Chapter 10
Beyond Fate and the Gods
While the summer sun blazed overhead and wind whipped banners in the salty breeze, Budli rose majestically from his ondvegi, the roar of the crowd subsiding into a reverent hush. Her faeir hollered over the expectant throng.
“Agnar, Bear of Bjarkholm,” he boomed, his deep voice echoing across the sparkling fjord. “For your valor and prowess in the championship trial of the Sólhjarta Tournament, I present these tokens of glory!”
At Budli’s gesture, a trio of royal húskarlar emerged from the pavilion behind the elevated dais.
Two armored guards bore forth a gleaming chainmail brynja, stretched between them upon a pole.
At the heart of the mail was fastened a hammered bronze sun disc, its radiant rays etched in gold with a triad of runes—Sowilo for the sun, Tiwaz for valor, and Uruz for brute strength.
Around the outer rim of the disc, amber beads set in bronze glowed like captured fire.
In the hands of the third royal guard rested a matching shield, its solid oak face marked with the same sunburst and runes, the iron boss polished bright, the rim bound in bronze and studded with amber.
Budli’s roar rippled across the field as the pair of guards carrying the brynja formally presented it to Agnar. “Sólvorn,” the Raven King proclaimed. “The sun guard of the Sólhjarta Tournament— to honor the Bear of Bjarkholm.”
Brown bearskin rippling in the wind off the cliff, Agnar laid a bare hand reverently upon the sunburst heart of the armor and nodded in solemn gratitude. He motioned to two of his nearby attendants, who came forth to receive the brynja and carry it reverently to Prince Agnar’s royal pavilion.
When the third guard presented the magnificent shield, Budli’s voice rang out from the royal dais. “A sunburst shield, wrought in honor and valor, to defend you with the sun’s glory in battle.”
Agnar accepted the shield with solemn respect. Amber gems in his thick brown beard glowed golden like the rim of his shield as he flashed a fierce grin at the Raven King and struck his sword Bjarnrokr against the gleaming metal boss.
Pushing the head of his bearskin back, he inclined his bare head to Budli.
“Your gifts honor me, Raven King.” He proudly clutched the burnished shield, the amber beads and etched runes radiant as the summer sun.
“May Sólvorn—and this sunburst shield—guard me in battle, as you valiantly defend Hrafnfjall.”
Crimson cloak shimmering in the midday sun, Budli shouted above the clamorous din. “All hail Agnar, Bear of Bjarkholm!” The jubilant guests roared in approval, clapping hands, stomping feet, and striking shields in respect for the Bear who had battled the Sea Wolf.
Agnar dipped his dark head to the cheering crowd, gratitude blazing in his ursine eyes. He strode across the field to stand among his men, his fierce gaze fixed on Sigurd as the throng eagerly awaited the Raven King’s next regal gift.
Brynhildr’s pulse thrummed as Sigurd’s eyes held hers. Her faeir would now present the champion’s royal prize.
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 of the 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 the Sjórúlfar howled, 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 royal húskarlar maneuvered a magnificent drakkar out 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 the drakkar longship, úlfalkr!” Budli’s deep voice boomed across the fjord.
Brynhildr’s heart raced, the ouroboros beneath 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 my dóttir Brynhildr, 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.
Seier surged through the ouroboros, scorching her skin and searing her soul.
When Eyvindr Waverunner, Kveld Nightwolf, Hródvarr, and the other Sjórúlfar gathered 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 of úlfalkr, along with Agnar and many exuberant warriors, anxious to swear fealty to the Sea Wolf and serve aboard his drakkar longship.
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.”
Her faeir, standing beside King álfr and Queen Hjordis, 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 lovely dóttir.
“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 Volsung 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 as seier flooded the ouroboros like the sea inundating the fjord, she felt the Norns tighten the threads of their intricately woven web of wyrd.
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 of Blárúlfr gilded in the golden light of the setting sun as the rapt throng in the Great Hall listened to Skallagrímr, Skáld of the Sólhjarta Tournament.
As he strummed the nine strings of his golden lyre, alternating with lute and flute, he performed Saga of Sea Wolf and Sun Falcon, his glorious tribute to the Summer Solstice duel between Sigurd and Brynhildr on the morrow.
The crowd roared in thunderous approval.
The music resumed and the mead flowed freely, with raucous warriors boasting of oaths and victories yet to come. Sigurd leaned close, his soft whisper warm against her cheek. “When the dancing begins around the bonfire, I want to show you úlfalkr.”
Brynhildr’s breath hitched, her pulse thrumming in her throat.
“I have asked Kveld to meet us there.” A wolfish gleam blazed in Sigurd’s intense blue eyes. “He will mark us— with falcon and wolf. And bind us to the ship and the sea.”
Legs trembling under her silk gown, Brynhildr nodded. “And when he has finished, we’ll go up to my room…”
“To seal our bond in seier and starlight.” Sigurd raised his elkhorn of mead and tipped it toward her.
She clinked hers against his and drank.
When Budli rose and invited the enthusiastic crowd out to dance around the bonfire, the festive hall emptied into cool, starry night.
As lively melodies from lyres and lutes mingled with pounding drums, sparks leapt skyward and couples swirled in wild, jubilant dance, Sigurd and Brynhildr slipped away like shadows between flames.
Cradling her hand in his, he led her down the carved stone steps of the cliff to the pebbled shore far below.
Drawn up onto the beach where black waves lapped starlit stone, úlfalkr rocked gently at the edge of the fjord. Moonlight silvered her falcon prow, the wolves and runes carved into the feathered wings glistening as if alive.