Warmagic

4. A new life

Brokk's body had been burned and we had performed a ceremony in his honour. My face was marked with his blood and we were all seated in his Longboat on our way to his village to the Northwest of my birthplace.

We never discussed this outcome. Maybe Freke had less faith in my fighting abilities then I'd thought. Or maybe their faith in our Gods was so strong that they were sure of my success.

When I was barely old enough to remember, my father had been named Jarl of our village, Brokk had been outraged of course and left to find a place of his own. To make a bloody tale short, within months he was the new lord of a village named Skal.

The outcome was, after his death by my hand, the village great hall was now mine.

To my relief, Brokk's men had cheered and mentioned that the villagers would be thrilled. They were quite confident I would be a far greater leader than my uncle. And even I was sure of that, most men would be greater leaders than him. That didn't mean I was going to be a good one.

Our ship was currently sailing for Skal, and as promised we were going to make a few stops along the way.

I slipped my arms around my wolf's torso, where they stood gazing out at the horizon. It was our third day at sea and they had been taking care of my wounds ever since we left the shore. Not leaving my side.

Their hands had been glowing, pouring their magic over me and the wounds had turned into scars in the shortest amount of time.

I was finally able to stand up for a longer period but at a great cost. The young wolf wore dark bags under their eyes, their body was exhausted and weak and I couldn't stop myself from worrying about them. If we were to fight and raid, I needed them by my side.

"You used your magic on me when I fought Brokk," I mumbled low to my partner.

"I did," they said without regret or remorse in their voice.

"Why?"

Freke turned to stand facing my chest, I could feel their body shivering as one of their arms slipped around my waist and their cheek lay to rest against my shoulder. "I had a vision," they murmured and I hated how frail their voice sounded, knowing it was because of me.

"And in this vision I died?" I asked gently as I let my fingers comb through their short dark hair.

"No," they told me as they pressed their body closer to mine, in need of my warmth, "in the vision I cast that same spell, and because of it, you lived."

I nodded a few times and planted a kiss on the top of their head. "I take it as a message from the Gods then."

"It was," they agreed and lifted their head to look into my eyes, "don't you dare doubt yourself because I helped you."

"It's not the first time," I chuckled and squinted my eyes as dropps of the salty seawater splashed against my face.

"It does not make you less of a man, or a warrior."

I chuckled at the words, "that's not what I meant."

"Are you sure?" they insisted. "Sometimes you need a reminder of your greatness. You tend to think lesser thoughts about yourself. And you are a Jarl now, a leader of your own village, which you can form to your own liking. You don't have to walk in your father's footsteps.

"We'll see," I sighed, "let's get wealthy first."

"You make it sound so easy," Freke chuckled and buried their face closer to my neck.

"With you by my side, it will be."

I held their weak body as close to me as I could, the urge to protect them was overpowering. And my mind slipped to a time when Freke had moved to my village. They were only five years old, two years younger than me, when their mother had brought them to us.

"It is the will of the ancestors," the powerful female alpha insisted, mentioning she had seen it in a vision. And no one would question her. She was the leader of the largest wolfpack that lived on this side of the mountains.

It was an honour, my father told me, to have a pup born from a powerful wolf like her as a member of our clan. So he let Freke move in with our old Seer to be trained into a vitki.

Usually the men and women ignored the furry pup who tumbled around on the mud covered paths alone. But the children were not as kind. I had usually ignored it. It wasn't my fight, and I knew the wolf had to learn to defend themself at some point. But the day I saw five of my so-called friends surround them and poke them with sticks was the day their mother's vision came to life.

I punched them all, kicked them to the ground and screamed out my frustration at their cruel behaviour. Sure, the pup was different, but that doesn't have to be a bad thing. It was actually one of the reasons I fell in love with them.

From that day forth, we were inseparable. Their tiny, dirty hand would hold on to mine so tight they almost hurt me.
They would sleep as a ball of fur in my bed. Even when my parents had bid them goodnight and sent them off to the Seer's hut, they would soon appear in my bed beside me again.

And as we grew older, we would walk into the deep forests out of reach and sight from the others. Freke would practice their magic and I would practice my sword fighting skills beside them and we would learn how to help each other and strengthen one another.

This is why I needed them in a fight, I was so used to having them there.

"I'll be alright," they mumbled against my body, "I just need rest. And luckily, that's the only thing I can do on this god forsaken ship." They sighed deeply. "Wolves don't belong on the open sea."

"I promise you, in two days time, your paws will touch the soil of our ancestors again."

"And I promise you, Tyr, in two days I will have all my strength back and I will help you become both the feared and respected Jarl of Skal."

I hugged them tight, but inside me I felt a new emotion. Was it worry? Anxiety? Fear of my future? For some reason I couldn't stop thinking this was Freke's wishes, not mine. But at the same time, who was I to question them? They were the one who spoke to the Gods and the Wolf- spirits, not me. I needed to push the doubt away, and trust them and the Gods.