Her Viking Wolves(75)
The drawing of baths was typically performed by a naked she-wolf who would not only heat and pour the water, but also clean the wolf’s body and then offer herself for whatever additional amusements he might have in mind.
Normally, FJ was more than happy to accept such an offer, especially after many moons at sea. But every she-wolf serving at the Gotar’s table was unheated—almost as if the Gotar fenrir had purposefully deigned it such. And FJ had no desire to be with a frightened girl who knew little of her own body and was with him by force.
“We leave early in the morn,” FJ’s father explained, seemingly for both of them. “And so must we take good sleep upon our ship. I give you thanks for your hospitality.”
They both stood to give their good-byes. But the Gotar fenrir remained seated. His small eyes narrowed on them both, clearly trying to decide whether or not to take insult at their denial of his hospitality.
And again did FJ find his eyes creeping toward the sword, only to be quelled with another look from his father.
But in the end did the Gotar fenrir stand, coming down to where they were at the other end of the table, with his arms spread.
“I understand,” the Gotar fenrir said. “Mayhap my wenches be too pale for you. I have heard tale of the dark meat you prefer. Your queen, a she-wolf from another land with skin the color of dirt, who did give you sand-colored pups.”
Then did the Gotar slap the King of the North Wolves on his arm with a great booming laugh. “Mayhap we should take human slaves when next we sail to the blammen lands, and then would we send them to you as a gift, so your sand Viking here might finally claim a bride!”
As if on cue, the rest of the males at the table joined him in his laughter—only to silence when FJ’s father did pull the Gotar fenrir’s hand from his shoulder and break it, the cracking sound of bones reverberating louder than the forced mirth. Then before the Gotar fenrir could complete his answering scream, did the King of the North Wolves pull the sword from the southern fenrir’s own scabbard and shove its shining length through the Gotar’s gut.
For many winters afterwards, FJ could still hear the gurgling sound the Gotar fenrir made as his father thrust the fine sword upwards, all the way to the Gotar’s backbone. Also would he remember the way his father’s eyes glowed as he lifted his boot and shoved the now dead king’s body from his own sword. Along with the loud thump of the wolf’s body falling upon the longhouse floor as if it were naught more than a large clump of sheep shit.
Later his father presented him with the bloody sword as they made a hasty departure from the dead Gotar king’s village. The sounds of fighting could still be heard well behind him. For as soon as did king did fall, the males in his household turned not on them, but upon each other. Yelling and running for their weapons at the door to brutally decide the question of who would become the kingdom’s next fenrir.#p#分页标题#e#
“But Father, you told me earlier to never take action in anger. How would you explain your actions in the dead Gotar king’s house?”
“That be not anger,” his father replied simply. “That be promise. The night I married your mother under the full moon, did I promise to protect and defend her always. And always will I keep this promise to her. I will let no wolf harm her, and I will allow no wolf to give her insult, even if she knows of it not. This is my promise to her, and this is the promise you will some day make to your own mate.”
His father then pressed the hilt of the sword, which FJ would later name The Death Maker, into his son’s hand. And truly did his gray eyes glow as he said, “Now is the time to finally unleash your wolf, FJ.”
FJ squinted with confusion, because only his mother and sister called him by this name, never his father.
This is a dream, he suddenly realizes, as dreaming men oft do. And with that realization, the sounds of the fighting suddenly cease. With the same suddenness does the Gotar village and ocean disappear, leaving nothing behind but his father’s eyes glowing bright in the terrible silence.
“You have my permission,” his father tells him in the wake of the dream. “For her must you finally let your beast go free. Now rise, FJ. Rise!”
* * *
FJ jerks awake with his dream father’s words still ringing in his ears. And nearly overcome with confusion, does he immediately reach for his mate…
Only to find the bed empty. And cold.
FJ sits fully now, his heart giving great alarm. Both his she-wolf and brother are long since gone from this room. And an ocean of dread fills his stomach as he grabs his sword and rushes out of his now empty room.