Shaken by the startling images, Skjöld raced across the rock-strewn shore to join Dvalinn and Haldor near the base of the stairs. “Thesnekkjaapproaches—cloaked in shadows,” he gasped, his voice ragged and raw.
“Skuggaflög,”Dvalinn hissed.“Shadow Wing. One of Skugga’s stealthy ships.”
Haldor scanned the western horizon, where the cold, violent sea crashed against the craggy cliffs. When a slash of sunlight broke through the steely sky, he shielded his keen gaze with a leather gauntlet. “Who is Skugga?”
“A Rus raider allied with theDökkálfar.” Dvalinn stood between Haldor and Skjöld, darting glances at bothvitkar.“Enemy to Harald Bluetooth. And his son, Sweyn Forkbeard. The new King of Denmark and Norway.”
Skjöld revealed the rest of his vision. “I saw a witch with crimson eyes. And a young woman trapped on the ship. We must save her from theDökkálfar.”
At the mention of the accursed name, Dvalinn’s thick red brows furrowed into deep scowl. “Beware the deadly weapons of the Dark Elves.” Dread deepened the dwarf’s foreboding tone. “Even the nick of aDökkálfarblade will prove fatal within three days—unless cleansed by aLjósálfarhealer. And we are farfrom the realm ofÁlfheim.”
In the distance, a dark, ominous cloud arose over the open sea. “There’s the ship!” Skjöld pointed to the eerie fog that crept toward Dvalinn’s cave like a spectral claw. “I’ll stay here, at the base of the cliff, to form a shieldwall offrostfire. To burn them as they come ashore.”
“And I’ll summon the birds.” Clutching theÍsfálkrspear like avitkistaff, Haldor raised his outstretched arms toward the cloud-strewn sky. As his feathered cape flapped in the westerly wind like the wings of a falcon, a piercing shriek tore from his lungs and streaked across the stormy sea. He shifted, unfurled his shimmering wings, and flew up to perch on the top limb of a nearby tree.
Dvalinn dashed up the stone steps, bellowing orders to those inside the cave.
“Raiders on the sea! Durinn, Dáinn, to the ledge—crossbows ready! Gunnar, Inga, bows to the arrow slits. Move!” Dvalinn positioned himself on the ledge in front of the heavy oaken door which led into his cave. In one swift motion, he drew the warhammer from the leather belt at his hip, the runes along the blackened head gleaming in the dim grey light. “Steinvegr!” he roared, the boom echoing off the mountain cliff, across the churning sea as he held the weapon high. “Forged in the flames of the mountain’s heart!” The Dwarven redbeard smirked at Haldor and Skjöld, his garish grin revealing chipped and missing teeth, blackened by battle, forge smoke, and soot. “LikeMjöllnir,my hammer strikes hard and comes home to hand.”
The two apprentice dwarves—clad in leather armor reinforced with iron plates and engraved with runes—appeared on the ledge above the clifftop entrance to the cave. Donning metal helms with noseguards, they secured the straps beneath their bearded chins before locking their crossbows and loading them with bolts. As they knelt behind a lip of jagged stone, Skjöld overheard one of the dwarves growl to the other. “Hold. Let the shadows come closer. We strike when they show their cursed golden eyes.”
As darkness swirled across the stormy sea, and the raven prow emerged from the ominous cloud, the skies grew black as hundreds of seabirds, eagles, and hawks swarmed thesnekkjaship. Squawking and screeching in a chaotic storm of wings, the raptors dove like spear points from the sky, gouging eyes and slicing throats with razor-sharp beaks, talons, and claws. As thefrantic crew ducked, dodged, and shouted in confusion— panicked by the unexpected use of birds as weapons— some warriors dropped swords and axes to cover their faces, while others fell over the gunwale into the turbulent sea.
Arrows and crossbow bolts flew from the face of the cliff, tearing the blood striped black sail and embedding into exposed flesh of the frenzied crew. ADökkálfarondeck, covered in a dark cloak to shield himself from the intermittent sun, snarled orders to oarsmen who relentlessly rowed while archers loosed arrows and returned fire toward the cliff.
As the longship struck the shore with a heavy thud, the raven prow slicing into the grassy bank, Rus raiders vaulted from the deck, charging toward the cliff through the hail of arrows and diving birds. Clutching hisÍsfirshield, Skjöld brushed his right thumb over theEldhrímrrune, unleashing a surge offrostfireas he rotated in an arc to encompass the base of the cliff, A high wall of blue flame, tinged with violet frost and silver ice, arose in a hiss of steam from the charred, scorched earth. With the shield wall in place to defend Dvalinn’s cave, he maintained the torrent of frost and flame as Rus warriors charged toward the cliff.
Haldor swooped back down to earth, landing beside Skjöld within the ring of fire. He shifted into human form, just as a sharp cry erupted, and Durinn tumbled from the mountain ledge, onto the scorched ground just beyond the wall of flame.
“Retract the fire on this side,” Haldor shouted, indicating where Durinn had landed. “So I can drag him back.”
Dvalinn scrambled down the stairs,Steinvegrclutched in his meaty fist. Desperate eyes locked onto his fallen kin, he dashed over to join Haldor. “I’ll go with you.”
Skjöld touched theKaldheimrrune to the left of the handle inside his shield, pointing it toward the crumpled body of Durinn. When the flame retracted, several Rus raiders swarmed toward the opening.
With a guttural roar, Dvalinn hurled his hammer, crushing a raider’s chestas the weapon returned to the dwarf’s hand. When Haldor pulled Durinn inside the wall of flame, the trio of droplets beneath Skjöld’s left eye drew his gaze toward the enemy ship.
There, on the deck, was the young woman from his vision.
Defended by aDökkálfarguard.
While Dvalinn heavedSteinvegragain and again, felling enemy attackers with lethal precision, Haldor dragged Durinn to safety, hollering to the Dwarven smith to come inside the ring of fire. When Dvalinn complied, Skjöld rekindled the wall offrostfireflame to encompass the base of the mountain.
Dvalinn hurried to Durinn, who was crumpled in a heap on the hoar-covered ground. The wounded dwarf moaned in agony, an arrow protruding from the side of his left thigh, the weapon having pierced his leather armor between the reinforced plates.
Inga descended the stone stairs with herbs and bandages, rushing to help Dvalinn tend to Durinn’s wound.
Skjöld shouted into Haldor’s ear, above the screeching of birds and the shrieking of maimed men. “The girl from my vision is tied to the mast of the ship. Guarded by aDökkálfar.”
Fury flared in Haldor’s falcon eyes. He rose from Durinn’s side, crossed the rocky ground, and retrieved the Dwarvenspear leaning against the base of the mountain below the cave. He strode briskly back to Skjöld, clutching the weapon like hisvitkistaff. “Ísfálkrnever misses its mark,” he quipped, a snide grin curling one side of his bearded face. “I will take out theDökkálfarguard. But I need you to fire at the raiders storming up the beach.”
A spike of adrenaline surged through Skjöld, beset by grim foreboding. If he went with Haldor to fire upon the advancing enemy, he would have to retract the shield of flame, leaving Dáinn, Dvalinn, and Inga exposed. He roared to Dvalinn behind him. “I must retract the shield. Hold them withSteinvegruntil I return!”
He called back thefrostfirewith theKaldheimrrune and hurtled toward the enemy ship with Haldor. As Haldor sighted his mark on the deck of thesnekkja, Skjöld unleashed a sizzling swathe of ice blue fire, engulfing the remaining Rus warriors in flames.
But as the Dwarven spear flew from Haldor’s hand, aDökkálfarlurking near the spot where Durinn had fallenhurled a cursed knife which grazed thevitki’sarm mid-throw.
Skjöld pummeled the Dark Elf with a blast offrostfire, reducing him to a heap of glowing violet ash.
