skin, for any wound is always fatal, unless treated by aLjósálfarhealer within three days.” He indicated the ominous weapon in Úlf’s hand. “We keep this broken dagger—that Brökk acquired in a victorious battle against a Dark Elf —to train new members like you. To expose you to the dark magic, triggering your shift for the first time.” Flóki grinned wolfishly. “Then we teach you to control your power and shift on command.” With a deferential nod to Úlf as leader, Flóki stepped back beside the trunk of the enormous beech.
In the still moonlight, an owl hooted as it took flight with a whoosh of wings and a rustling of leaves amongst the dense trees. A summer breeze caressed Njörd’s bearded cheek, the clean scent of pine and the tangy brine of the nearby sea calming his shaking limbs.
Now I understand the innate bond I felt with the white wolf. With Bodo, Úlf, Njáll, Flóki, and Hrólf. Like my father Brökk and all of these men, I’m one of the Úlfhéðnar. A Völsung descendant of Odin. At long last, I know the truth. I have the blood of the wolf!
“When you shift, so will we—to teach you how to hunt with the pack. As a wolf, you’ll follow my lead, running with us through the forestwhile you learn to use your sharpened senses.” Úlf nodded to the enormous warrior wrapped in the black wolfskin. “Njáll will track our prey. Flóki will herd it. And Hrólf will take it down with his powerful jaws.” Sharp white canine teeth glimmered as he grinned at Bodo. “Although Bodo limps badly as a man, his injury hinders him much less so as a wolf. He and I will aid Hrólf in taking down the prey—while you go in for the kill.” Úlf mesmerized Njörd with his piercingÚlfhéðnarstare. “Tonight, we’ll begin by hunting deer or boar so you develop control and learn to shift at will. Every evening, we’ll continue to train until you are able to hunt with the pack and kill as a wolf. Only then will you be ready to battle theDökkâlfar.”
Njörd’s heart hammered against his ribs as Úlf painstakingly unfolded the leather parcel and laid the broken dagger on the ground in front of the beech tree.
Intricate swirls in the sinister blade slithered like snakes in the twilight.
