Waves of shimmering heat arose, as if from a searing flame, while a noxious odor assailed his flared nostrils. Crackling energy and fury surged through his every pore as violent convulsions wracked his entire body.
When the uncontrollable spasms ended, an incomparable strength pulsed in his veins. His heightened senses were sharp as steel. Thick white fur covered his powerful limbs, and four pointed, retractable claws jutted from each of his massive paws. Stretching his sinewy back and long hind legs, a vicious snarl tore from his ravaged throat.
Ears tucked, he raised his elongated, shaggy snout.
And howled at the opalescent moon.
In human form, his sense of smell had always been keen, but now, Njörd caught the scent of a hare nestled in a nearby underground burrow. A hart—an adult male red deer—foraged two miles north in the dense forest. And the acrid odor of urine possessively marked the territory of a pack of eight wolves to the south.
Rotating each of his ears in different directions, he heard a snake slithering in the leaves, the high-pitched chirp of anightingale’s song, and the waves of the Narrow Sea lapping the sandy shore several miles away.
Each of the fiveÚlfhéðnarwarriors had assumed the shape of wolves, the color of their fur the same as the lupine cloaks they had worn.
Njörd memorized the distinct, unique scent of each member of his pack.
When Njáll growled softly and darted north through the trees, Njörd instinctively understood that he was tracking the hart.
Úlf barked, and the remaining wolves—including Njörd—bounded after him into the thick, dark woods.
The decaying scent of rich, earthy loam mingled with the crisp green aroma of pine, beech, and ash as leaves and twigs snapped under the thick pads of his paws, with claws retracted to increase speed. Despite the dim moonlight slicing through the dense trees, Njörd’s vision was superb—he could discern the slightest movement as he loped through the forest behind Úlf.
Between Hrólf and Flóki.
In front of Bodo.
His position in theÚlfhéðnarpack.
A howl from Njáll—informing them of the location of their prey— perked up Njörd’s alert ears. As Hrólf loped off to the east, Flóki barked twice at Njörd, telling him to follow as he headed west. Bodo guarded the rear.
Like warriors descending from dragon ships in a rapid Viking raid, the sixÚlfhéðnarencircled the deer for a swift, lethal attack.
Avoiding sharp antlers and dangerous hooves, Hrólf launched himself at the side of the deer’s neck, sinking his teeth into the vulnerable flesh.
Úlf, Njáll, and Flóki latched onto the back, rump, and opposite side of the hart’s throat, pulling the prey to the ground.
For Njörd to go in for the kill.
When his pointed fangs tore into soft flesh, the coppery tang of blood satisfied adeep, primal hunger in his savage lupine soul. His inner wolf unleashed at last, Njörd feasted and gorged on fresh venison with the five brothers of hisÚlfhéðnarpack.
****
Back in the clearing at the base of the giant beech tree, theÚlfhéðnarresumed human form, adjusting their wolfskin pelts and belted swords. The rich taste of venison lingered on Njörd’s tongue.
Tonight, I stalked prey and killed as a wolf. What will it be like to hunt the Dökkálfar?
As if reading his thoughts, Bodo said, as he buckled the boot around his maimed foot, “How we battle the Dark Elves depends upon the number we encounter. If it’s a single spy, we herd and attack him like we did tonight with the red deer.. But if there are severalDökkálfartogether, we fight individually as men to disarm them. Then kill them as wolves.”
“Is that the only way they die? By the teeth and claws of theÚlfhéðnar?”Njörd watched with a blend of revulsion and fascination as Úlf meticulously wrapped the brokenDökkálfardagger in leather and tucked it securely inside the wooden scabbard belted at his waist.
“Certain Light Elven weapons can kill them as well. But they must be imbued with Nordic runes andLjósálfarmagic, designed specifically to destroy theDökkálfar.” Njáll withdrew a blade from a gem-encrusted sheath which was strapped beside his Viking sword. “Such as this Light Elven dagger. Forged by theLjósálfarblacksmith Geralt. When Bodo and I brought your father to Íssla, she had him forge each of us a dagger—as a gift of gratitude.” He handed over the otherworldly blade for Njörd to examine.
In the elaborate pommel—encased in intricately wrought iron inlaid with silver and inscribed with Nordic runes— a clear, radiant gem glimmered and glistened like a star in the moonlight. Symbols and markings which Njörd did not recognize—perhaps they wereLjósálfaremblems of protection—were etched into the ornate metal crossguard and along the central groove of the long,curved, dual-edged blade. The sublime Light Elven weapon thrummed with preternatural power.
“My dagger is infused withLjósálfarmagic, so the blade alone can kill a Dark Elf. But see this stone?” He pointed to the faceted oval gem which sparkled in the moonlight like transparent ice. “That’s agildirstarstone.It can reflect sunlight onto aDökkálfarora troll. They both reside in the dark, underground realm ofSvartálfheim,so if they’re exposed to the sun, it kills them.By turning them instantly into stone. Although my blade can’t kill a troll—they’re much harder to kill than the Dark Elves— thegildirgemstone can. By reflecting the petrifying light of the sun.”
Njörd returned the priceless weapon to Njáll, who sheathed it in the embellished scabbard at his waist. “Can theÚflhéðnarin wolf form kill a troll?”
“Nei. Only aLjósálfarweapon crafted specifically to kill a troll can defeat them. Or a Dwarven blade, like Brökk’s swordÚlfsongr.The one we must retrieve from your mother, Íssla.” Bodo, having strapped the boot to his injured right foot, hobbled across the clearing to join Njörd and Njáll. He unsheathed a dagger from his belt and placed it in Njörd’s palm. “This is the blade that she had Geralt forge for me. Like Njáll’s weapon, it can kill aDökkálfar. And it has agildirgem in the hilt, just like his.”
