Wolf Within

PROLOGUE

Raoul Ujarakson was normally a patient man. He was not accustomed to fits of rage, like the one that consumed him as he fled down the castle steps toward the stables.

“You can't deny your fate, forever, boy!” his father shouted after him.

Sprinting across the courtyard, Raoul thought his heart might burst from his chest, so full of rage it was. He slammed into the stables, ignoring the startled reactions of the horses, and climbed up to the loft. He sat and put his head on his knees, breathing deeply to try to stop the trembling in his bones.

The day had started well. A hearty breakfast, some friendly sparring with his friend Tanis, and a quick gallop over the countryside to take a report back to his father on the progress of their crop this summer. As the second-youngest of five sons, he hadn't been expected to defend their home in battle. He had been, up to now, allowed to pursue his whims. He loved music, pretty girls and strong drinks. On a dare he had even taken some stolen hallucinogenic mushrooms with his friends. The fact that his full manhood was approaching rapidly had been of no concern. The ills and wars of his countrymen were distant and irrelevant. He was no Viking. Just the fourth son of an unimportant earl.

Raoul stared out of the small window. His father wanted him to take over the fief. There would be lessons in mathematics and husbandry and agriculture. There would be no time for his frivolity , and no hope of pursuing his passions. He would rather die.

His mother’s voice broke through his frenzied thoughts, “Come and speak with me, my son.”

“I have no desire to continue with my father,” Raoul said. “Do not try to convince me.”

She chuckled lightly, “Do you not think I've had my fair share of disagreements with him? Come, child. Speak with me.”

Reluctantly, Raoul descended the ladder and stood before his mother. She cupped his face.

“So handsome,” she said. “And such sadness. So lost.” She seemed to hesitate for a moment. “I'm not impressed with your father’s attitude of late. I am sorry that he pushes you so.”

Raoul snorted, “His newfound love of the Christian God has seemed to drive him further into his delusions, mother. I have no intention of following him either in his faith or his profession.”

His mother’s brow wrinkled with concern, “I want you to be happy, my darling, but I worry for you. Life is hard. Here you are provided for, you have everything you need. Can you not be happy here?”

Raoul embraced his mother, “I love you, but I want to strike out on my own. Find out who I really am. Do great things in my own name. Be free to make my own choices. My life isn't here with fields to tend and villagers to care for. The very thought makes me want to lie down and die. I must go.”

His mother reached into her apron and pulled out a roll of parchment, “Take this.” She covered her trembling mouth, “I pray you never need it, but if the time comes, you will know.” She gripped his shoulders, “Be careful my son. Take whatever you need.” She kissed him, “I love you.”

Raoul tucked the parchment into his belt and held his mother close for long moments, struggling to hold back his tears, “I will return when I can to visit,” he said. “Assuming father doesn't try to kill me.”

Wiping her eyes, his mother smiled, “I wish you every happiness, my son.”

Raoul kissed her cheek and went to ready his saddlebags. Hope filled him, even though he was nervous. He was being thrust into manhood earlier than he'd expected, but it was time to be free of this life.

Nightfall came swiftly as Raoul rode through the woods. The moonlight barely filtered through the trees that were full and lush in the warm, late Spring air. Raoul wasn't worried about bandits, but he kept his bow strung to be safe.

When his horse grew slow with weariness, he stopped for the night and barely managed to arrange his bedroll before collapsing with exhaustion.

He didn't hear the voices or the snapping of twigs until it was too late. Rough hands grabbed him and slung him over his horse with a bag on his head. He tried to fight off his captors to no avail. His hands were tied to his saddle horn.

“Looks like we found a good one,” a voice said.

“Aye, Asger will be pleased,” another, deeper voice said. “Although I'm not sure the boy will be of much use.” They laughed. “His loot’s not bad though and his horse is sound.”

“Come on, ya lazy scum, let's move!”

Raoul had won and lost his manhood in one day.

CHAPTER ONE

Asger Arvidson wasn't a bad man, in Raoul’s opinion, but he was insane. Asger was a king among Vikings, a believer in the old gods, and a fearless, ruthless warrior. Fortunately, Asger had taken a liking to him and in a way had given Raoul exactly what he wanted. For months now, Raoul had played music every night for a loud and raucous crowd of warriors, some of whom were rumored to be Odin’s chosen. Their female companions often grew tired of the rough handling and came to Raoul for a more soothing touch. He drank and ate his fill every night. He wasn't free, but he was close.

On nights like this one, as he played the lute his mother had given him, he shifted uneasily under Asger’s wild gaze. The man seemed to constantly watch him.

Asger rose from his seat, his eyes never leaving Raoul’s face. Raoul swallowed hard, his hands playing automatically even as his mind and heart raced.

“Put that thing down and come with me,” Asger said.

Raoul swallowed hard and allowed himself to be steered into a private chamber, wincing as the door closed loudly behind them.

“You are more than just a minstrel, boy,” Asger said. “I see it in your face as you play. Your songs are full of dark thoughts and emotions. Anger. Lust. You feel these things.”

Raoul looked into the king’s face, “I'm doing what I love to do. That's enough for me.”

Asger’s face broke into a smile and he laughed, “Since when is that enough? Is it enough for the gods? Is it enough to support a family?” He grew serious, “It is time to be a man. It is time to be a warrior.”

Raoul blanched, “I know nothing of warfare.”

“You will.”

“How? I'm not built like your men out there. I've never held a sword or fought in a battle!”

“It is no matter. You will see Dabria Ulfdottir tonight, and then we shall see.”

The door opened and two men grabbed Raoul’s arms.

“See what?” Raoul called back to Asger as he was dragged away. “Who is Dabria?”

Asger’s laughter rumbled behind him.

Raoul was tossed into the mouth a of a cave and a stone was shoved over the opening. Raoul tried to push the stone aside but it wouldn't budge. He cursed.

As his eyes adjusted, Raoul realized there was light coming from somewhere beyond the narrow mouth of the cave. He stooped to make his way down the tunnel, blinking as the light grew brighter. Raoul stood as the tunnel opened into a wide cavern that was as tall as three men standing on end. A huge fire burned on a hearth hewn out of the side of the hill. A pile of fur was thrown beside the fire and a metal arm holding a large pot was perched above the flame.

“Why have you come?” A voice asked.

The shape of a woman seemed to melt out of the shadows. Raoul’s breath caught and he found himself fighting the urge to kneel. The woman’s eyes caught and held his and for a moment she almost looked surprised.

“I…” Raoul stammered. “Asger sent me. He wants me to be a warrior, I think.” When the woman said nothing, he continued, “I’m no warrior. I mean, I could be, but I just want to play music. I think the martial arts are important and beautiful,” he rambled, “but war is an ugly business and too often a tool of greed and hatred. Warriors should be noble and just.” He cleared his throat, blushing deeply. “Begging your pardon, of course. I don't even know who you are.”

The woman's mouth turned up in a tiny smile, “Be of ease, lad. Asger sent you here first to be judged, and then, if you'll let me, to be taught. Perhaps even given a great and terrible gift.” Raoul rubbed his eyes as the smoke from the fire stung them. For a moment he could have sworn the woman had giant black wings. When the smoke cleared, he saw the woman, draped in her black cloak, and nothing more. “My name is Dabria Ulfdottir. I am among Odin’s prized companions. My sisters and I minister to the great god’s champions. I have seen generations of men rise and fall.”

Raoul gaped at her for a moment, “You're a Valkyrie?”

Dabria nodded, “Your disbelief is powerful.” She looked thoughtful, “Do you still have your mother’s letter?”

Raoul felt his heart pause for a moment, “Yes.”

“Read it.”

Raoul reached into his boot and pulled out the scroll he'd tucked away. His fingers trembled as he pulled the parchment flat for the first time. He cleared his throat and read aloud, “My beautiful son, If you must choose, pick the wolf. Trust the Valkyries. May the gods be with you.” He looked at Dabria, “How did she know?”

Dabria smiled, “You struck out on your own in a war torn country, sweetling. I think she hoped you'd make it, but she offered a mother’s advice one last time.”

“What did she mean, pick the wolf?”

“In time, lad,” she turned to the pot on the fire. “You must be hungry. Sit.” She ladled some stew into a bowl and handed it to him. “I will be back in a moment. Eat.”

Raoul watched her walk toward the mouth of the cave and for a fleeting moment he considered trying to escape, but even without his mother's advice, he felt drawn to this woman. As he spooned up the flavorful stew, he considered this talk of gods and their agents. It was rubbish, of course, but there was something about Dabria that drew him in. He felt awe in her presence and a deep, primal responsiveness to her words. He wanted to believe what she said. He wanted her to keep talking. He would lay at her feet and unwind the mysteries of the universe.

Raoul sat for long minutes considering his options. He could try to run and Asger would kill him or he could stay and try to live the life of a Viking. For a moment he wished he had someone to pray to for guidance. He cursed himself.

Dabria walked back into the cavern and this time, Raoul was sure she had wings. Her form was fuzzy and distorted and seemed to swirl with purple light.

Raoul shook his head to clear it, but the room began to spin. He watched the bowl fall from his fingers and clatter to the floor. Just as he began to fall backwards, Dabria caught him.

“Shhh,” she said as he strained to stay conscious, “don't fight it. Sleep and dream.”

In his dream, Raoul was walking through a field of violets. The landscape was flat and endless, the sky an overcast gray. He couldn't see any point in the distance to travel towards, but he couldn't stop walking. Suddenly he realized there was a dark speck circling overhead. As it drew closer, he realized it was a raven. He followed its flight as it descended towards a dark figure standing knee deep in the violets. Raoul approached cautiously.

To Raoul’s great surprise, he recognized the man, who was not a man at all - Odin, the king of the gods. Raoul stared at him in disbelief, but the closer he got, the more he could feel the power radiating from the god king. He knelt in the flowers when he was several yards away and waited.

“I assume Dabria sent you,” Odin rumbled.

“Yes, lord,” Raoul said, trying to keep the suspicion from his voice.

Odin chuckled, “Not a believer, eh? That's all right. Stand up boy, let me look at you.”

Raoul stood, knowing his face was the picture of confusion as Odin inspected him.

At last Odin said, “I can see why she picked you. She doesn't often do this, you know. Of all my Valkyries, she is the most mistrustful. You know what ‘Dabria’ means, don't you?”

Raoul wracked his memory for the meaning, but he shook his head, “I'm afraid I don't remember.”

“It means ‘Angel of Death.’ For centuries her sole purpose was to gather the souls of the dead, to bring them to Valhalla or… not. She liked the work. No need to interact with anyone. Just do her duty and be done with it and go back to her studies. She's a lot like me that way. I’d much prefer to be off exploring the cosmos, visiting any gods but the rabble in Asgard.”

“There are others?” Raoul said before he could stop himself.

“Oh of course lad, haven't you picked up any books?” Odin stroked his beard. “Most of them are ancient and tired. Some have been forgotten completely. Then the Oldest God sent this Jesus fellow, and you see the ruckus that's caused.” Odin sighed, “Fine lad, you know. A little too picky for my taste and rather prudish.” Odin waved a hand, “No matter. The point is they exist, whether you like it or not. They'll all meddle with your life at some point. It gets tiresome to be ignored by mortals.” He waited as if he expected a response.

Raoul hesitated, “I'm.. uh.. not really sure what to say.”

Odin squinted at him, “If Dabria sent you, it must be because she thinks you'd be a powerful warrior. I can see the potential. The body's not the point lad, it's the spirit that counts. And you have plenty of spirit.” Odin snapped his fingers and Raoul nearly fell backwards as an enormous bear and an equally impressive wolf sprang into existence. Odin smiled, “My chosen warriors have an edge against their enemies. They embody the spirit of a beast. The berserkers chose the bear - huge, powerful, protective, indomitable. The úlfheðnar chose the wolf - cunning, driven, savage, ruthless, and wise. Whichever you pick will possess you. You will still be yourself, but you'll never be quite the same, especially in battle. You can still be slain of course, but it would be difficult. The wolf itself will guide you, but mostly your Valkyrie. In this case, Dabria.”

Raoul swallowed hard, “MY Valkyrie?”

Odin grunted, “She's mine of course, but she will guide you.” Odin’s eyes twinkled, “Among other things.”

Raoul ran a hand through his hair. He was certain that no matter what he picked in this very strange dream or hallucination, it wouldn't matter in the real world. Still, his mother's words came back to him, and he spoke with confidence, “I choose the wolf.”

Odin nodded, and the wolf beside him burst into flames. Raoul’s eyes widened first with surprise and then in pain as the thick cloud of smoke consumed him, jetting into his body through every pore. He felt like he'd been submerged in a tanning vat. If he screamed, it was drowned out by the roaring of blood in his ears.

Raoul woke with a curse and leapt up from the sleeping mat, looking around the cave wildly. He saw Dabria by the fire, watching him.

“What did you put in that stew?” He rasped. “You drugged me!”

Dabria smiled, “It was necessary.”

“That dream,” Raoul felt anxiety stir in his gut.

Dabria tilted her head to one side, “What did you see?” Her eyes shimmered with awareness that made Raoul feel utterly naked.

“You already know, don't you?”

Dabria nodded solemnly. She stood and Raoul felt his rage melt away as she slid her cloak to the floor.

“Come,” she said. “Let us seal your fate.”

Raoul stepped forward, but he shook his head, “I have questions.”

Dabria smiled, “They will all be answered in time.”

“Odin made it sound like you didn't like this job. Why do it? Why choose me?”

Dabria’s smile wavered, “I am not like my sisters. Mine is a dark history. I do not revel in war. The úlfheðnar are beautiful creatures, but so often they use so little of the gift they've been given. War. Always for war. To take what they want regardless of who it hurts. I picked you because I think you may be different.” She smiled sadly and put a hand on his chest, “I suppose Time will tell.”

Raoul looked at her naked body and then closed his eyes, “If you don't put your cloak back on, I won't be able to control myself.”

Dabria chuckled darkly, “Sweet puppy, that’s the idea.”

Raoul looked into her eyes and felt his self control snap. He leaned in and kissed her, moaning at the sweetness of her mouth. He pulled her closer, running his hands over her skin. It was warm and smooth and he felt his whole body respond to her.

Surprised by his own primal responsiveness, Raoul kissed her neck and felt the wicked and almost uncomfortable desire to taste her blood. He licked her neck and she tilted her head to expose it further.

“It's ok. It's the wolf within you. Let it take you. Let it own you,” she whispered.

Feeling like a stranger to himself, Raoul opened his mouth and latched onto her flesh, feeling it give under his teeth. With a groan, he felt his loins throb with need as her blood flowed over his tongue. When he couldn't stand it any longer, he stood back and ripped off his clothes, bearing Dabria down to the floor.

His penetration was swift and powerful, and Raoul cried out in ecstasy, even as he turned concerned eyes to Dabria’s face. Her mouth was open as she gasped, but her eyes were shut, brows upturned in what seemed to be surprise.

“Are you alright?” Raoul panted.

“Don't stop,” Dabria growled.

Raoul withdrew and thrust and held Dabria’s body close to him. He worshipped at her breasts and caressed her belly and hips, losing himself within her. As he neared his climax, he felt his internal chemistry shift and an overwhelming animalistic possessiveness took over him. He would fight and die for this woman, for himself. He would fear nothing and no one. He felt the power roll through him like a tidal wave. He could almost hear Odin laughing. He released into Dabria with a shout. His vision blurred and he felt a nearly unstoppable blood lust. He pushed himself away from Dabria and scrambled backwards, holding his head and gasping for breath, trying to take his control back.

Dabria padded over to him and rubbed his back. She said something in a soothing tone in a language he didn't recognize. He felt heavy drops fall onto his heated skin and roll towards the ground. He trembled and turned his face towards Dabria.

She was smiling, but her cheeks were wet. He realized the liquid he'd felt was her tears.

“Did I hurt you?” He croaked.

“Not at all,” she said softly. “You will be a magnificent warrior, different from the rest. My great champion.”

When Raoul had clothed himself and eaten, Dabria walked with him to the cave entrance. She pushed the stone aside as if it weighed no more than a wooden door and stepped outside, beckoning for Raoul to follow her. She led him to the great hall, where Asger and his acolytes were feasting and thrust open the doors.

As she walked up the center aisle the noise quieted, until there wasn't even the clatter of tableware. Every eye was upon her. Even Asger looked respectful. Dabria stepped onto the platform where Asger’s throne was and turned to address the room.

“Warriors,” she said, her husky voice filling the hall, “behold Raoul Ujarakson, who has chosen the wolf.”

For a moment there was silence as nearly two hundred surprised faces gawked at Raoul. Then a great war cry filled the space, shaking the ground with its force. The warriors pounded their fists on the table and began to chant. Asger stood and approached Dabria, whispering something in her ear. Raoul watched her eyes grow cold, but she nodded.

Asger shouted, “To Raoul!” and downed his ale in a huge swallow. The men followed suit and then dragged Raoul into their ranks, thrusting food and drink at him and bringing their women to fawn over him. Raoul drank in the praise, but his eyes wandered to where Asger was escorting Dabria outside. Dabria saw him looking and shook her head.

Raoul tried to lose himself in the celebration. He smiled at the women and accepted the treats they brought him - fruit and wine and soft cheeses. The men gave him a wicked looking sword that Raoul was eager to become well practiced with. By the end of the night he was dressed richly in warrior’s attire. It was hours later and still Asger had not returned.

Raoul stood and tried to sound as drunk as his companions, “I’m off, lads. If I have one more drop of ale I won't wake up!”

They laughed and slapped his back and went back to their own merriment as Raoul slipped out of the hall.

Raoul snuck back to the cave. The mouth was again covered with the stone. Raoul tried to move it to no avail. Climbing to the top of the hill, Raoul peered into the hole that served as the vent into the cave below. His vision was limited, but a weird purplish light colored the smoke, and Raoul could hear Asger’s voice speaking, punctuated by throaty masculine cries of pleasure. Raoul felt his heart turn to ice, even as his body lit with fury.

Reason abandoned him as he stalked down the hill. With each step he felt as if he grew a foot taller, with hate to inflate his muscles. He rolled the stone aside without breaking a sweat, and prowled down the hall to the cave.

His face contorted with shock and rage as he saw the scene unfolding before him.

Asger was sprawled on a nest of animal furs while Dabria straddled his thighs. Her naked body was covered in her own blood, smeared from myriad cuts all over her skin. Her head was thrown back as she chanted, the weird purple smoke twisting around her. Asger had his member in hand and was stroking it as Dabria spoke.

Suddenly Dabria’s head snapped toward Raoul and her eyes, which appeared to be glowing in the firelight, filled with despair and anger. Then, as if she forgot he was in the room, she resumed her incantation.

Raoul voiced an unearthly snarl and drew his sword. The scrape of metal drew Asger’s attention and to Raoul’s fury, he laughed.

Dabria stopped chanting as Asger stood, totally unabashed in his nakedness and approached Raoul.

“Are you jealous, úlfheðnar?” Asger growled.

“No,” Raoul said, his voice deep and distorted. “I am going to kill you. This makes me happy.”

Asger seemed to swell with power, “You are no match for me, wolf-pup. I am the bear king.”

“I challenge you,” Raoul said.

“After all the good I've done for you?” Asger said, sounding genuinely surprised. “This is how you repay me?”

Raoul felt the words roll off his tongue, but they surprised him even as he spoke, “You are a poor leader. You wage war for the sake of war, abuse your gifts, and belittle those who don't revel in evil like you. You claim all the power of the gods but live a godless life. You should have been put down ages ago.”

Asger smiled, eyes filled with murderous glee, “In three days’ time you may duel me. Enjoy your life while you can. Odin’s whore will have no power once I’m gone, so even if you win, you will lose.”

Raoul laughed, “You're delusional. Get out of here, or i’ll kill you where you stand.”

Asger picked up his clothes and walked away, “Three days, boy. I look forward to wearing your teeth as a necklace.”

Raoul tried to breathe as Asger left, but he was trembling with anger. When he looked at Dabria, she was smiling at him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.

“I knew you had it in you,” she said.

“Is what he said true?” Raoul asked. “Will you lose your power?”

“Of course not, but would it matter? You don't believe in any of this.”

Raoul rubbed his face, “There is something about you Dabria. Something that man doesn't deserve to have. He cares only for himself.”

Dabria walked over to him and kissed his cheek, “My champion emerges.”