Budli raised a bejeweled hand, waiting until silence stretched across the grassy field. His deep roar echoed off the cliffs and out over the fjord. “And now… for the champion ofthe Sólhjarta Summer Solstice Tournament!” He gestured to Sigurd, whose wolfskin cloak shimmered in the sun, the thick blue fur rippling in the salty wind.
“Sigurd, the Sea Wolf of Sjóborg!”
While the crowd hollered and theSjórúlfarhowled, a trio of royal heralds of Hrafnfjall blew a resounding blast from enormous elkhorns.
As Budli swept a majestic arm toward the glistening waters below the cliff, a crew of his royalhúskarlarmaneuvered a magnificentdrakkarout into the sunlit fjord. Its polished oak hull gleamed like burnished bronze, shields painted with blue waves and silver wolves lining both its sleek sides.
The crew unfurled a deep blue sail emblazoned with the massive head of a silver wolf, sapphire eyes glinting like icy fire. At the curved prow of the enormous ship, a falcon stretched its carved wings, each feather etched with wolves and runes that glimmered in the golden light.
“To Sigurd Sea Wolf, Champion of the Sólhjarta Tournament, I present thedrakkarlongship,Úlfalkr!”Budli’s deep voice boomed across the fjord.
Brynhildr’s heart raced, theouroborosbeneath her gown sizzling with Sigurd’s triumph.Úlfalkr—the Wolf Falcon—was not only a tribute to his glory as champion of the tournament, it was also a blend of them both, as Sea Wolf and Sun Falcon.
While exultant cheers rent the salty sunlit air, the Raven King bellowed once more. “Let all of Hrafnfjall rejoice! Tonight, we feast for the champion, Sigurd Sea Wolf—and for tomorrow’s Summer Solstice duel, when he challenges mydóttirBrynhildr, the Sun Falcon Shieldmaiden of Hrafnfjall!”
As a horde of warriors clambered down the stone steps carved into each side of the cliff, eager to view the magnificent ship, Sigurd’s fierce lupine eyes held hers.
Seiðrsurged through theouroboros, scorching her skin and searing her soul.
When Eyvindr Waverunner, Kveld Nightwolf, Hródvarr, and the otherSjórúlfargathered around Sigurd, he tore his gaze from hers and hurried down to the pebbled shore.
She followed the royal guests from the dais onto the heathered meadow, watching from the top of the crystalline cliff as Sigurd leapt onto the deck ofÚlfalkr, along with Agnar and many exuberant warriors, anxious to swear fealty to the Sea Wolf and serve aboard hisdrakkarlongship.
At her side, Princess Dagny, clad in a sumptuous gown of ice blue silk, spoke softly into Brynhildr’s ear. “You must be thrilled,” she murmured with barely concealed excitement. “When the Sea Wolf wins your hand tomorrow, you shall wed not only the son of a king, but the most fearsome warrior in all of Norway.”
Herfaðir,standing beside King Álfr and Queen Hjördis, roared in approval. “A summer solstice betrothal…a winter solstice wedding…and a royal marriage to unite the kingdoms of Sjóborg and Hrafnfjall!”
Silver coronet atop his regal head etched with snarling wolves and rolling waves, King Álfr grinned from ear to bearded ear. “An alliance of the Wolf King and the Raven King, through the wedding of Sea Wolf and Sun Falcon.”
Budli raised Dagny’s pale hand to the weathered lips above his thick red beard. Bestowing a gallant kiss upon her slender fingers, he turned to King Eirikr, standing proudly beside his lovelydóttir.“And with my own royal wedding soon to follow, the alliance is triply bound. Ryfylke, Hrafnfjall, and Sjóborg, joined by blood, vow, and crown.”
As the salty wind billowed the wolf sail of Sigurd’s new ship and whipped blonde braids against her cheeks, Brynhildr remained silent, bitter at the smug remarks.
Everyone expects Sigurd to win the final duel tomorrow. No one believes that a woman—not even a skilled shieldmaiden—could defeat the champion of the Sólhjarta Tournament.
Freyja’s words floated from the past, across the sun-dappled fjord.“My triad of gifts will enhance your heart, your spirit, and your destiny. No mortal enemy may defeat you.”
Yet Sigurd is not a mere mortal. He is a Völsung descendant of Odin. And divine lupine blood flows through his Sea Wolf veins.
He is much stronger, swifter, and taller than I…will Sigurd triumph tomorrow? And if he does, I shall be forced to honor my vow… and wed the warrior who defeats me.
At the thought of becoming Sigurd’s wife, fragile hope and fleeting joy fluttered like desperate wings in Brynhildr’s Sun Falcon heart.
But asseiðrflooded theouroboroslike the sea inundating the fjord, she felt the Norns tighten the threads of their intricately woven web ofwyrd.
I have seen my destiny.
I shall ride as a Valkyrie.
Fate has claimed me for Odin.
* * * *
The feast was superb.
The sublime taste of grilled haddock and fresh herbs, succulent scallops with melted butter, and pears poached in honey lingered on Brynhildr’s tongue.
Sigurd sat proudly beside her at the high table, the blue fur ofBlárúlfrgilded in the golden light of the setting sun as the rapt throng in the Great Hall listened to Skallagrímr, Skáld of the Sólhjarta Tournament.
