Page 70 of Wolf of the Nordic Seas
“Do we have an agreement, Alberic of Soissons? Two thousand five hundred pieces of silver for mysnekkjalongship and the services of my elite band of Varangian warriors.” Skugga’s wintry stare pierced like shards of ice. “I shall ensure your victory in Ísland and enable you to seizele Château Blanc. And you, as the future Duke of Normandy, will ally with me against the Danes.”
Alberic’s pulse pounded in his ears. He couldn’t believe his good fortune. With Skugga’s aid, he could prevent Elfi from marrying theWolf of the Nordic Seas. He would still be able to seize the castle as planned and establish a Frankish colony in Normandy. And best of all, he would forge a crucial alliance between King Lothaire of West Francia and the Grand Prince Vladimir of Kievan Rus, enabling both sovereigns to reclaim their rightful lands and solidify their respective monarchies. Alberic would be proclaimed the Duke of Normandy. And Ilya Rurikovich, the Varangian warrior known as Skugga, would become the Knyaz of Novgorod. Grinning from ear to ear, Alberic extended his palm and shook Skugga’s scarred hand. “Agreed.”
Alberic raised his goblet. “To victory in Ísland and Étretat. To the alliance between our grateful monarchs. And to the wealth, prestige, and power that you and I shall wield as Duke of Normandy and Knyaz of Novgorod.”
“Skál!” Skugga drained his goblet and slammed it down upon the table. Adeep rumble of laughter rolled from his husky throat. “Gúldur shall slay theWolf of the Nordic Seas—with his own father’s reclaimed Dwarven sword.”
Myrkkha traced the rim of her goblet with a slender finger. “And prevent the white wolf from fulfilling the prophecy.” Her uncanny gaze transfixed Alberic. “But Skugga will also prevent the fulfillment of twoadditionalprophecies. A trio of omens which the Norns have entwined with the fate of the Frankish crown.”
Alberic’s breath caught in his suddenly constricted throat.
“The child born to the son of a Danish king and the daughter of a Norman duke will forge a dynasty to unite the land and rule for a thousand years.”Haunting and ethereal, Myrkkha’s otherworldly voice swirled like evanescent shadows. “The son of the dragon will shield the cape and defend the future crown.” Themalvapaused, allowing her cryptic revelations to hover in the heavy silence. “The coveted crown of your Frankish king lies at the heart of the prophecies. By slaying theson of the dragon, Skugga will prevent their fulfillment. And enable you, Alberic of Soissons, to ensure that King Lothaire of West Francia retains his Carolingian throne.”
Alberic was baffled but exhilarated. “Who is theson of the dragon?”
“A young warrior named Skjöld. Born to Skårde Haraldsson, son of the Danish King Harald Bluetooth, and Ylva Rikardsdóttir, daughter of the Viking Duke of Normandy, Richard the Fearless. Skjöld is theson of the dragon—the Dragon of Denmark. He is a powerfulvitki, like his mentor, Haldor Falk. And he will be in Ísland, where Skugga will slay him with aDökkálfarsword.”
The Varangian warrior seated beside Zhúlgorr leaned back in his chair, exposing the carved, fanged snake in the hilt of his astounding weapon. “Zmeydökk.Black Serpent. Imbued with the essence of a deadly black mamba. Forged by Gúldur himself—theDökkálfarBlacksmith of Dorestad.” The golden eyes of the black mamba carved on his sinister blade glinted with malignant malice. “Swift, stealthy, and lethal.”
“Myseidrvision also revealed a most interesting development.” Myrrkha positively purred. “Thevölvawho sails to Ísland is the lover of Haldor Falk—a powerfulvitkiwho commands winged creatures and can assume the form of a falcon. In fact, he is the sorcerer who enabled Richard the Fearless to reclaim his ducal fortress in the bloody battle of Fécamp against the Franks.”
Alberic remembered how his colleague Badelbert had successfully captured Richard’s ducal fortress in the white chalk cliffs of Normandy. But with the combined alliance of King Harald Bluetooth, Bluetooth’s bastard son the Dragon of Denmark, and a sorcerer who had summoned thousands of attacking birds, Richard the Fearless had reclaimed his clifftop castle—in a resounding defeat of the Franks. All the more reason why Alberic could not fail in this attempt to conquerle Château Blanc.
Myrkkha finished the last of her mead and set her silver goblet down, her disquieting gaze locked on Alberic. “The Falcon of the Faroe Islands will be in Ísland. With his acolyte, theson of the dragon. And Skugga will slay them both.”
As Alberic processed this startling information, he was still bewildered by the prophecy. “How does slaying theson of the dragonsave my king’s Frankish crown?”
Myrkkha regarded Alberic as if he were a dimwitted pupil. “Because Skjöld willshield the cape.”At Alberic’s look of incomprehension, shechuckled in disbelief. “Do you not know who is calledthe cape?”
Although her mocking jeer rankled Alberic, he reluctantly admitted his ignorance. “I must confess that I do not. Please enlighten me.” He unstrapped a pouch of silver coins from his waist and placed it on the table before the elusivemalva.
She inclined her bloodred head and secured the leather pouch to the deep blue woven belt adorned with gems, trinkets, and fragmented bones strapped at her narrow waist. Fire blazed in her fierce gaze. “Hugh Capet.The powerful Count of Paris. The greatest rival for King Lothaire’sWest Frankish crown.”
Comprehension flooded Alberic with excitement that bordered on ecstasy.
Alberic would seize the castle of Étretat and establish a Frankish stronghold in thePays de Caux.The alliance with Prince Vladimir of Kiev and the Varangian warriors of Novgorodwouldenable King Lothaire to finally dispel the Vikings from Normandy and reattach the fertile dukedom to the kingdom of West Francia.
Alberic’s hands shook as he raised the goblet of mead to his parched, puckered lips. And by killingtheson of the dragon, he would prevent his king’s greatest rival from capturing the coveted Frankish crown.
Like a coiled serpent poised to strike, Skugga watched with eyes of ice as Alberic digested the magnitude of themalva’svision. Venom laced his deep, throaty hiss. “I shall slay theson of the dragon. And the shapeshiftingvitki, Haldor Falk.Falcon of the Faroe Islands.”
The promise of death in his soulless stare, Skugga rose to his towering height and inclined his dark head to Alberic. Strapping his spiked helmet under his bearded chin, he nodded farewell to Zhúlgorr. And—linking Myrkkha’s inked, porcelain hand through his mail clad elbow—led the malevolentmalvathrough the boisterous crowd,out of the Sapphire Chalice Tavern.
Elation overflowed like the mead spilling from his shaking hand as Alberic raised his goblet, prompting Zhúlgorr todo the same. “To Skugga. May he triumph for us all.”
