Ship of the Dead by James Jennewein Page A

deteriorating health.
    Because then Dane would leave him behind. Which would force Lut to reveal what he had read in the book. If he told them the real reason they were on this road, would they continue, knowing the horrible place it led? As Skuld had said, a person chooses his road of fate. And Lut had to make sure they kept to the road they were on. Or the world, and everyone they loved in it, would meet a very nasty end.
    Once safely out of sight behind a tree, Lut took a pinch of powder from his leather pouch and swallowed it with water. The taste of it was wicked and he choked a bit getting it down. Strange how something so awful could have such power to do good. Thoughts of death stole over him, but he chased them away, forcing into his mind images of all his favorite foods and every woman he had ever loved, including all six of his wives.
    Upon his return, he found Dane and Fulnir having heated words.
    â€œWe should make camp here,” Fulnir said. “The horses need rest— we need rest.”
    â€œWe’re going on,” Dane said. “I want to reach the smith’s by tomorrow.”
    â€œFulnir’s right—we should camp here,” Drott said. “An extra day won’t hurt us.”
    Dane looked at his friends as if they had suddenly become his enemies. “An extra day? We delay for one hour and by the time we reach Déttmárr he could be dead. And thus any chance we have to bring Astrid back. So if you even care about that—”
    â€œOf course we care,” Fulnir snapped. “We care for Astrid as much as you or we wouldn’t be with you. But I say we camp here and get an early start in the morning.”
    â€œ You say? Has your stink-breeze gone to your brain?” mocked Dane, poking Fulnir in the chest. “Since when did you assume leadership?”
    Lut saw Fulnir’s jaw tighten in anger. “Maybe someone else has to, Dane. You’d ride us all over a cliff if it meant easing your guilt over Astrid.”
    â€œGuilt—?”
    Lut rushed forward and grabbed both of them by the arms before the fists started flying.
    â€œThe ache in my hip bone tells me a storm approaches,” Lut advised. “Here among the trees would be a fine place to shelter.”
    Dane looked up at the blue sky, where nary a cloud was seen. “My eyes tell me your aching bones are wrong, old man. If you and the others are too tired to follow, then stay here. I’m going ahead.”
    â€œSo am I,” Jarl said. Without another word they mounted up and set off up the trail. William was gone, too, in a cloud of dust.
    â€œLet them go,” Fulnir said. “I’m tired of being ordered around by Dane anyway.”
    â€œIf we don’t go now, we’ll never catch them,” Lut said. “Hurry, help me onto my horse.”
    â€œDon’t you understand? He doesn’t want you along,” Fulnir said. “I think the only reason he asked me and Drott to come . . . was to take care of you.”
    Of course Fulnir was right. But Lut knew the party had to stay together because all their fates were intertwined. Dane needed Lut, even if he didn’t know it. Lut demanded to be put atop his horse, Fulnir reluctantly complied, and the three went galloping up the trail.
    A light breeze from the west suddenly blew up, and as Lut rode on, the ache in his bones worsened, accompanied by a disturbing thought. He had read in the Book of Fate how and when he was going to die. But what if Skuld wished to punish him for reading his fate? A flick of her quill could easily change everything. He could die tonight, tomorrow, or even in the next moment. He felt a chill of terror at the awful realization that everything he’d thought was certain could now be anything but.
    Distant thunder rumbled. Oh, help me, Odin, for I fear I ride to catastrophe!

Chapter 6
Ship of the Dead
    G relf the Gratuitous trudged along the mosquito-infested riverbank