Ship of the Dead by James Jennewein Read Free Book Online

devious afoot?
    Lut stared at the book in a kind of delicious agony. If he opened it, his questions would be answered. As a master seer, he reasoned, he above all was equipped to deal with such knowledge. The whispers of the gods had passed through him countless times; the book before him was just a more detailed version of those godly pronouncements. So what was the harm in taking a peek? He knew full well what the harm would be. And yet . . .
    With a trembling hand he reached for the book—and all at once its cover flew open and a sudden wind blew up, howling and whipping at the pages, turning them from front to back. Staring agape, Lut was further amazed to see that the wind seemed to be blowing only over the book and nowhere else in the room. His own robe, so close to the funnel of wind, was completely unruffled. Then the pages abruptly stopped turning and the book lay open before him, beckoning, a shaft of golden light shining on a certain spot in the center of the right-side page. Drawing a breath, Lut moved nearer and peered down at the book . . . and what he saw so astonished him, he nearly fell over dead.
    His mother had gone on a visit to a neighboring village, so Dane found his own house empty and quiet, and after stoking the hearth fire, he fell deeply asleep, the perilous events of the past few days having physically and mentally drained him.
    When next he awoke, the room was bathed in light. He turned over and was thrilled to see Astrid floating there above the floor, her body luminescent, her hair and feathered cloak rippling in a breeze that Dane could not feel. “It was you who took the book, wasn’t it, Dane?” Her voice was eerily flat, emotionless, and for a moment Dane thought he was dreaming. “Where is the book, Dane? You must give it to me.”
    â€œFirst you must be freed from your oath. That’s why I took it—so the Norns would change your fate.”
    He saw her face flash in anger, but just as quickly she softened. “If you give me the book, I will return it. This will so please the Norns, I’m sure they will free me from my oath.”
    â€œDo you still love me?”
    â€œDane, there will be time later for all that,” she said with impatience. “If you love me , you will do as I ask.”
    â€œAstrid, why aren’t you wearing the locket?”
    Her hand shot to her neck, feeling it missing. “I . . . am not permitted to wear such ornaments—”
    â€œYou were wearing it in Asgard.”
    Her eyes narrowed into slits. “Do you know how I will suffer if the book is not returned?” A thick black worm, squirming and glistening with slime, coiled around her ghostly-white neck. “Niflheim is the lair of all that is corrupt and foul. And you will dwell there with me!” A writhing mass of the beslimed worms coiled around her arms and legs, her face erupting in boils, bursting with pus.
    Dane bolted for the door, but the floor gave way and suddenly he was sunk knee-deep in sand—and it was moving, for a hole had opened beneath Astrid and the sand was being sucked down into it as if his house was the top half of an hourglass. “Our time is running out, Dane!” the figure screeched, her mouth a gaping hole of black, rotten stumps. “Give me the book!”
    Dane desperately clawed against the moving tide of sand, fighting to keep from getting pulled under. “Never! You are not Astrid!”
    There was a splintering crash. He looked up to see Jarl and Lut standing in the open doorway. Jarl held the book and Lut held a lighted oil lamp. “Enough trickery, Skuld!” Lut thundered. “Dane will not submit!” Jarl dropped the book and Lut stood over it, ready to pour oil from the lamp onto it. “Stop or the book burns.”
    â€œYou wouldn’t dare!” she screeched.
    Lut let drop a trickle of oil onto the cover, lowering the flame to it. “Reveal yourself now!” In an