Chapter Four

Harold settled into his seat in first class and looked around.  Normally he spent some time listening and smelling the passengers and flight crew to practice his skills at picking out particulars.  Perhaps someone was smuggling something, or a wife that had the scent of two men on her, the one she was with and another a couple of days in the past.  This time was different, all he could think of was the mission he’d accepted.  Nonetheless, as a matter of habit and training, he checked the scent of each person that embarked on the plane to be sure no draugar came aboard, but they were all earðkin.   After the last passenger walked onboard and the stewardess closed the door, he relaxed a little and pulled out his laptop.  He hoped spending the next ten and a half hours to La Guardia studying the transcript and video from the interrogation would answer some of the questions running through his mind.  The interrogation was a long one, it had gone on for twelve hours before the draug died.  There was a lot to get through.   

As soon as the steward came by he ordered a neat rum and started on the transcript, the video he decided to watch later.  The more he read through the transcript, the more it seemed the whole story came from the insane ramblings of a draug in the throes of blood lust hysteria.  Much of the transcript was a mixture of curses leveled at the interrogators, quotes from the Beriyt and a bizarre story of draugar not drinking blood and Ulfhednar hunting with draugar.  Watching the video changed his impression.  The draug was clearly angry and suffering from the draug version of dehydration, but its tone was cold, committed and convincing.  The draug believed a story Harold couldn’t.     

The female draug’s name was Josephine.  For some time she had been under suspicion due to her not smelling of blood.   The older of the two draugar Harold and his ex-pack had been tracking had tracked Josephine into the country around Coventry and had seen her kill and drink the blood of a sheep.  He had confronted her but when he attempted to capture her and take her before the guild elders, she had escaped.  He’d spent the next few days trying to find her.  The draug had located her in Coventry and instead of trying to capture her alone this time, had called the younger draug to help him.  He’d not believed it at first but had finally been convinced by the elder draug.   As to why Josephine had given up earðkin blood, the draug thought she’d been deluded and tricked by the rumour of a guild of draugar living in the woods of Washington State who had forsaken Lilith and Cain and drank only animal blood.  Further, they associated with a pack of local Ulfhednar and were supposed to hunt together.  

The story flew in the face of what was known of draugar.  For one thing, there had never been any recorded instance of a draug giving up on earðkin blood.  The conversion from earðkin to draug was justified and rationalized by their religion based on the story that their god had created Lilith and then sent her Cain to create the people that would one day inherit the earth.   Each time they drank the blood of an earðkin, they weren’t just feeding themselves, they were confirming their covenant with their god, Lilith and Cain.   

Harold brought up a copy of the Beriyt on his laptop and searched for anything that would indicate the possibility of not drinking earðkin blood.  He had read it often enough to know his search would be in vain, but perhaps something could interpreted to allow for it.  He found nothing, all passages were very clear, earðkin blood or nothing.  

The second element of the story, draug and Ulfhednar hunting together.  That was even more unbelievable.  Harold’s brow wrinkled as he thought over the transcripts and video again.  The draug has used the word, ‘dogs’ to describe the interrogators, but when describing the rumoured Ulfhednar, he used the word ‘wolves’.  Using that word was unusual.  Draugar used words like, ‘dogs’, ‘mutts’, ‘mongrels’, ‘animals’ to describe Ulfhednar.  He couldn’t remember a draug using the word ‘wolf’ or ‘wolves’ before.  The assumption of the interrogators was that the draugar he referred to were Ulfhednar.  Harold wondered if they were literally referring to wolves.   

Even if the draug was referring to a clan of Ulfhednar native to North America, why in Niflheim did no one know of them?  The European Jarl had established a Jarl in North America in the early 1700’s and Ulfhednar had explored it as extensively, if not more so, than earðkinar had.  There had never been any indication of the natives sharing the traits of the Ulfhednar.  There were legends of course, but they were all just that, legends.    

The question behind all this is the one that intrigued Harold the most, where had this story come from?  How did the draugar hear of a guild of draugar not drinking earðkin blood and a tribe of Ulfhednar, if that’s what they truly were, where his people had never heard of either?  

Harold looked at his watch, two hours to La Guardia airport.  Once there he’d meet with the

Jarl of North America.  This was an official mission and so he’d have to ask permission of

the Jarl to conduct operations in his lands, but it would also be a re-union with his old friend

Osmund.  He smiled thinking about Osmund.  The last time they’d seen each other was

when Osmund was made Jarl.  That had been a celebration to remember.  It would be good

to catch up.  Closing up his laptop and stowing it in his travel bag, Harold closed his eyes,

and allowed himself to fall asleep for the last two hours of the flight.