Chapter 31
Thirty-One
Njáll
Dew dripped from the ferns, clinging to the tawny furs of his cloak as he paced the dense, winding perimeter of their lands.
Veins flexed in his hand as he adjusted the grip on his axe, thumbing the supple leather. The thudding footsteps of his warriors pounded around him, each of them patrolling the leafy trails.
An unnerving undercurrent of stillness sliced through the familiar scent of pine, setting Njáll’s instincts on edge. His heart beat a steady rhythm against his ribs, a counterpoint to the restless thrumming under his skin.
It was his duty to protect their borders, yet every stride carried the subtle stab of friction beneath his sternum. An ache that longed for him to be reunited with his kona.
After reports of unusual activity on the outskirts of the forest, Njáll had taken a dozen of his best warriors to investigate, leading to him now being away from her for three turns of the sun.
A relentless friction tore at his sternum, warring between his duty to the clan and the absolute, consuming mandate to protect his kona.
For years, he’d been a warrior of distinction, made to cleave flesh from bone.
Except now, the enemies they faced could not be tamed by steel alone.
While she tried to hide it, Njáll saw the weariness plaguing Elara’s stubborn gaze.
In the three weeks since she began training with Hlif, Njáll had watched his little flame push herself to the brink of collapse daily.
At night, she returned to their home, stumbling into his embrace, physically and mentally spent.
Her muscles often twitched from overuse, while her mind buzzed with static.
Alruna rarely appeared, even though Elara noted the draugar’s constant presence, their indistinct murmurings hissing in the shadows.
Despite that, she still smiled, tuning out their voices and stealing sweet kisses from him. He’d insist on rest, on gently oiling her strained muscles until she dozed in his arms.
At first, she’d relent, not speaking and going lax in his arms as he massaged her. Soon his cock would harden and her breathing would rasp, and she’d grab his hand, demanding more from him.
Unable to deny her anything, he’d take her on the furs, her exhaustion quickly giving way to a fierce hunger.
Her tight, delicate heat would clench around him, fluttering desperately as keening cries fell from her, muffled by the furs.
He was hers to command, and command him she did—with every whimper, every sob, every climax that made her tiny frame quake with much deserved pleasure.
Then, his nails would burrow into her hips, clutching and taking from her until he spilled his seed, collapsing beside her with her name on his lips.
The scent of her lingered in the air, the taste of her branded on his tongue.
Knowing that it had been three long nights since he’d felt the weight of her body against him or licked the sweetness from her skin gnawed at the last of his patience.
The thump in his chest urged him to return to her.
A sharp whistle pulled him from his musings. His shoulders straightened, following the sound until he reached Erik.
The usual indifferent gleam on the man’s face faded, hinting at the unease tightening in his muscles. He stood against a moss covered oak, dappled sunlight glinting off his blade.
“Jarl,” he murmured, his voice tight. “Over here.”
Njáll dipped his chin in a tight nod. His soon-to-be kin rarely used his formal title unless others were present. Being addressed as such while they were alone made the hairs on his nape prickle.
A magnificent stag lay in the muddy earth, its crown of antlers still intact as its body slumped unnaturally. The wool of Njáll’s trews stretched as he crouched, tilting the bloodied head of the animal to the side with the tip of his axe.
Blood oozed from a gaping wound in the creature’s throat, looking as though talons had ripped it apart.
The rest of the carcass remained untouched.
“The body is cold, but the pelt is still soft. Whatever killed it left the meat to rot.”
Njáll nodded, his face twisting as he inspected the stag, noting no other signs of violence.
This was not the clean kill of a bear seeking winter fat, nor the strategic work of a wolf pack securing a meal for their kits.
It had been senseless and wasteful.
A warning.
The soft coat brushed under his fingers as he ran his hand over the beast’s side. A foreign chill clung to its body. His jaw ached from how hard he clenched his teeth. This was the third report in as many days of slain animals with the meat left to spoil and the pelts wasted.
“A wolf kills to eat. A man kills for warmth. This… This is neither.”
A discontented grunt spilled from Erik, his eyes narrowed on the dead stag, bleeding into the tilled dirt.
Njáll rose, the urge to return to his kona no longer a desire, but a deafening, insistent need.
Wayward thoughts plagued him, ones of starving hounds ripping from their chains to feast. He refused to believe this was the work of the draugar. If Hel wished to let her armies loose, the signs would be irrefutable. Njáll cursed under his breath, snarling and ignoring Erik’s questioning stare.
“We continue our patrol. We are looking for a creature driven by something other than need.”
Erik bowed his head, his broad shoulders straining his leathers as he scanned the leaf litter for any signs of tracks.
Sticks crunched under their steps as they moved westward toward the high stone cliffs that marked the boundary of their lands.
The vegetation grew sparse, replaced by jagged rock and granite slabs covered in mossy overgrowth.
The air shifted, and the temperature dropped abruptly, plunging them into a biting chill that had no business existing in the peak of the warm season.
Njáll’s breath misted, his fingers stiff from how tightly he gripped his weapon. The cold persisted, bypassing his wool cloak and infesting every fiber of his being.
“Jarl,” Erik said, the words catching. “Do you feel that? It bites like the deep frost of winter.”
Grunting in response, Njáll mostly ignored him, his eyes fixed on a massive stone near the trail.
A slab that usually burned in the midday sun.
Now, however, a thin sheen of frost coated the glittering granite.
Brittle ice clung to the shadows of the rock face. Njáll’s hand hovered over the frozen sheen, an unnatural hum vibrating from under the icicles.
The chill came from the grave, from Hel. This was not a territorial dispute or foreigners trespassing on their lands. The veil had thinned enough to allow vestiges of the draugar to linger.
Blood roared in his ears, drowning out Erik’s racing breaths. Njáll moved past the frost, his gaze tracing the stone’s rugged surface.
Three massive gouges shimmered under the ice, carved into the rock face.
Saliva turned to ash in his mouth.
The scratches were too clean, too deliberate, looking faintly of chains dragging over the stone. A pungent odor carried in with the breeze, and Njáll refused to acknowledge it.
His chest rose and fell as he tried to anchor himself to Elara’s memory. He poured his will into the thought of her golden light, and slowly, the unnatural chill dissipated, leaving behind only the soft, familiar scent of pine.
Slowly, his eyes opened, the muddled hues of the forest coming into focus.
Warmth seeped into his fingertips, heating him from the inside out. Sun streaked through the dappled trees, bringing with it the scent of pine.
“Jarl… What happened? A trick of the gods?”
“Perhaps Loki is bored and wishes to torment us.”
While he trusted Erik, he needed to talk to his father first before sharing anything with anyone else. A muscle in Erik’s jaw jumped as he nodded stiffly.
“Let us find the others and make camp for the night.”
Clapping Erik on the back, Njáll forced a tight smile to appear.
Over the next two days, all signs of Hel vanished.
The forest brimmed with life. Foxes burrowed into their holes with their kits, birds chirped in the morning sun, and the salty tang of sea air swept along the treetops.
With the odd occurrences fading, Njáll commanded him and his men to return to the clan. He knew when they arrived home, he would spend hours in council with the Konungr.
And as soon as he finished, he’d return home, crawling into the furs beside his kona, kissing her lips until he remembered nothing else but her.
Eventually, he’d have to tell her about what happened, about what he saw.
But for her, it was nothing new.
It was a burden he could shoulder for her.
One he needn’t plague her with.
For now, the draugar quieted.
She had enough to worry about.
The full moon glowed high in the sky as they maneuvered through the well-worn paths leading to the village.
All the dwellings were quiet; families tucked in for the evening. His warriors broke away, returning to their homes.
As Erik made his way toward the home he shared with Astra, Njáll paused outside the longhouse. He knew he should wake his father, but nothing he shared would be any different when the sun rose.
His feet moved before his mind caught up, leading him to his home.
Light pulsed through the cracks in the panels. Wood scratched under his palm as he quietly pushed the door open, not wanting to wake Elara.
Fresh logs crackled in the fire pit.
Slowly, his tired fingers undid the buckles on his leathers, letting them fall to the floor with a thud. Clawing at his back, he yanked his tunic off, tossing it aside.
Grunting, he bent over, tugging off his boots until only his trews remained.
Tallow candles glittered against the walls and his gaze slid to the piles of furs atop his bed. He expected to find his kona sound asleep.
Instead, she sat upright, furs pooled around her hips, her bare breasts exposed.
A mane of crimson curls fanned around her, highlighting the pale pink coloring the tops of her cheeks. The usual tiredness that lined her eyes was nowhere to be found.
She rocked up to her knees, a slow smile spreading over her lips until it touched her eyes.
“Njáll. You’re home.”
He nodded, unable to tear his gaze away from the luminescent vision in his bed.
And she was his.
A breathless giggle escaped her, making her breasts shake and her nipples pebble. She extended a hand, beckoning him with a curl of two fingers.
“Are you just going to stand there, Jarl, or are you going to join me in our furs and tend to your duties?”