Ship of the Dead (21 page)

Dane gave a quick look up at Thidrek and saw he had climbed over the chain of draugrs and bridged the gap. Suddenly, one of the draugrs seemed to lose a grip on the next one in the chain. He gave a cry, the span broke, and three of the draugrs plummeted—coming right at Dane standing on the rocky shore! He jumped aboard just as the bodies hit and shattered upon the rocks, arms, legs, heads ricocheting everywhere. The head of Alrick the Most Merciless landed in the ship next to Fulnir, who grabbed the thing by its hair and flung it overboard into the lake to join his Least Merciless cohort.

Dane yelled, “Shove off!” Jarl pushed the ship away from the rocks with an oar, and out they floated into the lake. Dane felt a rush of relief—at last they were beyond Thidrek's reach.

“It appears we have new owners,” observed Red Mustache on the sail.

“I like them better,” Black Beard said. “They don't smell as bad.”

Dane heard a splash behind them. He looked back and saw the torso of one of the smashed-apart draugrs floating in the muck halfway between the ship and shore. Thidrek, handle of the Blade of Oblivion between his teeth, leaped onto the torso, balanced there for an instant, and threw
another
torso he was carrying farther toward the ship.
He was using the bodies of the draugrs as stepping stones!
Before anyone could react, Thidrek jumped forward onto the next floating torso, took a big leap from there, grabbed the gunwale, and swung himself aboard.

Chapter 24
A Maiden's Revenge

W
hy, Grelf . . . I don't remember giving you your leave.” Thidrek stood on the stern of the ship, brandishing the Blade of Oblivion. When he had jumped aboard, everyone had scrambled toward the bow. Dane, Jarl, Fulnir, and Drott held oars they could fight with—but wood didn't stand much chance against the blade.

“Nor you, boy,” Thidrek said to William. “Such gratitude. I spare your life and you flee my protection. Not once but twice. That is simply not acceptable.”

“Begging your pardon, my lord,” Grelf said, “if you'll allow me to explain my situation—”

“Spare me your bleatings,” Thidrek growled. “For now I'll believe that you were kidnapped. Get behind me so when I turn them all to ash you'll not be nicked.”

Grelf did not move. “My lord, I choose to stand pat. Your barbaric cruelty has forced me to seek employment elsewhere. No hard feelings, I hope.” Dane couldn't help being amused. Grelf, of all people, had developed a backbone.

“You choose to die with this rabble rather than serve me?”

“I'm amazed myself,” Grelf said with a shrug. “Quite unlike me.”

“You'll be last, lickspittle. And I'll make it very, very painful.”

Thidrek advanced on them. Jarl and Drott swung their oars at his head and Dane and Fulnir lunged with theirs, but the blade quickly turned them into kindling. Thidrek kept coming, slashing with the weapon, backing everyone into a tight pack in the bow. Further retreat was impossible, for another step back and some of them would fall off the ship into the flaming lake below.

Sleipnir swooped in from above, and one of his hooves hit Thidrek a glancing blow to his head. He staggered back, stunned for an instant. Dane and Jarl went to rush him, but Thidrek regained his senses, thrusting the blade in front of him, forcing them to stop. Blood trickled from a cut on Thidrek's forehead, and he gasped for air, as if he couldn't catch his breath.

Astrid pulled the horse up to above the mast, where they hovered. “Stay away, Astrid!” Dane yelled. “He's ours!”

“Afraid you . . . have . . . that backward,” Thidrek said between gulps of air.

“My lord, you are not looking at all well,” Grelf said.

Indeed, Dane saw a sudden change come over Thidrek. Deep age lines appeared on his face; his thick, black hair began to whiten and thin, and his tall, muscular frame shriveled before their eyes. Thidrek gazed in horror at the backs of his hands as wrinkles appeared and age spots grew like blotches of mold. “What's . . . what's happening to me?” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper.

Lut tottered forward. “The years you took were but a wisp of time.”

Thidrek jabbed a crooked finger at Lut. “But you were young!”

“My youth was an illusion. . . . What you see is my true age. My time ends soon . . . as does yours.”

“You tricked me!”

Lut shrugged, then stuck out his tongue and blew a wet, loud raspberry at Thidrek.

“Could
not
have said that any better,” Dane said with a laugh. Others were laughing, too, and this made Thidrek furious.

“Bring her about! I will use the orb to take
your
life, as I wanted!” he said to Dane, his voice now a weak rasp.

“We're not going back,” William said. “But you're free to.”

All of them advanced slowly on a retreating Thidrek. “We're not far from shore,” Fulnir said. “Maybe you can swim for it.”

“Stay away from me! Stay away!” With every step back Thidrek seemed to age a little more and a little more. By the time they had backed him into the stern, he was a stooped, withered husk of a man, too frail even to hold the Blade of Oblivion, which fell from his grasp at his feet. “Grelf, help me! Help me!” he wailed, his back to the fiery lake. “Haven't I always been a kind and generous master?”

“My lord, I refuse to answer on the grounds it would most assuredly hurt your feelings.” And with that Grelf gave his master a push, and Thidrek tumbled backward over the railing and splashed headfirst into the lake. Thankfully, he was swallowed whole and without a peep by the fiery muck, sparing everyone from hearing his dying cries of agony.

Thidrek was dead—destroyed for good—but there was no time to celebrate. Their oars were gone, and with no wind in the underrealm to fill the sail, they were stuck without means of propulsion.

“What about the horse?” William suggested. “Can't he tow us out?” One end of a rope was quickly tied to Sleipnir and the other end to the bow of the ship. Soon they were under way at a good clip, the massive steed, with Astrid at the reins, flying in front of the ship pulling them along. Klint, riding atop the mast, squawked excitedly.

“Just as I feared,” Grelf said, gesturing behind them. They all looked back and saw that the Viking ships raised from the lake were moving at equal speed behind them, the dead warriors pulling at the oars.

“What do they want?” Drott asked. Dane quickly explained that this was Hel's army of the dead and that Thidrek was to lead them to conquer earth. “This is easily solved,” Drott said. He cupped his hands and shouted back at the following ships. “Change of plans! Thidrek is dead! And we have no interest in conquering earth! Go back!” The ships kept coming with no slackening of speed. “They don't follow orders very well,” Drott observed.

“Their orders are to follow the Ship of the Dead wherever it goes,” William said.

“Which means if we go out the gate, they go out the gate too,” Dane said. “And we'll be responsible for unleashing Hel's army upon earth.”

Hel's empire was in revolt, the doomed had seized control, but she was blithely unaware of it all. Simmering in her bath of foul, sulfurous mud, humming to herself, the goddess was bewitched by her false reflection in the mirror. Mist was standing close, so if the magical crown slipped off, she would be there to quickly replace it upon Hel's head to keep the illusion going. Her guards had urgently knocked on the door, beseeching the goddess for orders to quell the insurrection, but she had sent them all away, so intoxicated she was by her own image. Eventually Hel would realize that she had been tricked—but Mist hoped that would come after Dane, Astrid, and their friends were far beyond the boundaries of her wrath.

As for herself, Mist had no illusions. When Hel's anger came, it would erupt like a volcano, incinerating every soul in its path. Mist's only chance lay in the revolt. If enough of the demon guards had been killed, then perhaps Hel's power to inflict torture on the innocent would be over.

The door slammed open and in marched Aurora in full pique. “
What
is going on! The doomed are rioting! Your majesty, you made promises to me that I would be joining a well-run organization—not one in a shambles!” Hel kept merrily humming to herself, eyeing her reflection, deaf to the interruption. “Your majesty!”

“She can't hear you.” Mist came out of the shadows and Aurora's jaw dropped in surprise.

“What's wrong, Aurora? Weren't expecting to see me?”

Recovering from her momentary shock, Aurora regained her usual snottiness. “Dear, dear Mist . . . why do you look so drab and unhealthy? Oh, that's right, you're dead.”

“You should know—you murdered me.”

“And how have things been since then?”

“I'm handmaiden to her highness. I give her beauty treatments.”

Aurora glanced over at the ugly hag simmering in mud. “They're not working,” she whispered with a snicker.

“No, she's quite happy. Look at her gazing at her reflection. She thinks she's . . . what's the word? Oh, yes—resplendent.”

Aurora's eyes narrowed in worry. “What's wrong with her? Is she mad . . . or bewitched?”

“Mad, I'd say. Too bad—your having switched sides just when the ol' girl's gone brainsick.”

Aurora's worry lines deepened. She went past Mist and stood before Hel in her tub. “Your majesty, you must quell the rebellion or all will be lost!” The goddess hummed along, having no interest in anything other than her reflection. Aurora stamped her foot. “Your majesty, this is no way to run the underworld!”

Mist knew this was her one chance. Standing behind Aurora, she called out to her. “Dear, dear Aurora. I'm afraid you're finished.”

“Finished? Ha! At least I can leave here. You can't.” Aurora turned and saw Mist had Hel's staff in her hand with the orb end pointed at her. “What do you think you're going to do with
that
?”

“You took my life. I want it back,” said Mist.

“There has to be another way,” Jarl insisted.

“There isn't,” Dane said. He turned to William. “Tell them again what Hel said.”

“She said the ships will follow the Ship of the Dead wherever it goes.”

“And if we sink this ship here, now—they'll have
nothing
to follow,” Dane said. For a long moment no one spoke, each contemplating the horrible consequences of this. Finally, Jarl broke the silence.

“I have pictured many ways I would meet a glorious end. But burned to a crisp in a fiery lake was
not
on the list.”

“Along with Astrid, there's room on Sleipnir's back for three of us at the most,” Lut said. “William, gather the splinters from the oars. I will make the straws to draw. Shortest three out of six will go.”

“Six?” Fulnir said. “There's seven of us.”

“I'm staying,” Lut said. “Death comes soon to me anyway.”

“But what about us?” Black Beard said. “Has anyone thought about us?”

“You sink our ship, we go down too,” said Red Mustache. “We should have a say about this.”

“Look, you're just faces on a sail,” Jarl said. “We're live human beings.”

“We have souls just as you do,” railed Red Mustache. “You can't throw us away like we were nothing!”

“They do have a point,” Drott agreed. “Their souls mean just as much as ours.”

“Now I've heard it all,” Jarl said, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Why don't we just take the sail down and tie the four corners together to make a gigantic pocket so everyone can fit inside, and have Sleipnir fly us
all
out of here!” In all his sarcasm, Jarl didn't know he'd inadvertently stumbled upon a brilliant solution to save them all. Later, of course, he took credit for the plan, boasting that his brains were just as superior as his brawn.

It didn't take long to free the sail from the mast and securely tie the corners together. There was just enough room for everyone within the pocket—but the weight was too enormous even for Sleipnir to lift. There was much argument as to who would stay behind, Lut insisting it should be him. It looked like they would have to draw straws again, but then a miraculous sight appeared out of the gloom.

Mist, beautiful Mist, her raven hair flowing, her skin glowing with life, arrived riding another celestial steed. How she had gained life again and how she had acquired a Valkyrie's horse were questions that would have to be answered later. Another rope was tethered to Mist's horse—and together the two steeds had more than enough strength to lift everyone.

But before they left the ship, it had to be sunk. Dane took the Blade of Oblivion in his hands, raised it over his head, and with all his might chopped down into the bottom of the hull. Sparks flew and the fiery muck began to flood in. Dane had to scramble quickly to the sail pocket. Before he got in, he threw the blade overboard and watched it disappear beneath the surface. They were lifted off just before the decks were submerged and the ship sank.

Moments later, Dane looked back and the Ship of the Dead was gone. And then he saw an amazing sight. All across the vast lake the Viking ships were doing as Hel had said. They were following the Ship of the Dead and sinking beneath the surface of the lake. Soon, all that could be seen were the dragon heads on the fronts of the ships; then they too disappeared and Hel's army of the dead was gone, returned to the place of punishment where Dane hoped they would dwell forever.

They received quite a fright when they approached the Niflheim gate.

Garm, Hel's gatekeeper, gave a deafening roar and leaped at them as if the sail pouch full of people were a thrown toy he was supposed to retrieve. Dane was sure the gigantic jaws were about to snap closed around them—when the monster's chain played out. The creature jerked to a stop in midair and fell into the river, making a gigantic splash behind them.

They flew out the open gate into the region where the waters were still so thick with fog that Dane could not even see the horses above. Soon, a distant roar was heard. As they flew on, the roar increased in power—and Dane knew they were approaching the enormous whirlpool of water they had traversed before. Suddenly they were inside it, being pulled upward. Dane looked up and saw a wonderful sight framed by the ever-widening circle of water. Blue sky!

As they shot from the water into glorious sunlight, everyone gave a delirious cheer. They were free again, back in the world of the living. Sweet, sweet sea air filled their lungs, and the warmth from the sun maid Sol caressed their faces. Never had Dane felt so happy to be alive and so certain that all he wanted in his days ahead was to be surrounded by those he loved.