Varghoss stood and shuttered the windows. Only a few beams of light came through cracks in the shutters. With the glow from the fire that crackled in the hearth to Ulfvaldr’s left, the room was thrown into a dim, yellow, twilight. Draugr moved his chair closer to the she-wolves and set the bag between them. He then gestured to Grenda.
“Take your dagger. We must each give the stones a drop of blood.”
Without a word, she took out her dagger. Its blade, as always, was sharpened to a gleaming edge that caught the firelight and made it look like sun on water. She pricked her finger and let a single crimson drop fall into the leather bag. Gilda followed suit, using the tip of an arrow to prick her thumb. Finally, Draugr took a small knife from his belt and let a drop fall from his palm. He shook the bag. Inside, a tumbling of stones could be heard. He placed the bag between the two she-wolves.
“And now, I ask that you close your eyes, and allow the spirits of this place and the gods of this world and the next to speak to you. I will chant for you, and when you feel as though you are almost no longer here, draw three stones from the bag, each.
Draugr began to chant. The language was ancient and seemed unknowable. The room grew dim, as though clouded with an unseen smoke. His voice became muffled, like he spoke from another room. When I could hardly see my fathers across the table but through a shimmer, my sisters clasped hands, and as one, drew three rune stones from the bag in rapid succession. Draugr stopped his chant. All that could be heard was the breathing of my sisters.
The she-wolves eyes were rolled back. One of Gelda’s braids fell across her face. They looked wild and like they were no longer with us. Their throats quivered, and at last one spoke.
“The gods do not enjoy lending help to those who are almost certain to lose,” they spoke as one, “but there is an exception. The Wolf God goes against the collective will of the gods. If Hafporir prevails, the greatness that will follow will be unlike any before it. His kingdom will be vast, his battle victorious, and his children many. But, he will likely die. We will save him a place at our table in the next world.”
I felt myself grow pale. Their eyes rolled back, the whites giving way to living, conscious pupils. My sisters blinked, and the haze in the room dissipated. Draugr let out a long breath.
“May I see the runes?”
Shakily, Gilda handed him the stones. He placed one onto the table.
“Odal. This is an inheritance, an ancestral thing,” he placed the next stone, “Raidho. This is a journey,” he closed his eyes and placed the last stone on the table before him. On it were marked only three lines, forming a closed triangle with the apex pointed east, “Thurisaz, a great and undefeatable destructive force.”
“What does it mean?” Ulfvaldr spoke.
“It means that Hafporir must go north to meet this Yor in his own land, and that he will take my sword.”
“He will die!” Draugr slammed his fist on the table.
I looked at him. His face was red, “If I do not do this. We will all die.”
Varghoss and Ulfvaldr clasped hands. They had never looked so worn.
“Now, I truly wish you were that imp you pretended to be on that first evening of your return. Your kingliness will force us to give a funeral for our only son,” Ulfvaldr put his head in his hands.
Draugr stood and knelt before him, “I will go with him, my king. I pledge to give my life for him. We will see this through.”
“If you can return my son to me when this is all done,” He put a hand on Draugr’s shoulder, “I shall have a statue of your likeness carved for our hall so that all may remember your sacrifice. Draugr nodded, “I would do it just the same without.”
“Let us ready. Time is short. The army will be upon us, and then you will have no chance of leaving the castle,” Varghoss stood, and then all was running and readying with no time for second thoughts.
Chapter 17
Draugr
I watched his face as we left the castle in the dead of night. I had seen such a range of emotion writ on it in the precious few days we’d spent in his home that the stony line of his mouth and the iron resolve in his eyes were unsettling. I wanted to reach out to him, to comfort him, but our mission contained no source of comfort, say that the gods had seen fit to give us a fighting chance and we were, as wolves, as men, however much of each he was, not going to back down until we met the end of blade or tooth.
Unlike when we traveled from the wood to the castle, we were clothed, drably, like no more than the poorer and more travel-worn of peasants. Hafporir had his father’s sword wrapped in black cloth. It was a legendary sword, Silver Wolf, the one with which his father Varghoss reclaimed his wolven heritage and his kingdom, from forces sorcerous and strange, and from his stepfather, neither sorcerous nor strange but just as evil.
We crept through the wood, moving quickly over brush and brambles, trying to remain as quiet as we could. We had no way to guess what scouts the army would have sent ahead of them. We had only the knowledge that if we were caught, our quest was over with, and so, we had no choice. We must not be caught.
It was when the sun was cresting the horizon and our footsteps had grown tired and sloppy that I stopped short in my tracks. I grabbed Hafporir and wrapped my hand around his mouth. His eyes widened when he saw what I saw.
We stood in the shadow of several old oaks, but before us, crouched around smoldering coals, rubbing the sleep from their eyes were three humans. I panicked for a second that I had not smelled them, but then I remembered tracking Hafporir, and finding that the humans had no smell. Was it then that all humans who followed Yor were touched in this way? One poked the coals with a stick and added some kindling. It sparked and caught. Once they had that fire going, or the sun rose just a little more, we would be visible. If they were as strong as Bo’Helmhen, then we did not stand a chance. There was only one thing to do.
Still holding my hand over Hafporir’s mouth, his breath coming in short, quiet bursts, I led us backward into the wood. It worked for a moment, and then a squirrel saw us and ran up a tree, chattering its teeth and knocking twigs out of the way.
“Who’s there?” One of the humans stood up to a hulking seven heads.
I let go of Hafporir and whispered, “Run. We will meet later.”
He listened, like lighting, turning from me. Our feet met the ground at the same time and we were running into the woods in separate directions. I could hear him veer off the to northwest, and I went northeast. Our paths diverged, and then I heard footsteps behind me. I counted. They were two sets. I almost smiled.
That meant Hafporir had at most one of these unnatural humans chasing him. I kept my pace steady. They seemed at least still human, like they would not catch up unless I let them. I wanted them to follow me, to ignore Hafporir. They did.
Something flew past my ear. It was a knife.
“Dear gods.”
I dodged a second knife. It buried itself in a tree. I picked up my pace. A branch caught me in the face, scraping a long cut up my cheek.
I could hear the rush of water. Then the smell hit me. There was a great deal of it nearby. I ran forward, only to skid to a halt at the edge of a ravine. Below, a river rushed, rapids crashing against rocks. There was no telling how deep, or shallow, it was. I looked over my shoulders. The humans were almost upon me. I swung over the edge of the ravine and began to climb down. They reached the edge and descended after me.
It was the first time I got a good look at them. In between dodging a kick, I saw that the smaller of the humans was perhaps once handsome. His hair was held back in a braid, and his face was twisted into a scowl and looked like it had been that way for years. The other, a hulking creature, seemed unable to make it down as quickly. The smaller human climbed down after me. I crawled to the side until I was directly under the large human.
“Fucking grab him!” The small human gave an exasperated shout.
I evaded a half-hearted swipe from the giant human. His hand was as
big as my head. Beads of sweat broke out on his brow. His hands strained on the rocks. I moved away from the small human, just out of the way. I drew my sword.
“If you’re really a man, then meet me in a fair fight.”
He drew closer and when he was just under his companion, I stabbed upward, straight into the giant’s foot, and got out of the way.
He yowled and lost his grip. There was a loud crack as he smacked into his companion below him, and then screams as they fell into the water below.
I let out a long breath and climbed back up onto level ground. Now, to find Hafporir.
Chapter 18
Hafporir
The human that chased me clearly thought he was dealing with the weaker of us because he was more easily thwarted than Bo’Helmhen had been. He was the scrawniest of the three, and though he had been fast, I now stood over his body. The sword, wrapped again in its black cloth, had seemed to do most of the work for me. When I wielded it, it led my arm in arcs and twists I had only just barely managed while sparring. This was no accident. It was magic, and it had saved my life.
I leaned my back against a tree and sank to the ground. A butterfly fluttered past me as though nothing had happened here, no death, no chase. It landed on the human’s corpse and beat its wings for a breath before flying out of sight. I knew I should do something, anything. I should inspect the human, try to figure out why it had no human smell. I should try to find Draugr, to see if he was in danger. I should get on my feet.
My heart squirmed in my chest like a trapped animal. When I put my hands down, they shook. My legs failed me. I sank to the ground and closed my eyes.
“Hafporir!” My name was said with such anguish, raw like it scraped his throat raw.
I sat up, bracing myself on quivering arms.
“Are you all right?” Draugr ran to me and wrapped me in his arms. He smelled of sweat and fear, blood and something else, something warmer.
“I think so,” I said and he helped me to my feet.
He looked down at the human, and then with his arm still around me said, “We must go now.”
We ran. His arm left its place on me, but the prickle of his touch lingered.
The sun rose and set. We continued through the woods at this frantic pace. The moon rose. I misjudged the leap over a fallen tree. My boot caught on a branch. I launched forward onto the forest floor and the hard roots and rocks and thorny stems.
“Aagh...shit.” I let my head hit the ground.
It was when I was clutching my head, and I looked up at the sky, that I saw it, even before I smelled it.
“Smoke,” I said.
Draugr had been reaching out to check my head, but his hand stopped just inches short from touching me. I wished I hadn’t said anything.
“It is.”
He held out his hand. I took it, feeling the warm, calloused flesh. He pulled me to my feet and held on for a heartbeat too long before letting go.
We walked, silent, as though in a trance. Just past a grove of oaks, we came to a cliff, and there, on the other side, was horror.
The trees had been all cleared and the ground was in the process of being turned to nothing but ash. Men below, no larger than ants from this height, lit fires and fanned the flames forward. Behind them, the gray ash extended as far as the horizon, dotted only by fortress-like buildings of gray stone. It was clear the advance had been long, and that it was now just reaching us.
“What - why…”
I felt I did not want to know why they would clear the land so. It was destruction and waste. I had never been as connected with the forests as Draugr, but when I looked at him and saw the expression on his face, my heart felt sliced in two from pain.
“No,” I took him by the shoulders and led him back into the wood, “do not look.”
“I can hear them screaming,” he clutched my shoulders. Two wet tears rolled down his cheeks and caught in his beard.
“We will have to cross.”
He nodded, “Death is almost certain. Failure is almost certain…”
“We have to try, else the rest of the land will be just the same.”
“He wants no other gods before him.”
I nodded, slowly understanding what Draugr meant. By destroying the land, the forest, the ancient magic, the Wolf God destroyed his resistance. Dead land made for people easily conquered. Looking at Draugr broke my heart at the same time as it was seized by fear. I touched his cheek and wiped away a tear. His eyes widened. I stepped toward him, and before he could pull away, I kissed him.
Draugr’s lips were wet and salty with his tears, and they were warm. I pressed closer in, widening my mouth. He responded in kind until our kisses seemed to last forever.
Then he pulled away.
“Hafporir…”
“I do not want to die never having known you,” when I said it, I knew it to be true.
I had never wanted someone as much as I wanted Draugr. What he did not know, was that I had never wanted someone enough to truly lie with him, to let him take me fully, to compromise my marriageability, but we were here at what could be our end, and I could not die, could not go onto the next world and leave this moment behind.
“Hafporir,” he brushed his hand along my cheek. The hand that was always so strong was now so gentle. He smelled of blood and rage, and if I was not mistaken, the wind blew nothing but death and smoke and death down from the north winds, and our future. All was almost lost.
“Draugr,” I held him close. Our hearts beat in time for one beat, two, then three pulses, and then they parted ways. His eyes seemed far away,
“Come here,” I said and pulled him to the ground, below the sight of anyone beyond cliff. Although hell lay before us, there was no way to tell from the forest floor, save the smoke in the sky. For a moment, I thought, it could be our own little world.
He braced himself on his forearms above me. The hardness that met my groin told me that all was not lost. I looked at his clothing. It looked like all too much compared to what he had worn in his forest, when we were alone, before all this. I imagined leather and laces giving way to hard muscled flesh and grew firmer than I thought possible.
“I’ve never wanted anyone more than you,” I reached for him.
He took my hand, with that lightning speed that made him a fierce warrior.
“You would not be my first, Hafporir. I once lay in your position, and with another.”
“Then you will be sweet with me, as honey is in midsummer,” I touched his lips. They were oh, so soft.
“You do not understand. It is different, if I am your first.”
“Draugr,” I waved at the sky above, the edge of the cliff, “if you are not my first I may have no last. You have torn away and fended me off, but the fates have thrown us together, for good or for ill, on this quest, and I will not go to the wasteland without you, all of you.”
He looked at me, and then, all at once, he kissed me. He unlaced my shirt, his hands graceful and quick. I was bare-chested before I could blink. I grabbed his hands and pulled them above my shoulders. I wanted this to be slower. He took the hint. His breathing became deliberate, slow, and although he looked like he wanted to tear me apart with his wolf’s teeth, he held onto his decorum, but barely.
I smiled to myself. That was the one thing about him I had always wanted to break - Draugr’s composure. I applied myself to doing my best to do just that. I unlaced his shirt and grazed my hands suggestively over his chest. My thumb rubbed his nipple as I nipped at his neck. He shuddered. I slid my hand down between flesh and leather and just brushed his inner thigh.
A ragged groan escaped his throat. There was a crunch next to my ear. I turned my head toward the sound. He had a thick tree root clenched in his hand. He crushed it with white-knuckles, splinters falling to the ground. I almost had him. I arched my back up toward him. My hips rubbed against his, our bodies hot in the chilling air.
That was when he lost his composure. He let out a moan
as loud as a scream. It echoed against the mountains. He tore the root from the ground. Clods of dirt flew everywhere. His face contorted in longing and angst. I reveled in his desire. He would never admit it, but he was truly mine.
I let him know that with a kiss. I bit his lip and tasted the salt of his sweat. His eyes were wide and wild. I unlaced my pants and slipped them off to reveal my hardened cock. Draugr kissed his way down my neck with deft, swift movements and then his hands were on my hips. He dug his fingers into my sides and ran his lips up my cock. I let myself sigh. I arched my back. He took it as a signal and engulfed the tip of my head in his mouth.
“Draugr!”
I squirmed as he made his way down my shaft. His touch was hot and soft and completely maddening. I wanted to pump my hips, but he held me fast to the ground. Flashing light and pulsing metal rang out behind my eyes. Two suns swirled into vision before me. I was on the edge of orgasm and then Draugr pulled away. I gasped. He smiled.
“You are not the only one who can play games,” he whispered in my ear.
He put his hand under the small my back and gently flipped me onto my belly. I began to protest, to ask if I could return the favor of his mouth, but a strong hand on my shoulder told me that we were moving beyond that now.
My heart tried to beat through the thin walls of flesh and muscle that were all that was between me and the earth. I bit my lip and anticipated what would come next. He put a hand on my buttocks and rubbed the cheek of my ass oh, so, slowly.
Then his hands were parting me and I felt the bristle of beard on my goose-bumped flesh. The warmth of a tongue circled my hole. I clenched. The sensation was unfamiliar and dangerous. It was complete vulnerability.
“Shhh,” Draugr soothed.
His tongue met my flesh again and lapped at my hole. I arched my back and leaned into his touch. That wiggling, hot, wet tongue pressed into my hole. I felt myself relax and loosen. I became clay beneath his hands and mouth, pliant and moldable.
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