Free Ship of the Dead by James Jennewein

surprise.
    â€œYou fool, can’t you see I am of your ilk?” Thidrek said.
    The chieftain squinted at Thidrek, sniffing the air. “You don’t smell like the undead.”
    Thidrek patted Grelf’s head. “Courtesy of my bootlick and perfumer extraordinaire. What name did we arrive at for your concoction, Grelfie?”
    â€œMy lord, we were down to either ‘eau de living’ or ‘rot-not.’”
    â€œHah!” the chieftain spat. “We are warriors and care not if our odor offends. State your business, one known as Thidrek.”
    â€œI represent the goddess Hel,” Thidrek announced. “Her orders are that we sail this ship to the underworld. There, the horn that awoke you will summon Hel’s army.”
    The chieftain pondered this, rubbing his exposed chin bone in interest. “For what purpose do we raise the army?”
    â€œWhat else?” Thidrek sniffed. “So that I may command it to conquer the land of the living.”
    â€œSo that you may command?” roared the chieftain. “This is my ship! I am commander of it!”
    â€œAnd the goddess Hel commands you to turn this ship over to m e!” Thidrek roared back.
    â€œWell, I don’t think so,” said the chieftain, crossing his arms on his chest.
    â€œYou dare defy the goddess?”
    â€œI don’t hand my command to the first undead lord who happens by.” The chieftain smirked. “If you even are a lord. Bring me Hel’s orders in writing— on her official stationery and affixed with her personal seal—perhaps then I’ll think about it.”
    Grelf squelched a cheer. His festering lordship’s plan was hitting a brick wall!
    Thidrek’s eyes bulged in rage. “Has the rot eaten your brain? Hel does not issue commands like a lowly village functionary. She is the patron goddess of all that is evil!”
    The chieftain was not budging. Feet firmly planted, arms still crossed across his chest, he replied, “I am aware of Hel’s evil omnipotence. Which makes me doubt she would send a blustering blowhard as her envoy.”
    This brought snickers from the chieftain’s troops. Thidrek, who like all despots hated ridicule above all, glared at them. “You dare to laugh at me? You—who burrow like worms in the ground? Your shields and weapons are as decayed as your valor. I offer you new life! As my liege men you will sail to glory once more. You will have strong shields and weapons of hard steel. You will know again what it is to be brave and feared—for you will cut a wide swath through the living and eat their flesh and drink their blood to your everlasting content!”
    To Grelf’s fear it appeared that Thidrek’s rousing call to arms had piqued the warriors’ interest. But he wasn’t sure, since it’s hard to read the expression of someone whose face is pretty much rotted away.
    â€œYou waste your words,” the draugr chief barked. “My warriors are bound to me—and I am bound to no one. Go now before I lose patience.” The chieftain ordered his warriors back to their graves. As they had sprung from the sand, they all dived back in as if the ground were water. Soon all had disappeared beneath the surface.
    â€œWell, I guess that’s that, my lord,” Grelf chirped. “You tried your best, you really did, but perhaps this whole raise-an-army-of-the-dead thing wasn’t meant to be.”
    â€œI never had trouble enlisting henchmen before,” Thidrek said in contemplation. “Why, every cutthroat and brigand in the land was more than eager to serve Lord Thidrek the Terrifying. Have I lost my touch?”
    â€œPerish the thought, my lord! You are as terrifying as ever—now even more so in your, um, draugr personage.”
    â€œThen why would they rather return to their graves than serve me?”
    â€œThe reason for that, my lord, is summed up in one word.