Chapter 10
Freydis
I sat down on the mountain next to Ragnar. He took out the mead skin from his belt, opened the cover, and gulped it down.
The wound on my forehead burned from having the mead poured on it. I stared at the landscape covered with greens. The Eastlanders were close to us, and it would be a day's journey before they arrived at our land.
A deep frown drew my face as I thought of Harald's words. He was selling me off to the Eastlanders in exchange for peace. Peace? Did he think war between both lands would end just like that? There would be some people who would want me dead. And who knows if their King was also among them. Who knows if this marriage was a trap. A set-up? To get me to his land and then kill me.
My body shivered with cold.
When Ragnar offered me the skin, I took it from him and gulped the mead down. It drove the cold away. I continued to drink more, feeling the wind brush my face. After some time, I started to feel dizzy. It felt as though I was about to fall down at any moment.
"What happened in Harald's hall?" Ragnar asked.
I turned to him. A look of concern was on his face. My lips started to quiver. He let out a long sigh and pulled me into his arms.
I opened my mouth to speak, telling him everything that happened. And after I was done, I cried so much. My tears soaked his tunic. He held me tight, one hand around me and the other holding the mead skin.
And after I was done, I pulled away from his arms.
He looked down at me. "I have something to tell ye."
I wiped the tears with the back of my hand, dark kohl smeared around my face. "What is it?"
"Something your father never told ye. About the Hounds."
My lips parted as I stared at Ragnar, surprised.
"Ye know nothing of the Hounds, do ye? Not the true tale. 'Cause if ye did, ye'd view 'em differently," he took a drink of the mead. "Or maybe ye do. Maybe ye learnt it before ye turned to Christianity."
"Just tell me. What is it about the Hounds?"
"They're called Werewolves. Creatures that have been around since the age o' the gods; they're born of a god."
"A god?" I didn't know Hounds were descendants of a god.
"Rolf, he was called," he began. "A god older than most. But he broke the sacred rules... and to Skelgard he was cast."
"Skelgard? I asked.
"A realm where both gods and mortals were cast if they rebelled. To be sent there... 'tis a curse worse than death. A place for constant torment," he replied.
"Yet he tried to flee. An' when the gods caught him, he dared strike his powers at 'em. For that, they laid a curse upon him."
"What was the curse?" I asked.
"They cursed him into a beast form; he looked like a dog except he was fiercer than it. Like a creature born of wild. He was a wolf. The first of his kind."
"He was exiled and he roamed the woods alone. He killed any mortals he set his eyes on. When war stirred between the gods, they had need of him."
"Why would they need him after exiling him?" I asked.
"Because they need creatures like him to fight for them. They took him away and took his blood, venom, and claws. Then they partook in a dark rite; a ritual to birth more of his kind. Not gods, not mortals neither. Something in between. They were made beasts to obey them and destroy who they wanted dead."
I stared at him, the words digging deep into my mind. "So the Hounds hunting us are cursed?"
He nodded. "Aye. The curse that Rolf carried clung on them. Passed down through centuries. They are wild, savage, and craved flesh. Every werewolf alive today holds a shard o' his madness."
Silence fell between us. After some time, Ragnar's head dropped.
"Ye should know this; me mother was killed by the Werewolves," he said.
A breath caught in my throat. Harald had always said their mother died but he never told me the story of how she died. Whenever I asked, he would dismiss it, so I stopped asking.
"Me mother has always been kind and good to everyone. That night i went in her and saw her fighting a Werewolf. The beast bit her so deep, her cheek split open. Me mother was a shield maiden so she wasn't afraid to die. When she rose from the ground, she fought with every strength in her. She wouldn't let the werewolf kill her. She killed it, and the fight took its life before hers."
"Ragnar..." I reached out to touch his face but withdrew my hand. "What happened to you... I'm so sorry."
He nodded slowly, and then the place grew quiet. The only sound heard was of trees rustling and the wind. I wanted to speak. To say something to him. To comfort him, but I've never known how to comfort someone in times like this.
The mead sank in, making me feel weak and dizzy.
The Eastlanders were coming soon. And the marriage wouldn't be one to waste time.
Slowly, I leaned to Ragnar, my head resting on his chest, and I closed my eyes. If I was to be sold to a stranger to settle war, at least let me have some peace before it happens.