Jaw clenched in rage, Áki ground his teeth, defiant eyes aflame. “Veit. Understood.” Fury blazed across his livid face. “But when you return fromÍsland, I’m going back to Denmark.By the gods of Asgard, I’m a Danish warlord, not a Norman knight! I’ll sail toHeiðabýr.And serve Sweyn Forkbeard. The future King of Denmark!” Breath heaving, spittle flying from his bearded lips, Áki spun on his heels and stormed out the door.
Njörd poured another mug of ale, guzzled it, and slammed the chalice down on the table. Perhaps it was best for Áki to return to Denmark. But in the meantime, he needed to stay away from Bodo and Sif. Exhaling forcefully to dispel his anger, Njörd adjusted his white wolfskin cloak, nodded goodbye to the thralls clearing the table, and exited his longhouse.
As he headed toward the castle to meet Elfi, he spotted the stable hands loading up the horses for the impending voyage to Reims..“Feed him extra oats and barley,” he ordered, referring toRökr, Jarl Rikard’s white Percheron warhorse, named for his strength and bravery. “I’ll be back within the hour.”
****
Elfi had just finished herdagmálof oat porridge, honey, and wild elderberries when Njörd entered the Great Hall. She arose from the wooden bench and strode over to join him at the castle entrance where Oda, Varg, Bjarke, Úlvhild, and Jarl Rikardwere saying goodbye to Skårde, who was prepared to depart.
Skårde shook hands with the men, kissed the women’s cheeks, and—with a husky smile and a hearty wave— headed down to the docks where his ship,Thor’s Roar, was ready to sail east to Dieppe and his clifftop castle ofChâteaufort.
“The tents and supplies are being loaded onto the horses. My men and I shall be ready to ride upon your return,” Jarl Rikard informed Njörd. Weathered wrinkles crinkled his expressive eyes as the Duke of Normandy turned toward Elfi. “May the white wolf weapons that Lugh crafts protect you withLjósálfarmagic. May the gods grant you a safe journey to theÎle de Sein. And bring you swiftly home.” Affectionately gripping her shoulders, Jarl Rikard kissed Elfi’s cheek and stepped back so that Oda could wrap her in a warm, grandmotherly embrace.
“May theGallizenaeteach you to wield your mother’ssjóvættirpower. Asyou learn to control the sea!” A contradictory blend of exhilaration and apprehension warred in Oda’s worried gaze. She blinked back tears and hugged Elfi tight. “See you in three days.”
“We’ll take good care of the castle while you’re gone, Elfi. And when you return, we’ll prepare for theHaustblótfestival,your father’s feast, and Dag’s burial withGaladir.A triple celebration, fit for the gods!” Bjarke kissed her hand, and Varg ducked his bearded chin.
Úlvhild’s golden eyes glowed in the early morning light. She smiled at the three tiers of blue and green gems glittering around Elfi’s neck. “You will discover the magic of that necklace. It exudes a powerful aura.” Without the unnerving blue woad paint, thevölva’sstriking features were much less intimidating and much more human. “I’m anxious to hear all about it when you return.”
“Are you ready?” Njörd grabbed a wall torch, his deep blue eyes washing over her like waves in the Mermaid Cove.
Heart pounding, limbs trembling, she nodded, hooking her arm through his. As adrenaline spiked in her veins, Elfi strode with her betrothed out of the castle.
Across the meadow strewn with fragrant chamomile, heather, and meadowsweet.
Through the sacred grove to the waterfall cave.
Chapter 22
White Wolf Weapons
Droplets of mist reflected the morning sunlight like a glittering array of glistening jewels. The thunderous waterfall tumbled from the rocky clifftop, down over the open entrance of the hidden cave, into the turbulent turquoise waters of the inlet below. As Njörd stood the burning torch in the leafy grass just outside the woodland tunnel, Elfi ducked into the opalescent grotto behind the deafening cascade of the waterfall cave.
When she set the leather satchel upon the rocky cave floor, he joined her, wrapping strong arms around her back and kissing the top of her head. “I’ll miss you with every fiber of my being. But I’m thrilled that you will learn to wield your inherited power, just as I did mine.” He cradled her inside the white wolf cloak, against the comforting expanse of his broad chest. “It was exhilarating, discovering that I was one of theÚlfhéðnar.And challenging, learning to control my power and shift into a wolf at will. But I did, with the help of Bodo and the pack, just as you will, with theGallizenaemermaids of theÎle de Sein.”
Elfi snuggled into his warm embrace, nuzzling her nose into the dark hair at the base of his throat, under his neatly trimmed beard braided with glistening blue gems and shimmery silver beads. She inhaled his saline scent deep into her lungs, to take part of him with her to the distant island off the coast of Bretagne. In the vast, wild ocean which the Normans calledla Mer de l’ Ouest.Far to the west of thePays de Cauxand thefamiliar coastline of the White Chalk Cliffs.
She threaded her fingers through his thick, dark locks, rising up onto the tips of her toes to meld her lips with Njörd’s. Her tongue danced with his, drinking him in, merging his essence with hers. Lowering herself back down onto the rocky cave floor, she stepped away from him, immersed in the waves of longing and love that flowed over her from his deep blue gaze. As her eyes held his, Elfi knew that Njörd glimpsed the same profound love reflected in the endless depths of her own.
“You have my scent in your mustache. And now I have your taste on my lips. May they endure until we’re together again.” Flashing him her bravest smile, she fetched Dag’s flute from the leather satchel. And poured her soul into the clear, limpid notes of the fluid melody which flowed from her heart.
Njörd’s ears perked up, and he spun toward the dark recesses of the cave. “Lugh is here. I can sense him, just like I can with theÚlfhéðnar.”
Luminous and radiant as starlight, the tall blondLjósálfaremerged from the dark shadows behind the curved wall of the cave. Like dazzling emeralds, his deep green eyes glowed with an otherworldly inner brilliance. “Your crystalline music is divine.” His sunlit smile illuminated the cavern, casting a pearlescent glow on the limestone walls and ethereal mist inside the waterfall cave. “Should you ever need me, Elfi of Étretat, play your brother’s whalebone flute. The ephemeral notes will float to me like the evanescent waters ofÁlfheim. And I shall cross the crystal bridge into Midgard. And come to you, through the portal of a waterfall cave.”
“There are others— like this one?” Elfi’s heart skipped a beat at the exhilarating thought.
“There are three. One in northern Denmark, near the village of Thyborøn. Another, in the wild north of Norway, on the remote Lofoten Island of Skrova. And this one, in the heart of thePays de Caux.The Land of the White Chalk Cliffs.” Lugh’s deep, sonorous voice resonated in the cave and reverberated into Elfi’s bones.
Lugh shook Njörd’s hand, one eyebrow raised in admiration as he appraised the glorious fur of the white wolfskin cloak. “As magnificent as the sacred bones.”
Tossing one side of his dark green cape back over a broad shoulder, the silver hairedLjósálfarretrieved a large black deerskin pouch belted at his sinewy waist. He opened the bag and withdrew a dagger sheathed in dark green leather with an intricate pattern of overlapping, shimmering plates. “The scabbard is crafted with the scales of a dragon, like my own Light Elven armor.” Lugh’s emerald eyes blazed with verdant fire.
Elfi examined the exquisite details of the elaboratedragonscalescabbard. Along the top edge of the sheath, a trio of droplet shaped, glittering gems—the exact same stones that lay in three tiers at the base of her neck—made Elfi’s breath hitch in her throat. Centered between a light blue turquoise gem and a deep blue lapis lazuli stone streaked with strands of gold lay a faceted emerald whose vivid brilliance glimmered like Lugh’s virid gaze.
He referred to the trio of gems in the dark green leather sheath. “Three gems imbued withLjósálfarmagic. Encased in the samedragonscaleleather as my Light Elven armor. And the enchanted blade is light, sleek silver. Enhanced withLjósálfarwards of protection to guard against the dark magic ofSvartálfheim.”
Lugh unsheathed the dagger and offered it to her. “Úlfblad.Wolfblade. Crafted especially for you.” A palpable power rippled up Elfi’s tingling palm as she gripped the carved ivory handle. With a delicate fingertip, she traced the trio of Nordic runes inscribed into the jawbone of Njörd’s sacred white wolf.
