Ship of the Dead
“The air was warm, the skies were bright with promise, and an encouraging wind blew at their backs as they headed to their rendezvous with the ancient swordsmith.
Lut was elated. So excited was he to be once again in the full flower of youth, Lut could not stop talking. The man had the vigor of a roaring river as he jogged alongside the horses, insisting he felt too good to ride. Lut’s memory had returned to him as well, and he hooted with glee, remembering the name of the first girl he’d ever k...issed—Hlífey the Quiet—and the favorite insult of his older brother, Freybjörn the Foulmouth: “You dog-livered dung heap!”
For his entire life, Dane had only known Lut to be gray of hair and bent of frame, his voice a thin rasp. And now there he was, erect, feisty, his voice booming with the command of an energetic man of twenty, and Dane still felt it strange to see.
At midmorning, reaching the northern edge of the plain, Dane gazed down into the dry, rock-strewn valley below and halted everyone.MoreLess
Lut was elated. So excited was he to be once again in the full flower of youth, Lut could not stop talking. The man had the vigor of a roaring river as he jogged alongside the horses, insisting he felt too good to ride. Lut’s memory had returned to him as well, and he hooted with glee, remembering the name of the first girl he’d ever k...issed—Hlífey the Quiet—and the favorite insult of his older brother, Freybjörn the Foulmouth: “You dog-livered dung heap!”
For his entire life, Dane had only known Lut to be gray of hair and bent of frame, his voice a thin rasp. And now there he was, erect, feisty, his voice booming with the command of an energetic man of twenty, and Dane still felt it strange to see.
At midmorning, reaching the northern edge of the plain, Dane gazed down into the dry, rock-strewn valley below and halted everyone.MoreLess
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