Sword of Doom by James Jennewein Page B

matter that Dane felt no kinship for the man? Or that Dane felt there was something within Godrek that could not be trusted? Perhaps he would feel like this toward any man who was taking away his mother. But the thought that she would no doubt live far away from him in Godrek’s village was almost too much for him to bear. For he knew he would never again enter his hut at home and be greeted by her warm smile and hug. Or feel his mother’s gentle kiss when she tucked him into his blankets at night. Just as never again would he hear the stories his father would tell or the booming laugh that often accompanied Voldar’s favorite expression, “Well, I’ll be dipped in weasel spit.” Hehad taken all of it for granted when he was growing up, all those moments with the two people who loved him more than anyone else could. He would give anything to have just one more night with them together at home, eating, talking, and laughing before the fire. But it was all lost. Everything was changing, his life falling apart.
    He came out of the lodge hall to his waiting horse. Godrek and three of his men were mounted and eager to be off. Dane stowed the broken sword in the pack behind his saddle and mounted up without even a look Godrek’s way. If the man was expecting approval of his upcoming betrothal, Dane just couldn’t find the words. He knew he was being sullen and selfish, but he was not about to smile falsely and say good luck and congratulations to the thief who was stealing his remaining parent. He wanted to go and get Lut’s counsel about the sword, but with new danger pressing, he knew that would have to wait until they were all back safe in their village.
    Dane looked to the skies for his raven, Klint, hoping to have at least one friend with him on his flight away. “We’ve no time to wait for your raven,” said Godrek, “but I’m sure he’ll catch up. Nesting with a new lady friend, no doubt.”
    They rode out between the gates of Skrellborg as the first rays of morning sun peeked over the eastern mountains. They rode hard and fast, which suited Dane, for he wanted to put distance between his newly hardened heart and the tearful boy who bade his mother good-bye.
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    Leagues from the Skrellborg gates, on the icy path leading up across the glacier, Godrek ordered the riders to stop. Looking back now at the distant fortress, they could see no riders in pursuit, and Dane knew this was where he and Godrek would part company. Dane turned in his saddle to face the man who had saved his mother and now, it seemed, had saved him. “I want to thank you, Lord Godrek, for all that you’ve done.”
    â€œI do what is honorable,” said Godrek, “whenever I can.”
    â€œThen you will honor my mother. Or I will—”
    â€œWhat? Come to wreak vengeance?” Godrek grinned. “I rather doubt that, boy.”
    Thorfinn reached down and grabbed the reins of Dane’s horse, jerking them from his hands. Another man came alongside and pulled Dane from his saddle. He fell to the ground onto the carpet of new-fallen snow. In an instant the three men were on him, pinning his arms. And it was then Dane saw they were near the same crevasse into which Drott had nearly fallen.
    â€œWhat’re you doing? What is this?” But his words just echoed off the ice hills.
    Godrek calmly dismounted and went to Dane’s horse, finding the scabbard and sword from Voldar’s war chest. He drew out the sword, gazing in worship at the broken blade. “You wish to know why your father and I parted company? He was a coward.”
    â€œNo!” Dane said, struggling against the men who held him.
    â€œHe found this—a talisman that would lead to the greatest treasure on earth. But he lacked the courage to follow its path. I didn’t know what form this thing took, and he said it didn’t exist, but I knew he was lying. I knew I would have to