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anything Grelf had ever seen. It seemed a cross between a serpent and a cat, with a long curved neck and a scaly hide. Although it was ancient, the burial in the sand seemed to have preserved each finely carved detail. The beastly thing had two ears that lay back flat on its head, a long snout, and, protruding from its half-opened jaws, two tusklike fangs. Its eyes, deep set beneath its brow, were shut tight under heavy lids—but though both eyes were closed, Grelf had the eerie feeling that they might pop open at any moment. Just under its lower jaw, clutched in its two taloned paws, was an ornate horn, and the detail of this too seemed carved by an unearthly hand.
    Thidrek cried, “Stop!” and Grelf immediately collapsed in the hole he’d made, too drained to climb out, part of him wishing that Thidrek would heap the disturbed soil back on top of him and let him die in peace. He waited. When nothing happened, he turned his head and saw his master was standing above him on the edge of the hole, peering intently at the prow beast. “I suggest you vacate the dig, Grelf—she may be hungry.”
    Hungry? Grelf did not hesitate to ask what Thidrek meant. He scrambled out of the hole and a good distance away from it. Thidrek stared into the eyes of the prow beast and intoned an incantation.
    Sound the horn!
    Awake the dead!
    Bring foulness forth
    And to the living dread!
    For slaughter and havoc
    O’er the earth shall spread!
    There was the sound of wood creaking, like that of a ship at sea. Grelf watched in horror and fascination as the prow beast’s brow began to twitch, awakened from her centuries of slumber. The creature’s eyes shot open, glowing red. Her head came alive, growling and hissing. Her clawed paws brought the horn to the beast’s mouth, and from the horn’s bell came a thunderous bellow, a sound of such force it knocked Grelf back and made him cover his ears.
    The earth behind the prow creature started to churn. A rusted sword blade thrust up from the sand like an insect’s antenna, testing the air. A shrieking figure exploded from out of the sand as if catapulted. The thing sprang up and landed on its feet, facing them. It held the sword in its skeletal hand, a shield in the other, and from its death’s-head mouth came a horrifying war cry. More draugrs shot from the earth in rapid succession and within moments had formed a shield wall as if preparing to defend their buried ship against a score of warriors. Grelf, huddling in terror behind the seemingly unruffled Thidrek, saw that their round wooden shields were rotted, some only half intact, and their weapons and armor were corroded and decayed with rust.
    The largest of the draugr warriors, wearing a tarnished bronze helmet topped with the figure of an eagle’s head, stepped forward and thrust his sword in the air, quieting the chorus of war cries. Grelf suspected this was the undeads’ chieftain, since it was apparent that his helmet and armor had once been of superior workmanship.
    â€œWho dares attack my ship?” the chieftain bellowed.
    Thidrek regarded the fearsome creature with his usual haughty air. “I am Lord Thidrek the Terrifying. You will address me as such.”
    â€œWell, Lord Thidrek,” the chieftain said mockingly, “if you are here to fight, bring your men and they shall die.”
    Thidrek reached behind him and pulled the quivering Grelf into view. “He’s not much of a man, but here he is.”
    â€œ That’s what you bring to fight me?” the chieftain roared.
    â€œI’m not here to fight,” Thidrek said, “but to make an offer.”
    â€œYou will offer me blood,” the chieftain growled. He grabbed a spear from a draugr warrior and let it fly at Thidrek’s chest. It passed straight through him without leaving a mark, as if Thidrek’s flesh were but misty illusion. The chieftain and his warriors gaped in