Sif swirled in a circle, her skirts fluttering like wings, as she hummed in content. “When yourfaðirreturns, I hope to purchase my freedom.” She patted a small pouch hooked to the belt at her waist. “Bodo has given me eighty silver pennies. Twice the value of a female thrall. If Lord Thorfinn accepts it, I shall be a free woman. And Bodo and I can marry. In one of the mass Viking weddings on Frigg’s Day.” She hugged Elfi tight, swaying back and forth. “I can bear his children. Be a wife and mother. Oh, Elfi, I pray that your father says yes!”
Elfi hugged the young woman whom she loved like a sister. “Even if myfaðirrefuses, when Njörd and I become Count and Countess of Étretat, I’ll grant your freedom.” As she made the promise, Elfi wondered if her father would be so furious about her sailing to Ísland that he might disown her. And refuse to name Njörd as his heir. If that came to pass, then she would not become the Countess of Étretat. But she would still be the noble wife of the Danish Jarl of Ribe. And since Sif was her personal attendant, Elfi would bring her to Denmark. And grant Sif her freedom there. One way or another, she would ensure that Sif and Bodo could marry.
While rampant thoughts raced through Elfi’s mind, Sif unlocked the door to the antechamber. She returned to seat Elfi at the vanity table, running an antler comb through her long hair and plaiting it in intricate braids with deft, nimble fingers.
Oda and Vilde appeared a few moments later, headed to the Great Hall for the morning meal. “Did you sleep well?” Oda asked, bending to kiss Elfi’s cheek.
Elfi blushed at the memory of the delicious night with Njörd. “Verywell,” she purred, winking at Sif over Oda’s shoulder as herammagave her a maternal hug. “This morning, afterdagmál, I must go into the village to visit Úlvhild. She wants to cast the runes and see what the Norns will reveal for the upcoming voyage to Ísland.”
Elfi hesitated. She didn’t want to ask her grandmother to lie, but neither could Thorfinnknow the whole truth. “Amma…” her voice quavered as she grasped Oda’s gnarled hands. “Imustsailto Ísland with Njörd. TheGallizenaeforetold that I would need to wield mysjóvættirmagic to help him fulfill the prophecy. And that Njörd and I must marry in Ísland, to foil the Count of Soisson’s plans to force a wedding with me.” Elfi gently squeezed her grandmother’s frail fingers. “Njörd and I must depart at once, beforeFaðirreturns, so he cannot forbid me from leaving. And lock me in the tower again!” Tears welling in her eyes, Elfi implored her belovedamma. “Please tell him that Njörd and I had to set sail before the seas became too icy for the voyage. That Úlvhild had foreseen another Frankish attack to force a wedding with me. That theseidrvision revealedhow Njörd and I needed to marry in Ísland. To foil the Count’s plans and save Étretat.” She kissed the knotted knuckles, tightly clutched in her own trembling hands. “Perhaps, gods willing, we return victorious toChâteau Blanc,Faðirwill be so overjoyed to have saved the castle—and defeated the vile Count who killed Dag—that his anger will abate and soon be forgotten.”
Oda tenderly brushed a lock of hair from Elfi’s face. “Of course I will,elska.” She caressed Elfi’s crumpled cheek. “You focus on the voyage and helping Njörd fulfill the prophecy. Meet his Light Elven mother. Have a gloriousLjósálfarwedding. And return triumphant to Étretat.” She kissed the top of Elfi’s head. “I will have several weeks to soften his ire and open his eyes to see the truth.” A mischievous gleam glinted in Oda’s wise eyes as she slowly rose to her feet and smoothed her crumpled gown. “Now, let Sif finish your lovely braids, and I’ll meet you downstairs fordagmál.” Oda grinned at Elfi, accepted Vilde’s supportive elbow, and hobbled out the bedroom door.
****
Inside thevölva’sdim hut, the cloying scent of myrrh mingled with the pungent aroma of drying herbs suspended from hooks on the carved wooden walls. Strands of beaded glass, exotic feathers, and silver charms dangled from beams which supported the high ceiling. Lidded jars, animal bones, and glittering gems lined the shelves along the wall near the stone hearth where a blackcauldron simmered over the flames. In the back corner of the large room, the black cat Kól watched with golden eyes amidst a pile of furs heaped upon the narrow bed. While Elfi’s armored guards waited outside the thick oak door, Úlvhild welcomed her into the enchanted hut.
Úlvhild kissed Elfi’s cheek in greeting and seated her at the small oak table. “I could offer you a mug of mead or a goblet of wine, but perhaps you would prefer a chamomiletisane, somewhat safer for your babe?”
“You know?” Elfi’s voice hitched in surprise.
“Of course I know.Ljósálfarlight radiates within you.”
“Atisanewould be lovely, thank you.”
Úlvhild spooned the dried flowers into two ceramic cups, poured steaming water from a spouted tin kettle, and strained the dried herbs, carrying the two mugs back to the table. While Elfi sipped her herbal brew, thevölvaretrieved a dark blue linen cloth and a black leather pouch from the shelves near the hearth. She laid the blue cloth across the table, shook the small bag, and selected three runes, which she placed upon the cloth.
Skeletal fingers hovering over the oval bones etched with soot and blood, Úlvhild interpreted the fate cast by the Norns. “Urd’s rune—which reveals the past—isOthala, for heritage and ancestral roots. Yoursjóvættirmagic inherited from Dúva. And Njörd’sÚlfhéðnarblooddescended from Odin.”Thevölvaexamined the second ivory rune. “Verdandi shows usthe present.Thurisaz,the thorn, represents danger from a powerful external force. The Frankish Count of Soissons who hunts you. WithDökkálfarallies and the shapeshifting troll.” Elfi recognized the last rune. Dread clenched her gut as Úlvhild unveiled what the Norn Skuld had revealed for the future. “Hagalaz,for hail, destruction, and disaster. There will be a bloody battle in Ísland.” Úlvhild’s brows furrowed in contemplation. A shaft of sunlight from the smoke hole in the roof gilded her eyes like golden amber as she held Elfi’s rapt gaze. “Perhaps aseiðrvision will allow me to perceive more.”
Úlvhild gathered the three runes and returned them to her black leather pouch, closing the drawstring tight. She folded upthe blue linen cloth, and returned it with the small bag to her cluttered shelf. Rummaging among the covered jars, she selected one which contained seeds, a few of which she tossed into the flames. As she inhaled the crisp pine scent of juniper deep into her lungs, thevölvachanted avardlokkurto summon the spirits between worlds.
Elfi watched in wonder as Úlvhild selected several covered jars from amongst her vials, spooning herbs into an ornately engraved, gem-encrusted silver chalice, all the while chanting her rhythmic invocation. From the tin pot over the fire, she poured steaming water into the elaborate goblet, added several drops of a tincture, and withdrawing three seeds from a tiny pouch at her waist, dropped them into the mysterious brew. With a silver spoon, she stirred the potion and while it cooled, pulled a tall wooden chair from the back corner of the room toward the center where Elfi sat at the table. Continuing her ethereal vocalizations, the Vikingvölvareturned to the counter where the herbal elixir awaited, tested it with a finger, and drank it all down.
She donned her pale catskin gloves and fetched the moonstone tipped wooden staff standing near the hearth, thumping it on the rush-strewn earthen floor like a drum. Singing and swaying to the rhythm of her chant, she leaned her staff against theseidrchair and perched atop the high backed seat. Her chanting suddenly stopped, golden eyes rolling back in her head to expose just the whites. In a strident, eerie voice—as if emanating between worlds—Úlvhild conveyed herunfoldingvision.
“A malignant force enshrouded in darkness…powerfulseiðrmagic, but evil…cloaks of malevolent shadows, impervious toLjósálfarlight…” Thevölvaswooned in her seat, lost in an otherworldly trance. Úlvhild’s head snapped up, her sightless, all-seeing eyes aglow like golden globes. “In the distant land of fire and ice, theLjósálfarmust aid the wolves. The wrath of the sea must sink the ships, for the prophecy to be fulfilled.” Long black locks covering her stricken face and falling to her lap, the seeress lifted herarms, as if beseeching an unseen spirit. “Sól, radiant Goddess of the Sun, shine your golden rays to illuminate my path. Grant me the wisdom to overcome darkness. And save theLjósálfarwith your divine light.”
From the smoke hole in the thatched roof, a shaft of brilliant sunlight entered the dim exterior of the hut, the smoky air shimmering as the beam of golden light followed a path across the earthen floor and centered on thevölvaseated upon the elevated chair. A feminine image appeared amidst the golden glow, enveloping Úlvhild in a celestial embrace.
Long locks of molten gold, glistening with ethereal light, framed the exquisitely beautiful face of the Goddess Sól, her delicate features luminescent, oval eyes shining like the midday sun. The diaphanous sleeves of her long gown fluttered like clouds, her gilded skin emitting a radiant warmth that pulsed with power and expanded throughout the room. As she floated in the sunbeam, hovering before Úlvhild, the goddess raised her long, slender fingers and bathed thevölvawith brilliant rays of golden light.
Sól’s whisper was as ephemeral as the wind. “My gift isSólrún, the sacred knowledge of the sun, the untold secrets of the stars. May you wield it to dispel darkness and protect the purity of light.” With a shimmer of golden waves and a whoosh like unfurling wings, the goddess floated on the sunbeam back up to the cloudless sky.
Úlvhild slumped forward, and Elfi rushed to catch her, helping thevölvadescend from her elevated chair. “SixLjósálfarmust sail with you to Ísland,” she croaked, leaning on Elfi for support, her haggard face ravaged by the strong herbs. “Lugh and Olvir…Rúnar and Veldar… Áryndor and Ildris.”
Clutching Elfi’s arm, thevölvastaggered across the room toward the pile of furs heaped atop her straw mattress. “With sixÚlfhéðnar, to battle a dozen Dark Elves.” When she climbed into bed, the cat Kól—as if sensing his mistress’ distress—moved over for her to lie down. “I must accompany you as well—to wieldsólrúnfor them to succeed.”Úlvhildcollapsed among the furs, her voice raspy and rough. “I must sleep now, to recoverfrom theseidrvision. Return to the castle and prepare another welcoming feast. Skårde and Ylva’s ship arrives on the morrow. I shall join you then fornáttmálatChâteau Blanc.” She gripped Elfi’s hand weakly, closed her weary eyes, and succumbed to exhaustion.
Elfi arranged the furs around Úlvhild. Kól snuggled inro the covers, purring as Elfi stroked his silky black fur. “Watch over her for me. Take good care of her while she sleeps.” Crossing the room, she removed the steaming cauldron and tin pot from the fire, setting them upon flat stones in the floor area surrounding the hearth. Elfi remembered that Kól liked to jump through the window to hunt and prowl at night, so she left the deerskin flap open, securing it to the hook in the wooden wall.Assuring that Úlvhild was comfortable and safe, Elfi left the dim hut, closed the wooden exit door, and rode back to the castle with her armored guards.
That evening, after Njörd and theÚlfhéðnarreturned from their training inla Forêt du Loup,Efi sharedthe details of Úlvhild’s startlingseidrvision overnáttmálin the Great Hall. She explained how sixLjósálfarand sixÚlfhéðnarwould be needed on the voyage to Ísland. How thevölvahad foreseen a battle against a dozenDökkálfar,sheltered by magical cloaks shrouded in darkness. How she had invoked the Sun Goddess Sól, whose divine gift Úlvhild would wield in Ísland. “She also foresaw that Ylva and Skårde will arrive tomorrow afternoon, so we’ll prepare a welcoming feast for the evening.”
While everyone enjoyed the meal, Elfi spoke quietly to Njörd. “Tomorrow morning, after ourdance with swordsin the sacred grove, you and I shall go to the waterfall cave and summon Lugh. We’ll tell him about Úlvhild’s vision, and how we need theLjósálfarto sail with us to Ísland. We can return to welcome Ylva, Skårde, and Vivi.” She sipped her watered down ale. “It will be awkward to leave so soon after they arrive. But I’ll explain that my magic is necessary for you to claim your father’s sword and fulfill the prophecy, so I must sail with you. That I must wield the whitewolf weapons to slay the troll. And that we must depart before myfaðir’sreturn. So he cannot forbid me to go. Or lock me in the tower again.”
Later that evening, after Oda had retired to bed, Sif slipped out of the castle with Bodo.
And Elfi sneaked Njörd into her room.
****
