Hesitation and disbelief distorted Zhúlgorr’s hideous face. “Three dozen knights and three dozenDökkálfarto storm a castle?” He drained his tankard and swiped his parched, peeling lips. “Thorfinn has at least a hundred men. And Elfi’s new husband— theWolf of the Nordic Seas—arrived from Denmark with five hundred Viking warriors. How can you expect to succeed with such insurmountable odds?”
From the leather pouch secured at his belt, Alberic withdrew two heavy iron keys. “With these.” He flashed a wicked grin. “There is a secret tunnel leading from the sacred grove into the bottom of the castle keep.” He held up the larger of the two keys. “This one unlocks the door at the foot of the stairwell. And this one,” Alberic said, displaying the smaller key, “gets me into Elfi’s private chamber at the top of the steps.” Heart hammering, pulse racing at the thought of finally conquering the castle which had become an obsession, Alberic unfolded his ingenious plan.
“My spies inform me that theWolf of the Nordic Seasand Bluetooth’s bastard, theDragon of Denmark, have sailed toHeiðabýr,leaving the castle lightly guarded. Myrkkha’s curse on the swordGaladir—recently buried beside Thorfinn’s son in the barrow near the castle—has nullified the protectiveLjósálfarwards in the forest. Now yourDökkálfarcan move throughla Forêt du Loupand the sacred grove without hindrance.” Alberic gripped the table, nearly overcome with excitement. “I’ll slip into Elfi’s room and take her hostage. Force Thorfinn to surrender the castle. While yourDökkálfareliminate theÚlfhéðnarand theLjósálfarin the sacred grove, I’ll open the gates for my men. I shall slay Thorfinn and Richard the Fearless—who is currently a guest at the keep.”
Hand trembling as he raised a tankard to his parched lips, Alberic drank deeply before setting it down on the table. “I will show King Lothaire I amnota failure.” His resolute voice hardened with conviction. “He ordered me to abandon the assault—but I cannot. The Wolf and the Dragon are both gone. Thevitkiwho commands the birds is in Norway, nursing the woundedvölvathat Myrkkha nearly destroyed. Richard the Fearless is vulnerable. This is my chance to take what should rightfully be mine.”
Alberic’s fingers curled into a shaking fist. “Once I hold the castle—and eliminate the Viking leader who has defied my kingfor more twenty years—then Lothaire will honor his word. And proclaim me the Frankish Duke of Normandy.”
Zhúlgorr secured the sack of coins to the leather belt at his waist. “Agreed,” he hissed, predatory eyes fixing on Alberic like prey. “Two of Skugga’ssnekkja. Three dozenDökkálfarwill meet you at the port of Saint-Valéry-en-Caux in seven days. To attackChâteau Blancon the night of the howling moon.” He raised his goblet, grin sharp as aDökkálfarblade. “To the future Frankish Duke of Normandy. Alberic of Soissons.”
Chapter 30
Shieldmaiden of Château Blanc
Elfi awakened with a sudden jolt.
Moonlight shone through the open window of her silent chamber onto the wooden floor. The banked embers in the stone hearth cast a dim glow in the darkened room. Stars sparkled in the night sky, and the saline scent of the sea wafted in on a crisp, cool breeze..
But hersjóvættirmagic flared in warning.
Something was dreadfully wrong.
She slipped from the warm pile of furs on her bed and peered out the window toward the sheltered inlet at the bottom of the cliff below the castle.
Where the glint of steel flashed like lightning in the moonglow.
Warriors. Climbing the path.
Coming for the castle.
Elfi stood at her window, heart pounding as moonlight glinted off the chain mail armor of warriors on the northern beach.
And there—in the full light of the howling moon—stood the Count of Soissons, the distinctivefleur-de-lysemblem of his Frankish king gleaming with golden menace. Flanked by men moving like shadows across the shore, the insidious count crept up the grassy path.
Her breath caught as the whispered warnings of hersjóvættirmagic flared again, a ripple of dread shivering up her spine.
For amidst the armored warriors slinking toward the castle, reptilian eyes glinted like embers in the moonlight. Sinister shapes spilled from two sleeksnekkjaships as dozens ofDökkálfarpoured onto the pebbled shore, slithering like snakes up the cliff.
I must summon the wolves.
Elfi dashed to the bedside table where theúlftirilay strung on its black leather cord.Crafted by Lugh with the bones of Njörd’s sacred white wolf, theúlftirihad enabled her to summon theÚlfhéðnarin Ísland. And now, she needed to call them again.
Pressing thewolf whistleto her lips, she blew a furious note that only lupine ears would hear.
She prayed that Njáll, Hrólf Redbeard, Flóki, Bodo, and Úlf would rally theLjósálfar.
And destroy theDökkálfarbefore they reached the castle.
Her shieldmaiden mind swiftly analyzed the enemy’s strategy. The Count of Soissons was attacking again. But this time, with only two ships and a small warband. Far too few for a siege.
If not by force, then how would Soissons take the castle?
Elfi’s belly clenched as stark realization dawned.
They weren't here to storm the walls. The Count knew another way in.
The secret tunnel from the sacred grove!
