“Gebo,the gift of self you give each other, your fates eternally entwined.” The sharp scrapes of the stylus sent shivers up Brynhildr’s shaking legs as he carved the second rune over the first. “AndKaun, rune of fire. For theouroboroswhichbinds your souls throughseiðr.”As the Nightwolf carved the final rune, the wood glimmered, likedragonfireimbued into the grain.
Kveld straightened, wiping the stylus and securing it in leather at his belt. “A trio of runes… abindrune—triply binding your souls, the ship, and the sea.”
As the wolf and falcon tattoos on Brunhildr’s forearms burned like theouroborosabove her breast, Sigurd took hold of her cold hand and lifted it to warm, bearded lips. When he kissed her icy fingers, a wave ofseiðrwashed over her, like the sea flooding the starlit fjord.
Kveld’s deep hallowed voice wafted on a whisper of wind. “Pierce your thumbs,” he commanded, unsheathing the ornate wolf dagger strapped at his waist and handing it solemnly to Sigurd. “One drop each—alternating turns—as your blood falls onto each rune. Sea Wolf first, then Sun Falcon.”
The oval moonstone embedded in the bone hilt glowed in the moonlight as Sigurd accepted the dagger and pricked his thumb with the sharp tip. He let a bead of blood fall onto theRaidorune, passing the dagger toBrynhildr.
She nicked the tip of her left thumb and let a droplet fall onto Sigurd’s in the same rune. They moved together toGebo,Sigurd’s blood first, then hers. Finally,Kaun,alternating again, as the last drops soaked into the etched grain beneath the falcon prow. Thebindruneglowed with otherworldly light, their bound essence alive with entwinedwyrd.
Kveld chanted softly under his breath. Long, scarred fingers fluttered over thebindrunelike wings beating wildly in Brynhild’s falcon heart. His chant complete, the Nightwolf nodded, then gestured to a swathe of linen spread upon the starlit shore.
Long legs like a lanky wolf, the tall Kveld leapt deftly onto the beach, leading them toward the white cloth and a silverchalice standing on a hearthstone beside the ritual fire. Amber gems set along the rune-etched rim glittered like golden suns in the moonlight.
Brynhildr lifted the hem of her blue silk gown to prevent it from falling into the fjord while Sigurd placed strong hands around her waist. As she jumped from the deck, he guided her safely onto the rocky sand.
When they arrived at the linen cloth, Kveld explained the choice of items as he slipped each one into the silver chalice of golden mead. “A wild rose taken from Brynhildr’s private courtyard…a wolf claw to symbolize Sigurd Sea Wolf… and a falcon feather for the Sun Falcon Shieldmaiden. Three sacred items to bind you to the sea.”
Once again, he unsheathed the dagger and handed it, this time to Brynhildr. “Three drops of blood into the mead. Sun Falcon first, then the Sea Wolf.”
Heart pounding,ouroborosburning, falcon and wolf tattoos searing her skin, Brynhildr nicked her other thumb and let three droplets of blood fall into the golden mead. As the copper tang of iron blended with the sweet honeyed scent, she handed the wolf dagger to Sigurd. He pierced his thumb with the pointed tip, added three drops of his blood to hers, and wiped the dagger clean before returning it to the Nightwolf.
Kveld flicked long fingers over the chalice, humming a haunting melodic chant. When he finished, he handed the golden mead to Sigurd. “Both drink from the same goblet. Seal your souls to each other, this shore… and the sea.”
Sigurd held the silver goblet, his bloodied thumbs touching the glowing amber gems.
Brynhildr placed her hands over his, the blood in her thumbs blending with Sigurd’s.
Together, they raised the chalice to their lips, eyes locked upon each other, and drank.
Beneath the bodice of her blue silk gown, theouroborosblazed above her thumping heart. And upon each tattooed forearm, the wolf and falcon scorched her skin.
Three tattoos… three droplets of blood… three sacred items… binding us to each other, the Úlfalkr ship, and the sea.
As the shared mead and blood spread warmth andseiðrthrough her icy veins, Kveld’s deep, prophetic voice echoed across the fjord.
“The Sea Wolf and the Sun Falcon shall defy all for each other… theÚlfalkrship shall bear them to safety across the sea. Withbindrune, blood, and breath, their souls are now bound beyond the realm of fate… and beyond the reach of the gods.” Black wolfskin cloak gleaming in the moonlight, Kveld Nightwolf took the silver chalice and poured the remaining mead into the flickering flames within the stone enclosed hearth. “Now it is done,” he murmured softly, amber eyes aglow like the black wolf’s upon his dark head. “Go…and seal your love inseiðrand starlight.”
As moonlight glimmered on the dark fjord, and stars winked in the night sky, Brynhildr grasped Sigurd’s calloused hand and led him up the stone stairs carved into the cliff, past the thorned vines where wild roses emitted a soft floral scent that mingled with the salt of the sea.
They slipped into the hidden stairwell at the base of the tower and emerged into her private chambers.
While Sigurd stoked the banked embers and added a log to the fire, Brynhildr opened the doors onto the balcony, letting moonglow and starlight flood the vast, circular room.
“I’ll be right back,” she whispered, as he coaxed the fire into flames. “I’ll fetch the silver chalice from theseiðrchamber.” Slipping down the wooden stairs which led to the floor below, she retrieved the same silver chalice with which she and Yrsa had summoned Freyja.
And Sigurd and Agnar had sworn their blood oath of brotherhood.
Tonight, Sigurd and I shall also swear a blood oath. Binding our love beyond fate and the gods. And tomorrow, on the summer solstice…we shall face each other in the final duel.
As theouroborosflared above her heart, she poured mead from Yrsa’s small wooden cask into the silver goblet, clutched the gem-encrusted chalice against her burning breast, and slipped back up the stairs to Sigurd.
He had shed hisBlárúlfrwolfskin cloak, blue tunic, leather boots, and black breeches, standing gloriously naked in the moonlight. In the corner of her chamber near the wooden trunk, his sheathedÚlfblóðrsword stood like a solemn, silent witness.
At the sound of her footsteps, he turned to welcome her. Silver radiance glistened in his golden hair, glimmered on his sculpted body, and glowed in his trio of tattoos.
The sublime sight stole Brynhildr’s bated breath.
