Contents

1.GoodMorning!You’reGoingtoDie

2.TheManwiththeMetalBra

3.Don’tAcceptRidesfromStrangeRelatives

4.Seriously,theDudeCannotDrive

5.I’veAlwaysWantedtoDestroyaBridge

6.MakeWayforDucklings,orTheyWillSmackYouUpsidetheHead

7.YouLookGreatWithoutaNose,Really

8.MindtheGap,andAlsotheHairyGuywiththeAxe

9.YouTotallyWanttheMinibarKey

10.MyRoomDoesNotSuck

11.PleasedtoMeetYou.IWillNowCrushYourWindpipe

12.AtLeastI’mNotonGoat-ChasingDuty

13.PhilthePotatoMeetsHisDoom

14.FourMillionChannelsandThere’sStillNothingOnExceptValkyrieVision

15.MyBlooperVideoGoesViral

16.Norns.WhyDidItHavetoBeNorns?

17.IDidNotAskforBiceps

18.IDoMightyCombatwithEggs

19.DoNotCallMeBeantown.Like,Ever

20.CometotheDarkSide.WeHavePop-Tarts

21.GunillaGetsBlowtorchedandIt’sNotFunny.Okay,It’saLittleBitFunny

22.MyFriendsFallOutofaTree

23.IRecycleMyself

24.YouHadOneJob

25.MyFuneralDirectorDressesMeFunny

26.Hey,IKnowYou’reDead,ButCallMeMaybe

27.Let’sPlayFrisbeewithBladedWeapons!

28.TalktotheFace,’CauseThat’sPrettyMuchAllHe’sGot

29.WeAreFalafel-JackedbyanEagle

30.AnAppleaDayWillGetYouKilled

31.GoSmellyorGoHome

32.MyYearsofPlayingBassmasters2000ReallyPayOff

33.Sam’sBrotherWakesUpKindaCranky

34.MySwordAlmostEndsUponeBay

35.ThouShaltNotPoopontheHeadofArt

36.Duck!

37.IAmTrash-TalkedbyaSquirrel

38.IBreakDowninaVolkswagen

39.FreyaIsPretty!SheHasCats!

40.MyFriendEvolvedfroma–Nope.ICan’tSayIt

41.BlitzMakesaBadDeal

42.WeHaveaPre-DecapitationParty,withSpringRolls

43.LettheCraftingofDecorativeMetalWaterfowlBegin

44.JuniorWinsaBagofTears

45.IGettoKnowJack

46.AboardtheGoodShipToenail

47.IPsychoanalyseaGoat

48.HearthstonePassesOutEvenMorethanJasonGrace(ThoughIHaveNoIdeaWhoThatIs)

49.Well,There’sYourProblem.You’veGotaSwordUpYourNose

50.NoSpoilers.ThorIsWayBehindonHisShows

51.WeHavetheTalk-About-Turning-Into-HorsefliesChat

52.IGottheHorseRightHere.HisNameIsStanley

53.HowtoKillGiantsPolitely

54.WhyYouShouldNotUseaSteakKnifeasaDivingBoard

55.I’mCarriedintoBattlebytheFirstDwarvenAirborneDivision

56.NeverAskaDwarfto‘GoLong’

57.SamHitstheEJECTButton

58.WhattheHel?

59.TheTerrorThatIsMiddleSchool

60.ALovelyHomicidalSunsetCruise

61.HeatherIsMyNewLeastFavouriteFlower

62.TheSmallBadWolf

63.IHateSigningMyOwnDeathWarrant

64.WhoseIdeaWasIttoMakeThisWolfUnkillable?

65.IHateThisPart

66.Sacrifices

67.OneMore,foraFriend

68.Don’tBeaNo-Bro,Bro

69.Oh…SoThat’sWhoFenrisSmelledinChapterSixty-Three

70.WeAreSubjectedtothePowerPointofDoom

71.WeBurnaSwanBoat,WhichI’mPrettySureIsIllegal

72.ILoseaBet

Epilogue

Glossary

OtherbooksbyRickRiordan

ThePercyJacksonseries:PERCYJACKSONANDTHELIGHTNINGTHIEF

PERCYJACKSONANDTHESEAOFMONSTERS

PERCYJACKSONANDTHETITAN’SCURSE

PERCYJACKSONANDTHEBATTLEOFTHELABYRINTH

PERCYJACKSONANDTHELASTOLYMPIAN

THEDEMIGODFILES

PERCYJACKSONANDTHEGREEKGODS

PERCYJACKSONANDTHEGREEKHEROES

FormoreaboutPercyJackson,try:PERCYJACKSON:THEULTIMATEGUIDE

TheHeroesofOlympusseries:THELOSTHERO

THESONOFNEPTUNE

THEMARKOFATHENA

THEHOUSEOFHADES

THEBLOODOFOLYMPUS

THEDEMIGODDIARIES

TheKaneChroniclesseries:THEREDPYRAMID

THETHRONEOFFIRE

THESERPENT’SSHADOW

FormoreabouttheKaneChronicles,try:THEKANECHRONICLES:SURVIVALGUIDE

PercyJackson/KaneChroniclesAdventures(ebooks):THESONOFSOBEK

THESTAFFOFSERAPIS

THECROWNOFPTOLEMY

www.rickriordan.co.uk

ToCassandraClareThanksforlettingmesharetheexcellentnameMagnus

ONE

GoodMorning!You’reGoingtoDie

Yeah,Iknow.YouguysaregoingtoreadabouthowIdiedinagony,andyou’regoingbelike,‘Wow!Thatsoundscool,Magnus!CanIdieinagony,too?’No.Justno.Don’tgojumpingoffanyrooftops.Don’trunintothehighwayorsetyourselfonfire.Itdoesn’t

workthatway.YouwillnotendupwhereIendedup.Besides,youwouldn’twanttodealwithmysituation.Unlessyou’vegotsomecrazydesiretosee

undeadwarriorshackingoneanothertopieces,swordsflyingupgiants’nosesanddarkelvesinsnappyoutfits,youshouldn’teventhinkaboutfindingthewolf-headeddoors.MynameisMagnusChase.I’msixteenyearsold.Thisisthestoryofhowmylifewentdownhill

afterIgotmyselfkilled.

Mydaystartedoutnormalenough.IwassleepingonthesidewalkunderabridgeinthePublicGardenwhenaguykickedmeawakeandsaid,‘They’reafteryou.’Bytheway,I’vebeenhomelessforthepasttwoyears.Someofyoumaythink,Aw,howsad.Othersmaythink,Ha,ha,loser!But,ifyousawmeonthe

street,ninety-ninepercentofyouwouldwalkrightpastlikeI’minvisible.You’dpray,Don’tlethimaskmeformoney.You’dwonderifI’molderthanIlook,becausesurelyateenagerwouldn’tbewrappedinastinkyoldsleepingbag,stuckoutsideinthemiddleofaBostonwinter.Somebodyshouldhelpthatpoorboy!Thenyou’dkeepwalking.Whatever.Idon’tneedyoursympathy.I’musedtobeinglaughedat.I’mdefinitelyusedtobeing

ignored.Let’smoveon.ThebumwhowokemewasaguycalledBlitz.Asusual,helookedlikehe’dbeenrunningthrough

adirtyhurricane.Hiswiryblackhairwasfullofpaperscrapsandtwigs.Hisfacewasthecolourofsaddleleatherandwasfleckedwithice.Hisbeardcurledinalldirections.Snowcakedthebottomofhistrenchcoatwhereitdraggedaroundhisfeet–Blitzbeingaboutfivefeetfive–andhiseyesweresodilatedtheiriseswereallpupil.Hispermanentlyalarmedexpressionmadehimlooklikehemightstartscreaminganysecond.Iblinkedthegunkoutofmyeyes.Mymouthtastedlikeday-oldhamburger.Mysleepingbagwas

warm,andIreallydidn’twanttogetoutofit.‘Who’safterme?’‘Notsure.’Blitzrubbedhisnose,whichhadbeenbrokensomanytimesitzigzaggedlikea

lightningbolt.‘They’rehandingoutflyerswithyournameandpicture.’

Icursed.RandompoliceandparkrangersIcoulddealwith.Truantofficers,community-servicevolunteers,drunkencollegekids,addictslookingtorollsomebodysmallandweak–allthosewould’vebeenaseasytowakeuptoaspancakesandorangejuice.Butwhensomebodyknewmynameandmyface–thatwasbad.Thatmeanttheyweretargetingme

specifically.Maybethefolksattheshelterweremadatmeforbreakingtheirstereo.(ThoseChristmascarolshadbeendrivingmecrazy.)MaybeasecuritycamerahadcaughtthatlastbitofpickpocketingIdidintheTheaterDistrict.(Hey,Ineededmoneyforpizza.)Ormaybe,unlikelyasitseemed,thepolicewerestilllookingforme,wantingtoaskquestionsaboutmymom’smurder…Ipackedmystuff,whichtookaboutthreeseconds.Thesleepingbagrolleduptightandfittedinmy

backpackwithmytoothbrushandachangeofsocksandunderwear.Exceptfortheclothesonmyback,that’sallIowned.Withthebackpackovermyshoulderandthehoodofmyjacketpulledlow,Icouldblendinwithpedestriantrafficprettywell.Bostonwasfullofcollegekids.Someofthemwereevenmorescragglyandyounger-lookingthanme.IturnedtoBlitz.‘Where’dyouseethesepeoplewiththeflyers?’‘BeaconStreet.They’recomingthisway.Middle-agedwhiteguyandateenagegirl,probablyhis

daughter.’Ifrowned.‘Thatmakesnosense.Who–’‘Idon’tknow,kid,butIgottago.’Blitzsquintedatthesunrise,whichwasturningtheskyscraper

windowsorange.ForreasonsI’dneverquiteunderstood,Blitzhatedthedaylight.Maybehewastheworld’sshortest,stoutesthomelessvampire.‘YoushouldgoseeHearth.He’shangingoutinCopleySquare.’Itriednottofeelirritated.ThelocalstreetpeoplejokinglycalledHearthandBlitzmymomand

dadbecauseoneortheotheralwaysseemedtobehoveringaroundme.‘Iappreciateit,’Isaid.‘I’llbefine.’Blitzchewedhisthumbnail.‘Idunno,kid.Nottoday.Yougottabeextracareful.’‘Why?’Heglancedovermyshoulder.‘They’recoming.’Ididn’tseeanybody.WhenIturnedback,Blitzwasgone.Ihateditwhenhedidthat.Just–Poof.Theguywaslikeaninja.Ahomelessvampireninja.NowIhadachoice:gotoCopleySquareandhangoutwithHearth,orheadtowardsBeaconStreet

andtrytospotthepeoplewhowerelookingforme.Blitz’sdescriptionofthemmademecurious.Amiddle-agedwhiteguyandateenagegirlsearching

formeatsunriseonabitter-coldmorning.Why?Whowerethey?Icreptalongtheedgeofthepond.Almostnobodytookthelowertrailunderthebridge.Icouldhug

thesideofthehillandspotanyoneapproachingonthehigherpathwithoutthemseeingme.Snowcoatedtheground.Theskywaseye-achinglyblue.Thebaretreebrancheslookedlikethey’d

beendippedinglass.Thewindcutthroughmylayersofclothes,butIdidn’tmindthecold.MymomusedtojokethatIwashalfpolarbear.Dammit,Magnus,Ichidedmyself.Aftertwoyears,mymemoriesofherwerestillaminefield.I’dstumbleoverone,andinstantlymy

composurewouldbeblowntobits.

Itriedtofocus.Themanandthegirlwerecomingthisway.Theman’ssandyhairgrewoverhiscollar–notlike

anintentionalstyle,butlikehecouldn’tbebotheredtocutit.Hisbaffledexpressionremindedmeofasubstituteteacher ’s:IknowIwashitbyaspitwad,butIhavenoideawhereitcamefrom.HissmartshoesweretotallywrongforaBostonwinter.Hissocksweredifferentshadesofbrown.Histielookedlikeithadbeentiedwhilehespunaroundintotaldarkness.Thegirlwasdefinitelyhisdaughter.Herhairwasjustasthickandwavy,thoughlighterblonde.She

wasdressedmoresensiblyinsnowboots,jeansandaparka,withanorangeT-shirtpeekingoutattheneckline.Herexpressionwasmoredetermined,angry.Shegrippedasheafofflyersliketheywereessaysshe’dbeengradedonunfairly.Ifshewaslookingforme,Ididnotwanttobefound.Shewasscary.Ididn’trecognizeherorherdad,butsomethingtuggedatthebackofmyskull…likeamagnet

tryingtopulloutaveryoldmemory.Fatheranddaughterstoppedwherethepathforked.Theylookedaroundasifjustnowrealizing

theywerestandinginthemiddleofadesertedparkatno-thank-youo’clockinthedeadofwinter.‘Unbelievable,’saidthegirl.‘Iwanttostranglehim.’Assumingshemeantme,Ihunkereddownalittlemore.Herdadsighed.‘Weshouldprobablyavoidkillinghim.Heisyouruncle.’‘Buttwoyears?’thegirldemanded.‘Dad,howcouldhenottellusfortwoyears?’‘Ican’texplainRandolph’sactions.Inevercould,Annabeth.’IinhaledsosharplythatIwasafraidtheywouldhearme.Ascabwasrippedoffmybrain,exposing

rawmemoriesfromwhenIwassixyearsold.Annabeth.Whichmeantthesandy-hairedmanwas…UncleFrederick?IflashedbacktothelastfamilyThanksgivingwe’dshared:Annabethandmehidinginthelibrary

atUncleRandolph’stownhouse,playingwithdominoeswhiletheadultsyelledateachotherdownstairs.You’reluckyyoulivewithyourmomma.Annabethstackedanotherdominoonherminiature

building.Itwasamazinglygood,withcolumnsinfrontlikeatemple.I’mgoingtorunaway.Ihadnodoubtshemeantit.Iwasinaweofherconfidence.ThenUncleFrederickappearedinthedoorway.Hisfistswereclenched.Hisgrimexpressionwasat

oddswiththesmilingreindeeronhissweater.Annabeth,we’releaving.Annabethlookedatme.Hergreyeyeswerealittletoofierceforafirst-grader ’s.Besafe,Magnus.Withaflickofherfinger,sheknockedoverherdominotemple.ThatwasthelasttimeI’dseenher.Afterwards,mymomhadbeenadamant:We’restayingawayfromyouruncles.Especially

Randolph.Iwon’tgivehimwhathewants.Ever.Shewouldn’texplainwhatRandolphwanted,orwhatsheandFrederickandRandolphhadargued

about.Youhavetotrustme,Magnus.Beingaroundthem…it’stoodangerous.Itrustedmymom.Evenafterherdeath,Ihadn’thadanycontactwithmyrelatives.Now,suddenly,theywerelookingforme.

Randolphlivedintown,but,asfarasIknew,FrederickandAnnabethstilllivedinVirginia.Yetheretheywere,passingoutflyerswithmynameandphotoonthem.Wherehadtheyevengotaphotoofme?MyheadbuzzedsobadlythatImissedsomeoftheirconversation.‘–tofindMagnus,’UncleFrederickwassaying.Hecheckedhissmartphone.‘Randolphisatthe

cityshelterintheSouthEnd.Hesaysnoluck.Weshouldtrytheyouthshelteracrossthepark.’‘HowdoweevenknowMagnusisalive?’Annabethaskedmiserably.‘Missingfortwoyears?He

couldbefrozeninaditchsomewhere!’Partofmewastemptedtojumpoutofmyhidingplaceandshout,TA-DA!EventhoughithadbeentenyearssinceI’dseenAnnabeth,Ididn’tlikeseeingherdistressed.But

aftersolongonthestreetsI’dlearnedthehardway:youneverwalkintoasituationuntilyouunderstandwhat’sgoingon.‘RandolphissureMagnusisalive,’saidUncleFrederick.‘He’ssomewhereinBoston.Ifhislifeis

trulyindanger…’TheysetofftowardsCharlesStreet,theirvoicescarriedawaybythewind.Iwasshiveringnow,butitwasn’tfromthecold.IwantedtorunafterFrederick,tacklehimand

demandtohearwhatwasgoingon.HowdidRandolphknowIwasstillintown?Whyweretheylookingforme?Howwasmylifeindangernowmorethanonanyotherday?ButIdidn’tfollowthem.Irememberedthelastthingmymomevertoldme.I’dbeenreluctanttousethefireescape,

reluctanttoleaveher,butshe’dgrippedmyarmsandmademelookather.Magnus,run.Hide.Don’ttrustanyone.I’llfindyou.Whateveryoudo,don’tgotoRandolphforhelp.Then,beforeI’dmadeitoutofthewindow,thedoorofourapartmenthadburstintosplinters.Two

pairsofglowingblueeyeshademergedfromthedarkness…IshookoffthememoryandwatchedUncleFrederickandAnnabethwalkaway,veeringeast

towardstheCommon.UncleRandolph…Forsomereason,he’dcontactedFrederickandAnnabeth.He’dgotthemto

Boston.Allthistime,FrederickandAnnabethhadn’tknownthatmymomwasdeadandIwasmissing.Itseemedimpossible,but,ifitweretrue,whywouldRandolphtellthemaboutitnow?Withoutconfrontinghimdirectly,Icouldthinkofonlyonewaytogetanswers.Histownhousewas

inBackBay,aneasywalkfromhere.AccordingtoFrederick,Randolphwasn’thome.HewassomewhereintheSouthEnd,lookingforme.Sincenothingstartedadaybetterthanalittlebreakingandentering,Idecidedtopayhisplacea

visit.

TWO

TheManwiththeMetalBra

Thefamilymansionsucked.Oh,sure,youwouldn’tthinkso.You’dseethemassivesix-storeybrownstonewithgargoyleson

thecornersoftheroof,stained-glasstransomwindows,marblefrontstepsandalltheotherblah,blah,blah,rich-people-live-heredetails,andyou’dwonderwhyI’msleepingonthestreets.Twowords:UncleRandolph.Itwashishouse.Astheoldestson,he’dinheriteditfrommygrandparents,whodiedbeforeIwas

born.Ineverknewmuchaboutthefamilysoapopera,buttherewasalotofbadbloodbetweenthethreekids:Randolph,Frederickandmymom.AftertheGreatThanksgivingSchism,wenevervisitedtheancestralhomesteadagain.Ourapartmentwas,like,halfamileaway,butRandolphmightaswellhavelivedonMars.Mymomonlymentionedhimifwehappenedtobedrivingpastthebrownstone.Thenshewould

pointitoutthewayyoumightpointoutadangerouscliff.See?Thereitis.Avoidit.AfterIstartedlivingonthestreets,Iwouldsometimeswalkbyatnight.I’dpeerinthewindowsand

seeglowingdisplaycasesofantiqueswordsandaxes,creepyhelmetswithfacemasksstaringatmefromthewalls,statuessilhouettedintheupstairswindowslikepetrifiedghosts.SeveraltimesIconsideredbreakingintopokearound,butI’dneverbeentemptedtoknockonthe

door.Please,UncleRandolph,Iknowyouhatedmymotherandhaven’tseenmeintenyears;Iknowyoucaremoreaboutyourrustyoldcollectiblesthanyoudoaboutyourfamily,butmayIliveinyourfinehouseandeatyourleftovercrustsofbread?Nothanks.I’dratherbeonthestreet,eatingday-oldfalafelfromthefoodcourt.Still…Ifigureditwouldbesimpleenoughtobreakin,lookaroundandseeifIcouldfindanswers

aboutwhatwasgoingon.WhileIwasthere,maybeIcouldgrabsomestufftopawn.Sorryifthatoffendsyoursenseofrightandwrong.Oh,wait.No,I’mnot.Idon’tstealfromjustanybody.Ichooseobnoxiousjerkswhohavetoomuchalready.Ifyou’re

drivinganewBMWandyouparkitinadisabledspotwithoutapermit,then,yeah,I’vegotnoproblemjimmyingyourwindowandtakingsomechangefromyourcupholder.Ifyou’recomingoutofBarneyswithyourbagofsilkhandkerchiefs,sobusytalkingonyourphoneandpushingpeopleoutofyourwaythatyou’renotpayingattention,Iamthereforyou,readytopickpocketyourwallet.Ifyoucanaffordfivethousanddollarstoblowyournose,youcanaffordtobuymedinner.Iamjudge,juryandthief.And,asfarasobnoxiousjerkswent,IfiguredIcouldn’tdobetterthan

UncleRandolph.

ThehousefrontedCommonwealthAvenue.IheadedaroundbacktothepoeticallynamedPublicAlley429.Randolph’sparkingspotwasempty.Stairsleddowntothebasemententrance.Iftherewasasecuritysystem,Icouldn’tspotit.Thedoorwasasimplelatchlockwithoutevenadeadbolt.Comeon,Randolph.Atleastmakeitachallenge.TwominuteslaterIwasinside.Inthekitchen,Ihelpedmyselftosomeslicedturkey,crackersandmilkfromthecarton.Nofalafel.

Dammit.NowIwasreallyinthemoodforsome,butIfoundachocolatebarandstuffeditinmycoatpocketforlater.(Chocolatemustbesavoured,notrushed.)ThenIheadedupstairsintoamausoleumofmahoganyfurniture,orientalrugs,oilpaintings,marble-tiledfloorsandcrystalchandeliers…Itwasjustembarrassing.Wholiveslikethis?Atagesix,Icouldn’tappreciatehowexpensiveallthisstuffwas,butmygeneralimpressionofthe

mansionwasthesame:dark,oppressive,creepy.Itwashardtoimaginemymomgrowinguphere.Itwaseasytounderstandwhyshe’dbecomeafanofthegreatoutdoors.OurapartmentovertheKoreanBBQjointinAllstonhadbeencosyenough,butMomneverliked

beinginside.ShealwayssaidherrealhomewastheBlueHills.Weusedtogohikingandcampingthereinallkindsofweather–freshair,nowallsorceilings,nocompanybuttheducks,geeseandsquirrels.Thisbrownstone,bycomparison,feltlikeaprison.AsIstoodaloneinthefoyer,myskincrawled

withinvisiblebeetles.Iclimbedtothenextfloor.Thelibrarysmelledoflemonpolishandleather,justlikeIremembered.

AlongonewallwasalitglasscasefullofRandolph’srustyVikinghelmetsandcorrodedaxeblades.MymomoncetoldmethatRandolphtaughthistoryatHarvardbeforesomebigdisgracegothimfired.Shewouldn’tgointodetails,butclearlytheguywasstillanartefactnut.You’resmarterthaneitherofyouruncles,Magnus,mymomoncetoldme.Withyourgrades,you

couldeasilygetintoHarvard.Thathadbeenbackwhenshewasstillalive,Iwasstillinschool,andImighthavehadafuturethat

extendedpastfindingmynextmeal.InonecornerofRandolph’sofficesatabigslabofrocklikeatombstone,thefrontchiselledand

paintedwithelaborateredswirlydesigns.Inthecentrewasacrudedrawingofasnarlingbeast–maybealionorawolf.Ishuddered.Let’snotthinkaboutwolves.IapproachedRandolph’sdesk.I’dbeenhopingforacomputer,oranotepadwithhelpful

information–anythingtoexplainwhytheywerelookingforme.Instead,spreadacrossthedeskwerepiecesofparchmentasthinandyellowasonionskin.Theylookedlikemapsaschoolkidinmedievaltimeshadmadeforsocialstudies:faintsketchesofacoastline,variouspointslabelledinanalphabetIdidn’tknow.Sittingontopofthem,likeapaperweight,wasaleatherpouch.Mybreathcaught.Irecognizedthatpouch.Iuntiedthedrawstringandgrabbedoneofthedominoes

…exceptitwasn’tadomino.Mysix-year-oldselfhadassumedthat’swhatAnnabethandIhadbeenplayingwith.Overtheyears,thememoryhadreinforceditself.But,insteadofdots,thesestoneswerepaintedwithredsymbols.TheoneinmyhandwasshapedlikeatreebranchoradeformedF:

Myheartpounded.Iwasn’tsurewhy.Iwonderedifcomingherehadbeensuchagoodidea.Thewallsfeltliketheywereclosingin.Onthebigrockinthecorner,thedrawingofthebeastseemedtosneeratme,itsredoutlineglisteninglikefreshblood.Imovedtothewindow.Ithoughtitmighthelptolookoutside.Alongthecentreoftheavenue

stretchedtheCommonwealthMall–aribbonofparklandcoveredinsnow.ThebaretreeswerestrungwithwhiteChristmaslights.Attheendoftheblock,insideanironfence,thebronzestatueofLeifEriksonstoodonhispedestal,hishandcuppedoverhiseyes.LeifgazedtowardstheCharlesgateoverpassasiftosay,Look,Idiscoveredahighway!MymomandIusedtojokeaboutLeif.Hisarmourwasontheskimpyside:ashortskirtanda

breastplatethatlookedlikeaVikingbra.IhadnocluewhythatstatuewasinthemiddleofBoston,butIfigureditcouldn’tbeacoincidence

thatUncleRandolphgrewuptostudyVikings.He’dlivedherehiswholelife.He’dprobablylookedatLeifeverydayoutofthewindow.MaybeasachildRandolphhadthought,Someday,IwanttostudyVikings.Menwhowearmetalbrasarecool!Myeyesdriftedtothebaseofthestatue.Somebodywasstandingthere…lookingupatme.Youknowhowwhenyouseesomebodyoutofcontextandittakesyouasecondtorecognizethem?

InLeifErikson’sshadowstoodatall,palemaninablackleatherjacket,blackmotorcyclepantsandpointy-toedboots.Hisshort,spikyhairwassoblonditwasalmostwhite.Hisonlydashofcolourwasastripedred-and-whitescarfwrappedaroundhisneckandspillingoffhisshoulderslikeameltedcandycane.IfIdidn’tknowhim,Imight’veguessedhewascosplayingsomeanimecharacter.ButIdidknow

him.ItwasHearth,myfellowhomelessdudeandsurrogate‘mom’.Iwasalittlecreepedout,alittleoffended.Hadheseenmeonthestreetandfollowedme?Ididn’t

needsomefairygod-stalkerlookingafterme.Ispreadmyhands:Whatareyoudoinghere?Hearthmadeagesturelikehewaspluckingsomethingfromhiscuppedhandandthrowingitaway.

Aftertwoyearsofhangingaroundhim,Iwasgettingprettygoodatreadingsignlanguage.HewassayingGETOUT.Hedidn’tlookalarmed,butitwashardtotellwithHearth.Henevershowedmuchemotion.

Wheneverwehungout,hemostlyjuststaredatmewiththosepalegreyeyeslikehewaswaitingformetoexplode.Ilostvaluablesecondstryingtofigureoutwhathemeant,whyhewasherewhenhewassupposed

tobeinCopleySquare.Hegesturedagain:bothhandspointingforwardwithtwofingers,dippingupanddowntwice.

Hurry.‘Why?’Isaidaloud.Behindme,adeepvoicesaid,‘Hello,Magnus.’

Inearlyjumpedoutofmyshoes.Standinginthelibrarydoorwaywasabarrel-chestedmanwithatrimwhitebeardandaskullcapofgreyhair.Heworeabeigecashmereovercoatoveradarkwoolsuit.Hisglovedhandsgrippedthehandleofapolishedwoodencanewithanirontip.LasttimeI’dseenhimhishairhadbeenblack,butIknewthatvoice.‘Randolph.’Heinclinedhisheadamillimetre.‘Whatapleasantsurprise.I’mgladyou’rehere.’Hesounded

neithersurprisednorglad.‘Wedon’thavemuchtime.’Thefoodandmilkstartedtochurninmystomach.‘M-muchtime…beforewhat?’Hisbrowfurrowed.Hisnosewrinkledasifhedetectedamildlyunpleasantodour.‘You’resixteen

today,aren’tyou?They’llbecomingtokillyou.’

THREE

Don’tAcceptRidesfromStrangeRelatives

Well,happybirthdaytome!Wasit13January?Honestly,Ihadnoidea.Timeflieswhenyou’resleepingunderbridgesand

eatingfromdumpsters.SoIwasofficiallysixteen.Formypresent,IgotcorneredbyUncleFreaky,whoannouncedthatI

wasmarkedforassassination.‘Who–’Istartedtoask.‘Youknowwhat?Nevermind.Niceseeingyou,Randolph.I’llbegoing

now.’Randolphremainedinthedoorway,blockingmyexit.Hepointedtheirontipofhiscaneatme.I

swearIcouldfeelitpushingagainstmysternumfromacrosstheroom.‘Magnus,weneedtotalk.Idon’twantthemtogettoyou.Notafterwhathappenedtoyourmother

…’Apunchinthefacewould’vebeenlesspainful.Memoriesfromthatnightspunthroughmyheadlikeasickeningkaleidoscope:ourapartment

buildingshuddering,ascreamfromthefloorbelow,mymother–who’dbeentenseandparanoidallday–draggingmetowardsthefireescape,tellingmetorun.Thedoorsplinteredandburst.Fromthehallway,twobeastsemerged,theirpeltsthecolourofdirtysnow,theireyesglowingblue.Myfingersslippedoffthefire-escaperailingandIfell,landinginapileofgarbagebagsinthealley.Momentslater,thewindowsofourapartmentexploded,belchingfire.Mymomhadtoldmetorun.Idid.She’dpromisedtofindme.Sheneverdid.Later,onthenews,I

heardthatherbodyhadbeenrecoveredfromthefire.Thepoliceweresearchingforme.Theyhadquestions:signsofarson;myrecordofdisciplinaryproblemsatschool;neighbours’reportsofshoutingandaloudcrashfromourapartmentjustbeforetheexplosion;thefactthatI’drunfromthescene.Noneofthereportsmentionedwolveswithglowingeyes.EversincethatnightI’dbeenhiding,livingundertheradar,toobusysurvivingtogrieveproperly

formymom,wonderingifI’dhallucinatedthosebeasts…butIknewIhadn’t.Now,afterallthistime,UncleRandolphwantedtohelpme.Igrippedthelittledominostonesotightlyitcutintomypalm.‘Youdon’tknowwhathappenedto

mymom.Younevercaredabouteitherofus.’Randolphloweredhiscane.Heleanedonitheavilyandstaredatthecarpet.Icouldalmostbelieve

I’dhurthisfeelings.‘Ipleadedwithyourmother,’hesaid.‘Iwantedhertobringyouhere–tolivewhereIcouldprotect

you.Sherefused.Aftershedied…’Heshookhishead.‘Magnus,youhavenoideahowlongI’velookedforyou,orhowmuchdangeryou’rein.’

‘I’mfine,’Isnapped,thoughmyheartwasthumpingagainstmyribs.‘I’vebeentakingcareofmyselfprettywell.’‘Perhaps,butthosedaysareover.’ThecertaintyinRandolph’svoicegavemeachill.‘You’re

sixteennow,theageofmanhood.Youescapedthemonce,thenightyourmotherdied.Theywon’tletyouescapeagain.Thisisourlastchance.Letmehelpyou,oryouwon’tlivethroughtheday.’Thelowwinterlightshiftedacrossthestained-glasstransom,washingRandolph’sfaceinchanging

colours,chameleon-style.Ishouldn’thavecomehere.Stupid,stupid,stupid.Overandover,mymomhadgivenmeoneclear

message:Don’tgotoRandolph.YethereIwas.ThelongerIlistenedtohim,themoreterrifiedIgot,andthemoredesperatelyIwantedtohear

whathehadtosay.‘Idon’tneedyourhelp.’Isetthestrangelittledominoonthedesk.‘Idon’twant–’‘Iknowaboutthewolves.’Thatstoppedme.‘Iknowwhatyousaw,’hecontinued.‘Iknowwhosentthecreatures.Regardlessofwhatthepolice

think,Iknowhowyourmotherreallydied.’‘How–’‘Magnus,there’ssomuchIneedtotellyouaboutyourparents,aboutyourinheritance…About

yourfather.’Anice-coldwirethreadeditswaydownmyspine.‘Youknewmyfather?’Ididn’twanttogiveRandolphanyleverage.Livingonthestreethadtaughtmehowdangerous

leveragecouldbe.Buthehadmehooked.Ineededtohearthisinformation.Judgingfromtheappraisinggleaminhiseyes,heknewit.‘Yes,Magnus.Yourfather ’sidentity,yourmother ’smurder,thereasonsherefusedmyhelp…it’s

allconnected.’HegesturedtowardshisdisplayofVikinggoodies.‘Mywholelife,I’vebeenworkingtowardsonegoal.I’vebeentryingtosolveahistoricalmystery.Untilrecently,Ididn’tseethewholepicture.NowIdo.It’sallbeenleadingtothisday,yoursixteenthbirthday.’Ibackeduptothewindow,asfarasIcouldgetfromUncleRandolph.‘Look,Idon’tunderstand

ninetypercentofwhatyou’resaying,butifyoucantellmeaboutmydad–’Thebuildingrattledlikeavolleyofcannonshadgoneoffinthedistance–arumblesolowIfeltit

inmyteeth.‘They’llbeheresoon,’Randolphwarned.‘We’rerunningoutoftime.’‘Whoarethey?’Randolphlimpedforward,relyingonhiscane.Hisrightkneedidn’tseemtowork.‘I’maskinga

lot,Magnus.Youhavenoreasontotrustme.Butyouneedtocomewithmerightnow.Iknowwhereyourbirthrightis.’Hepointedtotheoldmapsonthedesk.‘Together,wecanretrievewhatisyours.It’stheonlythingthatmightprotectyou.’Iglancedovermyshoulder,outofthewindow.DownintheCommonwealthMall,Hearthhad

disappeared.Ishouldhavedonethesame.LookingatUncleRandolph,Itriedtoseeanyresemblancetomymother,anythingthatmightinspiremetotrusthim.Ifoundnothing.Hisimposingbulk,hisintensedarkeyes,hishumourlessfaceandstiffmanner…hewastheexactoppositeofmymom.

‘Mycarisoutback,’hesaid.‘M-maybeweshouldwaitforAnnabethandUncleFrederick.’Randolphgrimaced.‘Theydon’tbelieveme.Theyneverbelievedme.Outofdesperation,asalast

resort,IbroughtthemtoBostontohelpmelookforyou,butnowthatyou’rehere–’Thebuildingshookagain.Thistimetheboomfeltcloserandstronger.Iwantedtobelieveitwas

fromconstructionnearby,oramilitaryceremony,oranythingeasilyexplainable.Butmyguttoldmeotherwise.Thenoisesoundedlikethefallofagargantuanfoot–likethenoisethathadshakenourapartmenttwoyearsago.‘Please,Magnus.’Randolph’svoicequavered.‘Ilostmyownfamilytothosemonsters.Ilostmy

wife,mydaughters.’‘You–youhadafamily?Mymomneversaidanything–’‘No,shewouldn’thave.Butyourmother…Nataliewasmyonlysister.Ilovedher.Ihatedtolose

her.Ican’tloseyou,too.Comewithme.Yourfatherleftsomethingforyoutofind–somethingthatwillchangetheworlds.’Toomanyquestionscrowdedmybrain.Ididn’tlikethecrazylightinRandolph’seyes.Ididn’tlike

thewayhesaidworlds,plural.AndIdidn’tbelievehe’dbeentryingtofindmesincemymomdied.Ihadmyantennaupconstantly.IfRandolphhadbeenaskingaboutmebyname,oneofmystreetfriendswould’vetippedmeoff,likeBlitzhaddonethismorningwithAnnabethandFrederick.Somethinghadchanged–somethingthatmadeRandolphdecideIwasworthlookingfor.‘WhatifIjustrun?’Iasked.‘Willyoutrytostopme?’‘Ifyourun,they’llfindyou.They’llkillyou.’Mythroatfeltlikeitwasfullofcottonballs.Ididn’ttrustRandolph.Unfortunately,Ibelievedhe

wasinearnestaboutpeopletryingtokillme.Hisvoicehadtheringoftruth.‘Well,then,’Isaid,‘let’sgoforaride.’

FOUR

Seriously,theDudeCannotDrive

You’veheardaboutbadBostondrivers?That’smyUncleRandolph.ThedudegunnedhisBMW528i(ofcourseithadtobeaBMW)andshotdownCommonwealth

Avenue,ignoringthelights,honkingatothercars,weavingrandomlyfromlanetolane.‘Youmissedapedestrian,’Isaid.‘Youwanttogobackandhither?’Randolphwastoodistractedtoanswer.Hekeptglancingattheskyasiflookingforstormclouds.

HegunnedtheBMWthroughtheintersectionatExeter.‘So,’Isaid,‘wherearewegoing?’‘Thebridge.’Thatexplainedeverything.Therewere,like,twentybridgesintheBostonarea.Iranmyhandalongtheheatedleatherseat.IthadbeenmaybesixmonthssinceI’driddeninacar.

Thelasttimeithadbeenasocialworker ’sToyota.Beforethat,apolicecruiser.BothtimesI’dusedafakename.BothtimesI’descaped,butoverthepasttwoyearsI’dcometoequatecarswithholdingcells.Iwasn’tsuremyluckhadchangedanytoday.IwaitedforRandolphtoansweranyofthenagginglittlequestionsIhad,like,oh:Who’smydad?

Whomurderedmymom?Howdidyouloseyourwifeandkids?Areyoupresentlyhallucinating?Didyoureallyhavetowearthatclove-scentedcologne?Buthewastoobusycausingtraffichavoc.Finally,justtomakesmalltalk,Iasked,‘Sowho’stryingtokillme?’HeturnedrightonArlington.WeskirtedthePublicGarden,pasttheequestrianstatueofGeorge

Washington,therowsofgaslightlamppostsandsnow-coveredhedges.Iwastemptedtobailoutofthecar,runbacktotheswanpondandhideinmysleepingbag.‘Magnus,’saidRandolph,‘I’vemademylife’sworkstudyingtheNorseexplorationofNorth

America.’‘Wow,thanks,’Isaid.‘Thatreallyansweredmyquestion.’SuddenlyRandolphdidremindmeofmymom.Hegavemethesameexasperatedscowl,thesame

lookoverthetopofhisglasses,like,Please,kid,cutthesarcasm.Thesimilaritymademychestache.‘Fine,’Isaid.‘I’llhumouryou.Norseexploration.YoumeantheVikings.’Randolphwinced.‘Well…Vikingmeansraider.It’smoreofajobdescription.NotallNorse

peoplewereVikings.But,yes,thoseguys.’‘ThestatueofLeifErikson…DoesthatmeantheVikings–er,theNorse–discoveredBoston?I

thoughtthePilgrimsdidthat.’‘Icouldgiveyouathree-hourlectureonthattopicalone.’‘Pleasedon’t.’

‘Sufficeittosay,theNorseexploredNorthAmericaandevenbuiltsettlementsaroundtheyear1000,almostfivehundredyearsbeforeChristopherColumbus.Scholarsagreeonthat.’‘That’sarelief.Ihateitwhenscholarsdisagree.’‘ButnooneissurehowfarsouththeNorsesailed.DidtheymakeittowhatisnowtheUnited

States?ThatstatueofLeifErikson…thatwasthepetprojectofawishfulthinkerinthe1800s,amannamedEbenHorsford.HewasconvincedthatBostonwasthelostNorsesettlementofNorumbega,theirfurthestpointofexploration.Hehadaninstinct,agutfeeling,butnorealproof.Mosthistorianswrotehimoffasacrackpot.’Helookedatmemeaningfully.‘Letmeguess…youdon’tthinkhe’sacrackpot.’Iresistedtheurgetosay,Takesonetobelieve

one.‘Thosemapsonmydesk,’Randolphsaid.‘Theyaretheproof.Mycolleaguescallthemforgeries,

butthey’renot.Istakedmyreputationonit!’Andthat’swhyyougotfiredfromHarvard,Ithought.‘TheNorseexplorersdidmakeitthisfar,’hecontinued.‘Theyweresearchingforsomething…

andtheyfoundithere.Oneoftheirshipssanknearby.ForyearsIthoughttheshipwreckwasinMassachusettsBay.Isacrificedeverythingtofindit.Iboughtmyownboat,tookmywife,mychildrenonexpeditions.Thelasttime…’Hisvoicebroke.‘Thestormcameoutofnowhere,thefires…’Hedidn’tseemanxioustosharemore,butIgotthegeneralidea:he’dlosthisfamilyatsea.He

reallyhadstakedeverythingonhiscrazytheoryaboutVikingsinBoston.Ifeltbadfortheguy,sure.Ialsodidn’twanttobehisnextcasualty.WestoppedatthecornerofBoylstonandCharles.‘MaybeI’lljustgetouthere.’Itriedthehandle.Thedoorwaslockedfromthedriver ’sside.‘Magnus,listen.It’snoaccidentyouwereborninBoston.Yourfatherwantedyoutofindwhathe

losttwothousandyearsago.’Myfeetgotjumpy.‘Didyoujustsay…twothousandyears?’‘Giveortake.’Iconsideredscreamingandpoundingonthewindow.Wouldanybodyhelpme?IfIcouldgetoutof

thecar,maybeIcouldfindUncleFrederickandAnnabeth,assumingtheywereanylessinsanethanRandolph.WeturnedontoCharlesStreet,headingnorthbetweenthePublicGardenandtheCommon.

Randolphcould’vebeentakingmeanywhere–Cambridge,theNorthEnd,orsomeout-of-the-waybodydump.Itriedtokeepcalm.‘Twothousandyears…that’salongerlifespanthanyouraveragedad.’Randolph’sfaceremindedmeoftheManintheMoonfromoldblack-and-whitecartoons:paleand

rotund,pittedandscarred,withasecretivesmilethatwasn’tveryfriendly.‘Magnus,whatdoyouknowaboutNorsemythology?’Thisjustgetsbetterandbetter,Ithought.‘Uh,notmuch.MymomhadapicturebooksheusedtoreadmewhenIwaslittle.Andweren’t

thereacoupleofmoviesaboutThor?’

Randolphshookhisheadindisgust.‘Thosemovies…ridiculouslyinaccurate.TherealgodsofAsgard–Thor,Loki,Odinandtherest–aremuchmorepowerful,muchmoreterrifyingthananythingHollywoodcouldconcoct.’‘But…they’remyths.They’renotreal.’Randolphgavemeasortofpityinglook.‘Mythsaresimplystoriesabouttruthswe’veforgotten.’‘So,look,IjustrememberedIhaveanappointmentdownthestreet–’‘Amillenniumago,Norseexplorerscametothisland.’RandolphdroveuspasttheCheersbaron

BeaconStreet,wherebundled-uptouristsweretakingphotosofthemselvesinfrontofthesign.Ispottedacrumpledflyerskitteringacrossthesidewalk:ithadthewordMISSINGandanoldpictureofme.Oneofthetouristssteppedonit.‘Thecaptainoftheseexplorers,’Randolphcontinued,‘wasasonofthegodSkirnir.’‘Asonofagod.Really,anywherearoundhereisgood.Icanwalk.’‘Thismancarriedaveryspecialitem,’Randolphsaid,‘somethingthatoncebelongedtoyour

father.WhentheNorseshipwentdowninastorm,thatitemwaslost.Butyou–youhavetheabilitytofindit.’Itriedthedooragain.Stilllocked.Thereallybadpart?ThemoreRandolphtalked,thelessIcouldconvincemyselfthathewasnuts.

Hisstoryseepedintomymind–storms,wolves,gods,Asgard.ThewordsclickedintoplacelikepiecesofapuzzleI’dneverhadthecouragetofinish.Iwasstartingtobelievehim,andthatscaredthebakedbeansoutofme.RandolphwhippedaroundtheaccessroadforStorrowDrive.HeparkedatameteronCambridge

Street.Tothenorth,pasttheelevatedtracksoftheMassGeneralTstation,rosethestonetowersoftheLongfellowBridge.‘That’swherewe’regoing?’Iasked.Randolphfishedforquartersinhiscupholder.‘Alltheseyears,itwassomuchcloserthanI

realized.Ijustneededyou!’‘I’mdefinitelyfeelingthelove.’‘Youaresixteentoday.’Randolph’seyesdancedwithexcitement.‘It’stheperfectdayforyouto

reclaimyourbirthright.Butit’salsowhatyourenemieshavebeenwaitingfor.Wehavetofinditfirst.’‘But–’‘Trustmealittlewhilelonger,Magnus.Oncewehavetheweapon–’‘Weapon?Nowmybirthrightisaweapon?’‘Onceyouhaveitinyourpossession,you’llbemuchsafer.Icanexplaineverythingtoyou.Ican

helpyoutrainforwhat’stocome.’Heopenedhiscardoor.Beforehecouldgetout,Igrabbedhiswrist.Iusuallyavoidtouchingpeople.Physicalcontactcreepsmeout.ButIneededhisfullattention.‘Givemeoneanswer,’Isaid.‘Oneclearanswer,withouttheramblingandthehistorylectures.You

saidyouknewmydad.Whoishe?’Randolphplacedhishandovermine,whichmademesquirm.Hispalmwastooroughand

callousedforahistoryprofessor ’s.‘Onmylife,Magnus,Iswearthisisthetruth:yourfatherisa

Norsegod.Now,hurry.We’reinatwenty-minuteparkingspot.’

F IVE

I’veAlwaysWantedtoDestroyaBridge

‘Youcan’tdropabombshelllikethatandwalkaway!’IyelledasRandolphwalkedaway.Despitehiscaneandhisstiffleg,theguycouldreallymove.HewaslikeanOlympicgold

medallistinhobbling.Heforgedahead,climbingthesidewalkoftheLongfellowBridgeasIjoggedafterhim,thewindscreaminginmyears.ThemorningcommuterswerecominginfromCambridge.Asinglelineofcarswasbackedupthe

lengthofthespan,barelymoving.You’dthinkmyuncleandIwouldbetheonlyonesdumbenoughtowalkacrossthebridgeinsub-zeroweather,but,thisbeingBoston,halfadozenrunnerswerechuggingalong,lookinglikeemaciatedsealsintheirLycrabodysuits.Amomwithtwokidsbundledinastrollerwaswalkingontheoppositesidewalk.HerkidslookedaboutashappyasIfelt.Myunclewasstillfifteenfeetaheadofme.‘Randolph!’Icalled.‘I’mtalkingtoyou!’‘Thedriftoftheriver,’hemuttered.‘Thelandfillonthebanks…allowingforathousandyearsof

shiftingtidalpatterns–’‘Yo!’Icaughtthesleeveofhiscashmerecoat.‘RewindtothepartaboutaNorsegodbeingmy

pappy.’Randolphscannedoursurroundings.We’dstoppedatoneofthebridge’smaintowers–aconeof

graniterisingfiftyfeetaboveus.Peoplesaidthetowerslookedlikegiantsaltandpeppershakers,butI’dalwaysthoughttheylookedlikeDaleksfromDoctorWho.(SoI’manerd.Sueme.And,yes,evenhomelesskidswatchTVsometimes–inshelterrecrooms,onpublic-librarycomputers…Wehaveourways.)Ahundredfeetbelowus,theCharlesRiverglistenedsteelgrey,itssurfacemottledwithpatchesof

snowandiceliketheskinofamassivepython.Randolphleanedsofarovertherailingitmademejittery.‘Theirony,’hemuttered.‘Here,ofallplaces…’‘So,anyway,’Isaid,‘aboutmyfather…’Randolphgrippedmyshoulder.‘Lookdownthere,Magnus.Whatdoyousee?’CautiouslyIglancedovertheside.‘Water.’‘No,thecarvedornamentation,justbelowus.’Ilookedagain.Abouthalfwaydownthesideofthepier,ashelfofgranitejuttedoverthewaterlike

atheatreseatingboxwithapointytip.‘Itlookslikeanose.’‘No,it’s…Well,fromthisangle,itdoessortoflooklikeanose.Butit’stheprowofaViking

longship.See?Theotherpierhasone,too.ThepoetLongfellow–forwhomthebridgewasnamed–

hewasfascinatedbytheNorse.Wrotepoemsabouttheirgods.LikeEbenHorsford,LongfellowbelievedtheVikingshadexploredBoston.Hencethedesignsonthebridge.’‘Youshouldgivetours,’Isaid.‘AlltherabidLongfellowfanswouldpaybigbucks.’‘Don’tyousee?’Randolphstillhadhishandonmyshoulder,whichwasn’tmakingmeanyless

anxious.‘Somanypeopleoverthecenturieshaveknown.They’vefeltitinstinctively,eveniftheyhadnoproof.Thisareawasn’tjustvisitedbytheVikings.Itwassacredtothem!Rightbelowus–somewherenearthesedecorativelongships–isthewreckofanactuallongship,holdingacargoofincalculablevalue.’‘Istillseewater.AndIstillwanttohearaboutDad.’‘Magnus,theNorseexplorerscameheresearchingfortheaxisoftheworlds,theverytrunkofthe

tree.Theyfoundit–’Alowboomechoedacrosstheriver.Thebridgeshook.Aboutamileaway,amidthethicketof

chimneysandsteeplesofBackBay,acolumnofoilyblacksmokemushroomedskyward.Isteadiedmyselfagainsttherailing.‘Um,wasn’tthatclosetoyourhouse?’Randolph’sexpressionhardened.Hisstubblybeardglistenedsilverinthesunlight.‘We’reoutoftime.Magnus,extendyourhandoverthewater.Theswordisdownthere.Callit.

Focusonitasifit’sthemostimportantthingintheworld–thethingyouwantthemost.’‘Asword?I–look,Randolph,Icantellyou’rehavingahardday,but–’‘DOIT.’Thesternnessinhisvoicemademeflinch.Randolphhadtobeinsane,talkingaboutgodsand

swordsandancientshipwrecks.YetthecolumnofsmokeoverBackBaywasveryreal.Sirenswailedinthedistance.Onthebridge,driversstucktheirheadsoutoftheirwindowstogawk,holdingupsmartphonesandtakingpictures.And,asmuchasIwantedtodenyit,Randolph’swordsresonatedwithme.Forthefirsttime,Ifelt

likemybodywashummingattherightfrequency,likeI’dfinallybeentunedtomatchthecrappysoundtrackofmylife.Istretchedmyhandoutovertheriver.Nothinghappened.Ofcoursenothinghappened,Ichidedmyself.Whatwereyouexpecting?Thebridgeshookmoreviolently.Furtherdownthesidewalk,ajoggerstumbled.Frombehindme

camethecrunchofonecarrear-endinganother.Hornsblared.AbovetherooftopsofBackBay,asecondcolumnofsmokebillowed.Ashandorangecinders

sprayedupwardasiftheexplosionwerevolcanic,spewingfromtheground.‘That–thatwasalotcloser,’Inoted.‘It’slikesomethingiszeroinginonus.’IreallyhopedRandolphwouldsay,Nah,ofcoursenot.Don’tbesilly!Heseemedtogetolderbeforemyeyes.Hiswrinklesdarkened.Hisshouldersslumped.Heleaned

heavilyonhiscane.‘Please,notagain,’hemutteredtohimself.‘Notlikelasttime.’‘Lasttime?’ThenIrememberedwhathe’dsaidaboutlosinghiswifeanddaughters–astormout

ofnowhere,fires.Randolphlockedeyeswithme.‘Tryagain,Magnus.Please.’

Ithrustmyhandtowardstheriver.IimaginedIwasreachingformymom,tryingtopullherfromthepast–tryingtosaveherfromthewolvesandtheburningapartment.IreachedforanswersthatmightexplainwhyI’dlosther,whymywholelifesincethenhadbeennothingbutadownhillspiralofsuck.Directlybelowme,thesurfaceofthewaterbegantosteam.Icemelted.Snowevaporated,leavinga

holetheshapeofahand–myhand,twentytimeslarger.Ididn’tknowwhatIwasdoing.I’dhadthesamefeelingwhenmymomfirsttaughtmetoridea

bike.Don’tthinkaboutwhatyou’redoing,Magnus.Don’thesitate,oryou’llfall.Justkeepgoing.Isweptmyhandbackandforth.Ahundredfeetbelow,thesteaminghandmirroredmymovements,

clearingthesurfaceoftheCharles.SuddenlyIstopped.ApinpointofwarmthhitthecentreofmypalmasifI’dinterceptedabeamofsunlight.Somethingwasdownthere…aheatsourceburieddeepinthefrigidmudoftheriverbottom.I

closedmyfingersandpulled.Adomeofwaterswelledandrupturedlikeadry-icebubble.Anobjectresemblingaleadpipeshot

upwardandlandedinmyhand.Itlookednothinglikeasword.Ihelditbyoneend,buttherewasnohilt.Ifithadeverhadapoint

orasharpedge,itdidn’tnow.Thethingwasabouttherightsizeforablade,butitwassopittedandcorroded,soencrustedwithbarnaclesandglisteningwithmudandslime,Icouldn’tevenbesureitwasmetal.Inshort,itwasthesaddest,flimsiest,mostdisgustingpieceofscrapI’devermagicallypulledfromariver.‘Atlast!’Randolphliftedhiseyestotheheavens.Igotthefeelingthat,ifnotforhisbumknee,he

might’vekneltonthegroundandofferedaprayertothenon-existentNorsegods.‘Yeah.’Iheftedmynewprize.‘Ifeelsaferalready.’‘Youcanrenewit!’Randolphsaid.‘Justtry!’Iturnedtheblade.Iwassurprisedthatithadn’talreadydisintegratedinmyhand.‘Idunno,Randolph.Thisthinglookswaypastrenewing.I’mnotevensureitcanberecycled.’IfIsoundunimpressedorungrateful,don’tgetmewrong.ThewayI’dpulledtheswordoutofthe

riverwassocoolitfreakedmeout.I’dalwayswantedasuperpower.Ijusthadn’texpectedminetoentailretrievinggarbagefromriverbottoms.Thecommunity-servicevolunteersweregoingtoloveme.‘Concentrate,Magnus!’Randolphsaid.‘Quickly,before–’Fiftyfeetaway,thecentreofthebridgeeruptedinflames.Theshockwavepushedmeagainstthe

rail.Therightsideofmyfacefeltsunburned.Pedestriansscreamed.Carsswervedandcrashedintooneanother.Forsomestupidreason,Irantowardstheexplosion.ItwaslikeIcouldn’thelpmyself.Randolph

shuffledafterme,callingmyname,buthisvoiceseemedfaraway,unimportant.Firedancedacrosstheroofsofcars.Windowsshatteredfromtheheat,sprayingthestreetwith

glassgravel.Driversscrambledoutoftheirvehiclesandfled.Itlookedlikeameteorhadhitthebridge.Aten-foot-diametercircleofasphaltwascharredand

steaming.Inthecentreoftheimpactzonestoodahuman-sizefigure:adarkmaninadarksuit.

WhenIsaydark,Imeanhisskinwasthepurest,mostbeautifulshadeofblackI’deverseen.Squidinkatmidnightwouldnothavebeensoblack.Hisclotheswerethesame:awell-tailoredjacketandslacks,acrispshirtandtie–allcutfromthefabricofaneutronstar.Hisfacewasinhumanlyhandsome,chiselledobsidian.Hislonghairwascombedbackinanimmaculateoilslick.Hispupilsglowedliketinyringsoflava.Ithought,IfSatanwerereal,hewouldlooklikethisguy.ThenIthought,No,Satanwouldbeaschlubnexttothisguy.ThisguyislikeSatan’sfashion

consultant.Thoseredeyeslockedontome.‘MagnusChase.’Hisvoicewasdeepandresonant,hisaccentvaguelyGermanorScandinavian.

‘Youhavebroughtmeagift.’AnabandonedToyotaCorollastoodbetweenus.Satan’sfashionconsultantwalkedstraightthrough

it,meltingapathdownthemiddleofthechassislikeablowtorchthroughwax.ThesizzlinghalvesoftheCorollacollapsedbehindhim,thewheelsmeltedtopuddles.‘Iwillmakeyouagiftaswell.’Thedarkmanextendedhishand.Smokecurledoffhissleeveand

ebonyfingers.‘GivemetheswordandIwillspareyourlife.’

S IX

MakeWayforDucklings,orTheyWillSmackYouUpsidetheHead

I’dseensomeweirdstuffinmylife.IoncewatchedacrowdofpeoplewearingnothingbutSpeedosandSantahatsjogdownBoylston

inthemiddleofwinter.Imetaguywhocouldplaytheharmonicawithhisnose,adrumsetwithhisfeet,aguitarwithhishandsandaxylophonewithhisbuttallatthesametime.Iknewawomanwho’dadoptedagrocerycartandnameditClarence.ThentherewasthedudewhoclaimedtobefromAlphaCentauriandhadphilosophicalconversationswithCanadageese.Soawell-dressedSatanicmalemodelwhocouldmeltcars…whynot?Mybrainjustkindof

expandedtoaccommodatetheweirdness.Thedarkmanwaited,hishandoutstretched.Theairaroundhimrippledwithheat.Aboutahundredfeetdownthespanofthebridge,aRedLinecommutertraingroundtoahalt.The

conductorgawkedatthechaosinfrontofher.Twojoggerstriedtopullaguyfromahalf-crushedPrius.Theladywiththedoublestrollerwasunfasteningherscreamingkids,thestroller ’swheelshavingmeltedintoovals.Standingnexttoher,insteadofhelping,oneidiothelduphissmartphoneandtriedtofilmthedestruction.HishandwasshakingsobadlyIdoubtedhewasgettingaverygoodpicture.Nowatmyshoulder,Randolphsaid,‘Thesword,Magnus.Useit!’Igottheuncomfortableimpressionmybigburlyunclewashidingbehindme.Thedarkmanchuckled.‘ProfessorChase…Iadmireyourpersistence.Ithoughtourlast

encounterwould’vebrokenyourspirit.Buthereyouare,readytosacrificeanotherfamilymember!’‘Bequiet,Surt!’Randolph’svoicewasshrill.‘Magnushasthesword!Gobacktothefiresfrom

whenceyoucame.’Surtdidn’tseemintimidated,thoughpersonallyIfoundthewordwhenceveryintimidating.FireDudestudiedmelikeIwasasbarnacle-encrustedasthesword.‘Giveithere,boy,orIwill

showyouthepowerofMuspell.Iwillincineratethisbridgeandeveryoneonit.’Surtraisedhisarms.Flamesslitheredbetweenhisfingers.Athisfeet,thepavedgroundbubbled.

Morewindshieldsshattered.Thetraintracksgroaned.TheRedLineconductoryelledfranticallyintoherwalkie-talkie.Thepedestrianwiththesmartphonefainted.Themomcollapsedoverthestroller,herkidsstillcryinginside.Randolphgruntedandstaggeredbackwards.Surt’sheatdidn’tmakemepassout.Itjustmademeangry.Ididn’tknowwhothisfieryjack-hole

was,butIknewabullywhenImetone.Firstruleofthestreets:neverletabullytakeyourstuff.Ipointedmyonce-might-have-been-a-swordatSurt.‘Cooldown,man.Ihaveacorrodedpieceof

metalandI’mnotafraidtouseit.’

Surtsneered.‘Justlikeyourfather,youarenofighter.’Iclenchedmyteeth.Okay,Ithought,timetoruinthisguy’soutfit.But,beforeIcouldtakeaction,somethingwhizzedpastmyearandsmackedSurtintheforehead.Haditbeenarealarrow,Surtwould’vebeenintrouble.Fortunatelyforhim,itwasaplastictoy

projectilewithapinkheartforapoint–aValentine’sDaynovelty,Iguessed.IthitSurtbetweentheeyeswithacheerfulsqueak,felltohisfeetandpromptlymelted.Surtblinked.HelookedasconfusedasIwas.Behindmeafamiliarvoiceshouted,‘Run,kid!’ChargingupthebridgecamemybuddiesBlitzandHearth.Well…Isaycharging.Thatimpliesit

wasimpressive.Itreallywasn’t.Forsomereason,Blitzhaddonnedabroad-brimmedhatandsunglassesalongwithhisblacktrenchcoat,sohelookedlikeagrungy,veryshortItalianpriest.Inhisglovedhandshewieldedafearsomewoodendowelwithabrightyellowtrafficsignthatread:MAKE

WAYFORDUCKLINGS.Hearth’sred-stripedscarftrailedbehindhimlikelimpwings.Henockedanotherarrowinhispink

plasticCupid’sbowandfiredatSurt.Blesstheirdementedlittlehearts.Iunderstoodwherethey’dgottheridiculousweapons:thetoy

storeonCharlesStreet.Ipanhandledinfrontofthatplacesometimes,andtheyhadthatstuffintheirwindowdisplay.Somehow,BlitzandHearthmust’vefollowedmehere.Intheirrush,they’ddoneasmash-and-grabofthenearestdeadlyobjects.Beingcrazedhomelessguys,theyhadn’tchosenverywell.Dumbandpointless?Youbet.Butitwarmedmyheartthattheywantedtolookoutforme.‘We’llcoveryou!’Blitzchargedbyme.‘Run!’Surthadn’tbeenexpectinganattackbylightlyarmedbums.HestoodtherewhileBlitzsmacked

himacrosstheheadwiththeMAKEWAYFORDUCKLINGSsign.Hearth’snextsqueakyarrowmisfiredandhitmeinthebutt.‘Hey!’Icomplained.Beingdeaf,Hearthcouldn’thearme.Heranpastmeandintobattle,thwackingSurtinthechest

withhisplasticbow.UncleRandolphgrabbedmyarm.Hewaswheezingbadly.‘Magnus,wehavetogo.NOW!’MaybeIshouldhaverun,butIstoodtherefrozen,watchingmyonlytwofriendsattackthedark

lordoffirewithcheapplastictoys.FinallySurttiredofthegame.HebackhandedHearthandsenthimflyingacrosstheground.He

kickedBlitzinthechestsohardthelittleguystumbledbackwardsandlandedonhisbuttrightinfrontofme.‘Enough.’Surtextendedhisarm.Fromhisopenpalm,firespiralledandelongateduntilhewas

holdingacurvedswordmadeentirelyofwhiteflame.‘Iamannoyednow.Youwillalldie.’‘Gods’galoshes!’Blitzstammered.‘That’snotjustanyfiregiant.That’stheBlackOne!’AsopposedtotheYellowOne?Iwantedtoask,butthesightoftheflamingswordkindofstifledmy

willtojoke.AroundSurt,flamesbegantoswirl.Thefirestormspiralledoutward,meltingcarstoslagheaps,

liquefyingtheasphalt,poppingrivetsfromthebridgelikechampagnecorks.

I’donlythoughtitwaswarmbefore.NowSurtwasreallyturningupthetemperature.Hearthslumpedagainsttherailingaboutthirtyfeetaway.Theunconsciouspedestriansandtrapped

motoristswouldn’tlastlongeither.Eveniftheflamesdidn’ttouchthem,they’ddiefromasphyxiationorheatstroke.But,forsomereason,theheatstilldidn’tbotherme.Randolphstumbled,hangingoffmyarmwithhisfullweight.‘I–I…hum,umm…’‘Blitz,’Isaid,‘getmyuncleoutofhere.Draghimifyouhaveto.’Blitz’ssunglassesweresteaming.Thebrimofhishatwasbeginningtosmoulder.‘Kid,youcan’t

fightthatguy.That’sSurt,theBlackOnehimself!’‘Yousaidthatalready.’‘ButHearthandme–we’resupposedtoprotectyou!’Iwantedtosnap,Andyou’redoingagreatjobwiththeMAKEWAYFORDUCKLINGSsign!Butwhatcould

Iexpectfromacoupleofhomelessdudes?Theyweren’texactlycommandos.Theywerejustmyfriends.TherewasnowayI’dletthemdiedefendingme.AsforUncleRandolph…Ihardlyknewtheguy.Ididn’tmuchlikehim.Buthewasfamily.He’dsaidhecouldn’tstandtoloseanotherfamilymember.Yeah,well,neithercouldI.ThistimeIwasn’tgoingtorunaway.‘Go,’ItoldBlitz.‘I’llgetHearth.’SomehowBlitzmanagedtoholdupmyuncle.Togethertheystumbledoff.Surtlaughed.‘Theswordwillbemine,boy.Youcannotchangefate.Iwillreduceyourworldto

cinders!’Iturnedtofacehim.‘You’restartingtoaggravateme.Ihavetokillyounow.’Iwalkedintothewallofflames.

SEVEN

YouLookGreatWithoutaNose,Really

Wow,Magnus,you’reprobablythinking.Thatwas…stupid!Thanks.Ihavemymoments.NormallyIdon’tgosteppingintowallsofflame.ButIhadafeelingitwouldn’thurtme.Iknow

thatsoundsweird,butsofarIhadn’tpassedout.Theheatdidn’tfeelsobad,eventhoughtheasphaltwasturningtosludgeatmyfeet.Extremetemperatureshaveneverbotheredme.Idon’tknowwhy.Somepeoplearedouble-jointed.

Somepeoplecanwiggletheirears.Icansleepoutsideinthewinterwithoutfreezingtodeath,andholdmatchesundermyhandwithoutgettingburned.I’dwonsomebetsthatwayinthehomelessshelters,butI’dneverthoughtofmytoleranceassomethingspecial…magical.I’ddefinitelynevertesteditslimits.IwalkedthroughthecurtainoffireandsmackedSurtintheheadwithmyrustysword.Because,

youknow¸Ialwaystrytokeepmypromises.Thebladedidn’tseemtohurthim,buttheswirlingflamesdied.Surtstaredatmeforamillisecond,

completelyshocked.Thenhepunchedmeinthegut.I’dbeenpunchedbefore,justnotbyafieryheavyweightwhoseringnamewastheBlackOne.Ifoldedlikeadeckchair.Myvisionblurredandtripled.WhenIregainedmyfocus,Iwasonmy

knees,staringatapuddleofregurgitatedmilk,turkeyandcrackerssteamingontheasphalt.Surtcouldhavetakenmyheadoffwithhisfierysword,butIguesshedidn’tfeelIwasworthit.He

pacedinfrontofme,makingtsk-tsksounds.‘Feeble,’hesaid.‘Asoftlittleboy.Givemethebladeofyourownfreewill,Vanir-spawn.Ipromise

youaquickdeath.’Vanir-spawn?Iknewalotofgoodinsults,butI’dneverheardthatone.Thecorrodedswordwasstillinmyhand.Ifeltmypulseagainstthemetalasifthesworditselfhad

developedaheartbeat.Resonatinguptheblade,allthewaytomyears,wasafainthumlikeacarengineturningover.Youcanrenewit,Randolphhadtoldme.Icouldalmostbelievetheoldweaponwasstirring,wakingup.Notfastenough,though.Surtkicked

meintheribsandsentmesprawling.Ilayflatonmyback,staringatthesmokeinthewintersky.Surtmusthavekickedmehardenough

totriggeranear-deathhallucination.Ahundredfeetup,Isawagirlinarmouronahorsemadeofmist,circlinglikeavultureoverthebattle.Sheheldaspearmadeofpurelight.Herchainmailshone

likesilveredglass.Sheworeaconicalsteelhelmetoveragreenheadwrap,sortoflikeamedievalknight.Herfacewasbeautifulbutstern.Oureyesmetforafractionofasecond.Ifyou’rereal,Ithought,help.Shedissolvedintosmoke.‘Thesword,’Surtdemanded,hisobsidianfaceloomingoverme.‘It’sworthmoretomefreely

surrendered,but,ifImust,Iwillpriseitfromyourdeadfingers.’Inthedistance,sirenswailed.Iwonderedwhyemergencycrewshadn’tshownupalready.ThenI

rememberedtheothertwogiantexplosionsinBoston.HadSurtcausedthem,too?Orbroughtalongsomefieryfriends?Attheedgeofthebridge,Hearthstaggeredtohisfeet.Afewunconsciouspedestrianshadstartedto

stir.Icouldn’tseeRandolphorBlitzanywhere.Hopefullytheywereoutofdangerbynow.IfIcouldkeepBurningManoccupied,maybetherestofthebystanderswouldhavetimetoclear

out,too.SomehowImanagedtostand.Ilookedattheswordand…yeah,Iwasdefinitelyhallucinating.Insteadofacorrodedpieceofjunk,Iheldanactualweapon.Theleather-wrappedgripfeltwarm

andcomfortableinmyhand.Thepommel,asimplepolished-steeloval,helpedcounterweightthethirty-inchblade,whichwasdouble-edgedandroundedatthetip,moreforhackingthanforstabbing.Downthecentreoftheblade,awidegroovewasemblazonedwithVikingrunes–thesamekindI’dseeninRandolph’soffice.Theyshimmeredalightershadeofsilver,asifthey’dbeeninlaidwhilethebladewasforged.Theswordwasdefinitelyhummingnow,almostlikeahumanvoicetryingtofindtherightpitch.Surtsteppedback.Hislava-redeyesflickerednervously.‘Youdon’tknowwhatyouhavethere,

boy.Youwon’tlivelongenoughtofindout.’Heswunghisscimitar.I’dhadnoexperiencewithswords,unlessyoucountwatchingThePrincessBridetwenty-sixtimes

asakid.Surtwould’vecutmeinhalf–butmyweaponhadotherideas.Everheldaspinningtoponthetipofyourfinger?Youcanfeelitmovingunderitsownpower,

tiltinginalldirections.Theswordwaslikethat.Itswungitself,blockingSurt’sfieryblade.Thenitspuninanarc,draggingmyarmalongwithit,andhackedintoSurt’srightleg.TheBlackOnescreamed.Thewoundinhisthighsmouldered,settinghistrousersonfire.His

bloodsizzledandglowedliketheflowfromavolcano.Hisfierybladedissipated.Beforehecouldrecover,myswordleapedupwardandslashedhisface.Withahowl,Surtstumbled

back,cuppinghishandsoverhisnose.Tomyleft,someonescreamed–themotherwiththetwokids.Hearthwastryingtohelpherextracthertoddlersfromthestroller,whichwasnowsmokingand

abouttocombust.‘Hearth!’Iyelled,beforerememberingthatwasnogood.WithSurtstilldistracted,IlimpedovertoHearthandpointeddownthebridge.‘Go!Getthekids

outofhere!’

Hecouldreadlipsjustfine,buthedidn’tlikemymessage.Heshookhisheadadamantly,hoistingoneofthetoddlersintohisarms.Themomwascradlingtheotherkid.‘Leavenow,’Itoldher.‘Myfriendwillhelpyou.’Themomdidn’thesitate.Hearthgavemeonelastlook:Thisisnotagoodidea.Thenhefollowed

her,thelittlekidbouncingupanddowninhisarmscrying,‘Ah!Ah!Ah!’Otherinnocentpeoplewerestillstuckonthebridge:driverstrappedintheircars,pedestrians

wanderingaroundinadaze,theirclothessteamingandtheirskinlobsterred.Emergencysirenswereclosernow,butIdidn’tseehowthepoliceorparamedicscouldhelpifSurtwasstillstormingaroundbeingallfieryandstuff.‘Boy!’TheBlackOnesoundedlikehewasgarglingwithsyrup.Hetookhishandsfromhisface,andIsawwhy.Myself-guidedswordhadtakenoffhisnose.

Moltenbloodstreameddownhischeeks,splatteringonthegroundinsizzlingdroplets.Histrousershadburnedoff,leavinghiminapairofflame-patternedredboxers.Betweenthatandthenewlysawed-offsnout,helookedlikeadiabolicalversionofPorkyPig.‘Ihavetoleratedyoulongenough,’hegargled.‘Iwasjustthinkingthesamethingaboutyou.’Iraisedthesword.‘Youwantthis?Comeandgetit.’Inretrospect,thatwasaprettystupidthingtosay.Aboveme,Icaughtaglimpseoftheweirdgreyapparition–agirlonahorse,circlinglikea

vulture,watching.Insteadofcharging,Surtbentdownandscoopedasphaltfromtheroadwithhisbarehands.He

mouldeditintoared-hotsphereofsteaminggunkandpitchedittowardsmelikeafastball.AnothergameI’mnotgoodat:baseball.Iswungthesword,hopingtoknockawaytheprojectile.I

missed.Theasphaltcannonballploughedintomygutandembeddeditself–burning,searing,destroying.Icouldn’tbreathe.ThepainwassointenseIfelteverycellinmybodyexplodeinachainreaction.Despitethat,astrangesortofcalmfelloverme:Iwasdying.Iwasn’tcomingbackfromthis.Part

ofmethought,Allright.Makeitcount.Myvisiondimmed.Theswordhummedandtuggedatmyhand,butIcouldbarelyfeelmyarms.Surtstudiedme,asmileonhisruinedface.Hewantsthesword,Itoldmyself.Hecan’thaveit.IfI’mgoingout,he’sgoingwithme.Weakly,Iraisedmyfreehand.Iflippedhimagesturethathewouldn’tneedtoknowsignlanguage

tounderstand.Heroaredandcharged.Justashereachedme,myswordleapedupandranhimthrough.Iusedthelastofmystrengthto

grapplehimashismomentumcarriedusbothovertherailing.‘No!’Hefoughttofreehimself,burstingintoflames,kickingandgouging,butIheldonaswe

plummetedtowardstheCharlesRiver,myswordstillembeddedinhisstomach,myownorgansburningawayfromthemoltentarinmygut.Theskyflashedinandoutofview.Icaughtaglimpseofthesmokyapparition–thegirlonthehorsedivingtowardsmeatafullgallop,herhandoutstretched.FLOOM!Ihitthewater.

ThenIdied.Theend.

EIGHT

MindtheGap,andAlsotheHairyGuywiththeAxe

Backinschool,Ilovedendingstoriesthatway.It’stheperfectconclusion,isn’tit?Billywenttoschool.Hehadagoodday.Thenhedied.Theend.Itdoesn’tleaveyouhanging.Itwrapseverythingupniceandneat.Exceptinmycaseitdidn’t.Maybeyou’rethinking,Oh,Magnus,youdidn’treallydie.Otherwiseyoucouldn’tbenarratingthis

story.Youjustcameclose.Thenyouweremiraculouslyrescued,blah,blah,blah.Nope.Iactuallydied.Onehundredpercent:gutsimpaled,vitalorgansburned,headsmackedintoa

frozenriverfromfortyfeetup,everyboneinmybodybroken,lungsfilledwithicewater.Themedicaltermforthatisdead.Gee,Magnus,whatdiditfeellike?Ithurt.Alot.Thanksforasking.Istartedtodream,whichwasweird–notonlybecauseIwasdead,butbecauseIneverdream.

Peoplehavetriedtoarguewithmeaboutthat.TheysayeverybodydreamsandIjustdon’tremembermine.But,I’mtellingyou,Ialwayssleptlikethedead.UntilIwasdead.ThenIdreamedlikeanormalperson.IwashikingwithmymomintheBlueHills.Iwasmaybetenyearsold.Itwasawarmsummerday,

withacoolbreezethroughthepines.WestoppedatHoughton’sPondtoskipstonesacrossthewater.Imanagedthreeskips.Mymommanagedfour.Shealwayswon.Neitherofuscared.Shewouldlaughandhugmeandthatwasenoughforme.It’shardtodescribeher.ToreallyunderstandNatalieChase,youhadtomeether.Sheusedtojoke

thatherspiritanimalwasTinkerBellfromPeterPan.IfyoucanimagineTinkerBellatagethirty-something,minusthewings,wearingflannel,denimandDocMartens,you’vegotaprettygoodpictureofmymom.Shewasapetiteladywithdelicatefeatures,shortblondepixiehairandleaf-greeneyesthatsparkledwithhumour.Whenevershereadmestories,Iusedtogazeatthesprayoffrecklesacrosshernoseandtrytocountthem.Sheradiatedjoy.That’stheonlywayIcanputit.Shelovedlife.Herenthusiasmwasinfectious.She

wasthekindest,mosteasy-goingpersonIeverknew…untiltheweeksleadinguptoherdeath.Inthedream,thatwasstillyearsinthefuture.Westoodtogetheratthepond.Shetookadeep

breath,inhalingthescentofwarmpineneedles.‘ThisiswhereImetyourfather,’shetoldme.‘Onasummerdayjustlikethis.’Thecommentsurprisedme.Sherarelytalkedaboutmydad.I’dnevermethim,neverevenseen

picturesofhim.Thatmightsoundstrange,butmymomdidn’tmakeabigdealoutoftheirrelationship,soneitherdidI.

Shewasclearthatmydadhadn’tabandonedus.He’djustmovedon.Shewasn’tbitter.Shehadfondmemoriesoftheirbrieftimetogether.Afteritended,she’dfoundoutshewaspregnantwithme,andshewaselated.Eversince,ithadbeenjustthetwoofus.Wedidn’tneedanyoneelse.‘Youmethimatthepond?’Iasked.‘Washegoodatskippingstones?’Shelaughed.‘Oh,yeah.Hedestroyedmeatstoneskipping.Thatfirstday…itwasperfect.Well,

exceptforonething.’Shepulledmecloseandkissedmyforehead.‘Ididn’thaveyouyet,pumpkin.’Okay,yes.Mymomcalledmepumpkin.Goaheadandlaugh.AsIgotolder,itembarrassedme,but

thatwaswhileshewasstillalive.NowI’dgiveanythingtohearhercallmepumpkinagain.‘Whatwasmydadlike?’Iasked.Itfeltstrangetosaymydad.Howcansomebodybeyoursif

you’venevermethim?‘Whathappenedtohim?’Mymomspreadherarmstothesunlight.‘That’swhyIbringyouhere,Magnus.Can’tyoufeelit?

He’sallaroundus.’Ididn’tknowwhatshemeant.Usuallyshedidn’ttalkinmetaphors.Mymomwasaboutasliteral

anddown-to-earthasyoucouldget.Sheruffledmyhair.‘Comeon,I’llraceyoutothebeach.’Mydreamshifted.IfoundmyselfstandinginUncleRandolph’slibrary.Infrontofme,lounging

sidewaysacrossthedesk,wasamanI’dneverseenbefore.Hewaswalkinghisfingersacrossthecollectionofoldmaps.‘Deathwasaninterestingchoice,Magnus.’Themangrinned.Hisclotheslookedfreshfromthestore:blindingwhitesneakers,crispnewjeans

andaRedSoxhomejersey.Hisfeatheryhairwasamixofred,brownandyellow,tousledinafashionableI-just-got-out-of-bed-and-I-look-this-goodsortofway.Hisfacewasshockinglyhandsome.Hecould’vedoneadsforaftershaveinmen’smagazines,buthisscarsruinedtheperfection.Burntissuesplashedacrossthebridgeofhisnoseandhischeekbones,likeimpactlinesonthemoon’ssurface.Hislipsweremarredbyarowofweltsallthewayaroundhismouth–maybepiercingholesthathadclosedover.Butwhywouldanyonehavethatmanymouthpiercings?Iwasn’tsurewhattosaytothescarredhallucination,butsincemymom’swordswerestill

lingeringinmyhead,Iasked,‘Areyoumyfather?’Thehallucinationraisedhiseyebrows.Hethrewbackhisheadandlaughed.‘Oh,Ilikeyou!We’llhavefun.No,MagnusChase,I’mnotyourfather,butI’mdefinitelyonyour

side.’HetracedhisfingerundertheRedSoxlogoonhisjersey.‘You’llmeetmysonsoonenough.Untilthen,alittleadvice:don’ttrustappearances.Don’ttrustyourcomrades’motives.Oh,and–’helungedforwardandgrabbedmywrist–‘telltheAll-FatherIsaidhello.’Itriedtobreakfree.Hisgripwaslikesteel.Thedreamchanged.SuddenlyIwasflyingthrough

coldgreyfog.‘Stopstruggling!’saidafemalevoice.HoldingmywristwasthegirlI’dseencirclingthebridge.Shechargedthroughtheaironher

nebuloushorse,pullingmealongathersidelikeIwasasackoflaundry.Herblazingspearwasstrappedacrossherback.Herchain-mailarmourglintedinthegreylight.Shetightenedhergrip.‘DoyouwanttofallintotheGap?’

Igotafeelingshewasn’ttalkingabouttheclothingstore.Lookingbelowme,Isawnothing–justendlessgrey.IdecidedIdidnotwanttofallintoit.Itriedtospeak.Icouldn’t.Ishookmyheadweakly.‘Thenstopstruggling,’sheordered.Beneathherhelmet,afewwispsofdarkhairhadescapedhergreenheadscarf.Hereyeswerethe

colourofredwoodbark.‘Don’tmakemeregretthis,’shesaid.Myconsciousnessfaded.

Iawokegasping,everymuscleinmybodytinglingwithalarm.Isatupandgrabbedmygut,expectingtofindaburningholewheremyintestinesusedtobe.No

smoulderingasphaltwasembeddedthere.Ifeltnopain.Thestrangeswordwasgone.Myclotheslookedperfectlyfine–notwetorburnedortorn.Infact,myclotheslookedtoofine.ThesamestuffI’dbeenwearingforweeks–myonlypairof

jeans,mylayersofshirts,myjacket–didn’tsmell.They’dseeminglybeenwashed,driedandputbackonmewhileIwasunconscious,whichwasanunsettlingidea.Theyevenhadawarmlemonyscentthatremindedmeofthegoodolddayswhenmymomdidmylaundry.Myshoeswerelikenew,asshinyaswhenIdugthemoutofthedumpsterbehindMarathonSports.Evenweirder:Iwasclean.Myhandsweren’tcakedwithgrime.Myskinfeltfreshlyscrubbed.Iran

myfingersthroughmyhairandfoundnotangles,notwigs,nopiecesoflitter.SlowlyIgottomyfeet.Therewasn’tascratchonme.Ibouncedonmyheels.IfeltlikeIcouldrun

amile.Ibreathedinthesmellofchimneyfiresandanapproachingsnowstorm.Ialmostlaughedwithrelief.SomehowI’dsurvived!Except…thatwasn’tpossible.WherewasI?Graduallymysensesexpanded.Iwasstandingintheentrycourtyardofanopulenttownhouse,the

kindyoumightseeonBeaconHill–eightstoreysofimposingwhitelimestoneandgreymarblejuttingintothewintersky.Thedoublefrontdoorsweredarkheavywoodboundwithiron.Inthecentreofeachwasalife-sizewolf’s-headdoorknocker.Wolves…thatalonewasenoughtomakemehatetheplace.Iturnedtolookforastreetexit.Therewasn’tone,justafifteen-foot-tallwhitelimestonewall

surroundingthecourtyard.Howcouldyounothaveafrontgate?Icouldn’tseemuchoverthewall,butIwasobviouslystillinBoston.Irecognizedsomeofthe

surroundingbuildings.InthedistancerosethetowersofDowntownCrossing.IwasprobablyonBeaconStreet,justacrossfromtheCommon.ButhowhadIgothere?Inonecornerofthecourtyardstoodatallbirchtreewithpurewhitebark.Ithoughtaboutclimbing

ittogetoverthewall,butthelowestbrancheswereoutofreach.ThenIrealizedthetreewasinfullleaf,whichshouldn’thavebeenpossibleinthewinter.Notonlythat:itsleavesglitteredgoldasifsomeonehadpaintedthemwithtwenty-four-caratgilt.Nexttothetree,abronzeplaquewasaffixedtothewall.Ihadn’treallynoticeditearlier,sincehalf

thebuildingsinBostonhadhistoricmarkers,butnowIlookedcloser.Theinscriptionswereintwolanguages.OnewastheNorsealphabetI’dseenearlier.TheotherwasEnglish:

WELCOMETOTHEGROVEOFGLASIR.NOSOLICITING.NOLOITERING.

HOTELDELIVERIES:PLEASEUSETHENIFLHEIMENTRANCE.

Okay…I’dexceededmydailyquotaofbizarre.Ihadtogetoutofhere.Ihadtogetoverthatwall,findoutwhathadhappenedtoBlitzandHearth–andmaybeUncleRandolphifIwasfeelinggenerous–thenpossiblyhitchhiketoGuatemala.Iwasdonewiththistown.Thenthedoubledoorsswunginwardwithagroan.Blindinggoldenlightspilledout.Aburlymanappearedonthestoop.Heworeadoorman’suniform:tophat,whiteglovesandadark

greenjacketwithtailsandtheinterlockinglettersHVembroideredonthelapel,buttherewasnowaythisguywasanactualdoorman.Hiswartyfacewassmearedwithashes.Hisbeardhadn’tbeentrimmedindecades.Hiseyeswerebloodshotandmurderous,andadouble-bladedaxehungathisside.Hisnametagread:HUNDING,SAXONY,VALUEDTEAMMEMBERSINCE749C.E.

‘S-s-sorry,’Istammered.‘Imust…um,wronghouse.’Themanscowled.Heshuffledcloserandsniffedme.Hesmelledliketurpentineandburningmeat.

‘Wronghouse?Idon’tthinkso.You’recheckingin.’‘Uh…what?’‘You’redead,aren’tyou?’themansaid.‘Followme.I’llshowyoutoregistration.’

NINE

YouTotallyWanttheMinibarKey

Woulditsurpriseyoutolearnthattheplacewasbiggerontheinside?Thefoyeralonecould’vebeentheworld’slargesthuntinglodge–aspacetwiceasbigasthe

mansionappearedontheoutside.Anacreofhardwoodfloorwascoveredwithexoticanimalskins:zebra,lionandaforty-foot-longreptilethatIwouldn’twanttohavemetwhenitwasalive.Againsttherightwall,afirecrackledinabedroom-sizehearth.Infrontofit,afewhigh-school-ageguysinfluffygreenbathrobesloungedonoverstuffedleathercouches,laughinganddrinkingfromsilvergoblets.Overthemantelhungthestuffedheadofawolf.Oh,joy,Ithoughtwithashudder.Morewolves.Columnsmadefromrough-hewntreetrunkshelduptheceiling,whichwaslinedwithspearsfor

rafters.Polishedshieldsgleamedonthewalls.Lightseemedtoradiatefromeverywhere–awarmgoldenglowthathurtmyeyeslikeasummerafternoonafteradarktheatre.Inthemiddleofthefoyer,afreestandingdisplayboardannounced:

TODAY’SACTIVITIESSINGLECOMBATTOTHEDEATH!–OSLOROOM,10A.M.

GROUPCOMBATTOTHEDEATH!–STOCKHOLMROOM,11A.M.BUFFETLUNCHTOTHEDEATH!–DININGHALL,12P.M.

FULLARMYCOMBATTOTHEDEATH!–MAINCOURTYARD,1P.M.BIKRAMYOGATOTHEDEATH!–COPENHAGENROOM,

BRINGYOUROWNMAT,4P.M.

ThedoormanHundingsaidsomething,butmyheadwasringingsobadlyImissedit.‘Sorry,’Isaid,‘what?’‘Luggage,’herepeated.‘Doyouhaveany?’‘Um…’Ireachedformyshoulderstrap.Mybackpackhadapparentlynotbeenresurrectedwith

me.‘No.’Hundinggrunted.‘Noonebringsluggageanymore.Don’ttheyputanythingonyourfuneral

pyre?’‘Mywhat?’‘Nevermind.’Hescowledtowardsthefarcorneroftheroom,whereanoverturnedboat’skeel

servedasthereceptiondesk.‘Guessthere’snoputtingitoff.Comeon.’ThemanbehindthekeelapparentlyusedthesamebarberasHunding.Hisbeardwassobigithad

itsownzipcode.Hishairlookedlikeabuzzardthathadexplodedonawindshield.Hewasdressedinaforest-greenpinstripedsuit.Hisnametagread:HELGI,MANAGER,EASTGOTHLAND,VALUEDTEAM

MEMBERSINCE749C.E.

‘Welcome!’Helgiglancedupfromhiscomputerscreen.‘Checkingin?’‘Uh–’

‘Yourealizecheck-intimeisthreep.m.,’hesaid.‘Ifyoudieearlierintheday,Ican’tguaranteeyourroomwillbeready.’‘Icanjustgobacktobeingalive,’Ioffered.‘No,no.’Hetappedonhiskeyboard.‘Ah,hereweare.’Hegrinned,revealingexactlythreeteeth.

‘We’veupgradedyoutoasuite.’Nexttome,Hundingmutteredunderhisbreath,‘Everyoneisupgradedtoasuite.Allwehaveare

suites.’‘Hunding…’warnedthemanager.‘Sorry,sir.’‘Youdon’twantmetousethestick.’Hundingwinced.‘No,sir.’Ilookedbackandforthbetweenthem,checkingtheirnametags.‘Youguysstartedworkingherethesameyear,’Inoted.‘749…whatisC.E.?’‘CommonEra,’saidthemanager.‘WhatyoumightcallA.D.’‘Thenwhydon’tyoujustsayA.D.?’‘BecauseAnnoDomini,intheYearofOurLord,isfineforChristians,butThorgetsalittleupset.

HestillholdsagrudgethatJesusnevershowedupforthatduelhechallengedhimto.’‘Saywhatnow?’‘It’snotimportant,’Helgisaid.‘Howmanykeyswouldyoulike?Isonesufficient?’‘Istilldon’tgetwhereIam.Ifyouguyshavebeenheresince749,that’soverathousandyears.’‘Don’tremindme,’Hundinggrumbled.‘Butthat’simpossible.And…andyousaidI’mdead?Idon’tfeeldead.Ifeelfine.’‘Sir,’Helgisaid,‘allthiswillbeexplainedtonightatdinner.That’swhennewguestsareformally

welcomed.’‘Valhalla.’Thewordsurfacedfromthedepthsofmybrain–ahalf-rememberedstorymymomhad

readmewhenIwaslittle.‘TheHVonyourlapel.TheVstandsforValhalla?’Helgi’seyesmadeitclearIwasstraininghispatience.‘Yes,sir.TheHotelValhalla.

Congratulations.You’vebeenchosentojointhehostsofOdin.Ilookforwardtohearingaboutyourbraveexploitsatdinner.’Mylegsbuckled.Ileanedonthedeskforsupport.I’dbeentryingtoconvincemyselfthiswasalla

mistake–someelaboratethemehotelwhereI’dbeenmistakenforaguest.NowIwasn’tsosure.‘Dead,’Imumbled.‘YoumeanI’mactually…I’mactually–’‘Hereisyourroomkey.’HelgihandedmeastoneengravedwithasingleVikingrune,likethe

stonesinUncleRandolph’slibrary.‘Wouldyouliketheminibarkey?’‘Uh–’‘Hewantstheminibarkey,’Hundingansweredforme.‘Kid,youwanttheminibarkey.It’sgoingto

bealongstay.’Mymouthtastedlikecopper.‘Howlong?’‘Forever,’Helgisaid,‘oratleastuntilRagnarok.Hundingwillnowshowyoutoyourroom.Enjoy

yourafterlife.Next!’

TEN

MyRoomDoesNotSuck

Iwasn’tpayingtheclosestattentionasHundingguidedmethroughthehotel.IfeltasifI’dbeenspunaroundfiftytimesthenreleasedintothemiddleofacircusandtoldtohavefun.Eachhallwewalkedthroughseemedbiggerthantheonebefore.Mostofthehotelguestslooked

liketheywereinhighschool,thoughsomelookedslightlyolder.Guysandgirlssattogetherinsmallgroups,lounginginfrontoffireplaces,chattinginmanydifferentlanguages,eatingsnacksorplayingboardgameslikechessandScrabbleandsomethingthatinvolvedrealdaggersandablowtorch.Peekingintosidelounges,Ispottedpooltables,pinballmachines,anold-fashionedvideoarcadeandsomethingthatlookedlikeanironmaidenfromatorturechamber.Staffmembersindarkgreenshirtsmovedamongtheguests,bringingplattersoffoodandpitchers

ofdrink.AsfarasIcouldtell,alltheserverswerebufffemalewarriorswithshieldsontheirbacksandswordsoraxesontheirbelts,whichisnotsomethingyouseealotintheserviceindustry.Oneheavilyarmedwaitresspassedmewithasteamingplateofspringrolls.Mystomachrumbled.‘HowcanIbehungryifI’mdead?’IaskedHunding.‘Noneofthesepeoplelookdead.’Hundingshrugged.‘Well,there’sdeadandthenthere’sdead.ThinkofValhallamorelike…an

upgrade.You’reoneoftheeinherjarnow.’Hepronouncedthewordlikein-HAIR-yar.‘Einherjar,’Irepeated.‘Justrollsrightoffthetongue.’‘Yeah.Singular:einherji.’Hesaiditlikein-HAIR-yee.‘We’rethechosenofOdin,soldiersinhis

eternalarmy.Thewordeinherjarisusuallytranslatedaslonewarriors,butthatdoesn’treallycapturethemeaning.It’smorelike…theoncewarriors–thewarriorswhofoughtbravelyinthelastlifeandwillfightbravelyagainontheDayofDoom.Duck.’‘TheDayofDoomDuck?’‘No,duck!’Hundingpushedmedownasaspearflewpast.Itimpaledaguysittingonthenearestsofa,killing

himinstantly.Drinks,diceandMonopolymoneyfleweverywhere.Thepeoplehe’dbeenplayingwithrosetotheirfeet,lookingmildlyannoyed,andglaredinthedirectionthespearhadcomefrom.‘Isawthat,JohnRedHand!’Hundingyelled.‘TheloungeisaNoImpalingarea!’Fromthebilliardroom,somebodylaughedandcalledbackin…Swedish?Hedidn’tsoundvery

remorseful.‘Anyway.’Hundingresumedwalkingasifnothinghadhappened.‘Theelevatorsarerightover

here.’‘Wait,’Isaid.‘Thatguywasjustmurderedwithaspear.Aren’tyougoingtodoanything?’‘Oh,thewolveswillcleanup.’

Mypulsewentintodoubletime.‘Wolves?’Sureenough,whiletheotherMonopolyplayersweresortingtheirpieces,apairofgreywolves

boundedintothelounge,grabbedthedeadmanbyhislegsanddraggedhimaway,thespearstillstickingoutofhischest.Thetrailofbloodevaporatedinstantly.Theperforatedsofamendeditself.Icoweredbehindthenearestpottedplant.Idon’tcarehowthatsounds.Myfearsimplytook

control.Thesewolvesdidn’thaveglowingblueeyesliketheanimalsthathadattackedmyapartment,butstillIwishedI’dendedupinanafterlifewherethemascotwasagerbil.‘Aren’tthereanyrulesagainstkilling?’Iaskedinasmallvoice.Hundingraisedabushyeyebrow.‘Thatwasjustabitoffun,boy.Thevictimwillbefinebydinner.’

Hepulledmeoutofmyhidingplace.‘Comeon.’BeforeIcouldaskmoreaboutthe‘bitoffun’,wereachedanelevator.Itscagedoorwasmadeout

ofspears.Overlappinggoldshieldslinedthewalls.Thecontrolpanelhadsomanybuttons,itstretchedfromfloortoceiling.Thehighestnumberwas540.Hundingpressed19.‘Howcanthisplacehavefivehundredandfortyfloors?’Isaid.‘Itwouldbethetallestbuildingin

theworld.’‘Ifitonlyexistedinoneworld,yes.ButitconnectswithalltheNineWorlds.Youjustcamethrough

theMidgardentrance.Mostmortalsdo.’‘Midgard…’IvaguelyrememberedsomethingabouttheVikingsbelievinginninedifferent

worlds.Randolphhadusedthetermworlds,too.ButithadbeenalongtimesincemymomreadmethoseNorsebedtimestories.‘Youmean,like,theworldofhumans.’‘Aye.’Hundingtookabreathandrecited,‘FivehundredandfortyfloorshasValhalla;fivehundred

andfortydoorsleadingoutintotheNineWorlds.’Hegrinned.‘Youneverknowwhenorwherewe’llhavetomarchofftowar.’‘Howoftenhasthathappened?’‘Well,never.Butstill…itcouldhappenatanytime.I,forone,can’twait!Finally,Helgiwillhave

tostoppunishingme.’‘Themanager?What’shepunishingyoufor?’Hunding’sexpressionsoured.‘Longstory.HeandI–’Theelevator ’sspear-cagedoorrolledopen.‘Forgetit.’Hundingclappedmeontheback.‘You’lllikefloornineteen.Goodhallmates!’I’dalwaysthoughtofhotelcorridorsasdark,depressingandclaustrophobic.Floornineteen?Not

somuch.Thevaultedceilingwastwentyfeettall,linedwith–youguessedit–morespearsforrafters.ValhallahadapparentlygotagooddealattheSpearWholesaleWarehouse.Torchesburnedinironsconces,buttheydidn’tseemtomakeanysmoke.Theyjustcastwarmorangelightacrossthewalldisplaysofswords,shieldsandtapestries.Thehallwassowideyoucould’veplayedaregulationsoccergame,noproblem.Theblood-redcarpethadtree-branchdesignsthatmovedasifswayinginthewind.Setaboutfiftyfeetapart,eachguest-roomdoorwasrough-hewnoakboundiniron.Ididn’tseeany

doorknobsorlocks.Inthecentreofeachdoor,aplate-sizeironcirclewasinscribedwithanamesurroundedbyaringofVikingrunes.

Thefirstread:HALFBORNGUNDERSON.BehindthatdoorIheardshoutingandmetalclanginglikeaswordfightwasinprogress.Thenextread:MALLORYKEEN.Behindthatdoor,silence.Then:THOMASJEFFERSONJR.Thepoppingofgunfirecamefrominside,thoughitsoundedmorelike

avideogamethantheactualthing.(Yes,I’veheardboth.)ThefourthdoorwassimplymarkedX.Infront,aroom-servicecartsatinthehallwaywiththe

severedheadofapigonasilverplatter.Thepig’searsandnoselookedslightlynibbled.Now,I’mnotafoodcritic.Beinghomeless,Icouldneveraffordtobe.ButIdrawthelineatpig

heads.We’dalmostreachedtheTattheendofthehallwhenalargeblackbirdshotaroundthecornerand

zippedpastme,almostclippingmyear.Iwatchedthebirddisappeardownthehall–araven,withanotepadandapeninitstalons.‘Whatwasthat?’Iasked.‘Araven,’Hundingsaid,whichIfoundveryhelpful.FinallywestoppedatadoorinscribedMAGNUSCHASE.Seeingmynamewritteniniron,inscribedwithrunes,Istartedtotremble.Mylasthopethatthis

mightbeamistake,birthdayprankorcosmicmix-upfinallyevaporated.Thehotelwasexpectingme.They’dspelledmynamerightandeverything.Fortherecord,Magnusmeansgreat.Mymomnamedmethatbecauseourfamilywasdescended

fromSwedishkingsorsomethingabillionyearsago.Also,shesaidIwasthegreatestthingthathadeverhappenedtoher.Iknow.One,two,three:Awwwwww.Itwasanannoyingnametohave.PeopletendedtospellitMangus,rhymeswithAngus.Ialwayscorrectedthem:No,it’sMagnus,rhymeswithswag-ness.Atwhichpointtheywouldstareatmeblankly.Anyway,therewasmynameonthedoor.OnceIwentthrough,Iwouldbecheckedin.Accordingto

themanager,I’dhaveanewhomeuntildoomsday.‘Goahead.’Hundingpointedattherunestonekeyinmyhand.Thesymbollookedsortoflikean

infinitysignorasidewayshourglass:

‘It’sdagaz,’Hundingsaid.‘Nothingtobeafraidof.Itsymbolizesnewbeginnings,transformations.Italsoopensyourdoor.Onlyyouhaveaccess.’Iswallowed.‘Whatif,forinstance,thestaffwanttogetin?’‘Oh,weusethestaffkey.’Hundingpattedtheaxeonhisbelt.Icouldn’ttellifhewaskidding.Ihelduptherunestone.Ididn’twanttotryit,butIalsodidn’twanttostayinthehallwayuntilIgot

impaledbyarandomspearorinjuredbyaravenhit-and-run.Instinctively,Itouchedthestonetothematchingdagazmarkonthedoor.Theringofrunesglowedgreen.Thedoorswungopen.Isteppedinside,andmyjawhitthefloor.ThesuitewasnicerthananyplaceI’deverlived,nicerthananyplaceI’devervisited,including

UncleRandolph’smansion.

Inatrance,Imovedtothemiddleofthesuite,whereacentralatriumwasopentothesky.Myshoessankintothethickgreengrass.Fourlargeoaktreesringedthegardenlikepillars.Thelowerbranchesspreadintotheroomacrosstheceiling,interweavingwiththerafters.Thetallerbranchesgrewupthroughtheopeningoftheatrium,makingalacycanopy.Sunlightwarmedmyface.Apleasantbreezewaftedthroughtheroom,bringingthesmellofjasmine.‘How?’IstaredatHunding.‘Hundredsoffloorsareaboveus,butthat’sopensky.Andit’sthe

middleofwinter.Howcanitfeelsunnyandwarm?’Hundingshrugged.‘Idon’tknow–magic.Butthisisyourafterlife,boy.You’veearnedsome

perks,eh?’HadI?Ididn’tfeelparticularlyperk-worthy.Iturnedinaslowcircle.Thesuitewasshapedlikeacross,withfoursectionsradiatingfromthe

centralatrium.Eachwingwasaslargeasmyoldapartment.Onewastheentryhallwherewe’dcomein.Thenextwasabedroomwithaking-sizebed.Despiteitssize,theroomwasspareandsimple:beigecoversandfluffy-lookingpillowsonthebed,beigewallswithnoartworkormirrorsorotherdecoration.Heavybrowncurtainscouldbedrawntocloseoffthespace.IrememberedwhenIwasakid,howmymomusedtomakemyroomasno-frillsaspossible.I’d

alwaysfoundithardtosleepindoorsunlessIhadtotaldarknessandnothingtodistractme.Lookingatthisbedroom,IfeltlikesomebodyhadreachedintomymindandpulledoutexactlywhatIneededtobecomfortable.Thewingtotheleftwasadressingarea/bathroomtiledinblackandbeige,myfavouritecolours.

Theperksincludedasauna,ahottub,awalk-inwardrobe,awalk-inshowerandawalk-intoilet.(Justkiddingonthatlastone,butitwasafancythrone,suitableforthehonoureddead.)Thesuite’sfourthwingwasafullkitchenandlivingroom.Atoneendofthelivingroom,abig

leathercouchfacedaplasma-screenTVwithaboutsixdifferentgamesystemsstackedinthemediacabinet.Ontheotherside,tworeclinerssatinfrontofacracklingfireplaceandawallofbooks.Yes,Iliketoread.I’mweirdthatway.Evenafterdroppingoutofschool,Ispentalotoftimeinthe

BostonPublicLibrary,learningrandomstuffjusttopassthetimeinawarm,safeplace.FortwoyearsIhadmissedmyoldbookcollection;IneverseriouslythoughtIwouldhaveoneagain.Iwalkedovertocheckoutthetitlesontheshelves.ThenInoticedthepictureframedinsilveron

thefireplacemantel.Somethinglikeabubbleofheliummadeitswayupmyoesophagus.‘Noway…’Ipickedupthephoto.Itshowedme,atageeight,andmymomatthesummitofMountWashington

inNewHampshire.Thathadbeenoneofthebesttripsofmylife.We’daskedaparkrangertotakethephoto.Intheshot,Iwasgrinning(whichIdon’tdomuchanymore),showingoffmymissingtwofrontteeth.Mymomkneltbehindmewithherarmswrappedaroundmychest,hergreeneyescrinklingatthecorners,herfrecklesdarkfromthesun,herblondehairsweptsidewaysbythewind.‘Thisisimpossible,’Imurmured.‘Therewasonlyonecopyofthispicture.Itburnedinthefire…’

IturnedtoHunding,whowaswipinghiseyes.‘Youokay?’Heclearedhisthroat.‘Fine!OfcourseI’mfine.Thehotellikestoprovideyouwithkeepsakes,

remindersofyouroldlife.Photographs…’Underhisbeard,hismouthmighthavebeenquivering.‘BackwhenIdied,theydidn’thavephotographs.It’sjust…you’relucky.’

Noonehadcalledmeluckyinaverylongtime.Theideashookmeoutofmydaze.I’dbeenwithoutmymomfortwoyears.I’dbeendead,orupgraded,foronlyafewhours.ThisbellhopfromSaxonyhadbeenheresince749C.E.Iwonderedhowhehaddiedandwhatfamilyhe’dleftbehind.Twelvehundredyearslater,hewasstillgettingteary-eyedaboutthem,whichseemedlikeacruelwaytospendanafterlife.Hundingstraightenedandwipedhisnose.‘Enoughofthat!Ifyouhaveanyquestions,callthefront

desk.Ilookforwardtohearingaboutyourbraveexploitstonightatdinner.’‘My…braveexploits?’‘Now,don’tbemodest.Youwouldn’thavebeenchosenunlessyoudidsomethingheroic.’‘But–’‘Beenapleasureservingyou,sir,andwelcometotheHotelValhalla.’Heheldouthispalm.Ittookmeasecondtorealizehewantedatip.‘Oh,um…’Idugintomyjacketpockets,notexpectingtofindanything.Miraculously,the

chocolatebarI’dswipedfromUncleRandolph’shousewasstillthere,undamagedfromitstripthroughtheGreatBeyond.IgaveittoHunding.‘Sorry,that’sallIhave.’Hiseyesturnedthesizeofdrinkcoasters.‘GodsofAsgard!Thankyou,kid!’Hesniffedthe

chocolateandheldituplikeaholychalice.‘Wow!Okay,youneedanything,youletmeknow.YourValkyriewillcomegetyourightbeforedinner.Wow!’‘MyValkyrie?Wait.Idon’thaveaValkyrie.’Hundinglaughed,hiseyesstillfixedonthechocolatebar.‘Yeah,ifIhadyourValkyrie,I’dsaythe

samething.She’scausedhershareoftrouble.’‘Whatdomean?’‘Seeyoutonight,kid!’Hundingheadedforthedoor.‘Igotthingstoeat–Imeando.Trynottokill

yourselfbeforedinner!’

ELEVEN

PleasedtoMeetYou.IWillNowCrushYourWindpipe

Icollapsedonthegrass.Gazingupthroughthetreebranchesatthebluesky,Ihadtroublebreathing.Ihadn’thadanasthma

attackinyears,butIrememberedallthenightsmymomhadheldmewhileIwheezed,feelinglikeaninvisiblebeltwastighteningaroundmychest.Maybeyou’rewonderingwhymymomwouldtakemecampingandclimbingmountainsifIhadasthma,butbeingoutsidealwayshelped.Lyinginthemiddleoftheatrium,Ibreathedinthefreshairandhopedmylungswouldsettledown.Unfortunately,Iwasprettysurethiswasn’tanasthmaattack.Thiswasacompletenervous

breakdown.Whatshookmewasn’tjustthefactthatIwasdead,stuckinabizarreVikingafterlifewherepeopleorderedpigheadsfromtheroom-servicemenuandimpaledeachotherinthelobby.Thewaymylifehadgonesofar,Icouldacceptthat.OfcourseI’dendupinValhallaonmy

sixteenthbirthday.Justmyluck.Whatreallyhitme:forthefirsttimesincemymomdied,Iwasinacomfortableplace,aloneand

safe(asfarasIcouldtellatthemoment).Sheltersdidn’tcount.Soupkitchensandrooftopsandsleepingbagsunderbridgesdidn’tcount.I’dalwayssleptwithoneeyeopen.Icouldneverrelax.Now,Iwasfreetothink.Andthinkingwasn’tagoodthing.I’dneverhadtheluxuryofgrievingproperlyformymom.I’dneverhadtimetositandfeelsorry

formyself.Inaway,thathadbeenashelpfultomeasthesurvivalskillsmymomhadtaughtme–howtonavigate,howtocamp,howtomakeafire.Allthosetripstotheparks,themountains,thelakes.Aslongasheroldbeat-upSubaruwas

working,we’dspendeveryweekendoutoftown,exploringthewilderness.Whatarewerunningfrom?IaskedheroneFriday,afewmonthsbeforeshedied.Iwasannoyed.I

wantedtocrashathomeforonce.Ididn’tunderstandherfranticrushtopackandleave.She’dsmiled,butsheseemedmorepreoccupiedthanusual.Wehavetomakethemostofourtime,

Magnus.Hadmymombeendeliberatelypreparingmetosurviveonmyown?Almostasifshe’dknown

whatwouldhappentoher…butthatwasn’tpossible.Thenagain,havingaNorsegodforadadwasn’tpossibleeither.Mybreathingstillrattled,butIgotupandpacedaroundmynewroom.Inthephotoonthemantel,

eight-year-oldMagnusgrinnedatmewithhistangledhairandhismissingteeth.Thatkidwassoclueless,sounappreciativeofwhathehad.Iscannedthebookshelves:myfavouritefantasyandhorrorauthorsfromwhenIwasyounger–

StephenKing,DarrenShan,NealShusterman,MichaelGrant,JoeHill;myfavouritegraphic-novel

series–ScottPilgrim,Sandman,Watchmen,Saga;plusalotofbooksI’dbeenmeaningtoreadatthelibrary.(Prohomelesstip:publiclibrariesaresafehavens.Theyhavebathrooms.Theyhardlyeverkickoutkidswhoarereadingaslongasyoudon’tsmelltoobadorcauseascene.)Ipulleddowntheillustratedchildren’sbookofNorsemythsmymomreadtomewhenIwaslittle.

Insideweresimplisticpicturesofhappy,smilingVikinggods,rainbows,flowersandprettygirlswithblondehair.AndsentenceslikeThegodsdweltinawonderfulandbeautifulrealm!TherewasnothingabouttheBlackOne,Surt,whoburnedbabycarriagesandthrewmoltenasphalt,nothingaboutwolvesthatmurderedpeople’smothersandmadeapartmentsexplode.Thatmademeangry.Onthecoffeetablewasaleather-boundnotebooktitledGUESTSERVICES.Iflippedthroughit.The

room-servicemenuwentonfortenpages.TheTVchannellistwasalmostaslong,andthehotelmapwassoconvoluted,dividedintosomanysubsections,Icouldn’tmakesenseofit.Therewerenoclearlymarkedemergencydoorslabelled:EXITHERETORETURNTOYOUROLDLIFE!Ithrewtheguest-servicesbookintothefireplace.Asitburned,anewcopyappearedonthecoffeetable.Stupidmagicalhotelwouldn’tevenallow

metoproperlyvandalizethings.Inarage,Iflippedthesofa.Ididn’texpectittogofar,butitcartwheeledacrosstheroomand

smashedintothefarwall.Istaredatthetrailofdislodgedcushions,theupside-downsofa,thecrackedplasterandleatherskid

marksonthewall.HowhadIdonethat?Thesofadidn’tmagicallyrightitself.ItstayedwhereI’dthrownit.Theangerdrainedoutofme.

I’dprobablyjustmadeextraworkforsomepoorstaffmemberlikeHunding.Thatdidn’tseemfair.Ipacedsomemore,thinkingaboutthedarkfieryguyonthebridgeandwhyhe’dwantedthesword.

IhopedSurthaddiedwithme–morepermanentlythanIhad–butIwasn’toptimistic.AslongasBlitzandHearthhadgotawaysafely.(Oh,yeah.Randolph,too,Iguess.)Andthesworditself…wherewasit?Backontheriverbottom?Valhallacouldresurrectmewitha

chocolatebarinmypocket,butnotaswordinmyhand.Thatwasmessedup.Intheoldstories,Valhallawasforheroeswhodiedinbattle.Irememberedthatmuch.Idefinitely

didn’tfeellikeahero.I’dgotmybuttkickedandmygutscannonballed.BystabbingSurtandtopplingoffthebridge,I’dsimplyfailedinthemostproductivewaypossible.Abravedeath?Notsomuch.Ifroze.Anideastruckmewiththeforceofasledgehammer.Mymom…Ifanyonehaddiedbravely,shehad.Toprotectmefrom–Justthensomeoneknockedonmydoor.Itswungopenandagirlsteppedinside…thesamegirlwhohadcircledoverthebattleonthe

bridgethenpulledmethroughthegreyvoid.Shehadditchedherhelmet,chainmailandglowingspear.Hergreenheadscarfwasnowaround

herneck,lettingherlongbrownhairspillfreelyoverhershoulders.HerwhitedresswasembroideredwithVikingrunesaroundthecollarandcuffs.Fromhergoldenbelthungasetofold-fashionedkeysandasingle-bladedaxe.Shelookedlikethemaidofhonouratsomeone’sMortalKombatwedding.

Sheglancedattheoverturnedsofa.‘Didthefurnitureoffendyou?’‘You’rereal,’Inoted.Shepattedherownarms.‘Yes,itappearsIam.’‘Mymother,’Isaid.‘No,’shesaid,‘I’mnotyourmother.’‘Imean,isshehereinValhalla?’Thegirl’smouthformedasilentOh.Shegazedovermyshoulderasifconsideringheranswer.

‘I’msorry.NatalieChaseisnotamongtheChosen.’‘Butshewasthebraveone.Shesacrificedherselfforme.’‘Ibelieveyou.’Thegirlexaminedherkeyring.‘ButIwouldknowifshewerehere.WeValkyries

arenotallowedtochooseeveryonewhodiesbravely.Thereare…manyfactors,manydifferentafterlives.’‘Thenwhereisshe?Iwanttobethere.I’mnohero!’Shesurgedtowardsme,pushingmeagainstthewallaseasilyasI’dflippedthesofa.Shepressed

herforearmagainstmythroat.‘Don’tsaythat,’thegirlhissed.‘DO–NOT–SAY–THAT!Especiallynottonightatdinner.’Herbreathsmelledlikespearmint.Hereyesweresomehowdarkandbrightatthesametime.They

remindedmeofafossilmymomusedtohave–acrosssectionofanautilus-likeseaanimalcalledanammonite.Itseemedtoglowfromwithin,asifithadabsorbedmillionsofyearsofmemorieswhilelyingundertheearth.Thegirl’seyeshadthatsamesortoflustre.‘Youdon’tunderstand,’Icroaked.‘Ihaveto–’Shepushedharderagainstmywindpipe.‘WhatdoyouthinkIdon’tunderstand?Grievingforyour

mother?Beingjudgedunfairly?Beingsomewhereyoudon’twanttobe,forcedtodealwithpeopleyou’drathernotdealwith?’Ididn’tknowhowtorespondtothat,especiallysinceIcouldn’tbreathe.Shesteppedaway.AsIchokedandgagged,shepacedthefoyer,glaringatnothinginparticular.

Heraxeandkeysswungonherbelt.Irubbedmybruisedneck.Stupid,Magnus,Itoldmyself.Newplace:learntherules.Icouldn’tstartwhiningandmakingdemands.Ihadtosetasidethequestionofmymother.Ifshe

wereanywhere,I’dfigurethatoutlater.Rightnow,beinginthishotelwasnodifferentthanwalkingintoanunfamiliaryouthshelter,alleyencampmentorchurch-basementsoupkitchen.Everyplacehadrules.Ihadtolearnthepowerstructure,thepeckingorder,theno-nosthatwouldgetmestabbedorrolled.Ihadtosurvive…evenifIwasalreadydead.‘Sorry,’Isaid.MythroatfeltlikeI’dswallowedaliverodentwithlotsofclaws.‘Butwhydoyou

careifI’maheroornot?’Shesmackedherforehead.‘Wow,okay.MaybebecauseIbroughtyouhere?Maybebecausemy

careerisontheline?Onemoreslip-upand–’Shecaughtherself.‘Nevermind.Whenyou’reintroduced,goalongwithwhatIsay.Keepyourmouthshut,nodyourheadandtrytolookbrave.Don’tmakemeregretbringingyouhere.’‘Allright.But,fortherecord,Ididn’taskforyourhelp.’

‘Odin’sEye!Youweredying!YourotheroptionswereHelheimorGinnungagapor…’Sheshuddered.‘Let’sjustsaythereareworseplacestospendyourafterlifethanValhalla.Isawwhatyoudidonthebridge.Whetheryourecognizeitornot,youactedbravely.Yousacrificedyourselftosavealotofpeople.’Herwordssoundedlikeacompliment.Hertonesoundedlikeshewascallingmeanidiot.Shemarchedoverandpokedmeinthechest.‘Youhavepotential,MagnusChase.Don’tproveme

wrongor–’Fromthewallspeakers,ahornblastsoundedsoloudlyitrattledthepictureonthemantel.‘What’sthat?’Iasked.‘Anairraid?’‘Dinner.’Thegirlstraightened.Shetookadeepbreathandextendedherhand.‘Let’sstartagain.Hi,

I’mSamirahal-Abbas.’Iblinked.‘Don’ttakethisthewrongway,butthatdoesn’tsoundlikeaveryViking-ishname.’Shesmiledtightly.‘YoucancallmeSam.Everyonedoes.I’llbeyourValkyriethisevening.

Pleasedtomeetyouproperly.’Sheshookmyhand,hergripsotightmyfingerbonespopped.‘Iwillnowescortyoutodinner.’

Sheforcedasmile.‘Ifyouembarrassme,I’llbethefirsttokillyou.’

TWELVE

AtLeastI’mNotonGoat-ChasingDuty

Inthehallway,myneighbourswerestartingtoemerge.ThomasJeffersonJrlookedaboutmyage.Hehadshortcurlyhair,alankyframeandarifleslungoveroneshoulder.Hisbluewoolcoathadbrassbuttonsandchevronsonthesleeve–aU.S.ArmyCivilWaruniform,Iguessed.Henoddedandsmiled.‘Howyoudoing?’‘Um,dead,apparently,’Isaid.Helaughed.‘Yeah.You’llgetusedtoit.CallmeT.J.’‘Magnus,’Isaid.‘Comeon.’Sampulledmealong.Wepassedagirlwhomust’vebeenMalloryKeen.Shehadfrizzyredhair,greeneyesanda

serratedknife,whichshewasshakinginthefaceofasix-foot-sevenguyoutsidethedoormarkedX.‘Againwiththepig’shead?’MalloryKeenspokeinafaintIrishbrogue.‘X,doyouthinkIwantto

seeaseveredpig’sheadeverytimeIstepoutofmyfrontdoor?’‘Icouldnoteatanymore,’Xrumbled.‘Thepigheaddoesnotfitinmyrefrigerator.’Personally,Iwouldnothaveantagonizedtheguy.Hewasbuiltlikeabomb-containmentchamber.

Ifyouhappenedtohavealivegrenade,IwasprettysureyoucouldsafelydisposeofitsimplybyaskingXtoswallowit.Hisskinwasthecolourofashark’sbelly,ripplingwithmusclesandstippledwithwarts.Thereweresomanyweltsonhisfaceitwashardtotellwhichonewashisnose.Wewalkedpast,XandMallorytoobusyarguingtopayusanyattention.Whenwewereoutofearshot,IaskedSam,‘What’sthedealwiththebiggreydude?’Samputherfingertoherlips.‘Xisahalf-troll.He’salittlesensitiveaboutthat.’‘Ahalf-troll.That’sanactualthing?’‘Ofcourse,’shesaid.‘Andhedeservestobehereasmuchasyou.’‘Hey,nodoubt.Justasking.’Thedefensivenessinhervoicemademewonderwhatthestorywas.AswepassedthedoorforHALFBORNGUNDERSON,anaxebladesplitthewoodfromtheinside.

Muffledlaughtercamefromtheroom.Samusheredmeintotheelevator.Shepushedawayseveralothereinherjarwhoweretryingtoget

in.‘Nextcar,guys.’Thespear-cagedoorslidshut.Saminsertedoneofherkeysintoanoverrideslotonthepanel.She

pressedaredruneandtheelevatordescended.‘I’lltakeyouintothedininghallbeforethemaindoorsopen.Thatwayyoucangetthelayoftheland.’‘Uh…sure.Thanks.’Nordiceasy-listeningmusicstartedplayingfromtheceiling.

Congratulations,Magnus!Ithought.Welcometowarriorparadise,whereyoucanlistentoFrankSinatrainNorwegianFOREVER!Itriedtothinkofsomethingtosay,preferablysomethingthatwouldnotmakeSamcrushmy

windpipe.‘So…everybodyonfloornineteenlooksaboutmyage,’Inoted.‘Or–ourage.DoesValhalla

onlytaketeenagers?’Samirahshookherhead.‘Theeinherjararegroupedbytheagetheywerewhentheydied.You’re

intheyoungesttier,whichgoesuptoaboutagenineteen.Mostofthetime,youwon’tevenseetheothertwotiers–adultsandseniors.It’sbetterthatway.Theadults…well,theydon’ttaketeensseriously,eveniftheteenshavebeenherehundredsofyearslonger.’‘Typical,’Isaid.‘Asfortheseniorwarriors,theydon’talwaysmixwell.Imagineareallyviolentretirementhome.’‘SoundslikesomesheltersI’vebeenin.’‘Shelters?’‘Forgetit.So,you’reaValkyrie.Youchoseallthepeopleinthehotel?’‘Yes,’shesaid.‘Ipersonallychoseeveryoneinthishotel.’‘Ha,ha.YouknowwhatImeant.Your…sisterhoodorwhatever.’‘That’sright.Valkyriesareresponsibleforchoosingtheeinherjar.Eachwarriorherediedavaliant

death.Eachhadabeliefinhonour,orsomeconnectiontotheNorsegodsthatmadehimorhereligibleforValhalla.’IthoughtaboutwhatUncleRandolphhadtoldme,howtheswordhadbeenabirthrightfrommy

father.‘Aconnection…likebeingthechildofagod?’IwasafraidSammightlaughatme,butshenoddedgravely.‘Manyeinherjararedemigods.Many

areregularmortals.You’rechosenforValhallabecauseofyourcourageandhonour,notyourheritage.Atleast,that’showit’ssupposedtobe…’Icouldn’tdecideifhertonewaswistfulorresentful.‘Andyou?’Iasked.‘HowdidyoubecomeaValkyrie?Didyoudieanobledeath?’Shelaughed.‘Notyet.I’mstillamongtheliving.’‘Howdoesthatworkexactly?’‘Well,Iliveadoublelife.Tonight,I’llescortyoutodinner.ThenIhavetorushhomeandfinish

mycalculushomework.’‘You’renotjoking,areyou?’‘Ineverjokeaboutcalculushomework.’Theelevatordoorsopened.Westeppedintoaroomthesizeofaconcertarena.Mymouthdropped.‘Holy–’‘Welcome,’Samirahsaid,‘totheFeastHalloftheSlain.’Tiersoflongtableslikestadiumseatingcurveddownwardfromthenosebleedsection.Inthecentre

oftheroom,insteadofabasketballcourt,atreerosetallerthantheStatueofLiberty.Itslowestbranchesweremaybeahundredfeetup.Itscanopyspreadovertheentirehall,scrapingagainstthedomedceilingandsproutingthroughamassiveopeningatthetop.Above,starsglitteredinthenightsky.

Myfirstquestionprobablywasn’tthemostimportant.‘Whyisthereagoatinthetree?’Infact,alotofanimalsskitteredamongthebranches.Icouldn’ttellwhatmostofthemwere,but

wobblingalongthelowestbranchwasaveryfatshaggygoat.Itsswollenuddersrainedmilklikeleakyshowerheads.Below,onthedining-hallfloor,ateamoffourstockywarriorscarriedabiggoldenbucketonpolessetacrosstheirshoulders.Theyshuffledbackandforth,tryingtostayunderthegoatsotheycouldcatchthestreamsofmilk.Judgingbyhowsoakedthewarriorswere,theymissedalot.‘ThegoatisHeidrun,’Samtoldme.‘HermilkisbrewedtomakethemeadofValhalla.It’sgood

stuff.You’llsee.’‘Andtheguyschasingheraround?’‘Yeah,that’sathanklessjob.Behaveyourself,oryoumightgetassignedtovatduty.’‘Uh…couldn’ttheyjust,Idon’tknow,bringthegoatdownhere?’‘She’safree-rangegoat.Hermeadtastesbetterthatway.’‘Ofcourseitdoes,’Isaid.‘And…alltheotheranimals?Iseesquirrelsandpossumsand–’‘Sugarglidersandsloths,’Samoffered.‘Thosearecute.’‘Okay.Butyouguyseatdinnerhere?Thatcan’tbehygienicwithalltheanimaldroppings.’‘TheanimalsintheTreeofLaeradrarewellbehaved.’‘TheTreeof…Lay-rah-dur.Younamedyourtree.’‘Mostimportantthingshavenames.’Shefrownedatme.‘Whoareyouagain?’‘Veryfunny.’‘Someoftheanimalsareimmortalandhaveparticularjobs.Ican’tspothimrightnow,but

somewhereupthereisastagnamedEikthrymir.WecallhimIkeforshort.Youseethatwaterfall?’Itwashardtomiss.Fromsomewherehighinthetree,waterrandowngroovesinthebarkand

formedonepowerfultorrentthatcascadedoffabranchinaroaringwhitecurtain.ItcrashedintoapondthesizeofanOlympicpoolbetweentwoofthetree’sroots.‘Thestag’shornsspraywaternon-stop,’Samsaid.‘Itflowsdownthebranchesintothatlake.From

there,itgoesundergroundandfeedseveryriverineveryworld.’‘So…allwaterisstag-hornrun-off?I’mprettysurethat’snotwhattheytaughtmeinearth

science.’‘It’snotallfromIke’shorns.There’salsosnowmelt,rainwater,pollutantsandtraceamountsof

fluorideandjotunspit.’‘Jotun?’‘Youknow,giants.’Shedidn’tappeartobekidding,thoughitwashardtobesure.Herfacewasfulloftensehumour–

hereyesdartingandalert,herlipspressedtogetherlikeshewaseithersuppressingalaughorexpectinganattack.Icouldimagineherdoingstand-upcomedy,thoughmaybenotwiththeaxeatherside.Herfeaturesalsoseemedstrangelyfamiliar–thelineofhernose,thecurveofherjaw,thesubtlestreaksofredandcopperinherdarkhair.‘Havewemetbefore?’Iasked.‘Imean…beforeyouchosemysoulforValhalla?’‘Idoubtit,’shesaid.‘Butyou’remortal?YouliveinBoston?’

‘Dorchester.I’masophomoreatKingAcademy.IlivewithmygrandparentsandspendmostofmytimefindingexcusestocoverformyValkyrieactivities.Tonight,JidandBibithinkI’mtutoringagroupofelementarystudentsinmaths.Anyotherquestions?’Hereyessenttheoppositemessage:Enoughwiththepersonalstuff.Iwonderedwhyshelivedwithhergrandparents.ThenIrememberedwhatshe’dsaidearlier,about

understandingwhatitwasliketogrieveforamother.‘Nomorequestions,’Idecided.‘Myheadwouldexplode.’‘Thatwouldbemessy,’Samsaid.‘Let’sgetyourseatbefore–’Aroundtheperimeteroftheroom,ahundreddoorsburstopen.ThearmiesofValhallaswarmedin.‘Dinnerisserved,’Samsaid.

THIRTEEN

PhilthePotatoMeetsHisDoom

Weweresweptupinatidalwaveofhungrywarriors.Einherjarpouredinfromeverydirection,pushing,jokingandlaughingastheyheadedfortheirseats.‘Holdon,’Samtoldme.Shegrabbedmywristandweflewintotheair,Peter-Pan-style.Iyelped.‘Alittlewarning?’‘Isaidholdon.’Weskimmedabovetheheadsofthewarriors.NobodypaidusmuchattentionexceptforoneguyI

accidentallykickedintheface.OtherValkyrieswerealsozippingaround–someescortingwarriors,somecarryingplattersoffoodandpitchersofdrink.Weheadedtowardswhatwasobviouslytheheadtable–wherethehometeamwould’vesatifthis

wereaCelticsgame.Adozengrim-lookingdudesweretakingtheirseatsinfrontofgoldenplatesandjewel-encrustedgoblets.Intheplaceofhonourstoodanemptywoodenthronewithahighback,wheretworavensperched,groomingtheirfeathers.Samlandedusatthetabletotheleft.Twelveotherpeoplewerejustgettingseated–twogirlsand

fourguysinregularstreetclothes;andsixValkyriesdressedmoreorlesslikeSam.‘Othernewcomers?’Iasked.Samnodded,hereyebrowsfurrowed.‘Seveninonenightisalot.’‘Isthatgoodorbad?’‘Moreheroesdyingmeansmorebadthingsarestirringintheworld.Whichmeans…’Shepursed

herlips.‘Nevermind.Let’sgetseated.’Beforewecould,atallValkyriesteppedinourpath.‘Samirahal-Abbas,whathaveyoubroughtus

tonight–anotherhalf-troll?Perhapsaspyfromyourfather?’Thegirllookedabouteighteen.ShewasbigenoughtoplaypowerforwardintheNBA,withsnow-

blondehairinbraidsdowneithershoulder.Overhergreendresssheworeabandolierofball-peenhammers,whichstruckmeasanoddchoiceofweapon.MaybeValhallahadalotofloosenails.Aroundherneckhungagoldenamuletshapedlikeahammer.Hereyeswereaspaleblueandcoldasawintersky.‘Gunilla–’Sam’svoicetightened–‘thisisMagnusChase.’Iheldoutmyhand.‘Gorilla?Pleasedtomeetyou.’Thegirl’snostrilsflared.‘ItisGunilla,captainoftheValkyries.Andyou,newcomer–’ThefoghornI’dheardearlierechoedthroughthehall.ThistimeIcouldseethesource.Nearthe

baseofthetree,twoguysheldablack-and-whiteanimalhornthesizeofacanoewhileathirdguyblewintoit.

Thousandsofwarriorstooktheirseats.Gorillagavemeonelaststink-eye,thenspunonherheelandmarchedofftotheheadtable.‘Becareful,’Samwarnedme.‘Gunillaispowerful.’‘Alsokindofabutt.’ThecornerofSam’smouthtwitched.‘That,too.’Shelookedshaken,herknuckleswhiteonthehaftofheraxe.IwonderedwhatGunillahadmeant

byaspyfromyourfather,but,sincemywindpipewasstillsorefromthelasttimeImadeSamangry,Idecidednottoask.IsatattheendofthetablenexttoSam,soIdidn’tgettotalktotheothernewbies.Meanwhile,

hundredsofValkyriesflewaroundtheroom,distributingfoodanddrink.WheneveraValkyrie’spitcherwasempty,shewouldswoopoverthegoldenvatnowbubblingoveralargefire,fillherpitcherwithyummygoat’s-milkmeadandcontinueserving.Themaincoursecamefromaroastingpitattheotherendoftheroom.Rotatingonahundred-foot-longspitwasthecarcassofananimal.Iwasn’tsurewhatithadbeenwhenitwasalive,butitwaseasilythesizeofabluewhale.AValkyrieflewpast,depositingaplatteroffoodandagobletinfrontofme.Icouldn’ttellwhatthe

slicesofmeatwere,buttheysmelledgreat,drizzledingravywithpotatoesonthesideandthickslicesofbreadwithbutter.IthadbeenawhilesinceI’dhadahotmeal,butIstillhesitated.‘WhatkindofanimalamIeating?’Samwipedhermouthwiththebackofherhand.‘It’snamedSaehrimnir.’‘Okay,firstofall,whonamestheirdinner?Idon’twanttoknowmydinner ’sname.Thispotato–

isthispotatonamedSteve?’Sherolledhereyes.‘No,stupid.That’sPhil.ThebreadisSteve.’Istaredather.‘Kidding,’shesaid.‘SaehrimniristhemagicalbeastofValhalla.Everydaytheykillitandcookit

fordinner.Everymorningit’sresurrectedaliveandwell.’‘Thatmustsuckfortheanimal.Butisitlikeacoworapigor–’‘It’swhateveryouwantittobe.Myportionisbeef.Differentsectionsoftheanimalarechickenor

pork.Idon’tdopork,butsomeoftheguyshereloveit.’‘WhatifI’mavegetarian?WhatifIwantfalafel?’Sambecameverystill.‘Wasthatsomesortofjoke?’‘Whywoulditbeajoke?Ilikefalafel.’Hershouldersrelaxed.‘Well,ifyouwantfalafel,justaskfortheleftflank.Thatpartistofuand

beancurd.Theycanspiceittotastelikejustaboutanything.’‘Youhaveamagicanimalwhoseleftflankismadeoftofu.’‘ThisisValhalla,paradiseforwarriorsintheserviceofOdin.Yourfoodwilltasteperfect,

whateveryouchoose.’Mystomachwasgettingimpatient,soIdugin.Thebarbecuehadjusttherightmixofspicyand

sweet.Thebreadwaslikeawarmcloudwithabutterycrust.EvenPhilthepotatotastedgreat.Notbeingahugefanoffree-rangegoat’smilk,Iwasreluctanttotrythemead,butthestuffinmy

gobletlookedmorelikesparklingcider.

Itookasip.Sweet,butnottoosweet.Coldandsmooth,withundercurrentsIcouldn’tquiteidentify.Wasthatblackberry?Orhoney?Orvanilla?Idrainedmyglass.Suddenlymysenseswereonfire.Itwasn’tlikealcohol(and,yes,I’vetriedalcohol,thrownup,

triedalcoholagain,thrownup).Themeaddidn’tmakemegiddy,dopeyornauseous.Itwasmorelikeicedespressowithoutthebittertaste.Itwokemeup,fillingmewithawarmsenseofconfidence,butwithnoedginessorracingheartbeat.‘Thisstuffisgood,’Iadmitted.AValkyrieswoopedin,refilledmycupandflewaway.IglancedatSam,whowasbrushingbreadcrumbsoffherscarf.‘Doyoueverdoservingduty?’‘Yeah,sure.Wetaketurns.It’sanhonourtoservetheeinherjar.’Shedidn’tevensoundsarcastic.‘HowmanyValkyriesarethere?’‘Severalthousand?’‘Howmanyeinherjar?’Sampuffedhercheeks.‘Tensofthousands?LikeIsaid,thisisjustthefirstdinner.Therearetwo

othershiftsfortheolderwarriors.Valhallahasfivehundredandfortydoors.Eachoneissupposedtoaccommodateeighthundredwarriorsexitingforbattleatonce.Thatwouldmeanfourhundredandthirty-twothousandeinherjar.’‘That’salotoftofu.’Sheshrugged.‘Personally,Ithinkthenumberisexaggerated,butonlyOdinknowsforsure.We’ll

needabigarmywhenRagnarokrollsaround.’‘Ragnarok,’Isaid.‘Doomsday,’Samsaid.‘WhentheNineWorldsaredestroyedinagreatconflagrationandthe

armiesofgodsandgiantsmeetinbattleforthelasttime.’‘Oh.ThatRagnarok.’Iscannedtheseaofteenagedfighters.IrememberedmyfirstdayofpublichighschoolinAllston,

afewmonthsbeforemymomdiedandmylifeturnedtodumpstersludge.Theschoolhadhadaroundtwothousandkids.Betweenclasses,thehallsweresheerchaos.Thecafeteriawaslikeapiranhatank.ButitwasnothingcomparedtoValhalla.Ipointedtowardstheheadtable.‘Whataboutthefancydudes?Mostofthemlookolder.’‘Iwouldn’tcallthemfancydudes,’Samsaid.‘Thosearethethanes,thelordsofValhalla.Eachone

waspersonallyinvitedbyOdintositathistable.’‘Sotheemptythrone–’‘IsforOdin.Yes.He…well,it’sbeenawhilesincehe’sshownupfordinner,buthisravenswatch

everythingandreportbacktohim.’Thoseravensmademenervouswiththeirbeadyblackeyes.Igotthefeelingtheyweretakinga

particularinterestinme.Sampointedtotherightofthethrone.‘There’sErikBloodax.Andthat’sEriktheRed.’‘AlotofEriks.’‘There’sLeifErikson.’‘Whoa…buthe’snotwearingametalbra.’

‘I’mgoingtoignorethatcomment.OverthereisSnorri.ThenourcharmingfriendGunilla.ThenLordNelsonandDavyCrockett.’‘Davy…wait,seriously?’‘AttheendisHelgithehotelmanager.Youprobablymethim.’Helgiseemedtobehavingagoodtime,laughingwithDavyCrockettandchuggingmead.Behind

hischair,thebellhopHundingstoodlookingmiserable,carefullypeelinggrapesandhandingthemtoHelgioneatatime.‘What’sthedealwiththemanagerandHunding?’Sammadeasourface.‘Ancestralfeudwhentheywerealive.Whentheydied,bothmadeitto

Valhalla,butOdinhonouredHelgimore.HeputHelgiinchargeofthehotel.Helgi’sfirstorderwasthathisenemyHundingwouldbehisservantanddohismenialtasksforalltime.’‘Thatdoesn’tseemlikemuchofaparadiseforHunding.’Samhesitated.Inaquietervoice,shesaid,‘EveninValhalla,there’sapeckingorder.Youdon’t

wanttobeatthebottom.Remember,whentheceremonybegins–’Atthehightable,thethanesbeganbangingtheircupsonthetableinunison.Allaroundthehall,the

einherjarjoinedinuntiltheHalloftheSlainthunderedwithametalheartbeat.Helgistoodandraisedhisgoblet.Thenoisedieddown.‘Warriors!’Themanager ’svoicefilledthehall.Helookedsoregalitwashardtobelievehewas

thesameguywhoafewhoursagohadofferedmeasuiteupgradeandaminibarkey.‘Sevennewfallenhavejoinedustoday!Thatwouldbereasonenoughtocelebrate,butwealsohaveaspecialtreatforyou.ThankstoValkyrieCaptainGunilla,today,forthefirsttime,wewillnotjusthearaboutournewcomers’worthydeeds,wewillbeabletoseethem!’Nexttome,Sammadeachokingsound.‘No,’shemuttered.‘No,no,no…’‘Letthepresentationofthedeadcommence!’Helgibellowed.Tenthousandwarriorsturnedandlookedexpectantlyinmydirection.

FOURTEEN

FourMillionChannelsandThere’sStillNothingOnExceptValkyrieVision

Hoorayforgoinglast.Iwasrelievedwhenthepresentationsstartedwitheinherjarattheotherendofthetable…untilI

sawwhattheothernewbieshaddonetogetintoValhalla.Helgicalled,‘LarsAhlstrom!’AheavysetblondguyrosewithhisValkyrie.Larswassonervousheknockedoverhisgoblet,

splashingmagicmeadalloverhiscrotch.Awaveoflaughterrippledthroughthehall.Helgismiled.‘Asmanyofyouknow,CaptainGunillahasbeenphasinginnewequipmentoverthe

pastfewmonths.She’sbeenfittingherValkyries’armourwithcamerastokeepeveryoneaccountable–andhopefullytokeepusentertained!’Thewarriorscheeredandbangedtheirmugs,drowningoutthesoundofSamcursingnexttome.Helgiraisedhisgoblet.‘Ipresenttoyou,ValkyrieVision!’Aroundthetreetrunk,aringofgiantholographicscreensflickeredtolife,floatinginmid-air.The

videowaschoppy,apparentlytakenfromacameraontheshoulderofaValkyrie.Wewerehighintheair,circlingoverthesceneofasinkingferryinagreysea.Halfthelifeboatsdangledsidewaysfromtheircables.Passengersjumpedoverboard,somewithoutlifejackets.TheValkyrieswoopedincloser.Thevideo’sfocussharpened.LarsAhlstromscrambledalongthetiltingdeck,afireextinguisherinhishands.Thedoortothe

insideloungewasblockedbyalargemetalcontainer.Larsstruggledtomoveit,butitwastooheavy.Insidethelounge,adozenpeopleweretrapped,bangingdesperatelyonthewindows.Larsshoutedsomethingtothemin…Swedish?Norwegian?Themeaningwasclear:GETBACK!Assoontheydid,Larssmashedtheextinguisheragainstthewindow.Onthethirdtry,itshattered.

Despitethecold,Larsstrippedoffhiscoatandlaiditacrossthebrokenglass.Hestayedatthewindowuntilthelastpassengersweresafelyout.Theyranforthelifeboats.Lars

pickedupthefireextinguisheragainandstartedtofollow,buttheshiplurchedviolently.Hisheadslammedintothewallandhesliddown,unconscious.Hisbodybegantoglow.TheValkyrie’sarmappearedintheframe,reachingout.Ashimmering

goldenapparitionrosefromLars’sbody–hissoul,Iguessed.GoldenLarstooktheValkyrie’shand,andthevideoscreenswentdark.Allaroundthefeasthall,warriorscheered.Attheheadtable,thethanesdebatedamongthemselves.Iwascloseenoughtohearsomeofit.One

guy–LordNelson?–questionedwhetherafireextinguishercouldcountasaweapon.IleanedtowardsSam.‘Whydoesthatmatter?’

Shetoreherbreadintosmallerandsmallerpieces.‘TogetintoValhalla,awarriormustdieinbattlewithaweaponinhisorherhand.That’stheonlyway.’‘So,’Iwhispered,‘anyonecouldgetintoValhallaiftheyjustgrabbedaswordanddied?’Shesnorted.‘Ofcoursenot.Wecan’thavekidstakingupweaponsanddyingonpurpose.There’s

nothingheroicaboutsuicide.Thesacrifice,thebraveryhastobeunplanned–agenuineheroicresponsetoacrisis.Ithastocomefromtheheart,withoutanythoughtofreward.’‘So…whatifthethanesdecidethatanewbieshouldn’thavebeenpicked?Doeshegobackto

beingalive?’Itriednottosoundtoohopeful.Samwouldn’tmeetmyeyes.‘Onceyou’reaneinherji,there’snogoingback.Youmightgetthe

worstworkassignments.Youmighthaveahardtimeearningrespect.ButyoustayinValhalla.Ifthethanesrulethedeathunworthy…well,theValkyrietakesthepunishmentforthat.’‘Oh.’SuddenlyIunderstoodwhyalltheValkyriesatourtablelookedalittletense.Thethanestookavoteamongthemselves.Theyagreedunanimouslythatthefireextinguisher

couldcountasaweaponandLars’sdeathcouldbeseenasincombat.‘Whatgreaterenemyistherethanthesea?’saidHelgi.‘WefindLarsAhlstromworthyof

Valhalla!’Moreapplause.Larsalmostfainted.HisValkyrieheldhimupwhilesmilingandwavingatthe

crowd.Whenthenoisedieddown,Helgicontinued.‘LarsAhlstrom,doyouknowyourparentage?’‘I–’Thenewcomer ’svoicecracked.‘Ineverknewmyfather.’Helginodded.‘Thatisnotuncommon.Wewillseekwisdomfromtherunes,unlesstheAll-Father

wishestointercede.’Everyoneturnedtowardstheunoccupiedthrone.Theravensruffledtheirfeathersandsquawked.

Thethroneremainedempty.Helgididn’tlooksurprised,buthisshouldersslumpedwithdisappointment.Hemotionedtowards

thefirepit.Fromaclusterofserversandcooks,aladyinagreenhoodedrobeshuffledforward.Herfacewashiddenintheshadowsofhercowl,but,judgingfromherstoopedpostureandhergnarledhands,shemusthavebeenancient.ImurmuredtoSam,‘Who’stheWickedWitch?’‘Avala.Aseer.Shecancastspells,readthefutureand…otherstuff.’Thevalaapproachedourtable.ShestoppedinfrontofLarsAhlstromandpulledaleatherpouch

fromthefoldsofherrobe.ShepluckedoutahandfulofrunestonesliketheonesinUncleRandolph’sstudy.‘Andtherunes?’IwhisperedtoSam.‘Whataretheyfor?’‘They’retheoldVikingalphabet,’shesaid,‘buteachletteralsosymbolizessomethingpowerful–

agod,atypeofmagic,aforceofnature.They’relikethegeneticcodeoftheuniverse.Thevalacanreadthestonestoseeyourfate.Thegreatestsorcerers,likeOdin,don’tevenneedtousethestones.Theycanmanipulaterealitysimplybyspeakingthenameofarune.’ImadeamentalnotetoavoidOdin.Ididn’tneedmyrealitymanipulatedanyfurther.Infrontofourtable,thevalamutteredsomethingunderherbreath.Shecastthestonesatherfeet.

Theylandedonthefloor–somefaceup,somefacedown.Oneruneinparticularseemedtocatch

everyone’sattention.Theholographicscreensprojecteditsimagetoeveryoneinthehall.

Themarkmeantnothingtome,buthundredsofwarriorsshoutedwithapproval.‘Thor!’theycried.Thentheystartedtochant,‘THOR,THOR,THOR!’Samgrunted.‘AsifweneedanotherchildofThor.’‘Why?What’swrongwiththem?’‘Nothing.They’regreat.Gunillaoverthere…she’sadaughterofThor.’‘Oh.’TheValkyriecaptainwassmiling,whichwasevenscarierthanherscowl.Asthechantingsubsided,thevalaraisedherwitheredarms.‘Lars,sonofThor,rejoice!Therunes

sayyoushallfightwellatRagnarok.Andtomorrow,inyourfirstcombat,youshallproveyourvalourandbedecapitated!’Theaudiencecheeredandlaughed.Larssuddenlylookedverypale.Thatjustmadethewarriors

laughharder,asifdecapitationwereahazingritualnoworsethanawedgie.ThevalagatheredherrunesandretreatedwhileLars’sValkyriehelpedhimbackintohisseat.Theceremonycontinued.NextupwasanewcomernamedDede.She’dsavedabunchofkidsather

villageschoolwhenawarlord’ssoldiershadtriedtokidnapthem.She’dflirtedwithoneofthesoldiers,trickedhimintolettingherholdhisassaultrifle,thenturneditonthewarlord’smen.Shewaskilled,butherselflessactgavetheotherkidstimetogetaway.Thevideowasprettyviolent.TheVikingslovedit.Dedegotastandingovation.Thevalareadtherunes.SheconfirmedthatDede’sparentswereregularmortals,butnobody

seemedtomindthat.AccordingtoDede’sfortune,shewouldfightvaliantlyatRagnarok.Overthenextweekshewouldloseherarmsseveraltimesincombat.Withinahundredyearsshewouldrisetothethanes’table.‘Oooooo!’thecrowdmurmuredappreciatively.Theotherfournewcomerswereequallyimpressive.They’dallsavedpeople.They’dsacrificed

theirlivesbravely.Twoweremortals.OnewasasonofOdin,whichcausedaminorcommotion.Samleanedtowardsme.‘LikeIsaid,Odinhasnotbeenseeninquiteawhile.Wewelcomeanysign

thathestillmovesamongmortals.’ThelastnewcomerwasadaughterofHeimdall.Iwasn’tsurewhothatwas,buttheVikingsseemed

impressed.Myheadwasswimmingfromtoomuchinformation.Mysenseswereonfirefromtoomuchmead.

Ididn’tevenrealizewe’dreachedtheendofthetableuntilHelgicalledmyname.‘MagnusChase!’hebellowed.‘Riseandimpressuswithyourcourage!’

F I FTEEN

MyBlooperVideoGoesViral

Mycourageimpressednoone.Isquirmedinmyseatasthevideoplayed.Theeinherjarwatchedthescreensinshockedsilence.

Thenthemumblingandgrumblingbegan,punctuatedbyburstsofincredulouslaughter.ValkyrieVisionshowedonlyportionsofwhathadhappened.Isawmyselfonthebridge,facing

Surtashesummonedafierytornado.Thecamerazoomedinonmethreateninghimwithmycorrodedpieceofmetal.ThenHearthandBlitzappeared.BlitzhittheBlackOnewithhisMAKEWAY

FORDUCKLINGSsign.Hearth’ssqueakytoyarrowhitmeinthebutt.Surtpunchedme.Surtkickedmeintheribs.Ipukedandsquirmedinagony.Thevideofast-forwardedtomebackingupagainstthebridgerailing.Surtthrewhisfieryasphalt

cannonball.Iswungmyswordandmissed.Inthefeasthall,thousandsofwarriorsgrunted‘Ooooo!’asthechunkofasphalthitmeinthegut.Surtcharged,andwebothwentovertheside,grapplingaswefell.Justbeforewehitthewater,thevideofrozeandzoomedin.Theswordwasnowstickingoutof

Surt’sgut,butmyhandsweren’tonthegrip.TheywerewrappedaroundSurt’sbigneck.Anuncomfortablemurmurspreadthroughtheroom.‘No,’Isaid.‘No,that’snothow–Someoneeditedthat.It’slikeablooperreel.’Sam’sfacehadturnedtostone.Atthethanes’table,CaptainGunillasmirked.Hercameras,I

realized,herediting.Forsomereason,GunillawantedtodisgraceSambymakingmelooklikeanidiot…which,

granted,wasn’tadifficulttask.Helgisetdownhisgoblet.‘Samirahal-Abbas…explain.’Samtouchedtheedgeofherscarf.Ihadafeelingshewantedtopullitoverherheadandhopethe

roomdisappeared.Icouldn’tblameher.‘MagnusChasediedbravely,’shesaid.‘HestoodaloneagainstSurt.’Moreuneasymurmuring.Oneofthethanesstood.‘YousaythatwasSurt.Afirejotun,certainly,butifyouaresuggestingit

wastheLordofMuspellheimhimself–’‘IknowwhatIsaw,ErikBloodax.Thisone–’SamgesturedatmelikeIwasaprizespecimen–

‘savedmanylivesonthatbridge.Thevideodoesnotshowthewholestory.MagnusChaseactedlikeahero.Hedeservestobeamongthefallen.’Anotherthanerose.‘Hedidn’tactuallydiewiththeswordinhishand.’‘LordOttar–’Sam’svoicesoundedstrained–‘thethaneshavelookedpastsuchatechnicality

before.WhetherornotMagnusgrippedtheswordatthemomentofdeath,hediedbravelyincombat.

ThatisthespiritofOdin’slaw.’LordOttarsniffed.‘Thankyou,Samirahal-Abbas,daughterofLoki,forteachingusthespiritof

Odin’slaw.’Thetensionlevelinthehallwentupaboutthirtynotches.Sam’shanddriftedtowardsheraxe.I

doubtedanyonebutmecouldseehowherfingerstwitched.Loki…Iknewthatname–Norsemythology’sbigvillain,bornofgiants.Hewasthearch-enemy

ofthegods.IfSamwashisdaughter,whywasshehere?HowhadshebecomeaValkyrie?IhappenedtomeetGunilla’seyes.Thecaptainwasobviouslylovingthisdrama.Shecouldbarely

suppressasmile.IfshewasThor ’skid,thatexplainedwhyshehatedSam.Intheoldstories,ThorandLokiwerealwaystryingtomelteachother ’sfaces.Thethanesdebatedamongthemselves.Finally,Helgithemanagerspoke.‘Samirah,we’renotseeinganyheroisminthisboy’sdeath.We

seeadwarfandanelfwithtoyweapons–’‘Adwarfandanelf?’Iasked,butHelgiignoredme.‘–weseeafirejotunwhofelloffabridgeandtooktheboywithhim.That’sanunusualsituation,a

sonofMuspellcrossingintoMidgard,butithashappenedbefore.’‘Shoot,’mutteredathanewithbushysideburns.‘Y’allshould’veseenthebigol’firejotunSanta

AnnahadwithhimattheAlamo.Itellyou–’‘Yes,thankyou,LordCrockett.’Helgiclearedhisthroat.‘AsIwassaying,weseeverylittle

evidencethatMagnusChasewasaworthychoiceforValhalla.’‘Mylords–’Samspokeslowlyandcarefully,likeshewasaddressingchildren–‘thevideoisnot

accurate.’Helgilaughed.‘Areyousuggestingweshouldn’ttrustourowneyes?’‘I’msuggestingthatyouhearthestoryfrommypointofview.Ithasalwaysbeenourtraditionto

tellofthehero’sdeeds.’Gunillastood.‘Pardonme,mylords,butSamirahiscorrect.Perhapsweshouldletthedaughterof

Lokispeak.’Thecrowdbooedandhissed.Somecalled,‘No!No!’Helgigesturedforsilence.‘Gunilla,youdoyoursisterhoodcreditbydefendingafellowValkyrie,

butLokihasalwaysbeenamasterofsmooth,honeyedwords.Personally,IwouldrathertrustwhatIseethanhaveitspunformeinsomecleverexplanation.’Warriorsapplauded.Gunillashruggedlike,Oh,well,Itried!andsankbackintoherchair.‘MagnusChase!’Helgicalled.‘Doyouknowyourparentage?’Icountedtofive.Myfirstinclinationwastoyell,No,butyourdadwasapparentlyajackass!‘Idon’tknowmyfather,’Iadmitted.‘But,look,aboutthatvideo–’‘Perhapsyouhavepotentialwedonotrecognize,’Helgisaid.‘PerhapsyouareasonofOdinor

Thororsomeothernoblewargod,andyourpresencebringsushonour.Wewillseekwisdomfromtherunes,unlesstheAll-Fatherwouldintercede?’Heglancedatthethrone,whichremainedempty.Theravensstudiedmewithdarkhungryeyes.‘Verywell,’Helgisaid.‘Bringforththevalaand–’

Betweentherootsofthetree,wherethewaterfallhitthedarklake,amassivebubbleerupted.BLOOP!Onthesurfaceofthewaterstoodthreewomenshroudedinwhite.Exceptforthecrackleofcookingfireandthesoundofthewaterfall,thehallwassilent.Thousands

ofwarriorswatched,frozeninamazement,asthethreewhitewomenglidedacrossthefloor,headingtowardsme.‘Sam?’Iwhispered.‘Sam,what’sgoingon?’Herhandfellfromheraxe.‘TheNorns,’shesaid.‘TheNornsthemselveshavecometoreadyourfate.’

S IXTEEN

Norns.WhyDidItHavetoBeNorns?

IreallywishedsomeonehadwarnedmeIwasgoingtodie.Like,Hey,you’redivingoffabridgetomorrowandbecominganundeadViking,sogoreaduponValhalla.Ifeltseriouslyunprepared.IrememberedhearingaboutNorns,theladieswhocontrolledmortaldestinies,butIdidn’tknow

theirnamesortheirmotivationortheproperetiquetteformeetingthem.WasIsupposedtobow?Offerthemgifts?Runawayscreaming?Nexttome,Sammuttered,‘Thisisbad.TheNornsonlyshowupinextremecases.’Ididn’twanttobeanextremecase.Iwantedtobeaneasycase:Hey,goodjob.You’reahero.Havea

cookie.Orevenbetter:Oops.Thiswasallamistake.Youcangobacktoyourregularlyscheduledlife.Notthatmyregularlyscheduledlifewassogreat,butitbeatgettingjudgedunworthybytwelve

beardedguysnamedErik.AstheNornsgotcloser,Irealizedhowbigtheywere–atleastninefeettalleach.Undertheir

hoods,theirfaceswerebeautifulbutunnerving–blankwhite,eventheireyes.Trailingbehindthemcameasheetoffoglikeabridaltrain.Theystoppedtwentyfeetinfrontofmytableandturneduptheirpalms.Theirskinwaslikesculptedsnow.MagnusChase.Icouldn’ttellwhichNornhadspoken.Thesoftdisembodiedvoiceresonated

throughthehall,seepingintomyhead,turningmyskullintoanicebox.HarbingeroftheWolf.Thecrowdstirreduneasily.I’dseenthewordharbingersomewherebefore,maybeinafantasy

novel,butIcouldn’trememberwhatitmeant.Ididn’tlikethesoundofit.Ilikedthesoundofwolfevenless.I’djustaboutdecidedthatrunningawayscreamingwasmysmartestoption.Then,inthehandsof

themiddleNorn,fogcollected,solidifyingintohalfadozenrunestones.Shethrewthemintotheair.Theyfloatedaboveher,eachruneexpandingintoaluminouswhitesymbolasbigasaposterboard.Icouldn’treadrunes,butIrecognizedtheoneinthecentre.ItwasthesamesymbolI’dpickedfrom

thepouchinUncleRandolph’soffice:

Fehu,announcedthecoldvoice.TheruneofFrey.Thousandsofwarriorsshiftedintheirseats,clankingrestlesslyintheirarmour.Frey…WhowasFrey?Mymindfeltcoatedwithfrost.Mythoughtsweresluggish.

TheNornsspoketogether,threeghostlyvoiceschantinginunison,shakingleavesfromthegianttree:Wronglychosen,wronglyslain,AheroValhallacannotcontain.Ninedayshencethesunmustgoeast,EreSwordofSummerunbindsthebeast.

Theglowingrunesdissolved.ThethreeNornsbowedtome.Theymeltedintothefoganddisappeared.IglancedatSam.‘Howoftendoesthathappen?’Shelookedlikeshe’dbeensmackedbetweentheeyeswithoneofGunilla’shammers.‘No.

Choosingyoucouldn’thavebeenamistake.Iwastold…Iwaspromised–’‘Someonetoldyoutopickmeup?’Insteadofanswering,shemurmuredunderherbreath–asifrunningcalculationsforarocketthat

hadgoneoffcourse.Atthethanes’table,thelordsconferred.Allaroundthehall,thousandsofeinherjarstudiedme.My

stomachfoldeditselfintovariousorigamishapes.Finally,Helgifacedme.‘MagnusChase,sonofFrey,yourdestinyistroubling.Thelordsof

Valhallamustthinkonthisfurther.Forthetimebeing,youshallbewelcomedasacomrade.Youareoneoftheeinherjarnow.Thatcannotbereversed,evenifitwasamistake.’HescowledatSam.‘Samirahal-Abbas,theNornsthemselveshavepronouncedyourjudgementin

error.Doyouhaveanydefence?’Sam’seyeswidenedasifshe’djustrealizedsomething.‘ThesonofFrey…’Shelookedaround

theroomdesperately.‘Einherjar,don’tyousee?ThisisthesonofFrey!Surthimselfwasonthatbridge!Thatmeansthesword…’Sheturnedtothethanes’table.‘Gunilla,youmustseewhatthatmeans.Wehavetofindthatsword!Aquest,immediately–’Helgibangedhisfistonthetable.‘Enough!Samirah,youstandinjudgementforagravemistake.It

isnotyourplacetotelluswhattodo.Itisdefinitelynotyourplacetoorderaquest!’‘Ididnotmakeamistake,’Samsaid.‘IdidasIwasordered!I–’‘Ordered?’Helginarrowedhiseyes.‘Orderedbywhom?’Sam’smouthshut.Sheseemedtodeflate.Helginoddedgrimly.‘Isee.CaptainGunilla,beforeIannouncethethanes’judgementonthis

Valkyrie,doyouwishtospeak?’Gunillastirred.Thegleaminhereyeswasgone.Shelookedlikesomeonewho’dgotinlineforthe

merry-go-roundandunexpectedlyfoundherselftrappedonarollercoaster.‘I–’Sheshookherhead.‘No,mylord.I–Ihavenothingtoadd.’‘Verywell,’saidHelgi.‘Samirahal-Abbas,foryourpoorjudgementwiththiseinherjiMagnus

Chase,andforyourpastmistakes,thethanesrulethatyoubeexpelledfromthesisterhoodofValkyries.Youareherebystrippedofyourpowersandprivileges.ReturntoMidgardindisgrace!’Samgrabbedmyarm.‘Magnus,listentome.Youhavetofindthesword.Youhavetostopthem–’Likeacameraflash,therewasaburstoflight,andSamwasgone.Herhalf-eatenmealandthe

breadcrumbsaroundherseatweretheonlysignsshe’deverexisted.

‘Soconcludesourfeast,’Helgiannounced.‘Iwillseeyoualltomorrowonthefieldofbattle!Sleepwellanddreamofgloriousdeath!’

SEVENTEEN

IDidNotAskforBiceps

Ididn’tsleepmuch.Idefinitelydidn’tdreamofgloriousdeath.Beenthere,donethat,gottheafterlife.WhileIwasatdinner,mysofahadbeenputbackandrepaired.Isatonitandthumbedthroughmy

oldchildren’sbookofNorsemythology,butitdidn’thavemuchaboutFrey.Onetinypictureshowedablondguyinatunicfrolickinginthewoods,ablondeladyathisside,acoupleofcatsplayingattheirfeet.Freywasthegodofspringandsummer!readthecaption.Hewasthegodofwealth,abundanceand

fertility.Histwinsister,Freya,thegoddessoflove,wasverypretty!Shehadcats!Itossedthebookaside.Great.MydadwasaD-listgodwhofrolickedinthewoods.Hewas

probablyeliminatedearlylastseasononDancingwiththeAsgardians.Diditcrushmetolearnthis?Notreally.Youmightnotbelieveit,butmydad’sidentityhadnever

beenabigdealtome.Itwasn’tlikeIeverfeltincomplete–like,ifonlyIknewmydad,mylifewouldmakesense.IknewwhoIwas.IwasNatalieChase’sson.Asforlifemakingsense…I’dseentoomuchweirdnesstoexpectthat.Still,IhadalotofitemsonmyI-don’t-get-itlist.Attheverytop:howcouldahomelesskidhavea

dadwhowasthegodofabundanceandwealth?Talkaboutacrueljoke.Also,whywouldIgettargetedbyabigbaddudelikeSurt?IfhewasthelordofMuspellheim,

HighKingRoastyToasty,shouldn’thepickonmoreinterestingheroes,likethechildrenofThor?Atleasttheirdadhadamoviefranchise.Freydidn’tevenhavehisowncats.Hehadtoborrowhissister ’s.AndtheSwordofSummer…assumingthatwasthebladeIhadpulledfromtheCharlesRiver,how

haditendedupthere?Whywasitsoimportant?UncleRandolphhadbeensearchingforitforyears.Sam’slastwordstomewereaboutfindingtheswordagain.Ifithadbelongedtomydad,andmydadwasanimmortalgod,whyhadheallowedhisweapontositatthebottomofariverforathousandyears?Istaredattheemptyfireplace.TheNorns’wordskeptplayinginmyhead,thoughIwantedto

forgetthem.HarbingeroftheWolf.Irememberedwhataharbingerwasnow:somethingthatsignalledthe

arrivalofapowerfulforce,likeadoormanannouncingthepresident,oraredskybeforeahurricane.Ididnotwanttobetheharbingerofthewolf.I’dseenenoughwolvestolastmeaneternallifetime.Iwantedtobetheharbingeroficecream,orfalafel.

Wronglychosen,wronglyslain.

Alittlelatetoannouncethatnow.Iwasafreakingeinherji.Mynamewasonthedoor.Ihadakeytotheminibar.

AheroValhallacannotcontain.

Ilikedthislinebetter.MaybeitmeantIcouldbustoutofhere.OrIguesseditcouldmeanthatthethaneswouldvaporizemeinaburstoflightorfeedmetotheirmagicalgoat.Ninedayshencethesunmustgoeast,EreSwordofSummerunbindsthebeast.

Thoselinesbotheredmethemost.LastIchecked,thesunmovedeasttowest.Andwhowasthebeast?Iwasbettingawolf,becauseit’salwaysastinkingwolf.Iftheswordwassupposedtoletlooseawolf,theswordshould’vestayedlost.Somememorynaggedatme…aboundwolf.Istaredatthechildren’sbookofmythology,half

temptedtopickitupagain.ButIwasalreadyunsettledenough.Magnus,listentome,Samhadsaid.Youhavetofindthesword.Youhavetostopthem.IfeltbadaboutSamirahal-Abbas.Iwasstillmiffedatherforbringingmehere,especiallyifithad

beenamistake,butIdidn’twanttoseeherkickedoutoftheValkyriesbecausesomedoctoredvideomademelooklikeadoofus.(Okay,moreofadoofusthanusual.)IdecidedIshouldsleep.Ididn’tfeeltired,butifIstayedawakethinkinganylongermybrain

wouldoverheat.Itriedthebed.Toosoft.Iendedupintheatrium,sprawledonthegrass,gazingatthestarsthrough

thetreebranches.Atsomepoint,Imusthavefallenasleep.Asharpsoundstartledmeawake–abranchcracking.Someonecursed.Aboveme,theskywasturninggreyinthepredawnlight.Afewleaveshelicopteredthroughtheair.

Branchesbobbedasifsomethingheavyhadjustscrambledthroughthem.Ilaystill,listening,watching.Nothing.HadIimaginedthatvoice?Overbytheentrance,apieceofpaperslidundermydoor.Isatupgroggily.Maybethemanagementwasgivingmethebillandlettingmecheckout.Istaggeredtowardsthe

door.MyhandtrembledasIpickedupthepaper,butitwasn’tabill.Itwasahandwrittennoteinreally

nicecursive:Hi,neighbour.Joinusinlounge19forbreakfast.Downthehalltotheleft.Bringyourweaponsandarmour.T.J.

T.J.…ThomasJeffersonJr,theguyacrossthehall.Afterthefiascolastnight,Ididn’tknowwhyhe’dwanttoinvitemetobreakfast.Ialsodidn’t

understandwhyIneededweaponsandarmour.MaybeVikingbagelsfoughtback.Iwastemptedtobarricademydoorandhideinmyroom.Perhapseveryonewouldleavemealone.

Maybe,onceallthewarriorswerebusywiththeirBikramyogatothedeath,IcouldsneakoutandfindanexittoBoston.Ontheotherhand,Iwantedanswers.Icouldn’tshaketheideathat,ifthiswasaplaceforthebrave

dead,mymommightbeheresomewhere.Orsomeonemightknowwhichafterlifeshehadgoneto.AtleastthisguyT.J.seemedfriendly.Icouldhangwithhimforawhileandseewhathecouldtellme.

Itrudgedtothebathroom.IwasafraidthetoiletwouldbesomeVikingdeathmachinewithaxebladesandaflush-operated

crossbow,butitworkedlikeanormalone.Itdefinitelywasn’tanyscarierthanthepublicrestroomsintheCommon.Themedicinecabinetwasstockedwithallmyusualtoiletries…oratleastthetoiletriesIusedto

likewhenIhadahome.Andtheshower…ItriedtorememberthelasttimeI’dhadaleisurelyhotshower.Sure,I’darrived

inValhallafeelingmagicallydry-cleaned,but,afterabadnight’ssleepintheatrium,Iwasreadyforagoodold-fashionedscrubdown.Ipeeledoffmylayersofshirtsandalmostscreamed.Whatwaswrongwithmychest?Whydidmyarmslookthatway?Whatwerethoseweirdbulgy

areas?UsuallyIavoidedlookingatmyreflection.Iwasn’tsomebodyIwantedtoseeonaregularbasis.

ButnowIfacedthemirror.Myhairwasthesame,abitlessgrimyandtangled,butstillhangingtomyjawlineinacurtainof

dirtyblond,partedinthemiddle.YoulooklikeKurtCobain,mymomusedtoteaseme.IlovedKurtCobain,exceptforthefactthat

hedied.Well,guesswhat,Mom?Ithought.Ihavethatincommonwithhim,too,now!Myeyesweregrey–morelikemycousinAnnabeth’sthanmymom’s.Theyhadahaunted,scary

emptinesstothem,butthatwasnormal.Thelookhadservedmewellonthestreets.Myupperbody,however,Ihardlyrecognized.EversincemybadasthmadayswhenIwaslittle,I’d

alwaysbeenonthescrawnyside.Evenwithallthehikingandcamping,I’dhadaconcavechest,sticking-outribsandskinsopaleyoucouldtracetheroadmapofblueveins.Now…thosestrangenewbulgyareaslookedsuspiciouslylikemuscles.Don’tgetmewrong.Itwasn’tasdramaticasturningintoCaptainAmerica.Iwasstillleanandpale,

butmyarmshaddefinition.Mychestdidn’tlooklikeitwouldcollapseinthenextstrongwind.Myskinwassmoother,lesstranslucent.Alltherashesandnicksandbitesthatcamefromlivingonthestreethaddisappeared.Eventhescaronmyleftpalm,whereI’dcutmyselfonahuntingknifeatageten,hadvanished.IrememberedhowstrongI’dfeltwhenIfirstarrivedatValhalla,howI’dtossedmysofaacrossthe

roomlastnight.Ihadn’treallystoppedtothinkaboutit.WhathadHundingcalledValhalla…anupgrade?Imadeafist.I’mnotsurewhatcameoverme.Iguess,whenIrealizedthatevenmybodywasn’tmyown,the

anger,fearanduncertaintyofthelasttwenty-fourhoursreachedcriticalmass.I’dbeenpluckedoutofmylife.I’dbeenthreatened,humiliatedandforciblyupgraded.Ihadn’taskedforasuite.Ihadn’taskedforbiceps.Ihitthewall.Literally.Myfistwentstraightthroughthetile,theplasterboardandatwo-by-fourstud.Ipulledoutmyhand.

Iwriggledmyfingers.Nothingfeltbroken.

Iregardedthefist-shapedholeI’dmadeabovethetowelrail.‘Yep,’Igrumbled.‘Housekeepinglovesme.’Theshowerhelpedcalmmedown.Afterwards,wrappedinafluffyHV-embroideredbathrobe,I

paddedtotheclosettosearchforclothes.Insidewerethreesetsofbluejeans,threegreenT-shirts(allmarkedPROPERTYOFHOTELVALHALLA),underwear,socks,apairofgoodrunningshoesandasheathedsword.LeaningagainsttheironingboardwasacirculargreenshieldwiththegoldenruneofFreypaintedinthemiddle.Okay,then.IguessIknewwhatIwaswearingtoday.Ispenttenminutestryingtofigureouthowtopositionthesword’ssheathonmybelt.Iwasleft-

handed.Didthatmeantheswordwentontheright?Wereleft-handedswordsdifferentfromright-handedones?Iattemptedtodrawthebladeandjustaboutrippedmyjeansoff.Oh,yeah,Iwasgoingtobeahit

onthebattlefield.Ipractisedswingingthesword.Iwonderedifitwouldstarthummingandguidingmyhand,theway

theswordonthebridgehaddonewhenIfacedSurt.Butno.Thisbladeseemedtobearegularpieceofnon-hummingmetalwithnocruise-controlfeature.Imanagedtosheatheitwithoutlosinganyfingers.Islungtheshieldacrossmyback,thewaythewarriorsatdinnerlastnighthadbeenwearingtheirs.Thestrapdugintomyneckandmademewanttogag.Ilookedinthemirroragain.‘You,sir,’Imuttered,‘looklikeahugedork.’Myreflectiondidnotargue.Iwentouttofindbreakfastandkillitwithmysword.

EIGHTEEN

IDoMightyCombatwithEggs

‘Thereheis.’T.J.roseandgrabbedmyhand.‘Sit.Joinus.Youmadequiteafirstimpressionlastnight!’Hewasdressedthesameasyesterday:abluewoolarmyjacketoveragreenhotelT-shirt,jeansand

leatherboots.Withhimsatthehalf-trollX,theredheadMalloryKeenandaguyIguessedwasHalfborn

Gunderson,wholookedlikeRobinsonCrusoeonsteroids.Hisshirtwasapatchworkofanimalpelts.Hishidetrouserswereintatters.EvenbyVikingstandardshisbeardwaswild,decoratedwithmostofacheeseomelette.Myfourhallmatesmaderoomformeatthetable,whichfeltprettygood.Comparedtothemainfeasthall,loungenineteenwasdownrightintimate.Scatteredaroundthe

roomwereadozentables,mostunoccupied.Inonecorner,afireplacecrackledinfrontofabeat-upsofa.Alongtheotherwall,abuffettablewasladenwitheverykindofbreakfastfoodimaginable(andafewkindsIhadneverimagined).T.J.andcompanyhadparkedthemselvesinfrontofabigpicturewindowoverlookingavastfield

oficeandswirlingsnow.Itmadenosense,consideringthatitwassummerinmyatriumrightdownthehall,butI’dalreadylearnedthatthehotel’sgeographywaswack.‘That’sNiflheim,’T.J.explained,‘therealmofice.Theviewchangesdaily,cyclingthroughthe

NineWorlds.’‘TheNineWorlds…’Istaredatmyscrambledeggs,wonderingwhichsolarsystemthey’dcome

from.‘Ikeephearingaboutnineworlds.Hardtobelieve.’MalloryKeenblewicingsugaroffherdoughnut.‘Believeit,newbie.I’vevisitedsixofthemso

far.’‘Fivehere.’Halfborngrinned,showingmetherestofhischeeseomelette.‘’Course,Midgard

hardlycounts.That’sthehumanworld.BeentoAlfheim,Nidavellir,Jotunheim–’‘DisneyWorld,’Xsaid.Mallorysighed.Withherredhair,greeneyes,andicingsugararoundhermouth,sheremindedme

ofareverse-colour-schemeJoker.‘Forthelasttime,younumbskull,DisneyWorldisnotoneofthenine.’‘Whyisitcalledaworld,then?’Xnoddedsmugly,theargumentwon,andwentbacktohismeal,

suckingmeatfromtheshellofalargecrustacean.T.J.pushedhisemptyplateaway.‘Magnus,Idon’tknowifithelps,buttheNineWorldsaren’t

reallyseparateplanets.They’remorelike…differentdimensions,differentlayersofreality,allconnectedbytheWorldTree.’

‘Thanks,’Isaid.‘That’smuchmoreconfusing.’Helaughed.‘Yeah,Iguessitis.’‘TheWorldTreeisthetreeinthefeasthall?’‘Nah,’Mallorysaid.‘TheWorldTreeismuchbigger.You’llsee,soonerorlater.’Thatsoundedominous.Itriedtoconcentrateonmyfood,butitwasdifficultwithXrightnextto

medemolishingaslimymutantcrab.IpointedatT.J.’sjacket.‘That’saCivilWaruniform?’‘PrivateintheFifty-fourthMassachusetts,myfriend.I’maBostonboy,sameasyou.Ijustgothere

alittleearlier.’Ididthecalculations.‘Youdiedinbattleahundredandfiftyyearsago?’T.J.beamed.‘TheassaultonFortWagner,SouthCarolina.MydadwasTyr,godofcourage,law,

andtrialbycombat.Mymomwasarunawayslave.’Itriedtofitthatintomynewworldview:ateenagerfromthe1860s,thesonofaformerslaveand

aNorsegod,whowasnowhavingbreakfastwithmeinanextra-dimensionalhotel.Xbelched,whichputthingsinperspective.‘GodsofAsgard!’Mallorycomplained.‘Thatsmell!’‘Sorry,’Xgrunted.‘IsyournamereallyX?’Iasked.‘No.Myrealnameis–’Thehalf-trollsaidsomethingthatstartedwithKsandwentonforabout

thirtyseconds.Halfbornwipedhishandsonhispeltshirt.‘Yousee?Nobodycanpronouncethat.WecallhimX.’‘X,’agreedX.‘He’sanotheroneofSamal-Abbas’sacquisitions,’T.J.said.‘Xstumbledacrossadogfight…one

ofthoseillegalonesin,where,Chicago?’‘Chee-cah-go,’affirmedX.‘Hesawwhatwasgoingonandwentnuts.Startedsmashinguptheplace,wallopingthebettors,

freeingtheanimals.’‘Dogsshouldfightforthemselves,’Xsaid.‘Notforgreedyhumans.Theyshouldbewildandfree.

Theyshouldnotbekeptincages.’Ididn’twanttoarguewiththebigguy,butIwasn’tsureIlikedtheideaofwilddogsfightingfor

themselves.Thatsoundedalotlikewolves–ananimalIrefusedtoharbinge.‘Anyway,’T.J.said,‘itturnedintoafull-scalebattle:Xagainstabunchofgangsterswithautomatic

weapons.Theyfinallykilledhim,butXtookdownalotofscumbagsandfreedalotofdogs.Thatwaswhat…amonthago?’Xgruntedandcontinuedsuckinghisshellfish.T.J.spreadhishands.‘Samirahjudgedhimworthyandbroughthimhere.Shegotsomeflakfor

thatdecision.’Mallorysnorted.‘That’sputtingitmildly.AtrollinValhalla.Whocouldpossiblyobject?’‘Half-troll,’Xcorrected.‘Thatismybetterhalf,MalloryKeen.’‘Shedidn’tmeananything,X,’T.J.said.‘It’sjustthatprejudicedieshard.WhenIgotherein1863,I

wasn’texactlywelcomedwithopenarms,either.’

Malloryrolledhereyes.‘Thenyouwonthemoverwithyourdazzlingpersonality.Iswear,youlotaregivingfloornineteenabadname.AndnowwehaveMagnus.’Halfbornleanedtowardsme.‘Don’tmindMallory.She’sasweetheart,onceyougetpastthefact

thatshe’sahorribleperson.’‘Shutup,Halfborn.’Thebigguychuckled.‘She’sjustgrumpybecauseshediedtryingtodisarmacarbombwithher

face.’Mallory’searsturnedasredashummingbirdnectar.‘Ididn’t–itwasn’t–Argh!’‘Magnus,don’tworryaboutthatmesslastnight,’continuedHalfborn.‘Folkswillforgetaboutitin

afewdecades.Believeme,I’veseenitall.IdiedduringtheVikinginvasionofEastAnglia,foughtunderthebannerofIvartheBoneless.Itooktwentyarrowsinthechestprotectingmythane!’‘Ouch,’Isaid.Halfbornshrugged.‘I’vebeenherefor…oh,goingontwelvehundredyearsnow.’Istaredathim.Despitehisbulkandhisbeard,Halfbornlookedmaybeeighteen,tops.‘Howdoyou

standitwithoutgoingcrazy?AndwhydotheycallyouHalfborn?’Hissmilefaded.‘Secondquestionfirst…whenIwasborn,Iwassobig,stronganduglythatmy

mothersaidIlookedlikeI’dbeenhalfborn,halfcarvedfromrock.Thenamestuck.’‘Andyou’restillugly,’Mallorymuttered.‘Asforhowtoavoidgoingcrazyhere…Somedoloseit,Magnus.WaitingforRagnarokishard.

Thetrickistokeepbusy.There’splentytodohere.Me,I’velearnedadozenlanguages,includingEnglish.IearnedadoctorateinGermanicliterature,andIlearnedtoknit.’T.J.nodded.‘That’swhyIinvitedyoutobreakfast,Magnus.’‘Tolearnknitting?’‘Tokeepactive!Spendingtoomuchtimealoneinyourroomcanbedangerous.Ifyouisolate

yourself,youstarttofade.Someoftheold-timers…’Heclearedhisthroat.‘Itdoesn’tmatter.You’rehere!JustkeepshowingupeverymorninguntilDoomsday,andyou’llbefine.’Istaredoutofthewindowattheswirlingsnow.IthoughtaboutSam’swarningtofindthesword,

theNornschantingthatsomethingbadwouldhappeninninedays.‘Yousaidyou’vevisitedtheotherworlds.Thatmeansyoucanleavethehotel.’Thegroupexchangeduneasyglances.‘Yes,’Halfbornsaid.‘ButourmainjobistowaitforRagnarok.Train,train,train.’‘IrodethetrainatDisneyWorld,’saidX.Maybehemeantitasajest.Thehalf-trollseemedtohavetwofacialexpressions:wetcementand

drycement.‘Occasionally,’saidT.J.,‘einherjararesentintotheNineWorldsonmissions.’‘Trackingdownmonsters,’Malloryoffered.‘KillinggiantswhocrossintoMidgard.Stopping

witchesandwights.And,ofcourse,dealingwithrogues–’‘Wights?Rogues?’Iasked.‘Pointis,’saidHalfborn,‘weonlyleaveValhallaunderordersfromOdinorthethanes.’‘But,hypothetically,’Isaid,‘Icouldgobacktoearth,Midgard,whatever–’

‘Hypothetically,yes,’T.J.said.‘Look,IknowthatbusinesswiththeNornsmustbedrivingyoubonkers,butwedon’tknowwhattheprophecymeans.Givethethanessometimetodecidewhattodo.Youcan’trushoffanddosomethingstupid.’‘Godsforbid,’saidMallory.‘Weneverdoanythingstupid.Likethatlate-nightpizzarunto

Santarpio’s.Thatneverhappened.’‘Shutup,woman,’Halfborngrowled.‘Woman?’Malloryreachedfortheknifeatherbelt.‘Watchyourwords,youovergrownSwedish

hamster.’‘Holdon,’Isaid.‘Youguysknowhowtosneakoutof–’T.J.coughedloudly.‘Sorry,Ididn’thearthat.I’msureyouweren’taskingaboutanythingagainst

therules.Magnus,firstofall:ifyoureturnedtoMidgardsosoon,howwouldyouexplainittothosewhoknewyou?Everyonethinksyou’redead.Usually,ifwegoback,wewaituntileveryoneweknewisdead.It’seasierallthewayaround.Besides,ittakesawhile,sometimesyears,foryoureinherjistrengthtodevelopfully.’Itriedtoimaginewaitinghereforyears.Ididn’thavemanyfriendsorrelativestogobackto.Still,

Ididn’twanttobestuckhere–learningnewlanguages,knittingsweaters–forages.AfterseeingmycousinAnnabeth,Ikindofwantedtoreconnectwithherbeforeshedied.AndifSamirahwasrightaboutmymomnotbeinginValhalla…Iwantedtofindher,wherevershewas.‘Butit’spossibletoleavewithoutpermission,’Ipersisted.‘Maybenotforever,justforawhile.’T.J.shifteduncomfortably.‘Valhallahasdoorsintoeveryworld.Thehotelisdesignedthatway.

Mostexitsareguarded,but…well,therearealotofwaystoBoston,sinceBostonisthecentreofMidgard.’Iglancedaroundthetable.Nobodywaslaughing.‘Itis?’‘Sure,’T.J.said.‘It’srightatthetrunkoftheWorldTree,theeasiestspotfromwhichtoaccessthe

otherworlds.WhydoyouthinkBostoniscalledtheHuboftheUniverse?’‘Wishfulthinking?’‘No.Mortalshavealwaysknowntherewassomethingaboutthatlocation,eveniftheycouldn’tput

theirfingeronwhatitwas.TheVikingssearchedforthecentreoftheworldforyears.TheyknewtheentrancetoAsgardwasinthewest.That’sonereasontheykeptexploringintoNorthAmerica.WhentheymettheNativeAmericans–’‘Wecalledthemtheskraelings,’Halfbornsaid.‘Viciousfighters.Ilikedthem.’‘–thenativeshadallsortsofstoriesabouthowstrongthespiritworldwasinthisarea.Later,when

thePuritanssettled,well…JohnWinthrop’svisionofashining“CityonaHill”?Thatwasn’tjustametaphor.HehadavisionofAsgard,aglimpseintotheotherworlds.AndtheSalemwitchtrials?HysteriacausedbymagicseepingintoMidgard.EdgarAllanPoewasborninBoston.It’snoaccidenthismostfamouspoemwasaboutaraven,oneofOdin’ssacredanimals.’‘Enough.’Mallorygavemeadisgustedlook.‘T.J.willtakeforeverwhenansweringayes/no

question.Theanswerisyes,Magnus.Itispossibletoleave,withorwithoutpermission.’Xcrackedacrabclaw.‘Youwouldnotbeimmortal.’‘Yeah,’T.J.said.‘That’sthesecondbigproblem.InValhalla,youcan’tdie–notpermanently.

You’lljustkeepgettingresurrected.It’spartofthetraining.’

Irememberedtheguywhohadgotimpaledinthelobbyanddraggedoffbywolves.Hundinghadsaidhewouldbefineagainbydinner.‘ButoutsideofValhalla?’‘OutintheNineWorlds,’T.J.said,‘you’restillaneinherji.You’refasterandstrongerandtougher

thananyregularmortal.Butifyoudieoutthereyoustaydead.YoursoulmightgotoHelheim.Oryoumightsimplydissolveintotheprimordialvoid–Ginnungagap.Hardtoknow.It’snotworththerisk.’‘Unless…’Halfbornpickedsomeeggoutofhisbeard.‘Unlesshereallydidfindtheswordof

Freyandthelegendsaretrue–’‘It’sMagnus’sfirstday,’T.J.said.‘Let’snotgointothat.He’salreadyfreakedoutenough.’‘Freakmeoutmore,’Isaid.‘Whatlegendsexactly?’Inthehallway,ahornblasted.Attheothertables,einherjarstartedtogetupandcleartheirplates.Halfbornrubbedhishandseagerly.‘Talkingwillhavetowait.It’sbattletime!’‘Battletime,’Xagreed.T.J.grimaced.‘Magnus,weshouldprobablywarnyouaboutthefirst-dayinitiation.Don’tbe

discouragedif–’‘Oh,shush,’saidMallory.‘Don’tspoilthesurprise!’Shegavemeanicing-sugarsmile.‘Ican’t

waittoseethenewboygetdismembered!’

NINETEEN

DoNotCallMeBeantown.Like,Ever

ItoldmynewfriendsIwasallergictodismemberment.Theyjustlaughedandherdedmetowardsthecombatarena.ThisiswhyIdon’tlikemakingnewfriends.ThebattlefieldwassohugeIcouldn’tprocesswhatIwasseeing.BackinthegoodolddayswhenIwasastreetkid,Iusedtosleeponrooftopsinthesummertime.I

couldseetheentirecityscapeofBostonfromFenwayParktoBunkerHill.Valhalla’sbattlefieldwasbiggerthanthat.Itofferedmaybethreesquaremilesofinterestingplacestodie,allcontainedwithinthehotellikeaninteriorcourtyard.Onallfoursidesrosethewallsofthebuilding–cliffsofwhitemarbleandgold-railedbalconies,

somehungwithbanners,somedecoratedwithshields,somefittedwithcatapults.Theupperfloorsseemedtodissolveinthehazyglowofthesky,asblankwhiteasafluorescentlight.Inthecentreofthefieldloomedafewcraggyhills.Clumpsofforestmarbledthelandscape.The

outerrimwasmostlyrollingpastures,withariveraswideastheCharlessnakingthrough.Severalvillagesdottedtheriverbank,maybeforthosewhopreferredtheirwarfareurban.Fromhundredsofdoorsinthewallsaroundthefield,battalionsofwarriorswerestreamingin,

theirweaponsandarmourglintingintheharshlight.Someeinherjarworefullplatemaillikemedievalknights.Othersworechain-mailshirts,breechesandcombatboots.AfewsportedcamofatiguesandAK-47s.OneguyworenothingbutapairofSpeedos.He’dpaintedhimselfblueandwasarmedonlywithabaseballbat.AcrosshischestwerethewordsCOMEATME,BRO.‘Ifeelunderdressed,’Isaid.Xcrackedhisknuckles.‘Armourdoesnotmakevictory.Neitherdoweapons.’Easyforhimtosay.Hewaslargerthansomesovereignnations.HalfbornGundersonwasalsotakingtheminimalistapproach.He’dstrippeddowntonothingbut

hisleggings,thoughhedidsportapairofvicious-lookingdouble-bladedaxes.Standingnexttoanyoneelse,Halfbornwould’velookedmassive.NexttoX,helookedlikeatoddler…withabeard,absandaxes.T.J.fastenedhisbayonettohisrifle.‘Magnus,ifyouwantmorethanthebasicequipment,you’ll

havetocaptureitortradeforit.Thehotelarmouriestakeredgold,ortheyworkonabartersystem.’‘Isthathowyougotyourrifle?’‘Nah,thisistheweaponIdiedwith.Ihardlyeverfireit.Bulletsdon’thavemucheffecton

einherjar.Thoseguysouttherewiththeassaultrifles?That’sallflashandnoise.They’retheleastdangerouspeopleonthefield.Butthisbayonet?It’sbonesteel,agiftfrommyfather.Bonesteelworksjustfine.’‘Bonesteel.’

‘Yeah.You’lllearn.’Myswordhandwasalreadysweating.Myshieldfeltmuchtooflimsy.‘Sowhichgroupsarewe

fightingagainst?’Halfbornclappedmeontheback.‘Allofthem!Vikingsfightinsmallgroups,myfriend.Weare

yourshieldbrothers.’‘Andshieldsister,’Mallorysaid.‘Thoughsomeofusareshieldidiots.’Halfbornignoredher.‘Stickwithus,Magnus,and…well,youwon’tdofine.You’llgetkilled

quickly.Butstickwithusanyway.We’llwadeintobattleandslaughterasmanyaspossible!’‘That’syourplan?’Halfborntiltedhishead.‘WhywouldIhaveaplan?’‘Oh,sometimeswedo,’saidT.J.‘Wednesdaysaresiegewarfare.That’smorecomplicated.

Thursdaystheybringoutthedragons.’Mallorydrewherswordandserrateddagger.‘Todayisfree-for-allcombat.IloveTuesdays.’Fromathousanddifferentbalconies,hornsblasted.Theeinherjarchargedintobattle.Untilthatmorning,I’dneverunderstoodthetermbloodbath.Withinafewminutes,wewere

literallyslippinginthestuff.We’djuststeppedontothefieldwhenanaxeflewoutofnowhereandstuckinmyshield,theblade

goingrightthroughthewoodabovemyarm.Malloryyelledandthrewherknife,whichsankintotheaxethrower ’schest.Hefelltohisknees,

laughing.‘Goodone!’Thenhecollapsed,dead.Halfbornwadedthroughenemies,hisaxeswhirling,choppingoffheadsandlimbsuntilhelooked

likehe’dbeenplayingpaintballwithonlyredpaint.Itwasdisgusting.Andhorrifying.Andthemostdisturbingpart?Theeinherjartreateditlikeagame.Theykilledwithglee.TheydiedasifsomeonehadjusttakendowntheiravatarinCallofDuty.I’dneverlikedthatgame.‘Ah,thatsucks,’oneguymutteredashestudiedthefourarrowsinhischest.Anotheryelled,‘I’llgetyoutomorrow,Trixie!’beforefallingsideways,aspearstuckthroughhis

gut.T.J.sang‘TheBattleHymnoftheRepublic’whilehestabbedandparriedwithhisbayonet.Xsmashedthroughonegroupafteranother.Adozenarrowsnowstuckoutofhisbacklike

porcupinequills,buttheydidn’tseemtobotherhim.Everytimehisfistconnected,aneinherjiturnedtwo-dimensional.Asforme,Ishuffledalonginabjectterror,myshieldraised,mysworddragging.I’dbeentoldthat

deathherewasn’tpermanent,butIhadahardtimebelievingit.Abunchofwarriorswithsharp,pointyobjectsweretryingtokillme.Ididn’twanttobekilled.Imanagedtoparryaswordstrike.Ideflectedaspearwithmyshield.Ihadaclearopeningtostab

onegirlwhoseguardwasdown,butIjustcouldn’tmakemyselfdoit.Thatwasamistake.Heraxebitintomythigh.Painflaredallthewayuptomyneck.Mallorycutthegirldown.‘Comeon,Chase,keepmoving!You’llgetusedtothepainaftera

while.’‘Great.’Igrimaced.‘Somethingtolookforwardto.’

T.J.jabbedhisbayonetthroughthefaceplateofamedievalknight.‘Let’stakethathill!’Hepointedtoanearbyridgeattheedgeofthewoods.‘Why?’Iyelled.‘Becauseit’sahill!’‘Helovestakinghills,’Mallorygrumbled.‘It’saCivilWarthing.’Wewadedthroughthebattle,headingforthehighground.Mythighstillhurt,butthebleedinghad

stopped.Wasthatnormal?T.J.raisedhisrifle.Heyelled‘Charge!’justasajavelinranhimthroughfrombehind.‘T.J!’Iyelled.Hecaughtmyeye,managedaweaksmile,thenface-plantedinthemud.‘ForFrigg’ssake!’Mallorycursed.‘Comeon,newbie.’Shegrabbedmyarmandpulledmealong.Morejavelinssailedovermyhead.‘Youguysdothiseveryday?’Idemanded.‘No.Likewetoldyou–Thursdaysaredragons.’‘But–’‘Hey,Beantown,thewholepointistogetusedtothehorrorsofbattle.Youthinkthisisbad?Wait

untilweactuallyhavetofightatRagnarok.’‘WhyamIBeantown?T.J.’sfromBoston.Whyisn’theBeantown?’‘BecauseT.J.isslightlylessannoying.’Wereachedtheedgeofthewoods.XandHalfbornguardedourbacks,slowingdownthepursuing

horde.Andtheenemieswereahordenow.Allthescatteredgroupswithinsighthadstoppedfightingoneanotherandwereafterus.Somepointedatme.Somecalledmyname,andnotinafriendlyway.‘Yeah,they’vespottedyou.’Mallorysighed.‘WhenIsaidIwantedtoseeyoueviscerated,Ididn’t

meanIwantedtobestandingnexttoyou.Oh,well.’Ialmostaskedwhyeveryonewasafterme.ButIgotit.Iwasanewbie.Ofcoursetheother

einherjarwouldganguponmeandtheothernewcomers.LarsAhlstromwasprobablyalreadydecapitated.Dedemightberunningaroundwithherarmscutoff.Theveteraneinherjarwouldmakethisaspainfulandterrifyingforusaspossibletoseehowwehandledourselves.Thatmademeangry.Weclimbedthehill,weavingfromtreetotreeforcover.Halfbornthrewhimselfintoagroupof

twentyguyswhowerefollowingus.Hedestroyedthemall.Hecameuplaughing,aninsanelightinhiseyes.Hewasbleedingfromadozenwounds.Adaggerstuckoutofhischest,rightoverhisheart.‘Howishenotdeadyet?’Iasked.‘He’saberserker.’Malloryglancedback,herexpressionamixofdisdainandexasperationand

somethingelse…admiration?‘Thatidiotwillkeepfightinguntilheisliterallyhackedtopieces.’Somethingclickedinmyhead.MallorylikedHalfborn.Youdon’tcallsomebodyanidiotthatmany

timesunlessyou’rereallyintothem.Underdifferentcircumstances,Imighthaveteasedher,butwhileshewasdistractedtherewasawetthwack.Anarrowsproutedfromherneck.Shescowledatmeasiftosay,Totallyyourfault.Shecollapsed.Ikneltatherside,puttingmyhandonherneck.Icouldfeelthelifeseepingoutof

her.Icouldsensetheseveredartery,thefadingheartbeat,allthedamagethathadtobemended.Myfingersseemedtogrowwarmer.IfIhadalittlemoretime–

‘Lookout!’shoutedX.Iraisedmyshield.Aswordclangedagainstit.Ipushedback,knockingtheattackerdownhill.My

armsached.Myheadwasthrobbing,butsomehowIgottomyfeet.Halfbornwasfortyyardsaway,surroundedbyamobofwarriorsalljabbinghimwithspears,

shootinghimfullofarrows.Somehowhekeptfighting,butevenhewouldn’tbeabletostandmuchlonger.Xrippedaguy’sAK-47outofhishandsandsmackedhimovertheheadwithit.‘Go,MagnusBeantown,’saidthehalf-troll.‘Takethecrestforfloornineteen!’‘MynicknamewillnotbeBeantown,’Imuttered.‘Irefuse.’IstumbleduphilluntilIreachedthesummit.IputmybackagainstabigoaktreewhileXsmashed

andbackhandedandheadbuttedVikingsintooblivion.Anarrowhitmyshoulder,pinningmetothetree.Thepainalmostmademeblackout,butI

snappedtheshaftandpulledmyselffree.Thebleedingstoppedinstantly.Ifeltthewoundclosingasifsomebodyhadfilleditwithhotwax.Ashadowpassedoverme–somethinglargeanddarkhurtlingfromthesky.Ittookmea

millisecondtorealizeitwasaboulder,probablyshotfromabalconycatapult.Ittookmeanothermillisecondtorealizewhereitwouldland.Toolate.BeforeIcouldshoutawarningtoX,thehalf-trollandadozenothereinherjar

disappearedunderatwenty-tonchunkoflimestone,thesideofwhichwaspainted:WITHLOVEFROM

FLOOR63.Ahundredwarriorsstaredattherock.Leavesandbrokentwigsflutteredaroundthem.Thenthe

einherjarallturnedtowardsme.Anotherarrowhitmeinthechest.Iscreamed,moreinragethaninpain,andpulleditout.‘Wow,’oneoftheVikingscommented.‘He’safasthealer.’‘Tryaspear,’someonesuggested.‘Trytwospears.’TheyspokeasifIwasn’tworthaddressing–asifIwereacorneredanimaltheycouldexperiment

with.Twentyorthirtyeinherjarraisedtheirweapons.Theangerinsidemeexploded.Ishouted,expelling

energyliketheshockwavefromabomb.Bowstringssnapped.Swordsfelloutoftheirowners’hands.Spearsandgunsandaxeswentflyingintothetrees.Asquicklyasitstarted,thesurgeofpowershutoff.Allaroundme,ahundredeinherjarhadbeen

strippedoftheirweapons.Theblue-paintedguystoodinthefrontrow,hisbaseballbatathisfeet.Hestaredatmeinshock.

‘Whatjusthappened?’Thewarriornexttohimhadaneyepatchandredleatherarmourdecoratedwithsilvercurlicues.

Cautiously,hecrouchedandretrievedhisfallenaxe.‘Alfseidr,’saidEyePatch.‘Nicelydone,sonofFrey.Ihaven’tseenatricklikethatincenturies.But

bonesteelisbetter.’Myeyescrossedashisaxebladespuntowardsmyface.Theneverythingwentdark.

TWENTY

CometotheDarkSide.WeHavePop-Tarts

Afamiliarvoicesaid,‘Deadagain,eh?’Iopenedmyeyes.Iwasstandinginapavilionringedwithgreystonecolumns.Outsidewasnothing

butemptysky.Theairwasthin.Coldwindwhippedacrossthemarblefloor,stirringthefireinthecentralhearth,makingtheflamesgutterinthebraziersoneithersideofthetalldais.Threestepsleduptoadoublethrone–aloveseatofwhitewoodcarvedwithintricateshapesofanimals,birdsandtreebranches.Theseatitselfwaslinedwithermine.Sprawlingacrossit,eatingPop-Tartsfromasilverwrapper,wasthemanintheRedSoxjersey.‘WelcometoHlidskjalf.’Hegrinned,hisscarredlipslikethesidesofazipper.‘TheHighSeatof

Odin.’‘You’renotOdin,’Isaid,usingprocessofelimination.‘You’reLoki.’SoxManchuckled.‘Nothingescapesyourkeenintellect.’‘First,whatarewedoinghere?Second,whyisOdin’sthronenamedLidScalp?’‘Hlidskjalf.Putanhatthebeginningandanfattheend.Onthatfirstletteryouhavetosoundlike

you’rehawkingspit.’‘Onfurtherreflection,Idon’tcare.’‘Youshould.Thisiswhereitallstarted.That’stheanswertoyoursecondquestion–whywe’re

here.’Hepattedtheseatnexttohim.‘Joinme.HaveaPop-Tart.’‘Uh,nothanks.’‘Yourloss.’Hebrokeofftheedgeofapastryandtosseditintohismouth.‘Thispurpleicing…I

don’tknowwhatflavourit’ssupposedtobe,butitisinsanelygood.’Mypulsethrobbedinmyneck,whichwasstrangesinceIwasdreaming,andprobablyalsodead.Loki’seyesunnervedme.TheyhadthatsameintenseglowasSam’s,butSamkepttheflamesunder

control.Loki’sgazeflittedrestlesslylikethefireinthehearth,pushedbythewind,lookingforanythingitcouldsetablaze.‘Freyoncesathere.’Hestrokedtheerminefur.‘Doyouknowthestory?’‘No,but…isn’titillegalforanyonetositthereexceptOdin?’‘Oh,yes.Well,OdinandFrigg,thekingandqueen.TheycansithereandseeanywhereintheNine

Worlds.Theymerelyhavetoconcentrateandtheywillfindwhatevertheyarelookingfor.Butifanyoneelsesitshere…’Hemadetsk-tsksounds.‘Thethrone’smagiccanbeaterriblecurse.Icertainlywouldneverriskitifthisweren’tanillusion.Butyourfatherdid.Itwashisonemomentofrebellion.’LokitookanotherbiteofpurplePop-Tart.‘Ialwaysadmiredhimforthat.’‘And?’

‘And,insteadofseeingwhathewaslookingfor,hesawwhathemostdesired.Itruinedhislife.It’sthereasonhelosthissword.He–’Lokiwinced.‘Excuseme.’Heturnedhishead,hisfeaturescontortinglikehewasabouttosneeze.Thenheletlooseascream

ofagony.Whenhefacedmeagain,wispsofsteamrosefromthescartissueacrossthebridgeofhisnose.‘Sorry,’hesaid.‘Everysooftenthepoisonsplashesinmyeyes.’‘Thepoison.’Irememberedafragmentofamyth.‘Youkilledsomebody.Thegodscapturedyou

andtiedyouup.Therewassomethingaboutpoison.Whereareyounow,really?’Hegavemethattwistedgrin.‘RightwhereIalwaysam.Thegodshadme,ah,properlyrestrained.

Butthat’snotimportant.Icanstillsendoutsplintersofmyessencefromtimetotime–likeI’mdoingnow,tospeakwithmyfavouritefriends!’‘Justbecauseyou’rewearingaSoxjerseydoesnotmeanwe’refriends.’‘I’mhurt!’Hiseyessparkled.‘MydaughterSamirahsawsomethinginyou.Wecouldhelpeach

other.’‘YouorderedhertotakemetoValhalla?’‘Oh,no.Thatwasn’tmyidea.You,MagnusChase,areofinteresttomanydifferentparties.Some

ofthemarenotascharmingorhelpfulasI.’‘Howaboutbeingcharmingandhelpfultoyourdaughter?ShegotkickedoutoftheValkyriesfor

choosingme.’Hissmilefaded.‘That’sthegodsforyou.Theybanishedme,too,andhowmanytimesdidIsave

theirhides?Don’tworryaboutSamirah.Sheisstrong.She’llbefine.I’mmoreworriedaboutyou.’Coldwindblewthroughthepavilion,sostrongitpushedmeafewinchesacrossthepolishedstone

floor.LokicrumpledhisPop-Tartwrapper.‘You’llbewakingupsoon.Beforeyougo,someadvice.’‘Idon’tsupposeIcanrefuse.’‘TheSwordofSummer,’Lokisaid.‘Whenyourfathersatonthisthrone,whathesawdoomedhim.

Hegavehisswordaway.Itpassedtohisservantandmessenger,Skirnir.’ForamomentIwasbackontheLongfellowBridge,theswordhumminginmyhandasiftryingto

speak.‘UncleRandolphmentionedSkirnir,’Isaid.‘Hisdescendantwasinthatshipwreck.’Lokipantomimedwildapplause.‘Andtheretheswordlayforathousandyears,waitingfor

someonetoreclaimit–someonewhohadtherighttowieldtheblade.’‘Me.’‘Ah,butyouaren’ttheonlyonewhocanusethesword.WeknowwhatwillhappenatRagnarok.

TheNornshavetoldusourfates.Frey…poorFrey,becauseofthechoiceshemade,willdieatthehandsofSurt.Thelordofthefiregiantswillcuthimdownwithhisownlostsword.’Aspikeofpainhitmebetweentheeyes,rightaboutwheretheeinherji’saxehadkilledme.‘That’s

whySurtwantsthesword.Sohe’llbereadyforRagnarok.’‘Notonlythat.He’llusetheswordtosetinmotionachainofeventstohastenDoomsday.Ineight

days,unlessyoustophim,hewillcutloosemyson,theWolf.’

‘Yourson…?’Myarmswereevaporating.Myeyesightgrewhazy.Toomanyquestionscrowdedintomyhead.‘Wait…aren’tyoudestinedtofightagainstthegodsatRagnarok,too?’‘Yes,butthatwasthegods’choice,notmine.Thethingaboutfate,Magnus:evenifwecan’tchange

thebigpicture,ourchoicescanalterthedetails.That’showwerebelagainstdestiny,howwemakeourmark.Whatwillyouchoosetodo?’Hisimageflickered.ForamomentIsawhimspread-eagleonaslabofstone,hiswristsandankles

tiedwithslimyropes,hisbodywrithinginpain.ThenIsawhiminahospitalbed,afemaledoctorleaningoverhim,herhandrestinggentlyonhisforehead.ShelookedlikeanolderversionofSam–curlsofdarkhairescapingfromascarletheadscarf,hermouthsettightwithconcern.Lokiappearedonthethroneagain,brushingPop-TartcrumbsfromhisRedSoxjersey.‘Iwon’t

tellyouwhattodo,Magnus.That’sthedifferencebetweenmeandtheothergods.I’llonlyaskyouthisquestion:whenyougetachancetositonOdin’sthrone–andthatdayiscoming–willyousearchforyourheart’sdesire,knowingitmaydoomyouasitdoomedyourfather?Thinkonthat,sonofFrey.Perhapswe’llspeakagain,ifyousurvivethenexteightdays.’Mydreamchanged.Lokivanished.Thebraziersburst,showeringhotcoalsacrossthedais,andthe

HighSeatofOdineruptedinflames.Thecloudsturnedintorollingbanksofvolcanicash.Abovetheburningthrone,twoglowingredeyesappearedinthesmoke.YOU.ThevoiceofSurtwashedovermelikeaflamethrower.YOUHAVEONLYDELAYEDME.

YOUHAVEEARNEDAMOREPAINFUL,MOREPERMANENTDEATH.Itriedtospeak.Theheatsuckedtheoxygenfrommylungs.Mylipscrackedandblistered.Surtlaughed.THEWOLFTHINKSYOUMAYSTILLBEUSEFUL.IDONOT.WHENWEMEET

AGAIN,YOUWILLBURN,SONOFFREY.YOUANDYOURFRIENDSWILLBEMYTINDER.YOUWILLSTARTTHEFIRETHATBURNSTHENINEWORLDS.Thesmokethickened.Icouldn’tbreathe,couldn’tsee.Myeyesflewopen.Iboltedupright,gaspingforair.Iwasinbedinmyhotelroom.Surtwasgone.

Itouchedmyface,butitwasn’tburned.Noaxewasembeddedthere.Allmybattlefieldwoundshadvanished.Still,mywholebodywasbuzzingwithalarm.IfeltlikeI’dfallenasleeponactivetraintracksand

theAcelaExpresshadjustroaredpast.Thedreamwasalreadyerasingitself.Istruggledtoholdontothespecifics:thethroneofOdin;

LokiandPop-Tarts;myson,theWolf;SurtpromisingtoburntheNineWorlds.Tryingtomakesenseofitwasevenmorepainfulthangettinganaxeinmyface.Someoneknockedonmydoor.Thinkingitmightbeoneofmyhallmates,Ileapedoutofbedandrantoanswer.Ithrewopenthe

door,foundmyselfface-to-facewiththeValkyrieGunillaandonlythenrealizedIwaswearingnothingbutunderwear.Herfaceturnedmagenta.Herjawmusclesknotted.‘Oh.’‘CaptainGorilla,’Isaid.‘Whatanhonour.’Sherecoveredquickly,glaringatmelikeshewastryingtoactivateherfreeze-rayvision.‘Magnus

Chase.I,um–youresurrectedwithincrediblespeed.’Fromhertone,Iguessedthatshehadn’texpectedtofindmehere.Butthenwhyhadsheknocked?

‘Iwasn’ttimingmyresurrection,’Isaid.‘Wasitfast?’‘Very.’Sheglancedpastme,maybelookingforsomething.‘Wehaveafewhoursbeforedinner.

PerhapsIcouldgiveyouatourofthehotel,sinceyourownValkyriehasbeendismissed.’‘Youmeansinceyougotherdismissed.’Gunillaturnedupherpalms.‘Idon’tcontroltheNorns.Theydecideallourfates.’‘That’sconvenient.’IrememberedwhatLokihadsaid:Ourchoicescanalterthedetails.That’show

werebelagainstdestiny.‘Whataboutme?Haveyou–ImeantheNorns–decidedmyfate?’Gunillascowled.Herposturewasstiffanduneasy.Somethingwasbotheringher–maybeeven

scaringher.‘Thethanesarediscussingyoursituationnow.’Sheunhookedthekeyringfromherbelt.‘Takea

tourwithme.Wecantalk.IfIunderstandyoubetter,Imaybeabletospeaktothethanesonyourbehalf.Unless,ofcourse,youwanttotakeyourchanceswithoutmyhelp.Youmightgetlucky.Thethanesmightsentenceyoutobellhopdutyforafewcenturies.Orwashingdishesinthekitchen.’ThelastthingIwantedwasqualitytimewithGunilla.Ontheotherhand,atourofthehotelmight

showmesomeimportantfeatures–liketheexits.Also,afterthedreamI’djusthad,Ididn’twanttobealone.Besides,Icouldimaginehowmanydirtydisheswouldneedwashingafterthreeroundsofdinner

inthefeasthall.‘I’lltakethetour,’Isaid.‘ButIshouldprobablyputsomeclothesonfirst.’

TWENTY-ONE

GunillaGetsBlowtorchedandIt’sNotFunny.Okay,It’saLittleBitFunny

ThemainthingIdiscovered:ValhallaneededGPS.EvenGunillagotturnedaroundintheendlesscorridors,banquethalls,gardensandlounges.AtonepointwewereridinginaserviceelevatorwhenGunillasaid,‘Here’sthefoodcourt.’Thedoorsopenedandawallofflamesengulfedusboth.Myheartleapedintomythroat.IthoughtSurthadfoundme.Gunillascreamedandstaggered

backwards.Ismashedrandombuttonsuntilthedoorsshut.ThenIdidmybesttoputouttheburninghemofGunilla’sdress.‘Youokay?’Mypulsewasstillracing.Gunilla’sarmswerecoveredwithpatchesofsteamingred

skin.‘Myskinwillheal,’Gunillasaid.‘Mypridemaynot.That–thatwasMuspellheim,notthefood

court.’IwonderedifSurthadengineeredourlittledetoursomehow,orifelevatordoorsinValhallaoften

openedintotheworldoffire.Iwasn’tsurewhichpossibilitywasmoredisturbing.ThetightnessinGunilla’svoicetoldmehowmuchpainshewasin.Irememberedstandingover

MalloryKeenwhenshefellinbattle–thewayI’dbeenabletosensethedamageandhowitcouldhavebeenmendedifI’dhadmoretime.IkneltnexttotheValkyrie.‘MayI?’‘Whatareyou–’Itouchedherforearm.Myfingersbegantosteam,drawingtheheatfromherskin.Therednessfaded.Herburns

disappeared.Eventhesingedtipofhernosehealed.GunillastaredatmeasifI’dsproutedhorns.‘Howdidyou…?Youweren’tburned,either.How?’‘Idon’tknow.’Myheadspunwithexhaustion.‘Goodluck?Healthyliving?’Itriedtostandandpromptlycollapsed.‘Whoa,sonofFrey.’Gunillagrabbedmyarm.Theelevatordoorsopenedagain.Thistimewereallywereatafoodcourt.Thesmellsoflemon

chickenandpizzawaftedin.‘Let’skeepwalking,’Gunillasaid.‘Clearyourhead.’Wegotsomestrangelooksaswestumbledthroughthediningarea,meleaningagainstthe

Valkyriecaptainforsupport,Gunilla’sdressstillsmokingandtattered.Weturnedintoacorridorlinedwithconferencerooms.Insideone,aguyinstuddedleatherarmour

wasgivingaPowerPointpresentationtoadozenwarriors,explainingtheweaknessesofmountain

trolls.Afewdoorsdown,Valkyriesinglitteringpartyhatssocializedovercakeandicecream.The

birthdaycandlewasshapedlikethenumber500.‘IthinkI’mokaynow,’ItoldGunilla.‘Thanks.’Iwobbledafewstepsonmyownbutmanagedtostayupright.‘Yourhealingabilitiesareremarkable,’Gunillasaid.‘Freyisthegodofabundanceandfertility,

growthandvitality–Iguessthatexplainsit.Still,I’veneverseenaneinherjiwhocanhealhimselfsoquickly,muchlesshealothers.’‘Yourguessisasgoodasmine,’Isaid.‘NormallyIhavetroublejustopeningBand-Aids.’‘Andyourimmunitytofire?’Iconcentratedonthecarpetdesigns,keepingonefootinfrontoftheother.Icouldwalknow,but

healingGunilla’sburnshadleftmefeelinglikeI’djusthadabadcaseofpneumonia.‘Idon’tthinkit’sfireimmunity,’Isaid.‘I’veburnedmyselfbefore.Ijust…Ihaveahightolerance

forextremetemperatures.Cold.Heat.ThesamethinghappenedontheLongfellowBridgewhenIwalkedintotheflames…’Myvoicefaltered.IrememberedthatGunillahadeditedthatvideoandmademelooklikeafool.‘Butyouknowallaboutthat.’Gunilladidn’tseemtonoticethesarcasm.Sheabsentlystrokedoneofthehammersinher

bandolierasifitwereakitten.‘Perhaps…Inthebeginningofcreation,onlytwoworldsexisted:MuspellheimandNiflheim,fireandice.Liferosebetweenthoseextremes.Freyisthegodofmoderateclimesandthegrowingseason.Herepresentsthemiddleground.Perhapsthat’swhyyoucanresistheatandcold.’Sheshookherhead.‘Idon’tknow,MagnusChase.IthasbeenalongtimesinceImetachildofFrey.’‘Why?ArewenotallowedinValhalla?’‘Oh,wehavesomechildrenofFreyfromtheolddays.ThekingsofSwedenwerehisdescendants,

forinstance.Butwehaven’tseenanewoneinValhallaforcenturies.FreyisVanir,foronething.’‘Isthatbad?SurtcalledmeVanir-spawn.’‘Thatwasn’tSurt.’Ithoughtaboutmydream:thoseglowingeyesinthesmoke.‘ItwasSurt.’Gunillalookedlikeshewantedtoargue,butsheletitdrop.‘Whateverthecase,thegodsare

dividedintotwotribes.TheAesiraremostlygodsofwar:Odin,Thor,Tyrandtherest.TheVaniraremorelikethegodsofnature:Frey,Freya,theirfather,Njord.That’sanoversimplification,butanyway–longago,thetwotribeshadawar.TheyalmostdestroyedtheNineWorlds.Theyfinallysettledtheirdifferences.Theyintermarried.Theyjoinedforcesagainstthegiants.Butstillthey’redifferentclans.SomeVanirhavepalacesinAsgard,theseatoftheAesirgods,buttheVaniralsohavetheirownworld,Vanaheim.WhenachildoftheVanirdiesbravely,theydon’tusuallygotoValhalla.MoreoftentheygototheVanirafterlife,overseenbythegoddessFreya.’Ittookmeaminutetodigestallthat.Clansofgods.Wars.Whatever.Butthatlastpart,theVanir

afterlife…‘You’retellingmethere’sanotherplacelikeValhalla,exceptforVanirchildren,andI’mnotthere?Whatifthat’swheremymomwent?WhatifIwassupposedto–’Gunillatookmyarm.Herblueeyeswereintensewithanger.‘That’sright,Magnus.Thinkabout

whatSamirahal-Abbashasdone.I’mnotsayingallchildrenoftheVanirgotoFolkvanger–’

‘YouputtheminaVolkswagen?’‘Folkvanger.It’sthenameofFreya’shallfortheslain.’‘Oh.’‘Mypointis,youcouldhavegonethere.Itwould’vebeenmorelikely.Halfthehonoureddeadgo

toOdin.HalfgotoFreya.Thatwaspartoftheagreementthatendedthegods’waraeonsago.SowhydidSamirahbringyouhere?Wronglychosen,wronglyslain.She’sthedaughterofLoki,thefatherofevil.Shecannotbetrusted.’Iwasn’tsurehowtoanswer.Ihadn’tknownSamirahallthatlong,butsheseemedprettynice.Of

course,sodidherdad,Loki…‘Youmaynotbelievethis,’Gunillasaid,‘butI’mgivingyouthebenefitofthedoubt.Ithinkyou

maybeinnocentofSamirah’splans.’‘Whatplans?’Shelaughedbitterly.‘TohastenDoomsday,ofcourse.Tobringthewarbeforeweareready.That’s

whatLokiwants.’IwastemptedtoprotestthatLokihadtoldmeotherwise.Heseemedmoreinterestedinstopping

Surtfromgettingmydad’ssword…ButIdecideditwouldn’tbewisetotellGunillaI’dbeenhavingchatswiththefatherofevil.‘IfyouhateSamsomuch,’Isaid,‘whydidyouletherbeaValkyrieinthefirstplace?’‘Thatwasn’tmychoice.IoverseetheValkyries,butOdinpicksthem.Samirahal-Abbaswasthelast

Valkyriehechose,twoyearsago,underwhatwere…unusualcircumstances.TheAll-FatherhasnotappearedinValhallasince.’‘YouthinkSamkilledhim?’Imeantitasajoke,butGunillaactuallyseemedtoconsiderit.‘IthinkSamirahshouldneverhave

beenchosenasaValkyrie.Ithinkshe’sworkingforherfatherasaspyandasaboteur.GettingherkickedoutofValhallawasthebestthingIeverdid.’‘Wow.’‘Magnus,youdon’tknowher.TherewasanotherchildofLokihereonce.He–hewasn’twhathe

seemed.He–’Shestoppedherself,lookinglikesomeonehadjuststeppedonherheart.‘Nevermind.IsworetomyselfIwouldn’tbefooledagain.IintendtodelayRagnarokforaslongaspossible.’Theedgeoffearhadcreptbackintohervoice.Shedidn’tsoundmuchlikethedaughterofawar

god.‘Whydelay?’Iasked.‘Isn’tRagnarokwhatyou’realltrainingfor?It’slikeyourbiggraduation

party.’‘Youdon’tunderstand,’shesaid.‘Come.There’ssomethingIneedtoshowyou.Wewillgo

throughthegiftshop.’Whenshesaidgiftshop,IimaginedaglorifiedclosetsellingcheapValhallasouvenirs.Instead,it

wasafive-leveldepartmentstorecombinedwithaconvention-centretradeshow.Wepassedthroughasupermarket,aclothingboutiquewiththelatestinVikingfashionsandanIKEAoutlet(naturally).Mostoftheshowroomfloorwasamazeofstalls,kiosksandworkshops.Beardedguysinleather

apronsstoodoutsidetheirforgesofferingfreesamplesofarrowheads.Therewerespecialized

merchantsforshields,spears,crossbows,helmetsanddrinkingcups(lotsandlotsofdrinkingcups).Severalofthelargerboothshadfull-sizeboatsforsale.Ipattedthehullofasixty-footwarship.‘Idon’tthinkthiswouldfitinmybathtub.’‘WehaveseverallakesandriversinValhalla,’Gunillasaid.‘There’salsotheWhitewaterRafting

Experienceonfloortwelve.Alleinherjarshouldknowhowtofightatseaaswellasonland.’Ipointedtoaridingringwhereadozenhorsesweretethered.‘Andthose?Youcanrideahorse

throughthehallways?’‘Ofcourse,’saidGunilla.‘We’repet-friendly.Butnotice,Magnus–thelackofweapons.The

scarcityofarmour.’‘You’rekidding,right?Thisplacehasthousandsofweaponsforsale.’‘Notenough,’Gunillasaid.‘NotforRagnarok.’SheledmedowntheNordicKnick-knacksaisletoabigirondoormarked:AUTHORIZEDPERSONNEL

ONLY.Sheslippedoneofherkeysintothelock.‘Idon’tshowthistomanypeople.It’stoodisturbing.’‘Notanotherwalloffire,isit?’‘Worse.’Behindthedoorwasasetofstairs.Thenanothersetofstairs.Thenanothersetofstairs.Bythe

timewereachedthetop,I’dlostcountofhowmanyflights.Myupgradedeinherjilegsfeltlikeovercookedlinguine.Atlastwesteppedoutontoanarrowbalcony.‘This,’Gunillasaid,‘ismyfavouriteview.’Icouldn’tanswer.Iwastoobusytryingnottodiefromvertigo.ThebalconyringedtheopeningintheroofabovetheHalloftheSlain.ThetreeLaeradr ’stopmost

branchesstretchedupward,makingagreendomethesizeofSpaceshipEarthatEpcot.Inside,farbelow,hotelstaffscurriedaroundthetablesliketermites,gettingthingsreadyfordinner.Fromtheouteredgeofthebalcony,therooflineofValhallaslopedaway–athatchofgoldshields

blazingredintheeveningsun.IfeltlikeIwasstandingonthesurfaceofametalplanet.‘Whydon’tyoushowthistopeople?’Iasked.‘It’s…well,intimidating,butit’salsobeautiful.’‘Overhere.’GunillapulledmetoaspotwhereIcouldgazedownbetweentwosectionsofroof.Myeyeballsfeltliketheyweregoingtoimplode.Iflashedbacktoapresentationmysixth-grade

scienceteacheroncegaveaboutthesizeoftheuniverse.Heexplainedhowvasttheearthwas,thendescribedhowthatwasnothingcomparedtothesolarsystem,whichinturnwasnothingcomparedtothegalaxy,etcetera,etcetera,untilIfeltassignificantasaspeckontheunderarmofaflea.StretchingoutaroundValhalla,gleamingtothehorizon,wasacityofpalaces,eachasbigand

impressiveasthehotel.‘Asgard,’Gunillasaid.‘Therealmofthegods.’Isawroofsmadeentirelyofsilveringots,hammered-bronzedoorsbigenoughtoflyaB-1

bomberthrough,sturdystonetowersthatpiercedtheclouds.Streetswerepavedingold.EachgardenwasasvastasBostonHarbor.AndcirclingtheedgeofthecitywerewhiterampartsthatmadetheGreatWallofChinalooklikeababyfence.

Attheveryedgeofmyvision,thecity’swidestavenueranthroughagatewayinthewalls.Onthefarside,thegrounddissolvedintomulticolouredlight–aroadwayofprismaticfire.‘TheBifrost,’Gunillasaid.‘TherainbowbridgeleadingfromAsgardtoMidgard.’I’dheardabouttheBifrostBridge.Inmychildren’smythbook,itwasaseven-colourpastelarc

withhappybunnyrabbitsdancingaroundthebase.Thisbridgehadnohappybunnies.Itwasterrifying.Itwasarainbowinthewayanuclearexplosionwasamushroom.‘Onlythegodsmaycrossover,’Gunillasaid.‘Anyoneelsewouldburnthemomenttheysetfoot

onit.’‘But…we’reinAsgard?’‘Ofcourse.ValhallaisoneofOdin’shalls.That’swhy,withinthehotel,theeinherjarare

immortal.’‘Soyoucangodownthereandseethegods,sellGirlScoutcookiesdoor-to-doororwhatever?’Gunillacurledherlip.‘EvengazinguponAsgard,youhavenosenseofreverence.’‘Notreally,no.’‘WithouttheexpresspermissionofOdin,wearen’tallowedtovisitthecityofthegods–atleast

notuntilthedayofRagnarok,whenwewilldefendthegates.’‘Butyoucanfly.’‘It’sforbiddentogothere.IfItried,Iwouldfallfromthesky.You’remissingthepoint,Magnus.

Lookatthecityagain.Whatdoyounotice?’Iscannedtheneighbourhood,tryingtoseepastallthesilverandgoldandthescaryhuge

architecture.Inonewindow,richdrapeshungintatters.Alongthestreets,firebraziersstoodemptyandcold.Thestatuesinonegardenwerecompletelyovergrownwiththornbushes.Thestreetsweredeserted.Nofiresburnedinanyofthewindows.‘Whereiseverybody?’Iasked.‘Exactly.IwouldnotbesellingmanyGirlScoutcookies.’‘Youmeanthegodsaregone?’Gunillaturnedtowardsme,herstringofhammersglintingorangeinthesunset.‘Somemaybe

slumbering.SomeareroamingtheNineWorlds.Somestillappearfromtimetotime.Thefactis,wedon’tknowwhat’sgoingon.I’vebeeninValhallafivehundredyears,andIhaveneverseenthegodssoquiet,soinactive.Thelasttwoyears…’Shepluckedaleaffromalow-hangingbranchofLaeradr.‘Twoyearsago,somethingchanged.

TheValkyriesandthanesallfeltit.ThebarriersbetweentheNineWorldsbegantoweaken.FrostgiantsandfiregiantsraidedMidgardmorefrequently.MonstersfromHelheimbrokeintotheworldsoftheliving.Thegodsgrewdistantandsilent.ThiswasaroundthetimewhenSamirahbecameaValkyrie–thelasttimewesawOdin.Itwasalsowhenyourmotherdied.’Aravencircledoverhead.Twomorejoinedit.Ithoughtaboutmymom–howsheusedtojokethat

birdsofpreywerestalkinguswhenwewenthiking.Theythinkwe’redead.Quick,startdancing!AtthemomentIwasn’ttemptedtodance.IwantedtoborrowGunilla’shammersandknockthe

birdsoutofthesky.‘Youthinkthere’saconnectionbetweenthosethings?’Iasked.

‘AllIknow…wearepoorlypreparedforRagnarok.Thenyouarrive.TheNornsissuedirewarnings,callingyoutheHarbingeroftheWolf.That’snotgood,Magnus.Samirahal-Abbasmayhavebeenwatchingyouforyears,waitingfortherightmomenttoinsertyouintoValhalla.’‘Insertme?’‘Thosetwofriendsofyoursonthebridge,theoneswhohadbeenmonitoringyousinceyou

becamehomeless,perhapstheywereworkingwithher.’‘YoumeanBlitzandHearth?They’rehomelessguys.’‘Arethey?Don’tyoufinditstrangetheylookedafteryousocarefully?’IwantedtotellhertogotoHelheim,butBlitzandHearthhadalwaysseemedalittle…unusual.

Thenagain,whenyouliveonthestreetsthedefinitionofnormalgetsalittlefuzzy.Gunillatookmyarm.‘Magnus,Ididn’tbelieveitatfirst,butifthatwasSurtonthebridge,ifyou

didfindtheSwordofSummer…thenyou’rebeingusedbytheforcesofevil.IfSamirahal-Abbaswantsyoutoretrievethesword,thenthat’sexactlywhatyoucannotdo.StayinValhalla.Letthethanesdealwiththisprophecy.Swearyou’lldothis,andIwillspeaktothethanesonyourbehalf.I’llconvincethemthatyoucanbetrusted.’‘DoIdetectanorelse?’‘Onlythis:bytomorrowmorning,thethaneswillannouncetheirdecisionregardingyourfate.If

wecannottrustyou,thenwewillhavetotakeprecautions.Wemustknowwhosesideyou’reon.’Ilookeddownattheemptygoldenstreets.IthoughtaboutSamal-Abbasdraggingmethroughthe

coldvoid,puttinghercareeronthelinebecauseshethoughtIwasbrave.Youhavepotential,MagnusChase.Don’tprovemewrong.Thenshe’dbeenvaporizedinthefeasthallthankstoGunilla’seditedblooperreel.Ipulledmyarmaway.‘YousaidFreyisaboutthemiddlegroundbetweenfireandice.Maybethis

isn’taboutchoosingsides.MaybeIdon’twanttopickanextreme.’Gunilla’sexpressionrolledshutlikeastormwindow.‘Icanbeapowerfulenemy,MagnusChase.I

willwarnyouonetime:ifyoufollowtheplansofLoki,ifyouseektohastenRagnarok,Iwilldestroyyou.’Itriedtomeethereyes,andtoignoremylungsfloppingaroundinmychest.‘I’llkeepthatin

mind.’Belowus,thedinnerhornechoedthroughthefeasthall.‘Thetourisover,’Gunillaannounced.‘Fromthispointon,MagnusChase,Iwillguideyouno

more.’Sheleapedoverthesideofthebalconyandflewdownthroughthebranches,leavingmetofindmy

ownwayback.WithoutGPS.

TWENTY-TWO

MyFriendsFallOutofaTree

Fortunately,afriendlyberserkerfoundmewanderingthroughthespaonthehundredandtwelfthfloor.He’djusthadthegentleman’spedicure(‘JustBecauseYouKillPeopleDoesn’tMeanYourFeetShould!’)andwashappytoleadmebacktotheelevators.BythetimeIreachedthefeasthall,dinnerwasunderway.InavigatedtowardsX–whowashardto

misseveninthehugecrowd–andjoinedmyhallmatesfromfloornineteen.Wetradedstoriesaboutthemorning’sbattle.‘Ihearyouusedalfseidr!’Halfbornsaid.‘Impressive!’I’dalmostforgottenabouttheenergyblastthathadknockedeverybody’sweaponsaway.‘Yeah,uh

…whatexactlyisalfseidr?’‘Elfmagic,’Mallorysaid.‘SneakyVanir-stylewitchcraftunfitforatruewarrior.’Shepunchedme

inthearm.‘Ilikeyoubetteralready.’Itriedforasmile,thoughIwasn’tsurehowI’dmanagedtowieldelfmagic.AsfarasIknew,Iwas

notanelf.IthoughtaboutthewayIresistedextremetemperatures,andthewayI’dhealedGunillaintheelevator…wasthatalfseidr,too?MaybeitcamefrombeingasonofFrey,thoughIdidn’tunderstandhowthepowerswererelated.T.J.complimentedmeontakingthecrestofthehill.Xcomplimentedmeonstayingalivelonger

thanfiveminutes.Itwasgoodtofeellikepartofthegroup,butIdidn’tpaymuchattentiontotheirconversation.My

headwasstillbuzzingfromthetourwithGunillaandthedreamofLokiatthethroneofOdin.Attheheadtable,GunillaoccasionallymurmuredsomethingtoHelgi,andthemanagerwould

scowlinmydirection.Ikeptwaitingforhimtocallmeupandputmeongrape-peelingdutywithHunding,butIguesshewascontemplatingsomebetterpunishment.Tomorrowmorning,Gunillahadwarned,wewillhavetotakeprecautions.Attheendofdinner,acoupleofnewbieswerewelcomedtoValhalla.Theirvideosweresuitably

heroic.NoNornsshowedup.NoValkyriesgotbanishedindisgrace.Nobuttswereshotwithsqueakyarrows.Asthecrowdsfiledoutofthefeasthall,T.J.clappedmeontheshoulder.‘Getsomerest.Another

gloriousdeathtomorrow!’‘Yippee,’Isaid.Backinmyroom,Icouldn’tsleep.Ispenthourspacingaroundlikeazooanimal.Ididn’twantto

waitforthethanes’judgementinthemorning.I’dseenhowwiselytheyjudgedwhentheyexiledSam.ButwhatchoicedidIhave?Sneakaroundthehotelrandomlyopeningdoors,hopingtofindone

thatledbacktoBoston?EvenifIsucceeded,therewasnoguaranteeI’dbeallowedtogobacktomy

luxuriouslifeasahomelesskid.GunillaorSurtorsomeotherNorsenastymighttrackmedownagain.Wemustknowwhosesideyouareon,Gunillahadsaid.Iwasonmyside.Ididn’twanttogetwrappedupinsomeVikingDoomsday,butsomethingtoldme

itwastoolate.Mymomhaddiedtwoyearsago,aroundthesametimeabunchofotherbadstuffwasbreakinglooseintheNineWorlds.Withmyluck,therewasaconnection.IfIwantedjusticeformymother–ifIwantedtofindoutwhathadhappenedtoher–Icouldn’tgobacktohidingunderabridge.Ialsocouldn’tkeephangingoutinValhalla,takingSwedishlessonsandwatchingPowerPoint

presentationsonkillingtrolls.Ataboutfiveinthemorning,Ifinallygaveuponsleeping.Iwenttotherestroomtowashmyface.

Cleantowelshungontherod.Theholeinthewallhadbeenrepaired.Iwonderedifithadbeendonebymagicorifsomepoorschmuckhadhadtofixitasapunishmentfromthethanes.MaybetomorrowI’dbetheoneplasteringthewall.Iwalkedtotheatriumandstaredatthestarsthroughthetrees.IwonderedwhatskyIwaslookingat

–whatworld,whatconstellations.Thebranchesrustled.Somethingdarkandman-shapedtoppledoutofthetree.Helandedatmyfeet

withanastycrunch.‘OW!’hewailed.‘Stupidgravity!’MyoldbuddyBlitzlayonhisback,moaningandcradlinghisleftarm.Asecondpersondroppedlightlytothegrass–Hearth,dressedinhisusualblackleatherclothes

andcandy-stripedscarf.Hesigned,Hi.Istaredatthem.‘Whatareyou–howdidyou–?’Istartedtogrin.I’dneverbeenhappiertosee

anyone.‘Arm!’Blitzyelped.‘Broken!’‘Right.’Iknelt,tryingtofocus.‘Imightbeabletohealthis.’‘Might?’‘Wait…didyougetamakeover?’‘You’reaskingaboutmywardrobe?’‘Well,yeah.’I’dneverseenBlitzlooksonice.Hischaotichairhadbeenwashedandcombedback.Hisbeardwastrimmed.HisCro-Magnon

unibrowhadbeenpluckedandwaxed.Onlyhiszigzagnosehadnotbeencosmeticallycorrected.Asfortheclothes,he’dapparentlyrobbedseveralhigh-endboutiquesonNewburyStreet.Hisboots

werealligatorleather.Hisblackwoolsuitwastailoredtofithisstockyfive-feet-fiveframeandlookedlovelywithhisdarkskintone.Underthejacket,hewasrockingacharcoalpaisleywaistcoatwithagoldwatchchain,asmartturquoiseshirtandaskinnybolotie.Helookedlikeaveryshort,well-groomedAfrican-Americancowboyhitman.Hearthclappedtogetmyattention.Hesigned,Arm.Fix?‘Right.Sorry.’IplacedmyhandgentlyonBlitz’sforearm.Icouldfeelthefractureundertheskin.I

willedittomend.Click.Blitzyelpedasthebonemovedbackintoplace.‘Tryitnow,’Isaid.

Blitzmovedthearm.Hisexpressionchangedfrompaintosurprise.‘Thatactuallyworked!’Hearthlookedevenmoreshocked.Hesigned,Magic?How?‘I’vebeenwonderingthatmyself,’Isaid.‘Guys,don’ttakethisthewrongway,becauseI’mreally

gladtoseeyou.Butwhyareyoufallingoutofmytrees?’‘Kid,’Blitzsaid,‘forthepasttwenty-fourhourswe’vebeenclimbingallovertheWorldTree

lookingforyou.Wethoughtwefoundyoulastnight,but–’‘Ithinkyoumighthave,’Isaid.‘JustbeforedawnIheardsomebodymovinginthebranches.’BlitzturnedtoHearth.‘Itoldyouthatwastherightroom!’Hearthrolledhiseyesandsignedtoofastformetoread.‘Oh,please,’Blitzsaid.‘Youridea,myidea–itdoesn’tmatter.Thepointis,we’rehere,and

Magnusisalive!Well…technicallyhe’sdead.Buthe’salive.Whichmeansthebossmightnotkillus!’‘Theboss?’Iasked.Blitzdevelopedaticinhiseye.‘Yeah.Wehaveaconfessiontomake.’‘You’renotreallyhomeless,’Isaid.‘Lastnight,oneofthethanessawyouguysonvideoand–’Video?Hearthsigned.‘Yeah.ValkyrieVision.Anyway,thisthanecalledyouadwarfandanelf.I’mguessing–’Ipointed

atBlitz–‘you’rethedwarf?’‘Typical,’Blitzgrumbled.‘AssumeI’mthedwarfbecauseI’mshort.’‘Soyou’renotthedwarf?’Hesighed.‘No.I’mthedwarf.’‘Andyou…’IlookedatHearth,butIcouldn’tevenmakemyselfsayit.I’dhungoutwiththisguy

fortwoyears.He’dtaughtmecursesinsignlanguage.We’deatenburritosoutoftrashcanstogether.Whatkindofelfdoesthat?E-L-F.Hearthsignedtheindividualletters.SometimesspelledA-L-F.‘But…youguysdon’tlookthatdifferentfromhumans.’‘Actually,’Blitzsaid,‘humansdon’tlookthatdifferentfromdwarvesandelves.’‘Ican’tbelieveI’mhavingthisconversation,butyou’renotthatshort.Like,foradwarf.Youcould

passforaregularshorthuman.’‘WhichI’vebeendoing,’Blitzsaid,‘fortwoyearsnow.Dwarvescomeindifferentsizes,justlike

humans.Ihappentobeasvartalf.’‘Afartelf?’‘Gah!Cleanyourears,kid.Asvartalf.Itmeansdarkelf.I’mfromSvartalfheim.’‘Um,Ithoughtyoujustsaidyou’readwarf.’‘Darkelvesaren’tactuallyelves,kid.It’s…whatdoyoucallit?Amisnomer.We’reasubsetof

dwarves.’‘Well,thatcertainlyclearsthingsup.’Hearthdevelopedafaintsmile,whichforhimwastheequivalentofrollingonthefloorlaughing.

Hesigned,Fartelf.Blitzpointedlyignoredhim.‘SvartalfstendtobetallerthanyouraverageNidavellirdwarves.Plus

we’redevilishlyhandsome.Butthat’snotimportantrightnow.HearthstoneandIareheretohelp

you.’‘Hearthstone?’Hearthnodded.Myfullname.HeisB-L-I-T-Z-E-N.‘Kid,wedon’thavemuchtime.We’vebeenwatchingyouforthelasttwoyears,tryingtokeepyou

safe.’‘Foryourboss.’‘That’sright.’‘Andwhoisyourboss?’‘That’s…classified.Buthe’soneofthegoodguys.He’stheheadofourorganization,dedicatedto

delayingRagnarokaslongaspossible.Andyou,myfriend,havebeenhismostimportantproject.’‘So,justtakingawildguesshere…you’renotworkingforLoki?’Blitzenlookedoutraged.Hearthsignedoneofthosecurseshe’dtaughtme.‘Thatwasuncalledfor,kid.’Blitzensoundedgenuinelyhurt.‘Idresseduplikeahomelessperson

everydayfortwoyearsforyou.IletmypersonalhygienegotoHelheim.YouknowhowlongIhadtostayinthebubblebatheverymorningtogetthesmellout?’‘Sorry.So…wereyouworkingwithSamirah,theValkyrie?’AnothercursesignfromHearthstone.Theonewhotookyou?No.Shemadethingshardforus.Actuallytheliteralsignsweremorelike:HER.TOOK.YOU.MADE.DIFFICULT.US.ButI’d

becomefairlygoodatinterpreting.‘Youweren’tsupposedtodie,kid,’saidBlitzen.‘Ourjobwastoprotectyou.Butnow…well,

you’reaneinherji.Maybewecanstillmakethiswork.We’vegottogetyououtofhere.Wehavetofindthatsword.’‘Let’sgo,then,’Isaid.‘Now,don’targue,’Blitzensaid.‘Iknowyou’reinwarriors’paradiseandit’sallverynewand

exciting–’‘Blitz,Isaidsure.’Thedwarfblinked.‘ButIhadthiswholespeechprepared.’‘Noneed.Itrustyou.’Thestrangething?Iwastellingthetruth.MaybeBlitzenandHearthstonewereprofessionalstalkerswho’dbeenkeepinganeyeonmefora

top-secretanti-Ragnarokorganization.Maybetheirideaofprotectingmeinvolvedattackingthelordofthefiregiantswithcheapplastictoys.Maybetheyweren’teventhesamespeciesasme.Butthey’dstuckbymewhileIwashomeless.Theyweremybestfriends.Yes…that’showmessed

upmylifewas.‘Well,then.’Blitzenbrushedthegrassfromhispaisleywaistcoat.‘We’lljustclimbbackintothe

WorldTreebefore–’Fromsomewhereabove,anexplosiveyap!reverberatedthroughtheroom.Itsoundedlikearabid

six-thousand-poundBostonterrierchokingonamammothbone.Hearthstone’seyeswidened.Thesoundwassoloudhe’dprobablyfeltthevibrationsthroughhis

shoes.

‘Godsalmighty!’Blitzengrabbedmyarm.TogetherwithHearthstone,hepulledmeawayfromtheatrium.‘Kid,pleasetellmeyouknowanotherwayoutofthishotel.Becausewearen’tusingthetree.’Anotheryapshooktheroom.Brokenbranchestumbledtothefloor.‘Wh-what’supthere?’Iasked,mykneesshaking.IthoughtabouttheNorns’prophecy,namingme

aharbingerofevil.‘Isit–theWolf?’‘Oh,muchworse,’Blitzensaid.‘It’stheSquirrel.’

TWENTY-THREE

IRecycleMyself

Whensomeonesays,It’stheSquirrel,youdon’taskquestions.Yourun.Thebarkingalonewasenoughtoscarethemeadoutofme.Igrabbedmyhotel-issuedswordonthewayout.SinceIwaswearinggreensilkValhallapajamas,I

doubtedIwouldneedit.IfIhadtofightanyone,theywoulddielaughingbeforeIeverdrewtheblade.WeburstintothehallwaytofindT.J.andMalloryalreadystandingthere,bleary-eyedandhastily

dressed.‘Whatwasthatsound?’Malloryscowledatme.‘Whydoyouhaveadwarfandanelfinyour

room?’‘SQUIRREL!’Blitzenyelled,slammingmydoorshut.Hearthsaidthesamethinginsignlanguage–agesturethatlookeddisturbinglylikeasetof

mandiblesrendingflesh.T.J.lookedlikehe’dbeenslappedacrosstheface.‘Magnus,whathaveyoudone?’‘Ineedtoleavethehotel.Now.Pleasedon’tstopus.’MallorycursedinwhatwasmaybeGaelic.OurlittlehallwaygroupwasaveritableUnitedNations

ofCussing.‘Wewon’tstopyou,’shesaid.‘Thisisgoingtogetuslaundrydutyforadecade,butwe’llhelp

you.’Istaredather.‘Why?You’veknownmelessthanaday.’‘Longenoughtoknowyou’reanidiot,’shegrumbled.‘Whatshe’stryingtosay,’T.J.offered,‘isthathallmatesalwaysprotecteachother.We’llcover

yourescape.’Thedoorofmyroomshook.Cracksspiderwebbedfromthenameplate.Adecorativespearfelloff

thewallofthecorridor.‘X!’T.J.called.‘Help!’Thehalf-troll’sdoorexplodedoffitshinges.Xlumberedintothehallwayasifhe’dbeenstanding

justinside,waitingforthecall.‘Yes?’T.J.pointed.‘Magnus’sdoor.Squirrel.’‘Okay.’Xmarchedoverandshovedhisbackagainstmydoor.Itshudderedagain,butXheldfirm.Enraged

barkingechoedfrominside.HalfbornGundersonstumbledoutofhisroomwearingnothingbutsmiley-faceboxers,double-

bladedaxesinhishands.‘What’sgoingon?’HegloweredatBlitzandHearth.‘ShouldIkillthedwarfandtheelf?’

‘No!’Blitzenyelped.‘Don’tkillthedwarfandtheelf!’‘They’rewithme,’Isaid.‘We’releaving.’‘Squirrel,’T.J.explained.Halfborn’sshaggyeyebrowsachievedorbit.‘Squirrelasinsquirrelsquirrel?’‘Squirrelsquirrel,’Malloryconfirmed.‘AndI’msurroundedbymoronmorons.’Aravensoareddownthehall.Itlandedonthenearestlightfixtureandsquawkedatmeaccusingly.‘Well,that’sgreat,’Mallorysaid.‘Theravenshavesensedyourfriends’intrusion.Thatmeansthe

Valkyrieswon’tbefarbehind.’Fromthedirectionoftheelevatorbanks,halfadozenhowlspiercedtheair.‘AndthosewouldbeOdin’swolves,’Halfbornsaid.‘Veryfriendlyunlessyou’retrespassingor

leavingthehotelwithoutpermission,inwhichcasethey’lltearyouapart.’Anunmanlysobstartedtobuildinmythroat.Icouldacceptbeingkilledbyasquirrel,oranarmy

ofValkyries,orevenanotheraxeinmyface,butnotwolves.Mylegsthreatenedtogiveoutbeneathme.‘BlitzandHearth–’myvoicetrembled–‘isthereanyalarmyouguysfailedtosetoff?’Notfair,Hearthsigned.Weavoidedthetreemines.‘Treemines?’Iwasn’tsureI’dunderstoodhimcorrectly.HalfbornGundersonheftedhisaxe.‘I’llslowdownthewolves.Goodluck,Magnus!’Hechargeddownthehallscreaming,‘DEATH!’whilethesmileyfacesrippledonhisboxershorts.Mallory’sfaceturnedred–withembarrassmentordelight,Icouldn’ttell.‘I’llstaywithXincase

thesquirrelbreaksthrough,’shesaid.‘T.J.,youtakethemtorecycling.’‘Yeah.’‘Recycling?’Blitzasked.Mallorydrewhersword.‘Magnus,Ican’tsayit’sbeenapleasure.You’reatruepaininthenári.

Nowgetoutofhere.’Thedoorofmyroomshudderedagain.Plasterrainedfromtheceiling.‘Thesquirrelisstrong,’Xgrunted.‘Hurry.’T.J.fixedhisbayonet.‘Let’sgo.’Heledusdownthecorridor,hisblueUnionjacketoverhisPJs.Igotafeelingheprobablysleptin

thatjacket.Behindus,wolveshowledandHalfbornGundersonbellowedinOldNorse.Asweran,afeweinherjaropenedtheirdoorstoseewhatwasgoingon.WhentheyspottedT.J.

withhisbayonet,theyduckedbackinside.Left,right,right,left–Ilosttrackoftheturns.Anotherravenshotpast,cawingangrily.Itriedto

swatit.‘Don’t,’T.J.warned.‘They’resacredtoOdin.’WewerejustpassingaTinthehallwaywhenavoiceshouted,‘MAGNUS!’Imadethemistakeoflooking.Toourleft,fiftyfeetaway,Gunillastoodinfullarmour,ahammerineitherhand.‘Takeanother

step,’shesnarled,‘andIwilldestroyyou.’T.J.glancedatme.‘Youthreekeepgoing.Nextright,there’sachutemarked“recycling”.Jumpin.’‘But–’

‘Notime.’T.J.grinned.‘Gokillsomerebsforme–ormonsters–orwhatever.’HepointedhisrifleattheValkyrie,shouted,‘Fifty-fourthMassachusetts!’andcharged.Hearthgrabbedmyarmandpulledmealong.Blitzfoundtherecyclingchuteandyankeditopen.

‘GO,GO!’Hearthstonedivedinheadfirst.‘Younext,kid,’saidthedwarf.Ihesitated.Thesmellcomingoutofthechuteremindedmeofmydumpster-divingdays.Suddenly

thecomfortsoftheHotelValhalladidn’tseemsobad.Thenmorewolveshowled,closerthistime,andIrecycledmyself.

TWENTY-FOUR

YouHadOneJob

TurnsoutValhallahadbeensendingitsrecyclingtohomeplateatFenway,whichcouldexplainanyproblemstheRedSoxwerehavingwiththeiroffensiveline-up.HearthstonewasjustgettingtohisfeetwhenIlandedontopofhimandknockedhimflat.BeforeI

couldextricatemyself,Blitzenploughedintomychest.Ipushedhimoffandrolledawayjustincaseanyoneelsedecidedtodropoutofthesky.Istruggledtomyfeet.‘WhyareweinFenwayPark?’‘Don’taskme.’Blitzensigheddismally.Hisnicewoolsuitlookedlikeithadpassedthroughthe

digestivetractofasnail.‘ThedoorsinandoutofValhallaarenotoriouslywonky.Atleastwe’reinMidgard.’Rowsofredbleachersstoodemptyandsilent,uncomfortablysimilartotheFeastHalloftheSlain

beforetheeinherjarmarchedin.Thefieldwascoveredinapatchworkoffrozentarpsthatcrunchedundermyfeet.Itmusthavebeenaroundsixinthemorning.Theeasternskywasjuststartingtoturngrey.My

breathsteamedintheair.‘Whatwerewerunningfrom?’Iasked.‘Whatkindofmutantsquirrel–’‘Ratatosk,’Blitzsaid.‘ThebaneoftheWorldTree.AnyonewhodaresclimbYggdrasil’sbranches

soonerorlaterhastodealwiththatmonster.Countyourselfluckyweescaped.’Hearthstonepointedtowardsthedawn.Hesigned,Sun.BadforBlitzen.Blitzsquinted.‘You’reright.Afterthatbusinessonthebridge,Ican’tstandanymoredirect

exposure.’‘Whatdoyoumean?’Ilookedmorecloselyathisface.‘Areyouturninggrey?’Blitzenlookedaway,buttherewasnodoubt.Hischeekshadlightenedtothecolourofwetclay.

‘Kid,youmayhavenoticedIneverhungaroundwithyoumuchduringtheday?’‘I…yeah.ItwaslikeHearthtookthedayshift.Youtookthenightshift.’‘Exactly.Dwarvesaresubterraneancreatures.Sunlightisdeadlytous.Mindyou,notasdeadlyasit

istotrolls.Icanstandalittlebit,butifI’moutfortoolongIstartto…uh,petrify.’IrememberedthefightonLongfellowBridge,howBlitzenhadbeenwearingabroad-brimmed

hat,coat,glovesandsunglasses–astrangefashionstatement,especiallywiththeMAKEWAYFOR

DUCKLINGSsign.‘Ifyoucoverup,willyoubeokay?’‘Ithelps.Thickclothing,sunscreen,etcetera.Butatthemoment–’hegesturedtohisclothes–‘I’m

notprepared.IdroppedmysupplypacksomewhereintheWorldTree.’Hearthstonesigned,Afterbridge,hislegsturnedtostone.Nowalkinguntilnight.

Alumpformedinmythroat.BlitzandHearth’sattempttoprotectmeontheLongfellowBridgehadbeenprettyridiculous,butthey’dtried.Justbybeingoutinthedaytime,Blitzenhadriskedhislife.AsmanyquestionsasIhad,asmessedupasmylife(death?)wasatthemoment,knowingthat

Blitzenwasindangeragainformysakereadjustedmypriorities.‘Let’sgetyousomeplacedark,’Isaid.TheeasiestoptionwastheGreenMonster–thefamoushome-run-blockingfour-storeywallalong

theleftoutfield.I’dbeenbehinditoncebeforeonaschooltrip–firstgrade,maybe?Irememberedtherewereservicedoorsunderthescoreboard.Ifoundoneunlocked,andweslippedinside.Therewasn’tmuchtosee–justmetalscaffolding,stacksofgreennumbercardshangingonthe

wall,andthestadium’sconcreteribstattooedwithahundredyearsofgraffiti.Thespacehadoneimportantrequirement,though:itwasdark.Blitzensatonapileofmatsandpulledoffhisboots.Acornsspilledout.Hissocksweregrey

paisley,matchinghiswaistcoat.ThesocksamazedmeasmuchasanythingI’dencounteredinValhalla.‘Blitz,what’swiththe

outfit?Youlookso…spiffy.’Hepuffeduphischest.‘Thankyou,Magnus.Ithasn’tbeeneasydressinglikeabumthelasttwo

years.Nooffence,ofcourse.’‘Ofcourse.’‘ThisishowIusuallydress.Itakemyappearanceveryseriously.I’lladmitI’mabitofaclothes

horse.’Hearthmadeasoundbetweenasneezeandasnort.Hesigned,Abit?‘Oh,bequiet,’Blitzgrumbled.‘Whoboughtyouthatscarf,eh?’Heturnedtomeforsupport.‘I

toldHearthheneededasplashofcolour.Theblackclothes.Theplatinum-blondhair.Thered-stripedscarfmakesaboldstatement,don’tyouthink?’‘Uh…sure,’Isaid.‘AslongasIdon’thavetowearit.Orthepaisleysocks.’‘Don’tbesilly.Patternedfabricwouldlookterribleonyou.’Blitzfrownedathisboot.‘Whatwere

wetalkingaboutagain?’‘Howaboutwhyyou’vebeenwatchingmeforthelasttwoyears?’Hearthsigned,Toldyou.Theboss.‘NotLoki,’Isaid.‘Odin,then?’Blitzlaughed.‘No.TheCapoisevensmarterthanOdin.Helikestoworkbehindthescenes,stay

anonymous.Heassignedustowatchyouand,uh–’heclearedhisthroat–‘keepyoualive.’‘Ah.’‘Yeah.’Blitzenshooktheacornsoutofhisotherboot.‘Wehadonejob.Wefailed.“Keephim

alive,”saidtheCapo.“Watchhim.Protecthimifneeded,butdon’tinterferewithhischoices.He’simportanttotheplan.”’‘Theplan.’‘TheCapoknowsstuff.Thefuture,forinstance.Hedoeshisbesttonudgeeventsintheright

direction,keeptheNineWorldsfromspirallingintochaosandexploding.’

‘Thatsoundslikeagoodplan.’‘HetoldusyouwerethesonofFrey.Hedidn’tgointodetails,buthewasveryinsistent:youwere

important,hadtobeprotected.Whenyoudied…well,I’mjustgladwefoundyouinValhalla.Maybeallisn’tlost.Nowwe’vegottoreporttotheCapoandgetneworders.’Hearthstonesigned,Andhopehedoesn’tkillus.‘That,too.’Blitzendidn’tsoundoptimistic.‘Thethingis,Magnus,untilwetalktotheboss,Ican’t

reallygointomanydetails.’‘EventhoughI’mimportanttotheplan.’That’swhywecan’t,Hearthsigned.‘WhataboutwhathappenedafterIfelloffthebridge?Canyoutellmethat?’Blitzpickedaleafoutofhisbeard.‘Well,Surtdisappearedintothewaterwithyou.’‘ItwasSurt.’‘Oh,yeah.AndIgottasay,nicejobwiththat.Amortaltakingdownthelordofthefiregiants?Even

ifyoudieddoingit,thatwasimpressive.’‘So…Ikilledhim?’Nosuchluck,Hearthsigned.‘Yeah,’Blitzagreed.‘Butfiregiantsdon’tdowellinicywater.Iimaginetheimpactshockedhim

rightbacktoMuspellheim.Andcuttingoffhisnose…thatwasbrilliant.It’lltakehimawhiletoregainenoughstrengthtotravelbetweenworlds.’Afewdays,Hearthguessed.‘Maybelonger,’Blitzsaid.Ilookedbackandforthbetweenthem,twonon-humansdiscussingthemechanicsoftravelling

betweenworldsthewaysomebodyelsemightdebatehowlongitwouldtaketofixacarburettor.‘Youguysgotawayokay,obviously,’Isaid.‘WhataboutRandolph?’Hearthstonewrinkledhisnose.Youruncle.Annoying,butfine.‘Kid,yousavedlives,’Blitzensaid.‘Therewerealotofinjuries,alotofdamage,butnomortals

died–um,exceptyou.ThelasttimeSurtvisitedMidgard,itdidn’tgosowell.’GreatChicagoFire,Hearthsigned.‘Yeah,’saidBlitz.‘Anyway,theBostonexplosionsmadenationalnews.Thehumansarestill

investigating.They’respeculatingthedamagewascausedbymeteorstrikes.’Irememberthinkingthatmyselfatfirst.AndlaterwonderingwhetherSurthadbeenresponsible

forthemall.‘ButdozensofpeoplesawSurtonthebridge!Atleastoneguycaughthimonvideo.’Blitzshrugged.‘You’dbeamazedwhatmortalsdon’tsee.Notjusthumans.Dwarvesandelvesare

justasbad.Besides,giantsareexpertsatglamour.’‘Glamour.I’mguessingyoudon’tmeanfashion.’‘No.Giantsarehorribleatfashion.Imeanglamourlikeillusions.Giantsaremagicbynature.They

canmanipulateyoursenseswithouteventrying.OnetimeagiantmadeHearthstonethinkIwasawarthog,andHearthalmostkilledme.’Nomoreaboutthewarthog!Hearthstonepleaded.‘So,anyway,’Blitzsaid,‘youfellintheriveranddied.Theemergencyservicesretrievedyour

body,but–’

‘Mybody…’Hearthstonepulledanewspaperclippingfromhisjacketpocketandhandedittome.Ireadmyownobituary.Therewasmyclasspicturefromfifthgrade–myhairinmyeyes,my

uncomfortablewhy-am-I-heresmile,myrattyDROPKICKMURPHYST-shirt.Theobituarydidn’tsaymuch.Nothingaboutmytwo-yeardisappearance,myhomelessness,mymom’sdeath.Just:Untimelydemise.Survivedbytwounclesandacousin.Privateservicetobeheld.‘Butmybodyishere,’Isaid,touchingmychest.‘Ihaveabody.’‘Anewandimprovedbody,’Blitzagreed,squeezingmybicepsinadmiration.‘Theyretrievedyour

oldbody.HearthandIdidourownsearchoftheriver.TherewasnosignofSurt.Worse…therewasnosignofthesword.Ifit’snotatthebottomoftheriveragain–’‘CouldRandolphhavefoundit?’Iasked.Hearthstoneshookhishead.Wewatchedhim.Doesn’thaveit.‘ThenSurthasthesword,’Iguessed.Blitzshuddered.‘Let’snotassumethat.There’sstillachanceit’swithyouroldbody.’‘Whywoulditbe?’BlitzpointedtoHearth.‘Askhim.He’stheexpertatmagic.’Hardtoexplaininsigns,Hearthgestured.Amagicswordstayswithyou.Youclaimedit.‘But…Ididn’t.’Yousummonedit,Hearthsigned.Helditfirst,beforeSurt.HopethatmeansSurtdidn’tgetit.Don’t

knowwhythesworddidn’tgotoValhalla.‘Iwasn’tholdingtheswordwhenIhittheriver,’Isaid.‘Itslippedoutofmyhand.’‘Ah.’Blitznodded.‘Thatmightbewhy.Still,theswordwouldtraditionallygointoyourgrave,or

getburnedonyourpyre.Sothere’sadecentchanceitwillmaterializenexttoyourdeadbody.Weneedtolookinyourcoffin.’Myskincrawled.‘Youwantmetogotomyownfuneral?’Hearthsigned,No.Wegobefore.‘Accordingtoyourobituarynotice,’Blitzsaid,‘yourbodyisatthefuneralhometodayfor

viewinghours.Theserviceisn’tuntiltonight.Ifyougonow,youshouldhavetheplacetoyourself.Thebuildingisn’topenyet,andyouwon’texactlyhavemournersliningupoutside.’‘Thanksalot.’Blitzentuggedonhisboots.‘I’llgotalktotheboss.Ontheway,I’llpopbySvartalfheimandpick

upsomeproperanti-sunlightsupplies.’‘You’llpopbytheworldofthedarkelves?’‘Yeah.It’snotashardasitsounds.I’vehadalotofpractice,andBostonisatthecentreof

Yggdrasil.Slippingbetweenworldsiseasyhere.OnetimeHearthandIsteppedoffakerbinKendallSquareandfellintoNiflheimbyaccident.’Thatwascold,Hearthsigned.‘WhileI’mgone,’Blitzsaid,‘Hearthstonewilltakeyoutothefuneralhome.I’llmeetyou…

where?’Arlington–nearestTstop,Hearthsigned.

‘Good.’Blitzenstood.‘Getthatsword,kid…andbecareful.OutsideValhalla,youcandielikeanybodyelse.ThelastthingweneedtoexplaintothebossistwoMagnusChasecorpses.’

TWENTY-F IVE

MyFuneralDirectorDressesMeFunny

Onegoodthingaboutbeinghomeless:Iknewwheretofindfreeclothes.HearthandIraidedacharitydropboxonCharlesgatesoIwouldn’thavetowalkaroundtowninmyPJs.SoonIwasresplendentinstonewashedjeans,ahuntingjacketandaT-shirtpepperedwithholes.IlookedmorelikeKurtCobainthanever,exceptIdoubtCobaineverworeashirtthatread:WIGGLESROCK&ROLLPRESCHOOLTOUR!

Thereallydisturbingthingwasthattheymadeshirtslikethatinmysize.Iheldupmyhotel-issuedsword.‘Hearth,whataboutthis?Idoubtthecopswilllikemewalking

aroundwithathree-footblade.’Glamour,Hearthsigned.Attachittoyourbelt.AssoonasIdid,theweaponshrankandmeltedintoasimpleloopofchain,whichwasonly

slightlylessfashionablethantheWigglesT-shirt.‘Great,’Isaid.‘Nowmyhumiliationiscomplete.’Stillasword,Hearthsigned.Mortalsarenotgoodatseeingmagicalthings.BetweenIceandFireis

Mist,G-i-n-n-u-n-g-a-g-a-p.Obscuresappearances.Hardtoexplaininsigns.‘Okay.’IrememberedwhatGunillahadtoldmeabouttheworldsformingbetweeniceandfire,and

howFreyrepresentedthetemperatezoneinbetween.Apparently,though,Frey’schildrendidn’tinheritaninnateunderstandingofwhattheheckthatmeant.Ireadmyobituaryagainfortheaddressofthefuneralhome.‘Let’sgopayourrespectstome.’Itwasalong,coldwalk.Thetemperaturedidn’tbotherme,butHearthshiveredinhisleather

jacket.Hislipswerecrackedandpeeling.Hisnosewasrunny.FromallthefantasybooksandmoviesIhaddevouredinmiddleschool,I’dgotanimpressionofelvesasnoblecreaturesofunearthlybeauty.Hearthstonelookedmorelikeananaemiccollegekidwhohadn’teateninafewweeks.Still…Ibegantonoticenon-humandetailsabouthim.Hispupilswerestrangelyreflective,likea

cat’s.Underhistranslucentskin,hisveinsweremoregreenthanblue.And,despitehisdishevelledappearance,hedidn’treeklikeanormalhomelessperson–bodyodour,alcohol,stalegrease.Hesmelledmorelikepineneedlesandwoodsmoke.HowhadInotrealizedthatbefore?Iwantedtoaskhimaboutelves,butwalkingandtalkinginsignlanguagedon’tmix.Norcould

Hearthreadlipsverywellonthemove.Ikindoflikedthat,actually.Youcouldn’tmultitaskwhiletalkingtohim.Thedialoguerequiredonehundredpercentfocus.Ifallconversationswerelikethat,Iimaginedpeoplewouldn’tsaysomuchstupidgarbage.WewerepassingCopleySquarewhenhepulledmeintothedoorwayofanofficebuilding.Gómez,hesigned.Wait.Gómezwasabeatcopwhoknewusbysight.Hedidn’tknowmyrealname,butifhe’dseena

recentpictureofmeonthenewsIwouldhaveahardtimeexplainingwhyIwasn’tdead.Also,Gómez

wasn’tthefriendliestguy.ItappedHearth’sshoulderforattention.‘What’sitlike…whereyou’refrom?’Hearth’sexpressionturnedguarded.Alfheimnotsodifferent.Onlybrighter.Nonight.‘Nonight…like,ever?’Nonight.ThefirsttimeIsawasunset…Hehesitated,thensplayedbothhandsinfrontofhischestlikehewashavingaheartattack:thesign

forscared.Itriedtoimaginelivinginaworldwhereitwasalwaysdaytime,thenwatchingthesundisappearin

awashofblood-colouredlightonthehorizon.‘Thatwouldbefreaky,’Idecided.‘Butdon’telveshavestuffhumanswouldbescaredof?Like…

alfseidr?’AlightkindledinHearth’seyes.Howdoyouknowthatterm?‘Uh…yesterdayonthebattlefield,somebodysaidIdidit.’Itoldhimabouttheblastthathad

knockedeveryone’sweaponsaway.‘AndwhenIhealedBlitz’sarm,orwalkedintothatwallofflamesontheLongfellowBridge…Iwonderedifitwasallthesamekindofmagic.’Hearthseemedtotakelongerthanusualtoprocessmywords.Notsure.Hisgesturesweresmaller,morecareful.Alfseidrcanbemanythings–usuallypeaceful

magic.Healing.Growing.Stoppingviolence.Itcannotbelearned.Notlikerunemagic.Youhavealfseidrinyourblood,oryoudonot.YouaresonofFrey.Maybehavesomeofhisabilities.‘Freyisanelf?’Hearthshookhishead.FreyisthelordofAlfheim,ourpatrongod.Vanirareclosetoelves.Vanir

werethesourceofallalfseidr.‘Pasttense?Don’telvesstilltalktotreesandspeakwithbirdsandstuff?’Hearthgruntedwithirritation.Hepeekedaroundthecornertocheckonourneighbourhood

policeman.Alfheimnotlikethat,hesigned.Notforcenturies.Almostnooneisbornwithalfseidr.Noone

practisesmagic.MostelvesthinkMidgardisamyth.Humansliveincastlesandwearplatemailandtights.‘Maybeathousandyearsago.’Hearthnodded.Backthen,ourworldsinteractedmore.Now,bothworldshavechanged.Elvesspend

mostoftheirtimestaringatscreens,watchingfunnypixievideoswhentheyaresupposedtobeworking.Iwasn’tsureI’dinterpretedhissignscorrectly–pixievideos?–butAlfheimsoundeddepressingly

likeMidgard.‘Soyoudon’tknowanymoreaboutmagicthanIdo,’Isaid.Idon’tknowwhatitlookedlikeintheolddays.ButIamtryingtolearn.Ihavegivenupeverything

totry.‘Whatdoyoumean?’Heglancedaroundthecorneragain.Gómezisgone.Comeon.Iwasn’tsureifhe’dmissedmyquestionorhe’djustchosentoignoreit.

ThefuneralhomewasnearWashingtonandCharles,tuckedinarowofBayVillagetownhousesthatseemedlostamongthenewerconcreteandglassskyscrapers.Asignontheawningread:TWINING

&SONSMEMORIALSERVICES.Adisplaybythedoorlistedupcomingviewings.Thetoponeread:MAGNUSCHASE.Thedatewas

today,startingat10a.m.Thedoorwaslocked.Thelightswereoff.‘Earlyformyownfuneral,’Isaid.‘Typical.’Myhandswereshaking.Theideaofseeingmydeadselfwasmoreunnervingthanactuallydying.

‘Sodowebreakin?’I’lltrysomething,Hearthsigned.Frominsidehiscoat,hepulledaleatherpouch.Thecontentsclatteredwithafamiliarsound.‘Runestones,’Iguessed.‘Youknowhowtousethem?’Heshruggedlike,We’reabouttofindout.Hetookonestoneandtappeditagainstthedoorhandle.

Thelockclicked.Thedoorswungopen.‘Nice,’Isaid.‘Wouldthatworkonanydoor?’Hearthputawaythepouch.Icouldn’tquitereadhisexpression–amixtureofsadnessandwariness.I’mlearning,hesigned.Onlytriedthatoncebefore,whenImetBlitz.‘Howdidyoutwo–’Hearthcutmeoffwithawave.Blitzsavedmylife.Longstory.Yougoinside.Iwillstandguardhere.

Deadhumanbodies…Heshudderedandshookhishead.Somuchformyelfishbackup.Inside,thefuneralhomesmelledofmoulderingbouquets.Thethreadbareredcarpetanddark

woodpanellingmadethewholeplacefeellikeonegiantcoffin.Icreptdownthehallwayandpeekedintothefirstroom.Itwassetuplikeachapel:threestained-glasswindowsonthebackwall,rowsoffoldingchairs

facinganopencoffinonadais.Ihatedthisalready.I’dbeenraisednon-religious.I’dalwaysconsideredmyselfanatheist.So,ofcourse,mypunishmentwastofindoutIwasthesonofaNorsedeity,gotoaVikingafterlife

andhaveanopen-coffinmemorialinacheesyuni-faithchapel.IftherewasanAlmightyGodupthere,aheadhonchooftheuniverse,Hewastotallylaughingatmerightnow.Attheentranceoftheroomwasaposter-sizeportraitofme,wreathedinblackcrêpepaper.They’d

chosenthesamegoofyfifth-gradepicturefrommyelementary-schoolyearbook.Nexttoit,onasmalltable,wasaguestbook.Iwastemptedtopickupthepenandwritethefirstentry:Thanksforcomingtomyfuneral!–Magnus.Whowouldbehere,anyway?UncleRandolph?MaybeFrederickandAnnabeth,iftheywerestillin

town.Myoldclassmatesfromtwoyearsago?Yeah,right.Ifthefuneralhomeofferedsnacks,someofmyhomelessbuddiesmightshowup,buttheonlyonesIreallycaredaboutwereBlitzenandHearthstone.IrealizedIwasprocrastinating.Iwasn’tsurehowlongI’dbeenstandinginthechapeldoorway.I

forcedmyselfdowntheaisle.WhenIsawmyownfaceinthecoffin,Inearlythrewup.

NotbecauseI’mthatugly,butbecause…well,youknowhowweirditistohearyourownvoiceonarecording?Andhowirritatingitcanbetoseeyourselfinaphotoifyoudon’tthinkyoulookgood?Okay,imagineseeingyouractualbodylyingrightinfrontofyou.Itwassoreal,andyetsonotme.Myhairwasshellackedtothesidesofmyhead.Myfacewascakedwithmake-up,probablyto

covercutsandbruises.MymouthwasfixedinaweirdlittlesmilethatIneverwould’vemadeinreallife.Iwasdressedinacheap-lookingbluesuitwithabluetie.Ihatedblue.Myhandswereclaspedovermystomach,hidingtheplacewhereI’dbeenimpaledbyamoltenpieceofasphalt.‘No,no,no.’Igrippedthesidesofthecoffin.Thewrongnessofitmademefeellikemygutswereburningalloveragain.I’dalwayshadanimageofwhatwouldhappentomybodyafterdeath.Thiswasn’tit.Mymomand

Ihadapact–whichsoundscreepy,butitreallywasn’t.ShemademepromisethatwhenshediedI’dhavehercremated.I’dscatterherashesinthewoodsoftheBlueHills.IfIdiedfirst,shepromisedshewoulddothesameforme.Neitherofuslikedtheideaofbeingembalmed,turnedintosomechemicallystabilizedexhibition,thenburiedinabox.Wewantedtobeinthesunshineandthefreshairandjustkindofdissolve.Ihadn’tbeenabletokeepmypromisetomymother.NowIwasgettingexactlythekindoffuneralI

didn’twant.Myeyeswatered.‘I’msorry,Mom.’Iwantedtopushoverthecoffin.Iwantedtotorchthisplace.ButIhadajobtodo.Thesword.Ifitwasinthecoffin,itwasn’tinplainsight.Iheldmybreathandslippedmyhandalongtheinside

lininglikeIwassearchingforloosechange.Nothing.Thinkingtheswordmightbehiddenbyaglamour,Istretchedmyarmoverthecoffin,tryingto

sensetheblade’spresencelikeI’ddoneontheLongfellowBridge.Noheat.Nohumming.Theonlyotheroptionwastocheckunderthebody.IlookeddownatMagnus1.0.‘Sorry,man.’Itriedtotellmyselfthecorpsewasaninanimateobjectlikeascarecrow.Notarealperson.

Certainlynotme.Irolledhimtooneside.HewasheavierthanIwould’vethought.Nothingunderneathbutsafetypinsholdingthecoatinplace.Alabelonthewhiteliningread:50%

SATIN,50%POLYESTER,PRODUCTOFTAIWAN.Iloweredthebodybackintoplace.DeadMagnus’shairwasallmessedupnow.Theleftside

bloomedlikeabird-of-paradiseflower.MyhandshadcomeunclaspedsoIappearedtobegivingeverybodythefinger.‘Muchbetter,’Idecided.‘Atleastthatlookslikeme.’Behindme,abrokenvoicesaid,‘Magnus?’IalmostjumpedoutofmyWigglesshirt.StandinginthedoorwaywasmycousinAnnabeth.

TWENTY-S IX

Hey,IKnowYou’reDead,ButCallMeMaybe

EvenifIhadn’tseenherintheparktwodaysbefore,Iwould’verecognizedherupclose.Herwavyblondehairhadn’tchangedsincechildhood.Hergreyeyeshadthesamedeterminedlook–likeshe’dchosenatargetinthedistanceandwasgoingtomarchoveranddestroyit.Shewasbetterdressedthanme–orangeNorthFaceskijacket,blackjeans,lace-upwinterboots–butifpeoplesawustogethertheywould’vemistakenusforbrotherandsister.Shestaredatme,thenatthecoffin.Slowlyherexpressionchangedfromshocktocoldcalculation.‘Iknewit,’shesaid.‘Iknewyouweren’tdead.’Shetackledmeinahug.AsImayhavementioned,I’mnotabigfanofphysicalcontact,butafter

allI’dbeenthroughahugfromAnnabethwasenoughtomakemecrumble.‘Yeah…um…’Myvoiceturnedragged.IextractedmyselfasgentlyasIcouldandblinkedtears

outofmyeyes.‘It’sreallygoodtoseeyou.’Shewrinkledhernoseatthecorpse.‘Areyougoingtomakemeask?Ithoughtyouweredead,you

butt.’Icouldn’thelpsmiling.Ithadbeentenyearssinceshe’dcalledmeabutt.Wewereoverdue.‘Hard

toexplain.’‘Iguessedthatmuch.Thebodyisfake?You’retryingtoconvinceeveryoneyoudied?’‘Uh…notexactly.It’sbestifpeoplethinkI’mdead,though.Because…’BecauseIamdead,I

thought.BecauseIwenttoValhalla,andnowI’mbackwithadwarfandanelf!HowcouldIsaythat?Iglancedatthechapeldoorway.‘Wait…Didyoupassanel–aguyonthewayin?Myfriendwas

supposedtobekeepingwatch.’‘No.Nobodywasoutthere.Thefrontdoorwasunlocked.’Myequilibriumtilted.‘Ishouldcheck–’‘Whoa.NotuntilIgetsomeanswers.’‘I…Honestly,Idon’tknowwheretostart.I’minkindofadangeroussituation.Idon’twanttoget

youinvolved.’‘Toolate.’Shecrossedherarms.‘AndIknowalotaboutdangeroussituations.’Somehow,Ibelievedher.HereIwas,arebornsuperwarriorfromValhalla,andAnnabethstill

intimidatedme.Thewaysheheldherself,hersteelyconfidence–Icouldtellshe’dovercomesomehardstuff,thesamewayIcouldtellwhichguysintheshelterswerethemostdangerous.Icouldn’tjustblowheroff.ButIalsodidn’twanttodragherintomymess.‘Randolphalmostgotkilledonthatbridge,’Isaid.‘Idon’twantanythingtohappentoyou.’Shelaughedwithouthumour.‘Randolph–Iswear,I’mgoingtoshovethatcaneofhis…Never

mind.Hewouldn’texplainwhyhetookyoutothebridge.Hekepttalkingabouthowyouwerein

dangerbecauseofyourbirthday.Hesaidhewastryingtohelp.Somethingaboutourfamilyhistory–’‘Hetoldmeaboutmyfather.’Annabeth’seyesdarkened.‘Youneverknewyourdad.’‘Yeah.Butapparently…’Ishookmyhead.‘Look,itwouldsoundcrazy.Just…there’sa

connectionbetweenwhathappenedonthebridgeandwhathappenedtomymomtwoyearsago,and–andwhomyfatheris.’Annabeth’sexpressiontransformed.Shelookedasifshe’dopenedawindowexpectingtoseea

swimmingpoolandinsteadfoundthePacificOcean.‘Magnus…oh,gods.’Gods,Inoted.Plural.Shepacedinfrontofmycoffin,herhandstentedlikeshewaspraying.‘Ishould’veknown.

Randolphkeptramblingabouthowourfamilywasspecial,howweattractedattention.ButIhadnoideayou–’Shefroze,thengrabbedmyshoulders.‘I’msosorryIdidn’tknowsooner.Icould’vehelpedyou.’‘Um,I’mnotsure–’‘Mydad’sflyingbacktoCaliforniatonightafterthefuneral,’shecontinued.‘Iwasgoingtocatch

thetrainforNewYork,butschoolcanwait.Igetitnow.Icanhelpyou.Iknowaplacewhereyou’llbesafe.’Ipulledaway.Iwasn’tsurewhatAnnabethknew,orwhatshethoughtsheknew.Maybeshe’dgotmixedupwith

theNineWorldssomehow.Maybeshewastalkingaboutsomethingtotallydifferent.ButeverynerveinmybodytingledwithwarningwhenIthoughtabouttellingherthetruth.Iappreciatedherofferofhelp.Icouldtellitwasgenuine.Still…thosewords:Iknowaplace

whereyou’llbesafe.Nothingactivatedtheflightinstinctsofahomelesskidfasterthanhearingthat.IwastryingtofigureouthowtoexplainthatwhenHearthstonestumbledthroughthechapel

doorway.Hislefteyewasswollenshut.HegesticulatedsofranticallyIcouldbarelyreadthesigns:HURRY.DANGER.Annabethturned,followingmygaze.‘Who–’‘That’smyfriend,’Isaid.‘Ireallyhavetogo.Listen,Annabeth…’Itookherhands.‘Ihavetodo

thisbymyself.It’slike…likeapersonal–’‘Quest?’‘Iwasgoingtosaypaininthe–yeah,questworks.Ifyoureallywanttohelpme,please,just

pretendyoudidn’tseeme.Later,afterI’mdone,I’llfindyou.I’llexplaineverything,Ipromise.Rightnow,Ihavetogo.’Shetookashakybreath.‘Magnus,Iprobablycouldhelp.But…’Shereachedintohercoatpocket

andpulledoutafoldedpieceofpaper.‘RecentlyIlearnedthehardwaythatsometimesIhavetostepbackandletotherpeopledotheirownquests,evenpeopleIcareabout.Atleasttakethis.’Iunfoldedthepaper.ItwasoneoftheMISSINGflyerssheandUncleFrederickhadbeenhandingout.‘Thesecondnumberismyphone.Callme.Letmeknowwhenyou’reokay,orifyouchangeyour

mindand–’

‘I’llcall.’Ikissedhercheek.‘You’rethebest.’Shesighed.‘You’restillabutt.’‘Iknow.Thanks.Bye.’IrantoHearthstone,whowasbouncingupanddownwithimpatience.‘Whathappened?’I

demanded.‘Wherewereyou?’Hewasalreadyrunning.Ifollowedhimoutofthefuneralhome,northonArlington.Evenpouring

onthespeedwithmyupgradedeinherjilegs,Icouldbarelykeepup.Elves,Idiscovered,couldrunfastwhentheywantedto.WereachedthestairstotheTstopjustasBlitzenwascomingup.Irecognizedthewide-brimmed

hatandcoatfromtheLongfellowBridge.He’daddedlargersunglasses,askimask,leatherglovesandascarf.Inonehandhecarriedablackcanvasbag.IguessedhewasgoingforthatInvisible-Man-Goes-Bowlinglook.‘Whoa,whoa,whoa!’BlitzgrabbedHearthtokeephimfromtumblingintotraffic.‘Whathappened

toyoureye?Didyouguysfindthesword?’‘Nosword,’Igasped.‘Hearth’seye–Idon’tknow–somethingaboutdanger.’Hearthclappedforourattention.Knockedout,hesigned.Girljumpedfromsecondstoreyoffuneralhome.Landedonme.Iwokeup

inalley.‘Agirlinthefuneralhome?’Iscowled.‘Youdon’tmeanAnnabeth?She’smycousin.’Heshookhishead.Nother.Othergirl.Shewas–HishandsfrozewhenhenoticedBlitz’sbag.Hearthsteppedback,shakinghisheadindisbelief.Youbroughthim?Hespelleditout–H-I-M–so

IknewIhadn’tmisunderstood.Blitzheftedthebag.Hisfacewasimpossibletoread,swaddledinanti-sunlightprotection,buthis

voicewasheavy.‘Yeah.Capo’sorders.Firstthingsfirst.Magnus,yourcousinwasatthefuneralhome?’‘It’sokay.’Iresistedtheurgetoaskwhytherewasahiminthebowlingbag.‘Annabethwon’tsay

anything.’‘But…anothergirlwasthere?’‘Ididn’tseeher.Iguesssheheardmecominginandwentupstairs.’ThedwarfturnedtoHearth.‘Atwhichpoint,shejumpedfromthesecond-floorwindow,knocked

yououtandgotaway?’Hearthnodded.Shehadtobelookingforthesword.‘Youthinkshefoundit?’Blitzasked.Hearthshookhishead.‘Howcanyoubesure?’Iasked.Becauseshe’srightthere.HearthpointedacrossBoylston.AquarterofamiledownArlingtonStreet,walkingatafastclip,

wasagirlinabrownpeacoatandagreenheadscarf.Irecognizedthatscarf.Hearth’sswolleneyehadbeencomplimentsofSamirahal-Abbas,myex-Valkyrie.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Let’sPlayFrisbeewithBladedWeapons!

Atthenorthendofthepark,SamcrossedBeaconStreet,headingforthefootbridgeoverStorrowDrive.‘Where’sshegoing?’Iasked.‘Theriver,obviously,’Blitzsaid.‘Shecheckedoutyourbodyatthefuneralhome–’‘Canwepleasenotphraseitthatway?’‘Shedidn’tfindthesword.Nowshe’scheckingtheriver.’Samclimbedthespiralrampofthefootbridge.Sheglancedbackinourdirectionandwehadto

hidebehindapileofdirtysnow.Duringthesummertouristseason,itwould’vebeeneasiertofollowherwithoutattractingattention.Now,thesidewalksweremostlyempty.Blitzenadjustedhisdarkglasses.‘Idon’tlikeit.Bestcasescenario,theValkyriessenther,but–’‘No,’Isaid.‘ShewaskickedoutoftheValkyries.’Itoldthemthestoryaswecrouchedbehindoursnow-bank.Hearthlookedaghast.HisswolleneyehadturnedthecolourofKermittheFrog.DaughterofLoki?

hesigned.She’sworkingforherdad.‘Idon’tknow,’Isaid.‘Ican’tquitebelievethat.’Becauseshesavedyou?Iwasn’tsure.MaybeIdidn’twanttobelieveshewasplayingforTeamEvil.MaybeLoki’swords

hadwormedtheirwayintomyhead:I’mdefinitelyonyourside!IpointedatHearth’seyeandsignedPforPermission?Itouchedhiseyelid.Asparkofwarmth

passedthroughmyfingertip.Thebruisingfaded.Blitzchuckled.‘You’regettinggoodatthat,Magnus.’Hearthstonegrabbedmyhand.Hestudiedmyfingertipsasiflookingforresidualmagic.‘Whatever.’Ipulledmyhandaway,alittleembarrassed.ThelastthingIwantedtobewasMagnus

Chase,VikingParamedic.‘We’relosingSam.Let’sgo.’SamheadeddownstreamontheEsplanadejoggingtrail.Wecrossedthefootbridge.Beneathus,

carsedgedalong,bumpertobumper,honkingincessantly.JudgingfromalltheconstructionvehiclesandflashinglightsontheLongfellowBridge,thetrafficwasprobablymyfault.MybattlewithSurthadcompletelyclosedthespan.WelostsightofSamaswetookthespiralramptotheEsplanade.Wewalkedpasttheplayground.I

figuredwewouldspothersomewheredownthepath,butshehaddisappeared.‘Well,that’sjustgreat,’Isaid.Blitzlimpedintotheshadowoftheclosedconcessionstand.Helookedlikehewashavingtrouble

carryinghisbowlingbag.

‘Youokay?’Iasked.‘Legsarejustslightlypetrified.Nothingtoworryabout.’‘Thatsoundslikesomethingtoworryabout.’Hearthpaced.WishIhadabow.Icouldhaveshother.Blitzenshookhishead.‘Sticktomagic,myfriend.’Hearth’sgesturesweresharpwithirritation.Can’treadyourlips.Thebeardisbadenough.Theski

mask–impossible.Blitzsetdownthebowlingbag,thensignedwhilehespoke.‘Hearthisverygoodwithrunes.He

knowsmorerunemagicthananylivingmortal.’‘Mortallikehuman?’Iasked.Blitzsnorted.‘Kid,humansaren’ttheonlymortalspecies.Imeanthumans,dwarvesorelves.You

can’tcountgiants–they’reweird.Orthegods,obviously.OrthesoothsayerswholiveinValhalla.Ineverunderstoodwhattheywere.But,amongthethreemortalspecies,Hearthstoneisthebestmagician!Well,he’salsotheonlymagician,asfarasIknow.He’sthefirstpersonincenturiestodedicatehislifetomagic.’I’mblushing,Hearthstonesigned,clearlynotblushing.‘Mypointis,you’vegotrealtalent,’Blitztoldhim.‘Butstillyouwanttobeanarcher!’Elvesweregreatarchers!Hearthprotested.‘Athousandyearsago!’Blitzenchoppedhishandtwicebetweenhisoppositethumbandforefinger,

thesignforannoyed.‘Hearthisaromantic.Helongsfortheolddays.He’sthesortofelfwhogoestoRenaissancefestivals.’Hearthgrunted.Iwentonetime.‘Guys,’Isaid,‘wehavetofindSam.’Nopoint,Hearthsigned.She’llsearchtheriver.Letherwastehertime.Wealreadylooked.‘Whatifwemissedthesword?’Blitzasked.‘Whatifshe’sgotanotherwaytofindit?’‘It’snotintheriver,’Isaid.BlitzandHearthbothstaredatme.‘Yousureaboutthat?’Blitzasked.‘I…Yeah.Don’taskmehow,butnowthatI’mclosertothewater…’IstaredoutovertheCharles,

itsripplinggreylinesetchedwithice.‘IfeelthesameaswhenIstoodovermycoffin.There’sakindofhollowness–likewhenyourattleacanandyoucantellthere’snothinginside.Ijustknow–theswordisn’tanywhereclose.’‘Rattlingacan…’Blitzenmused.‘Okay.Idon’tsupposeyoucoulddirectustowardsthecanswe

shouldberattling?’‘Thatwouldbegood,’saidSamirahal-Abbas.Shechargedfrombehindtheconcessionbuildingandkickedmeinthechest,propellingme

backwardsintoatree.Mylungsimplodedlikepapersacks.BythetimeIcouldseestraightagain,Blitzenwasslumpedagainstthewall.Hearth’sbagofrunestoneshadscatteredacrosstheground,andSamwasswingingheraxeathim.‘Stopit!’Imeanttoyell,butitcameoutasmoreofawheeze.

Hearthdodgedtheaxeandtriedtotackleher.Samjudo-flippedhimoverherknee.Hearthlandedflatonhisback.Blitzentriedtogetup.Hishatwastiltedsideways.Hisglasseshadbeenknockedoff,andtheskin

aroundhiseyeswasturninggreyinthedaylight.Samturnedtoaxe-smackhim.Angerroaredthroughme.Ireachedforthechainonmybelt.

Instantly,itwasaswordagain.IpulledthebladeandsentitspinninglikeaFrisbee.ItclangedagainstSam’saxe,knockingtheweaponfromherhand,almosttakingoffherfaceintheprocess.Shestaredatmeindisbelief.‘WhattheHelheim?’‘Youstartedit!’Hearthgrabbedherankle.Samkickedhimaway.‘Andstopkickingmyelf!’Isaid.Sampushedbackherheadscarf,lettingherdarkhairsweephershoulders.Shecrouchedina

wrestler ’sstance,readytotakeusallon.‘Sohelpme,Magnus,ifIhadmyfullpowers,Iwouldripyoursoulfromyourbodyforallthetroubleyou’vecausedme.’‘That’snice,’Isaid.‘Oryoucouldtelluswhatyou’redoinghere.Maybewecouldhelpeach

other.’Blitzensnatcheduphissunglasses.‘Helpher?Whywouldwehelpher?SheknockedoutHearthat

thefuneralhome!Myeyesfeellikechunksofquartz!’‘Well,maybeifyouhadn’tbeenstalkingme,’Samsaid.‘Bah!’Blitzenreadjustedhishat.‘Nobodywasstalkingyou,Valkyrie!We’relookingforthesame

thing–thesword!’Stilllyingontheground,Hearthsigned,Somebodypleasekillher.‘What’shedoing?’Samdemanded.‘Ishemakingrudeelfgesturesatme?’‘It’sASL,’Isaid.‘AmericanSignLanguage.’‘AlfSignLanguage,’Blitzcorrected.‘Anyway–’Iraisedmypalms–‘canwecallatruceandtalk?Wecanalwaysgobacktokilling

eachotherlater.’Sampaced,mutteringunderherbreath.Sheretrievedheraxeandmysword.Nicejob,Magnus,Itoldmyself.Nowshehasalltheweapons.Shetossedtheswordbacktome.‘IshouldneverhavechosenyouforValhalla.’Blitzensnorted.‘Onthat,atleast,weagree.Ifyouhadn’tinterferedonthebridge–’‘Interfered?’Samdemanded.‘MagnuswasalreadydeadwhenIchosehim!Youandtheelfweren’t

doinghimanygoodwithyourplasticsignandyoursqueakyarrows!’Blitzstoodstraight,whichdidn’tmakehimmuchtaller.‘I’llhaveyouknowmyfriendisagreat

runecaster.’‘Really?’Samirahasked.‘Ididn’tseehimusingmagiconthebridgeagainstSurt.’Hearthstonelookedoffended.Wouldhave.Gotsidetracked.‘Exactly,’Blitzsaid.‘And,asforme,Ihavemanyskills,Valkyrie.’‘Forinstance?’‘Forinstance,Icouldfixyourdisgracefuloutfit.Noonewearsabrownpeacoatwithagreen

headscarf.’

‘Adwarfinsunglassesandaskimaskisgivingmefashionadvice.’‘Ihavedaylightissues!’‘Guys,’Isaid,‘stop,please.Thankyou.’IhelpedHearthstonetohisfeet.HescowledatSamandbegancollectinghisrunestones.‘Okay,’Isaid.‘Sam,whyareyoulookingforthesword?’‘Becauseit’smyonlychance!Because–’Hervoicecracked.Alltherageseemedtoebboutofher.

‘BecauseIhonouredyourstupidbravery.IrewardedyouwithValhalla.Anditcostmeeverything.IfIcanfindthesword,maybethethaneswillreinstateme.Icanconvincethemthat…thatI’mnot–’‘ThedaughterofLoki?’Blitzenasked,buthisvoicehadlostsomeofitsedge.Samloweredheraxe.‘Ican’tdoanythingaboutthat.ButI’mnotworkingformyfather.I’mloyal

toOdin.’Hearthstoneglancedatmesceptically,like,Areyoubuyingthis?‘Itrusther,’Isaid.Blitzgrunted.‘Isthisanotherrattle-the-caninstinct?’‘Maybe,’Isaid.‘Look,weallwanttofindthissword,right?WewanttokeepitawayfromSurt.’‘AssumingSurtdoesn’talreadyhaveit,’Samsaid.‘Assumingwecanfigureoutwhat’sgoingon.

AssumingtheNorns’prophecyforyouisn’tasbadasitsounds–’‘Onewaytofindout.’Blitzheldupthebowling-ballbag.Samsteppedaway.‘What’sinthere?’Hearthmadeaclawandtappedittwiceonhisshoulder–thesignforboss.‘Answers,’Blitzsaid,‘whetherwewantthemornot.Let’sconferwiththeCapo.’

TWENTY-EIGHT

TalktotheFace,’CauseThat’sPrettyMuchAllHe’sGot

BlitzledusdowntheEsplanade,whereapierextendedintoanicylagoon.Atthebaseofthedock,acandy-stripedpolelistedsideways.‘Thisiswheretheydogondolaridesinthesummer,’Isaid.‘Idon’tthinkyou’regoingtofindone

now.’‘Wejustneedwater.’Blitzsatonthedockandunzippedthebowlingbag.‘Oh,gods.’Sampeeredinside.‘Isthathumanhair?’‘Hair,yes,’Blitzsaid.‘Human,no.’‘Youmean…’Shepressedherhandtoherstomach.‘You’renotserious.Youworkforhim?You

broughthimhere?’‘Heinsisted.’Blitzpusheddownthesidesofthebag,revealing…yep,aseveredhead.Themost

messed-upthingaboutthat?AftertwodaysinValhalla,Iwasn’tevensurprised.Thebeheadedman’sfacewasshrivelledlikeamonth-oldapple.Tuftsofrust-colouredhairclung

tohisscalp.Hisclosedeyesweresunkenanddark.Hisbeardedjawprotrudedbulldogstyle,revealingacrookedrowofbottomteeth.Blitzunceremoniouslyshovedtheheadinthewater,bagandall.‘Dude,’Isaid,‘thestateriverauthorityisn’tgoingtolikethat.’Theheadbobbedonthesurfaceofthelagoon.Thewaterarounditbubbledandswirled.Theman’s

faceinflated,hiswrinklessoftening,hisskinturningpink.Heopenedhiseyes.SamandHearthbothknelt.Samelbowedmetotakeaknee.‘LordMimir,’Samsaid.‘Youhonourus.’Theheadopenedhismouthandspewedwater.Morecameoutofhisnostrils,hisears,histear

ducts.Heremindedmeofacatfishdraggedfromthebottomofalake.‘Man,Ihate–’Theheadcoughedmorewater.Hiseyesturnedfromchalkwhitetoblue.‘Ihate

travellinginthatbag.’Blitzenbowed.‘Sorry,Capo.Itwasthatorthefishtank.Andthefishtankbreakseasily.’Theheadgurgled.Hescannedthefacesonthedockuntilhefoundme.‘SonofFrey,I’vecomea

longwaytospeakwithyou.Hopeyouappreciateit.’‘You’rethemysteriousclassifiedboss,’Isaid.‘HearthandBlitzhavebeenwatchingmefortwo

years…becausetheygotordersfromaseveredhead?’‘Showsomerespect,boyo.’Mimir ’svoiceremindedmeofthelongshoremendownattheUnion

Hall–theirlungshalfnicotine,halfseawater.Hearthfrownedatme.ToldyouC-A-P-O.Capomeanshead.Whysurprised?

‘IamMimir,’saidthehead.‘OnceIwasmightyamongtheAesir.ThencamethewarwiththeVanir.NowIgotmyownoperation.’Hisfacewassouglyitwashardtotellwhetherhewasgivingmeanuglylook.‘DidFreycutoffyourhead?’Iasked.‘Isthatwhyyou’remadatme?’Mimirhuffed.‘I’mnotmad.You’llknowwhenI’mmad.’Iwonderedwhatthatmeant.Maybehewouldgurglemorethreateningly.‘YourdadwaspartofthereasonIlostmyhead,though,’saidMimir.‘See,aspartofthetruceto

endthewar,thetwogodlytribesexchangedhostages.Yourfather,Frey,andhisfather,Njord,cametoliveinAsgard.ThegodHonirandI–weweresenttoliveinVanaheim.’‘I’mguessingthatdidn’tgowell.’MorewaterspoutedfromMimir ’sears.‘Yourfathermademelookbad!Hewasthisgreatgeneral

amongtheVanir–allgoldenandshinyandhandsome.HeandNjordgotallkindsofrespectinAsgard.AsformeandHonir–theVanirweren’tsoimpressed.’‘Nokidding.’‘Well,Honirwasneververy,howyousay,charismatic.TheVanirwouldaskhisopinionson

importantbusiness.He’dmumble,“Yeah,whatever.It’sallgood.”Me,Itriedtopullmyweight.ItoldtheVanirtheyshouldbegettingintocasinos.’‘Casinos.’‘Yeah,busloadsofretireescomingtoVanaheim.Easymoney.AndtheVanirhadallthesedragons.

Itoldthem,racetracks.Inthesky.Withdragons.They’dmakeakilling.’IlookedatBlitzandHearth.Theyseemedresigned,likethey’dheardthisstorymanytimesbefore.‘Soanyway,’saidMimir,‘theVanirdidn’tlikemyworthycounsel.Theyfeltcheatedinthehostage

swap.Asaprotest,theycutoffmyheadandsentittoOdin.’‘Shocking.Whentheycould’vehadcasinos.’Samcoughedloudly.‘Ofcourse,greatMimir,bothAesirandVanirhonouryounow.Magnus

didn’tmeantoinsultyou.Heisnotsostupid.’Sheglaredatmelike,Youaresostupid.AroundMimir ’shead,thewaterbubbledfaster.Ittrickledfromhisporesandstreamedfromhis

eyes.‘Forgetaboutit,sonofFrey.Idon’tholdagrudge.Besides,whenOdinreceivedmyseveredhead,hedidn’ttakerevenge.See,theAll-Fatherwassmart.HeknewtheVanirandAesirhadtouniteagainstourcommonenemy,theTriads.’‘Uh…’Blitzadjustedhishat.‘Ithinkyoumeanthegiants,boss.’‘Right.Thoseguys.SoOdincarriedmetoahiddencaveinJotunheimwherethismagicalspring

feedstherootsofYggdrasil.Heplacedmyheadinthewell.Thewaterbroughtmebacktolife,andIsoakedinalltheknowledgeoftheWorldTree.Mywisdomincreasedathousandfold.’‘But…you’restillaseveredhead.’Mimirmadeasidewaysnod.‘It’snotsobad.IoperateacrosstheNineWorlds–loans,protection,

pachinkomachines–’‘Pachinko.’‘Pachinkoishuge.PlusI’malwaysworkingtodelayRagnarok.Ragnarokwouldbebadfor

business.’

‘Right.’Idecidedtositdown,becauseitseemedlikethiscouldtakeawhile.OnceIdidit,SamandHearthfollowedmyexample.Chickens.‘Also,’Mimirsaid,‘Odinvisitsmeforadvicefromtimetotime.I’mhisconsigliere.Iguardthe

wellofknowledge.SometimesIlettravellersdrinkfromitswaters,thoughthatkindofintelnevercomeswithoutaprice.’Thewordpricesettledoverthedocklikeaheavyblanket.BlitzensatsostillIwasafraidhe’d

turnedtostone.Hearthstonestudiedthegrainoftheplanks.IbegantounderstandhowmyfriendshadgotinvolvedwithMimir.They’ddrunkfromhiswaters(gross)andpaidthepricebywatchingmeforthepasttwoyears.Iwonderedifwhatthey’dlearnedhadbeenworthit.‘So,GreatandWell-connectedMimir,’Isaid,‘whatdoyouwantwithme?’Mimirspatoutaminnow.‘Idon’thavetotellyou,boyo.Youalreadyknow.’Iwantedtodisagree,butthelongerIlistenedtoMimirthemoreIfeltlikeIwasbreathingpure

oxygen.Idon’tknowwhy.TheCapowasn’texactlyinspiring.Yet,beingaroundhim,mymindseemedtofunctionbetter,weavingtogetherbitsandpiecesofweirdnessI’dexperiencedoverthelastfewdaysintoonestrangelycohesivepicture.Anillustrationfrommyoldchildren’sbookofNorsemythscamebacktome–atalesoterrifying,

eveninitswatered-downkiddieversion,thatIhadburieditinmymemoryforyears.‘TheWolf,’Isaid.‘SurtwantstofreeFenrisWolf.’Iwashopingsomebodywouldcontradictme.Hearthloweredhishead.Samclosedhereyeslike

shewaspraying.‘Fenris,’saidBlitzen.‘There’sanameIwashopingnevertohearagain.’Mimirkeptcryingicewater.Hislipscurledinafaintsmile.‘Thereyougo,sonofFrey.Nowtell

me:whatdoyouknowaboutFenrisWolf?’Ibuttonedmyhuntingjacket.Thewindofftheriverseemedcoldeventome.‘CorrectmeifI’m

wrong.I’dlovetobewrong.Agesago,Lokihadanaffairwithagiantess.Theyhadthreemonstrouskids.’‘Iwasnotoneofthem,’Sammuttered.‘I’veheardallthejokes.’Hearthstonewinced,likehe’dbeenwonderingaboutthat.‘One,’Isaid,‘wasahugesnake.’‘Jormungand,’Samsaid.‘TheWorldSerpent,whichOdinthrewintothesea.’‘ThesecondwasHel,’Icontinued.‘Shebecame,like,thegoddessofthedishonourabledead.’‘Andthethird,’Blitzensaid,‘wasFenrisWolf.’Histonewasbitter,fullofpain.‘Blitz,’Isaid,‘yousoundlikeyouknowhim.’‘EverydwarfknowsofFenris.ThatwasthefirsttimetheAesircametousforhelp.Fenrisgrewso

savagehewould’vedevouredthegods.Theytriedtotiehimup,buthebrokeeverychain.’‘Iremember,’Isaid.‘Finallythedwarvesmadearopestrongenoughtoholdhim.’‘Eversince,’Blitzensaid,‘thechildrenofFenrishavebeenenemiesofthedwarves.’Helookedup,

hisdarkshadesreflectingmyface.‘You’renottheonlyonewho’slostfamilytowolves,kid.’Ihadastrangeurgetohughim.SuddenlyIdidn’tfeelsobadaboutallthetimehe’dspentwatching

me.Wewerebrothersinsomethingmorethanhomelessness.Still…Iresistedtheimpulse.Whenever

I’mtemptedtohugadwarf,that’susuallyasignIneedtomovealong.‘OnRagnarok,’Isaid,‘theDayofDoom,oneofthefirstthingsthat’ssupposedtohappenisFenris

getsfreed.’Samnodded.‘Theoldstoriesdon’tsayhowthathappens–’‘Butoneway,’Blitzsaid,‘wouldbetocuthimloose.TheropeGleipnirisunbreakable,but…’Frey’ssword,Hearthsigned,isthesharpestbladeintheNineWorlds.‘SurtwantstofreetheWolfwithmyfather ’ssword.’IlookedatMimir.‘Howarewedoingsofar?’‘Notbad,’theheadburbled.‘Whichbringsustoyourtask.’‘StopSurt,’Isaid.‘Findtheswordbeforehedoes…assuminghehasn’tgotitalready.’‘Hedoesn’t,’Mimirsaid.‘Believeme,aneventlikethatwouldmaketheNineWorldstremble.I’d

tastefearinthewatersofYggdrasil.’‘Yuck,’Isaid.‘Youhavenoidea,’saidMimir.‘Butyoumusthurry.’‘TheNorns’prophecy.Ninedayshence,blah,blah,blah.’WaterbubbledoutofMimir ’sears.‘I’mprettysuretheydidn’tsayblah,blah,blah.However,

you’recorrect.TheislandwherethegodsimprisonedFenrisisonlyaccessibleonthefirstfullmoonofeachyear.That’snowsevendayshence.’‘Whomakesuptheserules?’Iasked.‘Imadeupthatrule,’Mimirsaid.‘Soshutup.Findthesword.ReachtheislandbeforeSurtdoes.’Samraisedherhand.‘Um,LordMimir,Iunderstandfindingthesword.Butwhytakeittothe

island?Isn’tthatwhereSurtwantsthesword?’‘See,Missal-Abbas…thisiswhyI’mthebossandyou’renot.Yeah,bringingtheswordtothe

islandisdangerous.Yeah,SurtcoulduseittofreetheWolf.ButSurtisgonnafindawaytofreeFenriswithorwithoutit.IdidmentionIcanseethefuture,right?TheonlypersonwhomightbeabletostopSurtisMagnusChase–assuminghecanfindtheswordandlearntowielditproperly.’I’dshutupforalmostawholeminute,soIfiguredIcouldraisemyhand.‘LordMisterBubbles–’‘Mimir.’‘Ifthisswordissuchabigdeal,whydideverybodyletitsitonthebottomoftheCharlesRiverfor

athousandyears?’Mimirsighedfoam.‘Myregularminionsneverasksomanyquestions.’Blitzcoughed.‘Actually,wedo,boss.Youjustignoreus.’‘Toansweryourquestion,MagnusChase,theswordcanonlybefoundbyadescendantofFrey

uponreachingtheageofmaturity.Othershavetried,failedanddied.Rightnow,you’retheonlylivingdescendantofFrey.’‘Theonlyone…intheworld?’‘IntheNineWorlds.Freydoesn’tgetoutmuchanymore.Yourmother–shemust’vebeenreally

somethingtoattracthisattention.Anyway,alotofpeopleintheNineWorlds–gods,giants,bookies,younameit–havebeenwaitingforyoutoturnsixteen.Somewantedyoukilledsoyoucouldn’tfindthesword.Somewantedyoutosucceed.’Hotpinspressedagainstthebaseofmyneck.Theideaofabunchofgodspeeringthroughtheir

Asgardiantelescopes,watchingmegrowup,creepedmeout.Mymommusthaveknownallalong.

She’ddoneherbesttokeepmesafe,toteachmesurvivalskills.Thenightthewolvesattackedourapartment,she’dgivenherlifetosaveme.ImettheCapo’swateryeyes.‘Andyou?’Iasked.‘Whatdoyouwant?’‘You’reariskybet,Magnus.Alotofpossiblefatesintersectinyourlife.Youcoulddealtheforces

ofevilagreatsetbackanddelayRagnarokforgenerations.Or,ifyoufail,youcouldhastentheDayofDoom.’Itriedtoswallow.‘Hastenit,like,byhowmuch?’‘Howdoesnextweekworkforyou?’‘Oh.’‘Idecidedtotakethebet,’Mimirsaid.‘AfterthechildrenofFenriskilledyourmother,IsentBlitz

andHearthtoguardyou.Youprobablydon’trealizehowmanytimesthey’vesavedyourlife.’Hearthheldupsevenfingers.Ishuddered,butmostlyfromthementionofFenris’stwochildren,thewolveswithblueeyes…‘Tosucceed,’saidMimir,‘you’regonnaneedthisteam.Hearthstonehere–he’sdedicatedhislife

torunemagic.Withouthim,you’llfail.You’llalsoneedanabledwarflikeBlitzenwhounderstandsdwarvencrafting.YoumightneedtostrengthentheWolf’sbindings,orevenreplacethem.’Blitzshifted.‘Uh,boss…mycraftingskillsare,well,youknow–’‘Don’tgivemethat,’saidMimir.‘Nodwarfhasastouterheart.Nodwarfhastravelledfurtherin

theNineWorldsorhasmoreofadesiretokeepFenrischained.Also,you’reinmyservice.You’lldowhatIsay.’‘Ah.’Blitzennodded.‘Whenyouputitthatway…’‘Whataboutme,LordMimir?’askedSam.‘What’smypartinyourplan?’Mimirfrowned.Aroundhisbeard,thewaterbubbledadarkershadeofgreen.‘Youweren’tpartof

theplanatall.There’sacloudaroundyourfate,Missal-Abbas.TakingMagnustoValhalla–Ididn’tseethatcoming.Itwasn’tsupposedtohappen.’Samlookedaway,herlipspressedtightwithanger.‘Sam’sgotaparttoplay,’Isaid.‘I’msureofit.’‘Donotpatronizeme,Magnus.Ichoseyoubecause–’Shestoppedherself.‘Itwassupposedto

happen.’Irememberedwhatshe’dsaidinthefeasthall:Iwastold…Iwaspromised.Bywhom?Idecided

nottoaskthatinfrontoftheCapo.Mimirstudiedher.‘Ihopeyou’reright,Missal-Abbas.WhenMagnusfirsttooktheswordfromthe

river,hecouldn’tcontrolitverywell.Maybenowthathe’saneinherji,he’llhavethestrength,inwhichcaseyou’vesavedtheday.Ormaybeyou’vecompletelymesseduphisdestiny.’‘We’regoingtosucceed,’Iinsisted.‘Justtwoquestions:whereisthesword,andwhereisthe

island?’Mimirnodded,whichmadehimlooklikeanoversizefishingbobber.‘Well,that’sthetrick,isn’tit?

Tofindthatkindainformation,I’dhavetoteartheveilsbetweentheworlds,greasealotofpalms,seeintotherealmsoftheothergods.’‘Couldn’twejustdrinkyourmagicwell-water?’

‘Youcould,’heagreed.‘Butitwouldcostyou.AreyouandSamirahal-Abbasreadytobeboundtomyservice?’Hearth’sfacefrozeinapprehension.FromthetensioninBlitz’sshoulders,Iguessedhewastrying

veryhardnottoleaptohisfeetandscream,Don’tdoit!‘Youcouldn’tmakeanexception?’IaskedtheCapo.‘Seeingashowyouwantthisjobdone?’‘Nocando,boyo.I’mnotbeinggreedy.It’sjust,well,yougetwhatyoupayfor.Somethingcomes

cheap,itain’tworthmuch.That’strueforknowledgeespecially.Youcanpayforashortcut,gettheinformationrightnow,oryou’llhavetofinditonyourown,thehardway.’Samcrossedherarms.‘Apologies,LordMimir.ImayhavebeenkickedoutoftheValkyries,butI

stillconsidermyselfboundtoOdin’sservice.Ican’ttakeonanothermaster.Magnuscanmakehisownchoice,but–’‘We’llfigureitoutonourown,’Iagreed.Mimirmadealowsloshingsound.Helookedalmostimpressed.‘Interestingchoice.Goodluck,

then.Ifyousucceed,you’llhaveahouseaccountatallmypachinkoparlours.Ifyoufail…I’llseeyounextweekforDoomsday.’Thegod’sheadswirledanddisappearedintotheicywaterofthelagoon.‘Heflushedhimself,’Isaid.Hearthlookedevenpalerthanusual.Whatnow?Mystomachrumbled.Ihadn’teatenanythingsincelastnight,andapparentlymysystemhadbeen

spoiledafteracoupleofall-you-can-eatVikingbuffets.‘Now,’Isaid,‘I’mthinkinglunch.’

TWENTY-NINE

WeAreFalafel-JackedbyanEagle

Wedidn’ttalkmuchasweheadedbackthroughthepark.Theairsmelledofincomingsnow.Thewindpickedupandhowledlikewolves,ormaybeIjusthadwolvesonthebrain.Blitzlimpedalong,zigzaggingfromshadowtoshadowasbesthecould.Hearth’sbrightlystriped

scarfdidn’tmatchhisgrimexpression.IwantedtoaskhimmoreaboutrunemagicnowthatIknewhewasthebest(andonly)mortalpractitioner.Maybetherewasarunethatcouldmakewolvesexplode,preferablyfromasafedistance.ButHearthkepthishandsshovedinhispockets–thesignlanguageequivalentofIdon’twanttotalk.WewerepassingmyoldsleepingspotunderthefootbridgewhenSamgrumbled,‘Mimir.I

should’veknownhewasinvolved.’Iglancedover.‘Afewminutesago,youwereall,LordMimir,youhonourus;we’renotworthy.’‘OfcourseIshowedrespectwhenhewasrightinfrontofme!He’soneoftheoldestgods.Buthe’s

unpredictable.It’sneverbeenclearwhosesidehe’son.’Blitzenjumpedtotheshadeofawillowtree,alarmingseveralducks.‘TheCapoisonthesideof

everybodyintheworldwhodoesn’twanttodie.Isn’tthatenough?’Samlaughed.‘Isupposeyoutwoworkforhimofyourownfreewill?Youdidn’tdrinkfromhis

wellandpaytheprice?’NeitherBlitznorHearthresponded.‘That’swhatIthought,’Samsaid.‘I’mnotpartofMimir ’splanbecauseIwouldneverblindlygo

alongwithitanddrinkhismagicalknowledgeKool-Aid.’‘Itdoesn’ttastelikeKool-Aid,’Blitzobjected.‘It’smorelikerootbeerwithahintofclove.’Samturnedtome.‘I’mtellingyou,thisdoesn’taddup.FindingtheSwordofSummer–Igetthat.

ButtakingittotheveryplacewhereSurtwantstouseit?Unwise.’‘Yeah,butifIhavethesword–’‘Magnus,theswordisdestinedtofallintoSurt’shandssoonerorlater.AtRagnarok,yourfather

willdiebecausehegavehisswordaway.Surtwillkillhimwithit.That’swhatmostofthestoriessay,anyway.’Igotclaustrophobicjustthinkingaboutit.Howcouldanybody,evenagod,avoidgoingcrazyifhe

knewcenturiesinadvanceexactlyhowhewasgoingtodie?‘WhydoesSurthateFreysomuch?’Iasked.‘Couldn’thepickonabigstrongwargod?’Blitzenfrowned.‘Kid,Surtwantsdeathanddestruction.Hewantsfiretorunrampantacrossthe

NineWorlds.Awargodcan’tstopthat.Freycan.He’sthegodofthegrowingseason–thegodofhealthandnewlife.Hekeepstheextremesincheck,bothfireandice.There’snothingSurthatesworsethanbeingrestrained.Freyishisnaturalenemy.’

Andbyextension,Ithought,Surthatesme.‘IfFreyknewwhathisfatewouldbe,’Isaid,‘whydidhegiveuphisbladeinthefirstplace?’Blitzgrunted.‘Love.Whyelse?’‘Love?’‘Ugh,’Samsaid.‘Ihatethatstory.Whereareyoutakingusforlunch,Magnus?’Partofmewantedtohearthestory.PartofmerememberedmyconversationwithLoki:Willyou

searchforyourheart’sdesire,knowingitmaydoomyouasitdoomedyourfather?AlotofNorsestoriesseemedtohavethesamemessage:knowingthingswasn’talwaysworththe

price.Unfortunatelyforme,I’dalwaysbeenthecurioustype.‘It’s…uh,justupahead,’Isaid.‘Comeon.’ThefoodcourtattheTransportationBuildingwasn’tValhalla,butifyouwerehomelessinBoston

itwasprettyclose.Theindooratriumwaswarm,opentothepublicandnevercrowded.Itwasonlyhalf-heartedlypatrolledbyprivatesecurity.Aslongasyouhadadrinkoraplateofhalf-eatenfood,youcouldsitatthetablesforalongtimebeforeanybodymadeyoumove.Onthewayin,BlitzenandHearthstonestartedtowardsthegarbagecanstocheckforlunch

leavings,butIstoppedthem.‘Guys,no,’Isaid.‘We’reeatingactualmealstoday.Mytreat.’Hearthraisedaneyebrow.Hesigned,Youhavemoney?‘He’sgotthatfriendhere,’Blitzenrecalled.‘Thefalafelguy.’Samfrozeinhertracks.‘What?’Shelookedaroundasifjustrealizingwherewewere.‘It’scool,’Ipromised.‘IknowaguyatFadlan’sFalafel.You’llthankmeforit.Stuffisamazing–’‘No–I–oh,gods–’Shehastilyputherscarfoverherhair.‘MaybeI’llwaitoutside–Ican’t–’‘Nonsense.’Blitzhookedhisarmthroughhers.‘Theymightservemorefoodifwe’vegotapretty

womanwithus!’Samclearlywantedtobolt,butsheallowedHearthandBlitztosteerherintothefoodcourt.Iguess

Ishould’vepaidmoreattentiontohowuncomfortableshewasacting,butonceyouputmewithinahundredfeetofFadlan’sFalafelIgettunnelvision.Overthepasttwoyears,I’dstruckupafriendshipwiththemanager,Abdel.Ithinkhesawmeashis

community-serviceproject.Theshopalwayshadsurplusfood–slightlyout-of-datepittabread,day-oldshawarma,kibbehthathadbeensittingundertheheatlampsalittletoolong.Abdelcouldn’tlegallysellthestuff,butitstilltastedperfectlyfine.Insteadofthrowingitout,Abdelgaveittome.WheneverIcamearound,Icouldcountonafalafelflatbreadsandwichorsomethingjustastasty.Inreturn,ImadesuretheotherhomelessfolksintheatriumstayedpoliteandcleanedupafterthemselvessoAbdel’spayingcustomersweren’tscaredaway.InBoston,youcouldn’twalkablockwithoutstumblingintosomeiconofliberty–theFreedom

Trail,theOldNorthChurch,theBunkerHillMonument,whatever–but,tome,libertytastedlikeFadlan’sFalafel.Thatstuffhadkeptmealiveandindependenteversincemymomdied.Ididn’twanttooverwhelmAbdelwithtoomanypeople,soIsentBlitzandHearthtograbatable

whileIescortedSamtogetthefood.Thewholeway,shedraggedherfeet,turningaside,fiddlingwithherheadscarfasifshewantedtodisappearinsideit.

‘What’sthematterwithyou?’Iasked.‘Maybehe’snotthere,’shemuttered.‘MaybeyoucansayI’myourtutor.’Ididn’tknowwhatshewastalkingabout.IbellieduptothecounterwhileSamhungback,doing

herbesttohidebehindapottedficustree.‘IsAbdelhere?’Iaskedtheguyattheregister.Hestartedtosaysomething,butthenAbdel’ssonAmircameoutfromtheback,grinningand

wipinghishandsonhisapron.‘Jimmy,how’sitgoing?’Irelaxed.IfAbdelwasn’taround,Amirwasthenextbestthing.Hewaseighteenornineteen,trim

andgood-looking,withslickdarkhair,anArabictattooonhisbiceps,andasmilesobrilliantitcould’vesoldtruckloadsofteethwhitener.LikeeverybodyatFadlan’sFalafel,heknewmeas‘Jimmy’.‘Yeah,I’mgood,’Isaid.‘How’syourpop?’‘He’sattheSomervillelocationtoday.CanIgetyousomefood?’‘Man,you’rethebest.’Amirlaughed.‘Nobiggie.’Heglancedovermyshoulderanddidadoubletake.‘Andthere’s

Samirah!Whatareyoudoinghere?’Sheshuffledforward.‘Hi,Amir.Iam…tutoringMa–Jimmy.IamtutoringJimmy.’‘Oh,yeah?’Amirleanedonthecounter,whichmadehisarmmusclesflex.Thedudeworkedfull-

timeathisdad’svariousshops,yethesomehowmanagedtoavoidgettingevenaspeckofgreaseonhiswhiteT-shirt.‘Don’tyouhaveschool?’‘Um,yes,butIgetcreditfortutoringoffcampus.Jimmyand…hisclassmates.’Shepointed

towardsBlitzandHearth,whowerehavingarapid-fireargumentinsignlanguage,tracingcirclesintheair.‘Geometry,’Samirahsaid.‘They’rehopelesswithgeometry.’‘Hopeless,’Iagreed.‘Butfoodhelpsusstudy.’Amir ’seyescrinkled.‘I’vegotyoucovered.Gladtoseeyou’reokay,Jimmy.Thatbridgeaccident

theotherday–thepaperhadthispictureofakidwhodied?Lookedalotlikeyou.Differentname,butwewereworried.’I’dbeensofocusedonfalafelthatI’dforgottentothinkaboutthemmakingthatconnection.‘Ah,

yeah,Isawthat.I’mgood.Juststudyinggeometry.Withmytutor.’‘Okay!’AmirsmiledatSam.Theawkwardnesswassothickyoucould’vecutitwithabroadsword.

‘Well,Samirah,sayhitoJidandBibiforme.Youguysgoaheadandsit.I’llbringoutsomefoodinasec.’SammutteredsomethingthatmighthavebeenThanksalotorKillmenow.ThenwejoinedBlitz

andHearthatthetable.‘Whatwasthatabout?’Iaskedher.‘HowdoyouknowAmir?’Shepulledherscarfalittleloweroverherforehead.‘Don’tsittooclosetome.Trytolooklike

we’retalkingaboutgeometry.’‘Triangles,’Isaid.‘Quadrilaterals.Also,whyareyouembarrassed?Amirisawesome.Ifyouknow

theFadlanfamily,you’relikearockstartome.’‘He’smycousin,’sheblurted.‘Secondcousin,twiceremoved.Orsomething.’

IlookedatHearth.Hewasscowlingatthefloor.Blitzhadtakenoffhisskimaskandglasses,Iguessbecausetheinteriorlightdidn’tbotherhimasmuch,andwasnowsullenlyspinningaplasticforkonthetable.ApparentlyI’dmissedagoodargumentbetweenhimandHearth.‘Okay,’Isaid.‘Butwhysonervous?’‘Canyoudropit?’shesaid.Iraisedmyhands.‘Fine.Let’sallstartover.Hi,everybody.I’mMagnus,andI’maneinherji.If

we’renotgoingtostudygeometry,couldwetalkabouthowwe’regoingtofindtheSwordofSummer?’Nobodyanswered.Apigeonwaddledpast,peckingatcrumbs.Iglancedbackatthefalafelshop.Forsomereason,Amirhadrolleddownthesteelcurtain.I’d

neverseenhimclosetheshopduringlunchhour.IwonderedifSamhadsomehowoffendedhimandhe’dcutoffmyfalafelallowance.Ifso,Iwasgoingtogoberserker.‘Whathappenedtoourfood?’Iwondered.Atmyfeet,asmallvoicecroaked,‘Icanhelpwithboththosequestions.’Ilookeddown.MyweekhadbeensowackIdidn’tevenflinchwhenIrealizedwhohadspoken.‘Guys,’Isaid,‘thispigeonwantstohelp.’Thepigeonflutteredontoourtable.Hearthnearlyfelloutofhischair.Blitzsnatchedupafork.‘Serviceherecanbealittleslow,’saidthepigeon.‘ButIcanspeedupyourorder.Icanalsotell

youwheretofindthesword.’Samreachedforheraxe.‘That’snotapigeon.’Thebirdregardedherwithabeadyorangeeye.‘Maybenot.Butifyoukillmeyou’llneverget

yourlunch.You’llalsoneverfindtheswordorseeyourintendedagain.’Samirah’seyeslookedliketheyweregoingtoshootacrosstheatrium.‘Whatishetalkingabout?’Isaid.‘Intendedwhat?’Thebirdcooed.‘IfyoueverwantFadlan’sFalafeltoopenagain–’‘Okay,that’sadeclarationofwar.’Iconsideredgrabbingforthebird,butevenwithmyeinherji

reflexesIdoubtedIcouldcatchit.‘Whatdidyoudo?What’shappenedtoAmir?’‘Nothingyet!’saidthepigeon.‘I’llbringyouyourlunch.AllIwantisfirstpickofthefood.’‘Uh-huh,’Isaid.‘And,assumingIbelieveyou,whatwouldyouwantinexchangeforinformation

aboutthesword?’‘Afavour.It’snegotiable.Now,doesthatfalafelshopstayclosedforever,ordowehaveadeal?’Blitzenshookhishead.‘Don’tdoit,Magnus.’Hearthsigned,Pigeonscannotbetrusted.Sammetmyeyes.Herexpressionwaspleading–almostfrantic.Eithershelikedfalafelevenmore

thanIdid,orshewasworriedaboutsomethingelse.‘Fine,’Isaid.‘Bringusourlunch.’Immediatelytheshop’ssteelcurtainrolledup.Thecashierstoodlikeastatue,thephonetohisear.

Thenheunfroze,glancedoverhisshoulderandshoutedanordertothecookasifnothinghad

happened.Thepigeontookoffandspedtowardstheshop,disappearingbehindthecounter.Thecashierdidn’tseemtonotice.Amomentlater,amuchlargerbirdshotoutofthekitchen–abaldeaglewithatrayinhisclaws.

Helandedinthemiddleofourtable.‘You’reaneaglenow?’Iasked.‘Yeah,’hesaidinthesamecroakyvoice.‘Iliketomixitup.Here’syourfood.’ItwaseverythingIcould’veaskedfor:steamingsquaresofspicedground-beefkibbeh;astackof

lambkebabswithmintyogurtdip;fourfreshslabsofpittabreadfilledwithdeep-friednuggetsofchickpeagoodness,drizzledintahinisauceandgarnishedwithpicklewedges.‘Oh,Helheimyes.’Ireachedforthetray,buttheeaglepeckedatmyhand.‘Now,now,’hechided.‘Igetfirstpick.’Everseenaneagleeatfalafel?Thathorrifyingimagenowhauntsmynightmares.FasterthanIcouldblink,theeaglestruck,vacuumingupeverythingbutasinglewedgeofpickle.‘Hey!’Iyelled.Samrose,heftingheraxe.‘He’sagiant.He’sgottobe!’‘Wehadadeal.’Theeaglebelched.‘Nowaboutthesword–’Iletlooseagutturalroar–thecryofamanwhohasbeendeprivedofhisrightfulkibbeh.Idrew

myswordandsmackedtheeaglewiththeflatoftheblade.Itwasn’tthemostrationalmove,butIwashungry.Iwasangry.Ihatedbeingtakenadvantageof,

andIdidn’tparticularlylikebaldeagles.Thebladehitthebird’sbackandstucktherelikesuperglue.Itriedtopullitaway,butitwouldn’t

move.Myhandsweregraftedtotheswordgrip.‘Okay,then,’theeaglesquawked,‘wecanplayitthatway.’Hetookoffthroughthefoodcourtatsixtymilesanhour,draggingmealongbehindhim.

THIRTY

AnAppleaDayWillGetYouKilled

AddtomylistofLeastFavouriteActivities:eaglesurfing.Thestupidbirdshouldn’thavebeenabletotakeoffwithamore-or-less-full-grownMagnusintow.

Yethedid.Behindme,BlitzandSamyelledhelpfulstufflike‘Hey!Stop!’astheeagledraggedmethrough

tables,chairsandpottedplants,thenblastedthroughthedoubleglassdoorsandsoaredoverCharlesStreet.Aguyhavinglunchinthetenth-floorcondoacrossthestreetspewedCheetoswhenIshotpast.Ileft

anicefootprintonhiswindow.‘Letmego!’Iyelledattheeagle.Thebirdcackledashepulledmealongarooftop.‘Yousureaboutthat?Headsup!’Itwisted,barelyavoidingaface-firstencounterwithanindustrialACunit.Iploughedthrougha

brickchimney,usingmychestasabatteringram.Thentheeagleplummeteddowntheothersideofthebuilding.‘So!’theeaglesaid.‘Youreadytonegotiatethatfavour?’‘Withamutantpigeonwhostealsfalafel?’Iyelled.‘Nothanks!’‘Suityourself.’Theeagleveered,slammingmeintoafireescape.Ifeltmyribscrack,likevialsof

acidbreakinginsidemychest.Myemptystomachtriedunsuccessfullytohurl.WeclimbedaboveoneofthechurchesonBoylstonandcircledthesteeple.Ihadanaddledthought

aboutPaulRevereandthewholeOneifbyland,twoifbyseathing.Andifyouseeadudebeingdraggedbyagianteagle,uh,Idon’tevenknowhowmanylightsthatis.Itriedtohealmyribsthroughwillpower,butIcouldn’tconcentrate.Thepainwastoointense.I

keptrunningintowallsandkickingoutwindows.‘AllIwant,’theeaglesaid,‘isafavourforafavour.I’lltellyouhowtogetthesword,butyouhave

togetmesomethingwhileyou’reatit.Nothingmuch.Justanapple.Oneapple.’‘What’sthecatch?’‘Thecatchisthatifyoudon’tagree…oh,look!Pigeonspikes!’Aheadofus,theedgeofahotelroofbristledwithsteellikeaminiaturelineofWorldWarIbarbed

wire.Thespikesweretheretodiscourageroostingbirds,butthey’dalsodoagreatjobshreddingmysoftunderbelly.Feargotthebestofme.Idon’tlikepointyobjects.Mygutwasstillsensitivefrommyrecentdeath

bymoltenasphalt.‘Fine!’Iyelled.‘Nospikes!’‘Say:Bymytroth,Iagreetoyourterms.’

‘Idon’tevenknowwhatthatmeans!’‘Sayit!’‘Bymytroth,Iagreetoyourterms!Yes,apples!No,spikes!’Theeagleclimbed,narrowlyclearingtheroof.Thetipsofmyshoestwangedagainstthebarbs.We

circledCopleySquareandlandedontheroofoftheBostonPublicLibrary.Theswordcamefreeoftheeagle’sback.Myhandsungluedthemselves,whichwasgreat,except

thatInowhadnothingtoholdonto.Thecurvedredclaytileswerealmostimpossibletostandon.Theroofslantedprecariously.Eightyfeetbelowmestretchedawideexpanseofasphalt-flavoureddeath.Icrouchedtoavoidfalling.Carefully,Isheathedmysword,whichmeltedbackintoalengthof

chain.‘Ow,’Isaid.Myribsached.Myarmshadbeenpulledhalfoutoftheirsockets.Mychestfeltlikeithadbeen

permanentlytattooedwithabrick-walldesign.Tomyleft,theeagleperchedonalightning-rodspire,lordingoverthedecorativebronzegriffins

aroundthebase.I’dneverthoughtofeaglesashavingexpressions,butthisonedefinitelylookedsmug.‘I’mgladyousawreason!’hesaid.‘Though,honestly,Ienjoyedourlittleflightthroughthecity.

It’sgoodtospeakwithyoualone.’‘I’mblushing,’Igrumbled.‘Oh,no,wait.That’sthebloodallovermyface.’‘Here’stheinformationyouneed,’theeaglecontinued.‘Whenyourswordfellintheriver,the

currentcarrieditdownstream.ItwasclaimedbythegoddessRan.Lotsofvaluablethingsendupinhernet.’‘Ran?’Theeagleclickedhisbeak.‘Seagoddess.Hasanet.Trytokeepup.’‘WheredoIfindher?Andpleasedon’tsay“thesea”.’‘Shecouldbeanywhere,soyou’llhavetogetherattention.Thewaytodothat:Iknowthisguy,

Harald.He’sgotaboatattheFishPier,doesdeep-seaexcursions.TellhimBigBoysentyou.’‘BigBoy.’‘Oneofmymanynames.Haraldwillknowwhatyoumean.Convincehimtotakeyoufishingin

MassachusettsBay.Ifyoucauseenoughofaruckusoutthere,you’llattractRan’sattention.Thenyoucannegotiate.AskherfortheswordandoneofIdun’sapples.’‘Eden.’‘AreyoujustgoingtorepeateverynameIgiveyou?It’sI-D-U-N.Shedistributestheapplesof

immortalitythatkeepthegodsyoungandspry.Ranissuretohaveonelyingaround,because,seriously,onceyouseeheryou’llbeabletotellshe’snotgoodaboutrememberingtoeatherapples.Whenyouhavetheapple,bringitbackhere.Giveittome,andI’llreleaseyoufromyourvow.’‘Twoquestions.Areyouinsane?’‘No.’‘Secondquestion:howisfishinginthebaygoingtocreatearuckusthatattractsaseagoddess?’

‘Thatdependsonwhatyoufishfor.TellHaraldyouneedthespecialbait.He’llunderstand.Ifheprotests,tellhimBigBoyinsists.’‘Ihavenoideawhatthatmeans,’Iconfessed.‘AssumingImeetRan,howamIsupposedtobargain

withher?’‘That’sthreequestions.Also,that’syourproblem.’‘Lastquestion.’‘Thisisfournow.’‘What’stokeepmefromgettingtheswordandnotbringingyouanapple?’‘Well,yousworebyyourtroth,’saidtheeagle.‘Yourtrothisyourword,yourfaith,yourhonour,

yoursoul.It’sabindingoath,especiallyforaneinherji.UnlessyouwanttospontaneouslycombustandfindyourselftrappedforeverintheicydarknessofHelheim…’Ichewedmylip.‘IguessI’llkeepmypromise.’‘Excellent!’Theeagleflappedhiswings.‘Herecomeyourfriends,whichismycuetoleave.I’ll

seeyouwhenyouhavemyfreshproduce!’TheeaglesoaredawayanddisappearedbehindtheglasswallsoftheHancockTower,leavingme

tofindmyownwayofftheroof.DowninCopleySquare,Blitzen,HearthstoneandSamwerejustrunningontothefrozenlawn.Sam

sawmefirst.Shestoppedinhertracksandpointed.Iwaved.Icouldn’tseeherexpression,butshespreadherarmslike,Whattheheckareyoudoingupthere?Withsomedifficulty,Igottomyfeet.ThankstomyValhallaCarehealthplan,myinjurieswere

alreadystartingtomend,butIstillfeltsoreandstiff.Ipickedmywaytotheedgeoftheroofandpeeredover.Magnus1.0neverwould’veconsideredit,butnowIplottedaseriesoften-footjumps–tothatwindowledge,thatflagpole,thetopofthatlightfixture,thenthefrontsteps–andIthought,Yeah,noproblem.Inamatterofseconds,I’dsafelyreachedtheground.Myfriendsmetmeatthesidewalk.‘Whatwasthatabout?’Blitzendemanded.‘Washeagiant?’‘Dunno,’Isaid.‘HisnameisBigBoy,andhelikesapples.’Itoldthemthestory.Hearthstonesmackedhisforehead.Hesigned,Yousworebyyourtroth?‘Well,itwaseitherthatorgetshreddedbypigeonspikes,soyeah.’Samstaredatthesky,maybehopingtoseeaneagleshecouldhitwithheraxe.‘Thiswillendbadly.

Dealswithgiantsalwaysdo.’‘AtleastMagnusfoundoutwheretheswordis,’Blitzensaid.‘Besides,Ran’sagoddess.She’llbe

onourside,right?’Samsnorted.‘Iguessyouhaven’theardthestoriesaboutherthatIhave.But,atthispoint,wedon’t

havemuchchoice.Let’sfindHarald.’

THIRTY-ONE

GoSmellyorGoHome

I’dneverbeenscaredofboatsuntilIsawHarald’s.PaintedontheprowwasHARALD’SDEEP-SEAEXCURSIONSANDDEATHWISHES,whichseemedlikealot

ofverbiageforatwenty-foot-longdinghy.Thedeckwasamessofropes,bucketsandtackleboxes.NetsandbuoysfestoonedthesideslikeChristmasdecorations.Thehullhadoncebeengreenbuthadfadedtothecolourofwell-chewedspearmintgum.NearbyonthedocksatHaraldhimself,insplatteredyellowoverallsandaT-shirtsogrungy,my

donation-boxWigglesshirtwould’vebeenanupgrade.Hewasasumo-sizeguywitharmsasthickastherotatingmeatspitsbackatFadlan’sFalafel.(Yes,Iwasstillthinkingaboutfood.)Theweirdestthingabouthimwashishair.Hisshaggylocks,hisbeard,evenhisfuzzyforearms

glistenedwhitishblue,asifhe’dbeencaughtoutsideovernightandglazedwithfrost.Asweapproached,helookedupfromtheropehewascoiling.‘Well,now.Adwarf,anelfandtwo

humanswalkontomypier…Soundslikethebeginningofajoke.’‘Ihopenot,’Isaid.‘Wewanttorentyourboatforafishingexpedition.We’llneedthespecialbait.’Haraldsnorted.‘Youfourononeofmyexpeditions?Idon’tthinkso.’‘BigBoysentus.’Haraldfurrowedhisbrow,causinglightsnowtofallacrosshischeeks.‘BigBoy,eh?Whatdoeshe

wantwiththelikesofyou?’Samsteppedforward.‘Noneofyourconcern.’Fromhercoatpocketshepulledalargecoinand

tossedittoHarald.‘Oneredgoldnow;fivemorewhenwefinish.Willyourentustheboatornot?’Ileanedtowardsher.‘Whatisredgold?’‘ThecurrencyofAsgardandValhalla,’shesaid.‘Widelyacceptedintheotherrealms.’Haraldsniffedthecoin.Itsgoldsurfaceglowedsowarmlyitseemedtobeonfire.‘Youhave

giantishblood,girl?Icanseeitinyoureyes.’‘That’salsononeofyourconcern.’‘Humph.Thepaymentissufficient,butmyboatissmall.Twopassengersmaximum.I’lltakeyou

andthehumanboy,butthedwarfandtheelf–forgetit.’Blitzencrackedhisknucklesinsidehisleathergloves.‘Lookhere,Frosty–’‘HUR!NevercallafrostgiantFrosty.Wehatethat.Besides,youlookhalfpetrifiedalready,dwarf.

Idon’tneedanotheranchor.Asforelves,theyarecreaturesofairandlight.They’reuselessaboardaship.Twopassengersonly.That’sthedeal.Takeitorleaveit.’Iglancedatmyfriends.‘Guys,sidebarplease.’Iledthemdownthedock,outofearshotfromHarald.‘Thatdudeisafrostgiant?’Hearthstonesigned,Icyhair.Ugly.Big.Yes.

‘But…Imean,he’slarge,buthe’snotgiant.’Sam’sexpressionmademesuspectshewasnotthemostpatientgeometrytutor.‘Magnus,giants

aren’tnecessarilyenormous.Someare.Somecangrowtoenormoussizeiftheyfeellikeit.Butthey’reevenmorevariedthanhumans.Manylooklikeregularpeople.Somecanchangeshapeintoeaglesorpigeonsoralmostanything.’‘Butwhat’safrostgiantdoingonthedocksinBoston?Canwetrusthim?’‘Firstanswer,’Blitzensaid,‘frostgiantsareallovertheplace,especiallyinthenorthofMidgard.

Asfortrustinghim–absolutelynot.HemighttakeyoutwostraighttoJotunheimandthrowyouinadungeon,orhemightuseyouforbait.YouhavetoinsistthatHearthandIgowithyou.’HearthtappedBlitz’sshoulder.Giantisright,hesigned.Itoldyou–toomuchdaylight.Youareturningtostone.Toostubbornto

admit.‘Nah,I’mfine.’Hearthlookedaroundthedock.Hespottedametalpail,pickeditupandslammeditoverBlitz’s

head.Blitzdidn’treact,butthepailcrumpledintotheshapeofhisskull.‘Okay,’Blitzadmitted,‘maybeI’mpetrifyingalittle,but–’‘Getoutofthelightforawhile,’Itoldhim.‘We’llbefine.Hearth,canyoufindhimanice

undergroundlairorsomething?’Hearthnodded.WewilltrytofindoutmoreaboutFenrisandhischains.Meetyoutonight.Backat

library?‘Soundsgood,’Isaid.‘Sam,let’sgofishing.’WereturnedtoHarald,whowasfashioninghisropeintoalovelynoose.‘Okay,’Itoldhim,‘twopassengers.WeneedtofishasfaroutinMassachusettsBayaspossible,

andweneedthespecialbait.’Haraldgavemeatwistedgrin.Histeethmighthavebeencutfromthesamefuzzybrowncordhe

wascoiling.‘Byallmeans,littlehuman.’Hepointedtoaslidingdooronthesideofthewarehouse.‘Pickyourownbait…ifyoucancarryit.’WhenSamandIopenedthedoor,Ialmostpassedoutfromthestench.Samgagged.‘Odin’sEye,I’vesmelledbattlefieldsthatsmellbetterthanthis.’Insidethestorageroom,hangingfrommeathooks,wasanimpressivecollectionofrotting

carcasses.Thesmallestwasafive-foot-longshrimp.Thelargestwasaseveredbull’sheadthesizeofaFiat.Icoveredmynosewithmyjacketsleeve.Thatdidn’thelp.Ifeltlikesomebodyhadfilledagrenade

withrottenegg,rustymetalandrawonion,thentosseditintomysinuscavity.‘Ithurtstobreathe,’Isaid.‘Whichofthesetastymorselsdoyouthinkisthespecialbait?’Sampointedatthebull’shead.‘Gobigorgohome?’‘Shesaidtothehomelesskid.’Iforcedmyselftostudythebull’shead–itscurvedblackhorns,its

lollingpinktonguelikeahairyairmattress,itswhitesteamingfurandtheglisteningslimecratersofitsnostrils.‘Howisitpossiblethatabullgrewthatlarge?’‘It’sprobablyfromJotunheim,’Samsaid.‘Theircattlegetprettybig.’‘Youdon’tsay.Anyideawhatwe’resupposedtobefishingfor?’

‘Therearelotsofseamonstersinthedeep.Aslongasit’snot…’Ashadowcrossedherface.‘Nevermind.Probablyjustaseamonster.’‘Justaseamonster,’Isaid.‘That’sarelief.’Iwastemptedtotakethejumboshrimpandgetoutofthere,butIhadafeelingwe’dneedbigger

baitifweweregoingtocausearuckusthatwouldattractaseagoddess.‘Thebull’sheaditis,’Idecided.Samheftedheraxe.‘I’mnotsureit’llevenfitonHarald’sboat,but…’Shethrewheraxeatthemeat-hookchain,whichbrokewithasnap.Thebull’sheadcrashedtothe

floorlikealarge,disgustingpiñata.TheaxeflewbacktoSam’shand.Togetherwegrippedthemeathookanddraggedthebull’sheadoutofthestoragelocker.Even

withhelp,Ishouldn’thavebeenabletomoveit,butmyeinherjistrengthwasuptothetask.Diepainfully.GotoValhalla.Gaintheabilitytodragrancid,colossalseveredheadsacrossadock.

Hooray.Whenwegottotheboat,Iyankedthechainwithallmystrength.Thebull’sheadtoppledoffthe

pierandsmashedontothedeck.TheS.S.Haraldalmostcapsized,butsomehowitstayedafloat.Thebull’sheadtookupthebackhalfoftheship.Itstonguehungoverthestern.Itslefteyerolledupinitsheadsoitlookedseasick.Haraldrosefromhisbaitbucket.IfhewasatallsurprisedorannoyedthatI’ddroppedafive-

hundred-poundcowheadonhisboat,hedidn’tshowit.‘Anambitiouschoiceofbait.’Haraldgazedacrosstheharbour.Theskywasdarkening.Lightsleet

needledthesurfaceofthewater.‘Let’sgetgoing,then.Lovelyafternoontofish.’

THIRTY-TWO

MyYearsofPlayingBassmasters2000ReallyPayOff

Itwasaterribleafternoontofish.TheseaheavedandsodidI,rightoverthesideseveraltimes.Thecolddidn’tbotherme,butthe

sleetstungmyface.TherockingofthedeckmademylegsfeellikeSlinkys.Haraldthefrostgiantstoodatthewheel,singinginagutturallanguageIassumedwasJotunese.Samdidn’tseemtomindtheroughseas.Sheleanedagainstthebowrailandstaredintothegrey,

herscarfripplingaroundhernecklikegills.‘What’swiththescarfanyway?’Iasked.‘Sometimesyoucoveryourhead.Sometimesyoudon’t.’Shelaidherfingersprotectivelyoverthegreensilk.‘It’sahijab.IwearitwhenIwantto,orwhenI

thinkIneedto.LikewhenItakemygrandmothertomosqueonFriday,or–’‘OrwhenyouseeAmir?’Shemutteredunderherbreath.‘Ialmostthoughtyouweregoingtoletthatgo.’‘ThepigeonsaidAmirisyourintended.Like…engaged?Whatareyou,like,sixteen?’‘Magnus–’‘I’mjustsaying,ifthisisoneofthoseforcedarrangedmarriages,that’smessedup.You’rea

Valkyrie.Youshouldbeableto–’‘Magnus,shutit.Please.’Theboathitaswell,sprayinguswithsaltwaterbuckshot.Samirahgrippedtherail.‘Mygrandparentsareold-fashioned.TheywereraisedinBaghdad,but

fledtotheU.S.whenSaddamHusseinwasinpower.’‘And…?’‘They’veknowntheFadlanssinceforever.They’regoodpeople.Distantkin.Successful,kind–’‘Iknow.Abdelisawesome.Amirseemscool.Butaforcedmarriageifyoudon’tlovetheguy–’‘Ugh!Youdon’tgetit.I’vebeeninlovewithAmirsinceIwastwelve.’Theboatgroanedasitdippedbetweenthewaves.HaraldkeptsinginghisJotuneseversionof

‘Ninety-nineBottlesofBeer ’.‘Oh,’Isaid.‘Notthatit’sanyofyourbusiness,’Samirahsaid.‘Yeah.No.’‘Butsometimeswhenafamilytriestofindagoodmatchtheyactuallycarewhatthegirlthinks.’‘Okay.’‘Ididn’trealizeuntilIwasolder…Aftermymomdied,mygrandparentstookmeinbut,well,my

momwasn’tmarriedwhenshehadme.That’sstillabigdealformygrandparents’generation.’‘Yeah.’Idecidednottoadd:PlusthefactthatyourdadwasLoki,thefatherofevil.

Samseemedtoreadmythoughts.‘Shewasadoctor,mymom.ShefoundLokiintheemergencyroom.Hewas…Idon’tknow…he’duseduptoomuchofhispowertryingtoappearinMidgardinphysicalform.Hegottrappedsomehow,dividedbetweenworlds.HismanifestationinBostonwasinagony,weakandhelpless.’‘Shecuredhim?’Sambrushedadropletofseawaterfromherwrist.‘Inaway.Shewaskindtohim.Shestayedbyhis

side.Lokicanbeverycharmingwhenhewantstobe.’‘Iknow.’Iblinked.‘Imean…fromthestories.You’vemethiminperson?’Sheshotmeadarklook.‘Idon’tapproveofmyfather.Hemaybecharismatic,buthe’salsoaliar,

athief,amurderer.He’svisitedmeseveraltimes.Irefusedtotalktohim,whichdriveshimnuts.Helikestobenoticed.He’snotexactlylow-key.’‘Igetit,’Isaid.‘Loki.Low-key.’Sherolledhereyes.‘Anyway,mymommostlyraisedmebyherself.Shewasheadstrong,

unconventional.Whenshedied…well,inthelocalcommunity,Iwasdamagedgoods,abastardchild.Mygrandparentswerelucky,verylucky,togettheFadlans’blessingformetomarryAmir.Iwon’treallybringanythingtothemarriage.I’mnotrichorrespectableor–’‘Comeon,’Isaid.‘You’resmart.You’retough.You’reanhonest-to-FriggValkyrie.AndIcan’t

believeI’mfindingreasonstosupportyourarrangedmarriage…’Herdarkhairwhippedaroundher,collectingflecksofice.‘TheValkyriethingisaproblem,’shesaid.‘Myfamily…well,we’realittledifferent.Wehavea

long,longhistorywiththeNorsegods.’‘How?’Shewavedawaythequestionlike,Toomuchtoexplain.‘Still,’shesaid,‘ifanyonefoundoutaboutmyotherlife…Idon’tthinkMrFadlanwouldbeokay

withhiseldestsonmarryingagirlwhomoonlightsasasoulcollectorforpagangods.’‘Ah.Whenyouputitthatway…’‘IcoverformyabsencesasbestIcan.’‘Mathstutoring.’‘AndsomesimpleValkyrieglamours.ButagoodMuslimgirlisnotsupposedtohangoutonher

ownwithstrangeguys.’‘Strangeguys.Thanks.’IhadasuddenimageofSamsittinginEnglishclasswhenherphonestartedtobuzz.Thescreen

flashed:ODINCALLING.Shedashedtotherestroom,changedintoherSuperValkyriecostumeandflewoutofthenearestwindow.‘WhenyougotkickedoutofValhalla…uh,Imean,I’msorryaboutthat.Butdidn’tyouthink,Hey,

maybethisisagoodthing.Icanhaveanormallifenow?’‘No.That’stheproblem.Iwantboth.IwanttomarryAmirwhenthetimecomes.Butalso,allmy

life,I’vewantedtofly.’‘Flyinglikeaeroplanesorflyinglikezoomingaroundonamagichorse?’‘Both.WhenIwassix,Istarteddrawingpicturesofaeroplanes.Iwantedtobeapilot.Howmany

Arab-Americanfemalepilotsdoyouknow?’

‘Youwouldbethefirst,’Iadmitted.‘Ilikethatidea.Askmeanyquestionaboutaeroplanes.Icananswerit.’‘SowhenyoubecameaValkyrie–’‘Itwasatotalrush.Adreamcometrue,beingabletotakeoffatamoment’snotice.Besides,Ifelt

likeIwasdoingsomegood.Icouldfindhonourable,bravepeoplewhodiedprotectingothers,andIcouldbringthemtoValhalla.Youdon’tknowhowmuchImissthat.’Icouldhearthepaininhervoice.Honourable,bravepeople…Shewasincludingmeinthatgroup.

Afterallthetroubleshe’dgotintoformysake,Iwantedtotellherthatitwouldbeallright.Wewouldfigureoutawaysoshecouldhavebothherlives.ButIcouldn’tevenpromisewe’dlivethroughthisboattrip.Fromthewheelhouse,Haraldbellowed,‘Mortals,youshouldbaityourhooks!We’regettingclose

togoodfishing!’Samshookherhead.‘No.Gofurtherout!’Haraldscowled.‘Notsafe!Anyfurther–’‘Youwantyourgoldornot?’HaraldmutteredsomethingthatwasprobablyinappropriateinJotunese.Hegunnedthemotor.IlookedatSam.‘Howdoyouknowweneedtogofurther?’‘Icansenseit,’shesaid.‘Oneoftheadvantagesofmyfather ’sblood,Iguess.Icanusuallytell

wherethebiggestmonstersarelurking.’‘Joyandhappiness.’Ipeeredintothegloom.IthoughtaboutGinnungagap,theprimordialmistbetweeniceandfire.We

seemedtobesailingrightintoit.Anymomenttheseamightdissolveandwe’dfallintooblivion.IhopedIwaswrong.Sam’sgrandparentswouldprobablybetickedoffifshedidn’tgethomeintimefordinner.Theboatshuddered.Theseadarkened.‘There,’Samsaid.‘Didyoufeelit?We’vepassedfromMidgardintoJotunheimwaters.’Ipointedofftheportbow.Afewhundredyardsaway,agranitespirejuttedoutofthefog.‘But

that’sGravesLight.We’renottoofarfromtheharbour.’Samgrabbedoneofthegiant’sfishingpoles,whichlookedmoreappropriateforheavyweight

pole-vaulting.‘Theworldsoverlap,Magnus,especiallynearBoston.Gogetthebait.’Haraldslowedtheengineswhenhesawmecomingaft.‘Toodangeroustofishhere,’hewarned.‘Besides,Idoubtyou’llbeabletocastthatbait.’‘Shutup,Harald.’Igrabbedthechainanddraggedthebull’sheadforward,almostknockingthe

captainoverboardwithoneofitshorns.WhenIgotbacktoSam,weexaminedthemeathook,whichwasembeddedprettywellinthebull’s

skull.‘Thatshouldworkforafishinghook,’Samdecided.‘Let’sgetthischaintiedon.’Wespentafewminutesattachingthechaintothefishingline–athinbraided-steelcablethatmade

thereelweighaboutthreehundredpounds.Together,SamandIrolledthebull’sheadoffthefrontoftheboat.Itsankslowlyintotheicyfroth,

thebull’sdeadeyestaringatmeasitsubmerged,like,Notcool,man!

Haraldlumberedover,carryingalargechair.Hesankitsfourfeetintoanchorholesonthedeck.Thenhelashedtheseatinplacewithsteelcables.‘IfIwereyou,human,’hesaid,‘I’dbuckleup.’Withitsleatherharnesses,theseatlookedalittletoomuchlikeanelectricchairtome,butSam

heldthefishingpolewhileIstrappedmyselfin.‘SowhyamIinthechair?’Iasked.‘Yourpromise,’sheremindedme.‘Yousworebyyourtroth.’‘Trothsucks.’Fromthegiant’ssupplykit,Ipulledsomeleatherglovesthatwereonlyfoursizes

toobigandputthemon.Samhandedmethepole,andthenfoundglovesforherself.IhadadisjointedmemoryfromwhenIwastenyearsold,watchingJawswithmymombecauseshe

insisted.Shewarnedmeitwassuperscary,butthewholetimeIwaseitherboredattheslowpaceorlaughingattheschlocky-lookingrubbershark.‘Pleaseletmecatcharubbershark,’Imutterednow.Haraldcuttheengines.Suddenlyitwasfreakishlyquiet.Thewinddied.Thesleetagainstthedeck

soundedlikesandhittingglass.Thewavescalmedasiftheseawereholdingitsbreath.Samstoodattherail,feedingoutcableasthebull’sheadsankintothedepths.Finallythelinewent

slack.‘Didwehitbottom?’Iasked.Sambitherlip.‘Idon’tknow.Ithink–’Thelinesprangtautwithasoundlikeahammeronasawblade.Samletgotoavoidbeing

catapultedintospace.Thepolewasnearlyrippedoutofmyhands,takingmyfingerswithit,butsomehowIheldon.Thechairgroaned.Theleatherstrapsdugintomycollarbones.Theentireboatleanedforwardinto

thewaveswithtimberscreakingandrivetspopping.‘Ymir ’sBlood!’Haraldyelled.‘We’rebreakingapart!’‘Giveitmoreline!’Samgrabbedabucket.Shepouredwateronthecable,whichsteamedasit

racedofftheprow.Igrittedmyteeth.Myarmmusclesfeltlikewarmbreaddough.JustwhenIwassureIcouldn’thold

onanylonger,thepullingstopped.Thelinehummedwithtension,laser-dottingonthegreywateraboutahundredyardsstarboard.‘What’sgoingon?’Iasked.‘Isitresting?’Haraldcursed.‘Idon’tlikethis.Seamonstersdon’tactthisway.Eventhebiggestcatches–’‘Reelitin,’Samsaid.‘Now!’Iturnedthehandle.Itwaslikearm-wrestlingtheTerminator.Therodbent.Thecablecreaked.Sam

pulledtheline,keepingitclearoftherail,butevenwithherhelpIcouldbarelymakeanyprogress.Myshoulderswentnumb.Mylowerbackspasmed.Despitethecold,Iwassoakedwithsweatand

shiveringwithexhaustion.IfeltlikeIwasreelinginasunkenbattleship.Fromtimetotime,Samyelledencouragingthingslike,‘No,youidiot!Pull!’Finally,infrontoftheboat,theseadarkenedinafifty-foot-diameteroval.Thewavessloshedand

boiled.

Upinthewheelhouse,Haraldmusthavehadabetterviewofwhateverwascomingtothesurface.Hescreamedinaveryungiantishvoice,‘Cuttheline!’‘No,’Samsaid.‘It’stoolateforthat.’Haraldsnatchedupaknife.Hethrewitatthecable,butSamdeflectedthebladewithheraxe.‘Backoff,giant!’sheyelled.‘Butyoucan’tbringthatthingup!’Haraldwailed.‘It’sthe–’‘Yes,Iknow!’Therodbeganslippingfrommyhands.‘Help!’Samlungedandgrabbedthefishingpole.Shewedgedherselfnexttomeinthechairtoassist,butI

wastootiredandterrifiedtofeelembarrassed.‘Wemayalldie,’shemuttered,‘butthiswilldefinitelygetRan’sattention.’‘Why?’Iasked.‘Whatisthatthing?’Ourcatchbrokethesurfaceandopeneditseyes.‘Meetmyolderbrother,’Samsaid,‘theWorldSerpent.’

THIRTY-THREE

Sam’sBrotherWakesUpKindaCranky

WhenIsaytheserpentopenedhiseyes,Imeanheswitchedongreenspotlightsthesizeoftrampolines.HisirisesglowedsointenselyIwasprettysureeverythingIsawfortherestofmylifewouldbetintedthecolouroflimejelly.Thegoodnews:therestofmylifedidn’tlooklikeitwasgoingtobeverylong.Themonster ’sridgedforeheadandtaperedsnoutmadehimlookmorelikeaneelthanasnake.His

hideglistenedinacamouflagepatchworkofgreen,brownandyellow.(HereIamcalmlydescribinghim.Atthetimetheonlythoughtinmymindwas:YIKES!HUGESNAKE!)Heopenedhismouthandhissed–thestenchofrancidbull’sheadandpoisonsostrongmyclothes

smoked.Hemaynothaveusedmouthwash,butobviouslytheWorldSerpentcaredaboutflossing.Histeethgleamedinrowsofperfectwhitetriangles.HispinkmawwasbigenoughtoswallowHarald’sboatandadozenofHarald’sclosestfriends’boats.Mymeathookwasembeddedinthebackofhismouth,rightwherethehangy-downuvulathing

wouldbeinahumanmouth.Theserpentdidn’tseemtoohappyaboutthat.Heshookbackandforth,rakingthesteellineacrosshisteeth.Myfishingpolewhippedsideways.

Theboatseesawedporttostarboard,plankscrackingandpopping,butsomehowwestayedafloat.Mylinedidn’tbreak.‘Sam?’Isaidinasmallvoice.‘Whyhasn’thekilledusyet?’ShepressedsoclosetomeIcouldfeelhershivering.‘Ithinkhe’sstudyingus,maybeeventrying

totalktous.’‘Whatishesaying?’Samgulped.‘Myguess?Howdareyou?’Theserpenthissed,spittingglobsofpoisonthatsizzledagainstthedeck.Behindus,Haraldwhimpered,‘Dropthepole,youfools!You’llgetusallkilled!’Itriedtomeettheserpent’sgaze.‘Hey,MrJormungand.CanIcallyouMrJ.?Look,sorryto

botheryou.Nothingpersonal.We’rejustusingyoutogetsomebody’sattention.’MrJ.didn’tlikethat.Hisheadsurgedoutofthewater,toweringaboveus,thencrasheddownagain

offthebow,triggeringaforty-foot-tallringofwaves.SamandIweredefinitelysittinginthesplashzone.Iatesaltwaterforlunch.Mylungsdiscovered

theycouldnotinfactbreathethestuff.Myeyesgotathoroughpowerwashing.But,incredibly,theboatdidn’tcapsize.Whentherockingandsloshingsubsided,Ifoundmyselfstillalive,stillholdingthefishingpolewithmylinestillattachedtotheWorldSerpent’smouth.Themonsterstaredatmelike,Whyareyounotdead?

Outofthecornerofmyeye,IsawthetsunamicrashagainsttheGraves,washingallthewayuptothebaseofthelighthouse.IwonderedifI’djustfloodedBoston.IrememberedwhyJormungandwascalledtheWorldSerpent.Supposedlyhisbodywassolongit

wrappedaroundtheearth,stretchingacrosstheseafloorlikeamonstroustelecommunicationcable.Mostofthetimehekepthistailinhismouth–hey,IusedapacifieruntilIwasalmosttwo,soIcan’tjudge–butapparentlyhe’ddecidedourbull’s-headbaitwasworththeswitch.Thepointbeing:iftheWorldSerpentwasshaking,thewholeworldmightbeshakingwithhim.‘So,’Isaidtonobodyinparticular,‘whatnow?’‘Magnus,’Samsaidinastrangledtone,‘trynottopanic.Butlookoffthestarboardside.’Icouldn’timaginewhatwouldbemorepanic-inducingthanMrJ.untilIsawthewomaninthe

whirlpool.Comparedtotheserpent,shewastiny–onlyabouttenfeettall.Fromthewaistup,sheworea

blouseofsilverchainmailencrustedwithbarnacles.Shemighthaveoncebeenbeautiful,butherpearlescentskinwaswithered,herseaweed-greeneyesweremilkywithcataracts,andherripplingblondehairwasshotthroughwithgreylikeblightinawheatfield.Fromthewaistdown,thingsgotweird.Spinningaroundherlikeadancer ’sskirt,awaterspout

swirledwithinasilverfishingnetahundredyardsindiameter.Trappedinitsweavewasakaleidoscopeoficefloe,deadfish,plasticgarbagebags,cartyres,grocerycartsandotherassortedflotsam.Asthewomanfloatedtowardsus,theedgeofhernetthwappedagainstourhullandscrapedagainsttheWorldSerpent’sneck.Shespokeinadeepbaritone.‘Whodaresinterruptmyscavenging?’Haraldthefrostgiantscreamed.Hewasachampionscreamer.Hescrambledtothebowandthrew

abunchofgoldcoinsovertheside.ThenheturnedtoSam.‘Quick,girl,yourpaymenttome!GiveittoRan!’Samfrowned,butshetossedanotherfivecoinsoverboard.Insteadofsinking,theredgoldswirledintoRan’snetandjoinedthefloatingmerry-go-roundof

debris.‘OGreatRan!’Haraldwailed.‘Pleasedon’tkillme!Here,takemyanchor!Takethesehumans!

Youcanevenhavemylunchbox!’‘Silence!’Thegoddessshooedawaythefrostgiant,whodidhisbesttocower,grovelandretreat

allatthesametime.‘I’lljustbebelowdecks,’hesobbed.‘Praying.’RanregardedmeasifdecidingwhetherIwaslargeenoughtofillet.‘ReleaseJormungand,mortal!

ThelastthingIneedtodayisaworld-floodingevent.’TheWorldSerpenthissedinagreement.Ranturnedonhim.‘Andyoushutup,youovergrownmoray.Allyourwrithingisstirringupthe

silt.Ican’tseeathingdownthere.HowmanytimeshaveItoldyounottobiteatanyoldrancidbull’shead?Rancidbulls’headsarenotnativetothesewaters!’TheWorldSerpentsnarledpetulantly,tuggingatthesteelcableinhismouth.‘OGreatRan,’Isaid,‘IamMagnusChase.ThisisSamal-Abbas.We’vecometobargainwithyou.

Also,justwondering…whycan’tyoucutthefishinglineyourself?’

RanletlooseatorrentofNorsecursesthatliterallysteamedintheair.Nowthatshewascloser,Icouldseestrangerthingsswirlinginhernet–ghostlybeardedfaces,gaspingandterrifiedastheytriedtoreachthesurface;handsclawingattheropes.‘Worthlesseinherji,’saidthegoddess,‘youknowfullwellwhatyouhavedone.’‘Ido?’Iasked.‘YouareVanir-spawn!AchildofNjord?’Ransniffedtheair.‘No,yourscentisfainter.Perhapsa

grandchild.’Sam’seyeswidened.‘Right!Magnus,you’rethesonofFrey,sonofNjord–godofships,sailors

andfishermen.That’swhyourboatdidn’tcapsize.That’swhyyouwereabletocatchtheserpent!’ShelookedatRan.‘Um,which,ofcourse,wealreadyknew.’Ransnarled.‘Oncebroughttothesurface,theWorldSerpentisnotsimplyboundbyyourfishing

line.Heisconnectedtoyoubyfate!Youmustnowdecide,andquickly,whethertocuthimlooseandreturnhimtohisslumber,orlethimawakenfullyanddestroyyourworld!’Inthebackofmyneck,somethingsnappedlikearustyspring–probablythelastbitofmy

courage.IlookedattheWorldSerpent.Forthefirsttime,Inoticedthathisglowinggreenpeeperswerecoveredbyathintranslucentmembrane–asecondsetofeyelids.‘Youmeanhe’sonlypartiallyawake?’‘Ifhewerefullyawake,’saidthegoddess,‘yourentireEasternSeaboardwouldalreadybe

underwater.’‘Ah.’Ihadtoresisttheurgetothrowawaythefishingpole,undomysafetyharnessandrunaround

thedeckscreaminglikealittleHarald.‘Iwillreleasehim,’Isaid.‘Butfirst,greatRan,youhavetopromisetonegotiatewithusingood

faith.Wewanttobarter.’‘Barterwithyou?’Ran’sskirtsswirledfaster.Iceandplasticcrackled.Shoppingcartsploughed

intooneanother.‘Byrights,MagnusChase,youshouldbelongtome!Youdiedofdrowning.Drownedsoulsaremyproperty.’‘Actually,’Samsaid,‘hediedincombat,sohebelongstoOdin.’‘Technicalities!’Ransnapped.ThefacesinRan’snetgapedandgasped,pleadingforhelp.Samhadtoldme,Thereareworse

placestospendyourafterlifeinthanValhalla.Imaginingmyselftangledinthatsilveryweb,IwassuddenlygratefultomyValkyrie.‘Well,okaythen,’Isaid.‘IguessIcanjustletMrJ.wakeupfully.Ididn’thaveanyplansfor

tonight.’‘No!’Ranhissed.‘Doyouhaveanyideahowharditistoscavengealongtheseafloorwhen

Jormungandgetsagitated?Lethimgo!’‘Andyoupromisetonegotiateingoodfaith?’Iasked.‘Yes.Fine.IaminnomoodforRagnaroktoday.’‘Say:Bymytroth–’‘Iamagoddess!Iknowbetterthantoswearbymytroth!’IglancedatSam,whoshrugged.Shehandedmeheraxe,andIcutthefishingline.

Jormungandsankbeneaththewaves,glaringatmethroughabubblinggreencloudofpoisonashedescended,asiftosay,NEXTTIME,LITTLEMORTAL.Ran’sswirlingskirtsslowedtothespeedofatropicalstorm.‘Verywell,einherji.Ipromisedto

barteringoodfaith.Whatdoyouwant?’‘TheSwordofSummer,’Isaid.‘IhaditwithmewhenIhittheCharlesRiver.’Ran’seyesglistened.‘Oh,yes.Icouldgiveyouthesword.But,inexchange,Iwouldwant

somethingvaluable.I’mthinking…yoursoul.’

THIRTY-FOUR

MySwordAlmostEndsUponeBay

‘I’mthinkingnot,’Ireplied.Ranmadearumblingsoundlikeawhalewithheartburn.‘You–thegrandsonofthatmeddler,

Njord–comehereaskingtobarter,disturbingtheWorldSerpent,interruptingmyscavenging,andyouwon’tevenagreetoareasonableoffer?TheSwordofSummeristhegreatestartefacttocomeintomynetsinages.Yoursoulisasmallpricetopayinexchange!’‘LadyRan.’Samtookbackheraxeandslippeddownfromthefishingchair.‘Magnushasalready

beenclaimedbyOdin.Heiseinherji.Thatcannotbechanged.’‘Besides,’Isaid,‘youdon’twantmysoul.It’sreallysmall.Idon’tuseitmuch.Idoubtiteven

worksanymore.’Thegoddess’swateryskirtsswirled.Trappedsoulsclawedforthesurface.Plasticgarbagebags

poppedlikebubblewrap.Thesmellofdeadfishalmostmademenostalgicforthebull’shead.‘Whatdoyouofferme,then?’Randemanded.‘Whatcouldpossiblybeworththatsword?’Goodquestion,Ithought.Istaredintothegoddess’snetsandanideabegantoform.‘Yousaidyouwerescavenging,’Irecalled.‘Whatfor?’Thegoddess’sexpressionsoftened.Hereyesshoneagreediershadeofgreen.‘Manythings.Coins.

Souls.Lostvaluablesofeverydescription.Justbeforeyouwoketheserpent,IhadmyeyeonaChevyMaliburadialhubcapthatwasworthfortydollarseasy.Justsittingthereatthebottomoftheharbour.Butnow–’shethrewupherhands–‘gone.’‘Youcollectstuff.’Icorrectedmyself:‘Imean…wonderfultreasures.’Samsquintedatme,clearlywonderingifI’dlostmymind,butIwasstartingtounderstandwhat

madeRantick–whatshecaredaboutmost.Thegoddessstretchedherfingerstowardsthehorizon.‘HaveyouheardofthePacificgarbage

patch?’‘Ihave,LadyRan,’Samsaid.‘It’safloatingcollectionofrubbishthesizeofTexas.Itsounds

terrible.’‘Itisamazing,’saidthegoddess.‘ThefirsttimeIsawit,Iwasoverwhelmed!Itputmyown

collectiontoshame.Forcenturies,allshipwrecksofthenorthernseashavebeenminetoclaim.Anythinglostinthedepthscomestome.ButwhenIsawthewondersofthegarbagepatchIrealizedhowpunymyeffortshadbeen.Eversince,I’vespentallmytimescavengingtheseafloor,lookingforadditionstomynet.IwouldnothavefoundyourswordifIhadn’tbeensoquick!’Inoddedwithsympathy.NowIcouldfitthisNorsegoddessintotheMagnusChaseworldview.Ran

wasabaglady.Icouldworkwithabaglady.

Ipeeredoverboardatthefloatingjunk.Asilverteaspoonbalancedonanislandofstyrofoam.Abicyclewheelspunpast,shreddingtheghostlyheadofalostsoul.‘LadyRan,’Isaid,‘yourhusband,Aegir,isthelordofthesea,right?Youshareagoldenpalace

withhimatthebottomoftheocean?’Thegoddessscowled.‘Whatisyourpoint?’‘Well…whatdoesyourhusbandthinkofyourcollection?’‘Aegir.’Ranspat.‘Thegreatstirrerofseastorms!Thesedaystheonlythinghewantstodoisbrew

hismead.He’salwaysbeenabrewer,butlatelyit’sridiculous.Hespendsallhistimeatthehopsshop,orgoingonbrewerytourswithhisbuddies.Anddon’tgetmestartedontheflannelshirt,rolled-upskinnyjeans,glassesandthewayhetrimshisbeard.He’salwaystalkingaboutmicrobrews.Hehasacauldronamilewide!Howcanhemicrobrew?’‘Right,’Isaid.‘Thatmustbeannoying.Hedoesn’tappreciatehowimportantyourtreasuresare.’‘Hehashislifestyle,’Ransaid.‘Ihavemine!’Samlookedbewildered,butallofthismadetotalsensetome.IknewabagladyinCharlestown

whosehusbandhadleftherasix-million-dollarmansiononBeaconHill,butsittingathomealonehadmadeherfeelsuffocated,lonelyandunhappy.Soinsteadshelivedoutonthestreets,pushinghershoppingcart,collectingplasticlawnornamentsandaluminiumcans.Thatmadeherfeelcomplete.Ranfrowned.‘Whatwerewetalkingaboutagain?’‘TheSwordofSummer,’Isaid.‘AndwhatIcouldofferyouinreturn.’‘Yes!’‘WhatI’moffering,’Isaid,‘istoletyoukeepyourcollection.’Frostspreaddowntheropesofthenet.Ran’stoneturneddangerous.‘Areyouthreateningtotake

mystuff?’‘Oh,no.Iwouldneverdothat.Iunderstandhowvaluable–’‘Becausethiswhirlingplasticsunflowerornamentrighthere?Theydon’tmaketheseanymore!

It’seasilyworthtendollars.’‘Right.But,ifyoudon’tgivemetheSwordofSummer,Surtandhisfiregiantswillcomelooking

forit.Andtheywon’tshowyousuchrespect.’Ranscoffed.‘ThesonsofMuspellcannottouchme.Myrealmisdeadlytothem.’‘ButSurthasmanyallies,’Samsaid,pickingupontheidea.‘Theywouldannoyyou,harassyou,

takeyour…treasures.They’lldoanythingtoretrievethatsword.Oncetheyhaveit,they’llstartRagnarok.Thentherewillbenomorescavenging.Theoceanswillboil.Yourcollectionwillbedestroyed.’‘No!’shriekedthegoddess.‘Yes,’Isaid.‘ButifyougiveustheswordSurtwon’thaveanyreasontobotheryou.We’llkeepit

safe.’Ranscowledathernets,studyingthepatternsofglitteringtrash.‘Andhow,sonofFrey,willthe

swordbesaferwithyouthanwithme?Youcannotreturnittoyourfather.FreygaveuphisrightstousetheweaponwhenhegiftedittoSkirnir.’Forthemillionthtime,Iwantedtofindmyfrolickingsummer-goddadandsmackhim.Whyhad

hegivenawayhisweaponinthefirstplace?Forlove?Weren’tgodssupposedtobesmarterthanthat?

Thenagain,Rancollectedhubcaps,andAegirwasintomicrobrewing.‘I’llwielditmyself,’Isaid.‘OrI’lltakeitbacktoValhallaforsafekeeping.’‘Inotherwords,youdon’tknow.’ThegoddessarchedherkelpyeyebrowsatSam.‘Andyou,

daughterofLoki,whyareyousidingwiththegodsofAsgard?Yourfatherisnofriendoftheirs–notanymore.’‘I’mnotmyfather,’Samsaid.‘I’ma–IwasaValkyrie.’‘Ah,yes.Thegirlwhodreamedofflying.ButthethanesofValhallaexpelledyou.Whydoyoustill

trytoearntheirfavour?Youdon’tneedthemtofly.Youknowverywellthatwithyourfather ’sblood–’‘Giveusthesword,LadyRan.’Sam’svoicehardened.‘It’stheonlywaytodelayRagnarok.’Thegoddesssmiledsourly.‘YouevensoundlikeLoki.Hewassuchapersuasivespeaker–one

momentflattering,thenextmomentthreatening.Once,heactuallyconvincedmetolendhimmynet!Thatledtoallsortsoftrouble.Lokifiguredoutthesecretsofnetweaving.Thegodslearnedhow,thenthehumans.Prettysooneveryonehadnets.Mytrademarkitem!Iwon’tbesoeasilyconvincedagain.I’llkeeptheswordandtakemychanceswithSurt.’Iunstrappedmyselffromthefishingchair.Imovedtothetipofthebowandlockedeyeswiththe

goddess.Ididn’tnormallyshakedownbagladies,butIhadtomakeRantakemeseriously.Iliftedthechainfrommybelt.Thesilverlinksglintedinthefadinglight.‘Thischainisalsoasword,’Isaid.‘AnauthenticbladefromValhalla.Howmanyofthosedoyou

haveinyournet?’Ranstartedtoreachforthechain,thencaughtherself.‘Yes…Icanseetheswordthroughthe

glamour.ButwhywouldItrade–’‘Anewswordforanoldone,’Ioffered.‘Thisbladeisshinier,onlyusedonceincombat.You

couldgettwentybucksforit,noproblem.TheSwordofSummer,however,hasnoresalevalue.’‘Mmm,true,but–’‘Theotheroption,’Isaid,‘isItaketheSwordofSummer.Itbelongstome.’Rangrowled.Herfingernailsstretchedintojaggedpointslikesharks’teeth.‘Youdarethreatenme,

mortal?’‘Justtellingthetruth,’Isaid,tryingtostaycalm.‘Icansensetheswordwithinyournets.’(Total

lie.)‘Ipulleditfromthedepthsoncebefore.Icandoitagain.TheswordisthesharpestweaponintheNineWorlds.Doyoureallywantitcuttingthroughyournet,spillingallyourstuffandfreeingallthosetrappedsouls?Iftheygotaway,doyouthinkthey’dfightforyouoragainstyou?’Hergazewavered.‘Youwouldnotdare.’‘Trademeaswordforasword,’Isaid.‘AndthrowinoneofIdun’sapplesforourtrouble.’Ranhissed.‘Yousaidnothingaboutanapple!’‘That’saneasyrequest,’Isaid.‘Iknowyou’vegotanextraappleofimmortalityswirlingaroundin

theresomewhere.Thenwe’llgoinpeace.We’llstopRagnarokandletyougobacktoyourscavenging.Otherwise–’Ishrugged–‘you’llfindoutwhatthesonofFreycandowithhisfather ’ssword.’Iwasprettysurethegoddesswouldlaughinmyface,capsizetheboatandaddourdrownedsouls

tohercollection.ButIstaredherdownlikeIhadnothingtolose.

Afteracountoftwenty–longenoughforabeadofsweattotrickledownmyneckandfreezeatmycollar–Ransnarled,‘Verywell.’Sheflickedherhand.TheSwordofSummercameflyingoutofthewaterandlandedinmygrip.

Immediatelyitbegantohum,agitatingeverymoleculeinmybody.Itossedmychainoverboard.‘Nowtheapple.’Apieceoffruitshotoutfromthenet.Itwould’vebeanedSambetweentheeyesifnotforherfast

reflexes.Theappledidn’tlooklikemuch–justashrivelledGoldenDelicious–butSamhelditgingerly,asifitwereradioactive.Sheslippeditintohercoatpocket.‘Gonow,asyoupromised,’Ransaid.‘ButItellyouthis,sonofFrey:yourhigh-handedbargaining

willcostyoudearly.YouhavemadeanenemyofRan.Myhusband,Aegir,lordofthewaves,willalsohearaboutthis,ifIcanevergethimoutofthehopsshop.Foryoursake,Ihopeyou’renotplanninganymoreseavoyages.Nexttime,yourkinshipwithNjordwillnotsaveyou.CrossmywatersagainandIwillpersonallydragyoursoultothebottom.’‘Well,’Isaid,‘that’ssomethingtolookforwardto.’Ranspun.Herformblurredintoamistyfunnelcloud,hernetswrappingaroundherliketwirled

spaghetti.Shesankintothedepthsandwasgone.Samshuddered.‘Thatwasinteresting.’Behindus,aladdercreaked.Harald’sheadpoppedupfrombelow.‘Interesting?’hedemanded.‘Didyousayitwasinteresting?’Heclimbedout,gloweringatus,hisfistsballed,hisicybluebearddripping.‘WorldSerpent

fishing–that’sonething.ButantagonizingRan?IneverwouldhavetakenyouaboardifIhadknown,nomatterwhatBigBoysaid!Ihavetomakealivingontheocean!Ishouldthrowyouoverboard–’‘I’lldoubleyourprice,’Samsaid.‘Tenredgold.Justgetusbacktodock.’Haraldblinked.‘Okay.’Heheadedforthewheelhouse.IstudiedtheSwordofSummer.NowthatIhadit,Iwasn’tsurewhattodowithit.Thesteelglowed

withitsownlight,silveryrunesburningalongtheflatoftheblade.Theswordradiatedwarmth,heatingtheairaroundme,meltingthefrostontherailings,fillingmewiththesamesenseofquietpowerIfeltwhenIhealedsomeone.Itwasn’tsomuchlikeholdingaweapon…morelikeholdingopenadoortoadifferenttime,walkingwithmymomintheBlueHills,feelingthesunlightonmyface.Samreachedover.Stillwearingheroversizeleathergloves,shebrushedatearfrommycheek.Ihadn’trealizedIwascrying.‘Sorry,’Isaid,myvoicehoarse.Samstudiedmewithconcern.‘CouldyoureallyhavesummonedtheswordfromRan?’‘Idon’tknow.’‘Inthatcase,you’reinsane.ButI’mimpressed.’Iloweredtheblade.Itkepthummingasiftryingtotellmesomething.‘WhatdidRanmean?’Iasked.‘Shesaidyoudidn’tneedtobeaValkyrietofly.Somethingabout

yourfather ’sblood?’Sam’sexpressionclosedupfasterthanRan’snets.‘It’snotimportant.’‘Yousureaboutthat?’

Shehungheraxeonherbelt.Shelookedeverywherebutmyeyes.‘Assureasyoucouldsummonthatsword.’Theoutboardenginesrumbled.Theshipbegantoturn.‘I’llbeatthewheelwithHarald,’Samsaid,apparentlyanxioustoputsomedistancebetweenus.

‘I’llmakesurehetakesustoBostonandnotJotunheim.’

THIRTY-F IVE

ThouShaltNotPoopontheHeadofArt

Aftergivingmetheslightlyshrivelledappleofimmortality,Samleftmeatthedocks.Notthatshewantedto,shesaid,buthergrandparentsweregoingtomurderher,andshedidn’twanttobeanylaterforthat.WemadeplanstomeetthenextmorningatthePublicGarden.ImademywaytowardsCopleySquare.Ifeltalittleself-consciouswalkingthestreetswitha

glowingbroadsword,soIhadaconversationwithmyweapon.(Becausethatwasn’tcrazyatall.)‘Couldyoudoaglamourandturnintosomethingsmaller?’Iaskedit.‘Preferablynotachain,

sinceit’snolongerthe1990s?’Thesworddidn’treply(duh),butIimagineditwashummingatamoreinterrogativepitch,like,

Suchaswhat?‘Idunno.Somethingpocket-sizeandinnocuous.Apen,maybe?’Theswordpulsed,almostlikeitwaslaughing.Iimagineditsaying,Apensword.Thatisthe

stupidestthingI’veeverheard.‘Youhaveabetteridea?’Iaskedit.Theswordshrankinmyhand,meltingintoarunestoneonagoldchain.Thesmallwhitestonewas

emblazonedwithablacksymbol:

‘TheruneofFrey,’Isaid.‘I’mnotreallyajewelleryguy,butokay.’Ifastenedthechainaroundmyneck.Idiscoveredthestonewasattachedmagneticallytoitsbail,so

Icouldeasilypullitoffthechain.AssoonasIdid,thestonegrewintoasword.IfIwanteditbackinpendantform,allIhadtodowaspicturethat.Theswordshrankintoastone,andIcouldreattachittothenecklace.‘Cool,’Iadmitted.Perhapstheswordreallyhadheardmyrequest.PerhapsI’dsomehowcreatedtheglamourby

myself.OrmaybeIwashallucinatingandwearingahugeswordaroundmyneck.Idoubtedanyonewouldlooktwiceatmynewmedallion.They’dseethe andassumeitstoodfor ailure.BythetimeIreachedCopleySquareitwasfullydarkout.NosignofBlitzorHearthstone,which

mademeapprehensive.Thelibraryhadclosedforthenight.IwonderedifBigBoyexpectedmetomeethimontheroof,butIwasn’tabouttoclimbthewallsofthelibrary.Ithadbeenalongday.Einherjisuperwarriorstrengthornot,Iwasexhaustedandshakingfrom

hunger.IfBigBoywantedtheapple,hewouldhavetocomegetit.OtherwiseI’deatitmyself.

Isatonthefrontstepsofthelibrary,thestoneswayingundermelikeIwasstillonHarald’sship.Toeithersideofme,abronzeladystatuereclinedonamarblethrone.IrememberedthatonesymbolizedArtandtheotherScience,buttometheybothlookedreadyforrecess.Theyleanedontheirarmrests,metalshawlscoveringtheirheads,glancinginmydirectionlike,Toughweek,huh?ThiswasthefirsttimeI’dbeenaloneandnotinimminentdangersince…thefuneralhome?Didit

countasbeingaloneifyouwerestaringatyourowndeadbody?Mymemorialservicehadprobablyhappenedbynow.Iimaginedmycoffinbeingloweredintoan

icygrave;UncleRandolphleaningonhiscane,frowningresentfully;UncleFredericklookingbaffledanddistressedinhismismatchedclothes;andAnnabeth…Icouldn’timaginewhatshewasfeeling.She’drushedtoBostontofindme.She’dlearnedIwasdead.ThenshelearnedIwasn’tdead,but

shestillhadtoattendmyfuneralandnottellanyoneshe’dseenme.Ibelievedshewouldkeepherpromise,butourmeetinghadunsettledme.Someofthethingsshe’d

said:Icanhelpyou.Iknowaplacewhereyou’llbesafe.Ipulledthebatteredflyerfrommycoatpocket.MISSING!MAGNUSCHASE,16YEARSOLD.PLEASECALL.I

studiedAnnabeth’sphonenumber,committingittomemory.Iowedheranexplanation,butnotyet.I’dalreadygotHearthstoneknockedunconscious,BlitzenhalfpetrifiedandSamkickedoutoftheValkyries.Icouldn’triskdragginganyoneelseintomyproblems.AccordingtotheNorns,FenrisWolfwouldbeunleashedsevendaysfromnowunlessIstoppedit

fromhappening.Ragnarokwouldbegin.SurtwouldconsumetheNineWorldsinfire.Iwouldneverfindmymomorgetjusticeforhermurder.Despiteallthat,everytimeIthoughtaboutfacingawolf–facingtheWolf,Fenrishimself–I

wantedtocurlupinmyoldsleepingbag,stickmyfingersinmyearsandhum,La,la,la,it’snothappening.Ashadowswoopedovermyhead.BigBoytheeaglelandedonthebronzestatuetomyleftand

promptlydecoratedherheadwitheagledroppings.‘Dude,’Isaid,‘youjustpoopedonArt.’‘DidI?’BigBoyliftedhistailfeathers.‘Ah,well.Iimagineshe’susedtoit.Iseeyousurvivedyour

fishingexpedition!’‘Surprised?’Iasked.‘Yes,actually.Doyouhavemyapple?’Ipulleditfrommypocketandtosseditover.BigBoycaughtitinhisleftclawandbegantoeat.

‘Ah,that’sthestuff!’I’dseensomestrangethingsrecently,butaneagleeatinganappleatopthepoopyheadofArtwas

definitelyinthetoptwenty.‘Sowillyoutellmewhoyouare,now?’Iasked.BigBoyburped.‘Isupposeyou’veearnedit.I’llconfess:I’mnotreallyaneagle.’‘I’mshocked.Shocked,Itellyou.’Hesnappedoffanotherchunkofapple.‘Also,Idoubtyou’llmakemanyfriendsamongthegods

whentheylearnyou’veassistedme.’‘Wonderful,’Isaid.‘I’malreadyonRanandAegir ’snaughtylist.’

‘Oh,thosetwoaren’tproperlygods.TheyareneitherAesirnorVanir.Ithinkthey’remoregiantish,thoughofcoursethelinebetweengiantandgodhasalwaysbeenblurred.Ourclanshaveintermarriedsomanytimesovertheyears.’‘Ourclans.Meaning…’Theeaglegrew.Shadowsfoldedaroundhim,addingtohissizelikeasnowballgatheringmass.His

shaperesolvedintoahugeoldmanlounginginthelapofArt.Heworeiron-shodboots,leatherbreechesandatunicofeaglefeathersthatwasprobablynotincompliancewiththeEndangeredSpeciesAct.Hishairwasgrey,hisfaceweatheredwithage.Ononeforearmheworeagoldbracerencrustedwithbloodstones–thesortofarmbandwornbythethanesinValhalla.‘You’realord?’Iasked.‘Aking,infact.’BigBoytookanotherbiteofapple.Immediatelyhishairdarkenedandsomeofhis

wrinklesfaded.‘Utgard-Lokiatyourservice!’Icurledmyfingersaroundmyswordpendant.‘LokiasinLokiLoki?’Thegiantkingmadeasourface.‘YouhavenoideahowmanytimesIgetthatquestion.Areyouthe

“famous”Loki?’Heputfamousinairquotes.‘Ugh!IwasnamedLokibeforeheevercamealong.It’sapopularnameamonggiants!Atanyrate–no,MagnusChase,IamnotrelatedtothefamousLoki.IamUtgard-Loki,meaningLokioftheOutlands,kingofthemountaingiants.I’vebeenwatchingyouforyears.’‘Igetthatalot.’‘Well,you’remuchmoreinterestingthanthosedensechildrenofThorwhousuallychallengeme.

You’llmakeawonderfulenemy!’Pressurebuiltinmyearcanals.‘We’reenemiesnow?’‘Oh,there’snoneedtodrawyourswordjustyet.Nicependant,though.Somedaywe’llfind

ourselvesonoppositesides.Thatcan’tbehelped.But,forthepresent,I’mhappytoobserve.Ihopeyou’lllearntousetheswordwithoutgettingyourselfkilled.Thatwouldbeamusing.Surt,theoldbagofsmoke,deservestobehumiliated.’‘Well,I’malwayshappytoamuseyou.’Thegiantpoppedtherestoftheappleinhismouthandswalloweditwhole.Henowlookedabout

twenty-five,withcoal-blackhair,hishandsomeangularfacefreeofwrinkles.‘SpeakingofSurt,’hesaid,‘thefirelordwillneverletyoukeepthatsword.Youhave…probably

untilmorningbeforeherealizesthatyou’vefoundit.’Myhanddroppedfrommypendant.Myarmsfeltlikewetsandbags.‘IimpaledSurt,cutoffhis

noseanddroppedhiminanicyriver.Thatdidn’tevenslowhimdown?’‘Oh,itdid!Rightnowhe’snothingbutaseethingnoselessballoffire,ragingdownin

Muspellheim.He’llhavetoconserveallhispowertomanifestagainonthedayofthefullmoon.’‘WhenhetriestofreetheWolf.’MaybeIshouldn’thavebeenchattingaboutthatwithaself-

declaredenemy,butsomethingtoldmeUtgard-Lokialreadyknew.Thegiantnodded.‘SurtismoreanxiousthananyoneforRagnaroktostart.Heknowshe’llgetto

consumetheNineWorldsinflames,andthat’swhathe’sbeenwaitingforsincethedawnoftime.Me,Ilikethewaythingsare!I’mhavingfun.Butfiregiants…ah,there’snoreasoningwiththem.It’sall

burn,burn,burn.Anyway,thegoodnewsisthatSurtwon’tbeabletokillyoupersonallyuntilthefullmoon.He’smuchtooweak.Thebadnews:hehaslotsofminions.’‘Ihateminions.’‘Surt’snottheonlyoneafteryou.YourformercomradesfromValhallahavebeensearching.

They’renotpleasedthatyouleftwithoutpermission.’IthoughtaboutCaptainGunillaandherbandolierofhammers.Iimaginedonespinningtowards

myface.‘Well,that’sjustperfect.’‘IfIwereyou,Magnus,I’dgetoutofMidgardbydawn.Thatshouldthrowyourpursuersoffyour

trail,atleasttemporarily.’‘Leavetheearth.Simpleasthat.’‘Iknewyouwereaquicklearner.’Utgard-Lokislidoffthestatue’slap.Standingup,hewaseasily

twelvefeettall.‘We’llmeetagain,MagnusChase.Somedayyou’llneedafavouronlyUtgard-Lokicangrant.Butfornow…yourfriendswouldlikeaword.Farewell!’Shadowsfunnelledaroundhim.Utgard-Lokiwasgone.InhisplacestoodBlitzenandHearthstone.Hearthleapedawayfrommelikeastartledcat.Blitzendroppedhisduffelbag.‘Heimdall’sHorn,kid!Wheredidyoucomefrom?’‘WheredidI–I’vebeenhereforalmostanhour.Iwastalkingtoagiant.’Hearthcrepttowardsme.HepokedmeinthechesttoseeifIwasreal.Wehavebeenhereforhours,hesigned.Waitingforyou.Wetalkedtogiant.Youjustappeared.Asickfeelingroseinmychest.‘Maybeweshouldcomparenotes.’Itoldthemwhathadhappenedsincewepartedways:Harald’sboat;MrJ.andBagLadyRan(which

wouldmakeanawesomenameforarapperduo);andmyconversationwithUtgard-Loki.‘Ah.Notgood.’Blitzenstrokedhisbeard.He’ddispensedwiththeanti-sungearandwasnow

wearinganeggplant-purplethree-piecesuitwithamauveshirtandagreencarnationinthelapel.‘Thegianttoldussomeofthesamethings,but…thegiantdidnottellushisownname.’Hearthsigned,Surprise,openinghispinchedfingersoneithersideofhiseyes,whichinthis

contextItooktomeanYIKES!Utgard-Loki.Hespelledoutthename.MostpowerfulsorcererofJotunheim.Canmakeanyillusion.‘Wewerelucky,’Blitzsaid.‘Utgard-Lokicould’vetrickedusintoseeingordoinganything.He

could’vemadeuswalkoffaroof,accidentallykilleachotheroreveneatsteaktartare.Infact–’Blitznarrowedhiseyes–‘wecouldstillbeinanillusion.Anyofusmightbegiants.’BlitzenpunchedHearthstoneinthearm.OUCH!Hearthsigned.Hesteppedonthedwarf’stoes.‘Ormaybenot,’Blitzendecided.‘Still,thisisverybad.Magnus,you’vegivenanappleof

immortalitytoagiantking.’‘And…whatdoesthatmean,exactly?’Blitzfiddledwithhiscarnation.‘Tobehonest,I’mnotsure.I’veneverunderstoodhowthose

appleswork.IimagineitwillmakeUtgard-Lokistrongeraswellasyounger.And,makenomistake,whenRagnarokcomeshewon’tbeonourside.’Hearthstonesigned,WishI’dknownitwasUtgard-Loki.Icouldhaveaskedaboutmagic.

‘Hmph,’Blitzsaid.‘Youknowplenty.Besides,youcan’ttrustagianttogiveyoustraightanswers.Rightnow,youtwoneedsleep.Elvescan’tstayawakeverylongwithoutsunlight.AndMagnuslookslikehe’sgoingtofallover.’Blitzwasright.IwasstartingtoseedoubleBlitzensanddoubleHearthstones,andIdidn’tthinkit

hadanythingtodowithillusions.Wemadecampinthelibrarydoorway,justlikeoldtimesexceptwithbettersupplies.Blitzpulled

threedownsleepingbagsoutofhisduffel,alongwithafreshchangeofclothesformeandsomesandwiches,whichIatetoofasttotaste.Hearthcollapsedinhisbagandimmediatelybegansnoring.‘Rest,’Blitztoldme.‘I’llkeepwatch.Tomorrow,wevisitmykin.’‘Thedwarfworld?’Mythoughtsweregettingfuzzy.‘Yourhome?’‘Myhome.’Blitzensoundeduneasy.‘SomeoftheresearchHearthandIdidtoday–it’slooking

likewe’llneedmoreinformationabouttheropethatboundFenris.WecanonlygetthatinNidavellir.’Hefocusedonthechainaroundmyneck.‘CanIseeit?Thesword?’Ipulledoffthependantandsettheswordbetweenus,itslightmakingBlitz’sfaceglitterlikeavein

ofcopperinthedark.‘Breathtaking,’hemurmured.‘Bonesteel…orsomethingevenmoreexotic.’‘Bonesteel…T.J.inValhallamentionedthat.’Blitzdidn’ttouchtheblade,buthepassedhishandoveritreverently.‘Tomakesteel,ironis

smeltedwithcarbon.Mostswordsmithsusecoal,butyoucanalsousebones–thebonesofenemies,ormonsters,orancestors.’‘Oh…’Istaredattheblade,wonderingifmygreat-great-grandparentsmightbeinthere

somewhere.‘Forgedcorrectly,’Blitzsaid,‘bonesteelcancutdownsupernaturalcreatures,evengiantsand

gods.Ofcourse,youhavetoquenchthebladeinbloodtohardenit,preferablythebloodofwhatevertypeofcreatureyouwanttheswordtobemostlethalagainst.’Thesandwichesweren’tsittingsowellinmystomach.‘Thisbladewasmadelikethat?’‘Idon’tknow,’Blitzadmitted.‘TheswordofFreyisVanirwork,whichisamysterytome.Itmight

beclosertoHearth’selfmagic.’Myspiritssank.I’dhadthisideathatdwarvesweregoodwithweaponcrafting.Inthebackofmy

mind,I’dbeenhopingBlitzencouldtellmesomethingabouttheblade’ssecrets.IglancedatHearth,stillsnoringpeacefully.‘YousaidHearthknewalotofmagic.I’mnot

criticizing.I’vejustneverseenhimcastany…well,exceptmaybeopeningonedoor.Whatelsecanhedo?’BlitzsethishandprotectivelynexttoHearth’sfeet.‘Magicdrainshim.He’scarefulaboutusingit.

Alsohisfamily…’Hetookadeepbreath.‘Modernelvesdon’tapproveofmagic.HisparentsshamedHearthstone

prettybadly.Itstillmakeshimself-consciousaboutcastingmagicinfrontofothers.Hearthstonewasn’tthesonhisparentswanted,betweenthemagicandthe,youknow…’Blitztappedhisownearlobes.IfeltlikesayingsomethingrudeaboutHearthstone’sparentsinsignlanguage.‘It’snothisfault

he’sdeaf.’

‘Elves.’Blitzshrugged.‘Theyhavealowtoleranceforanythingthatisn’tperfect–music,art,appearances.Theirownchildren.’Iwantedtoprotesthowmessedupthatwas.ThenIthoughtabouthumans,andIdecidedweweren’t

muchbetter.‘Getsomesleep,kid,’Blitzurged.‘Bigdaytomorrow.TokeepFenrisWolfbound,we’regoingto

needhelpfromacertaindwarf…andthathelpisn’tgoingtocomecheap.We’llneedyouatfullstrengthwhenwejumptoNidavellir.’‘Jump…’Isaid.‘Whatdoyoumeanjump?’Hegavemeaworriedlook,asifImightbegettinganotherfuneralverysoon.‘Inthemorning,

you’regoingtotryclimbingtheWorldTree.’

THIRTY-S IX

Duck!

Callmecrazy.IwasexpectingtheWorldTreetobeatree.Notarowofbronzeducks.‘Behold!’Blitzensaid.‘Thenexusoftheuniverse!’Hearthstonekneltreverently.IglancedatSam,whohadjoinedusafteradaringescapefromfirst-periodphysics.Shewasn’t

laughing.‘So…’Isaid,‘I’mjustgoingtopointoutthatthisistheMakeWayforDucklingsstatue.’‘Doyouthinkit’sacoincidence?’Blitzendemanded.‘NineWorlds?Nineducks?Thesymbolism

screamsportal!Thisspotisthecruxofcreation,thecentreofthetree,theeasiestplacetojumpfromoneduck–Imeanoneworld–toanother.’‘Ifyousayso.’I’dpassedthesebronzeducksathousandtimes.I’dneverconsideredthemmuchof

anexus.Ihadn’treadthechildren’sbooktheywerebasedon,butIgathereditwasaboutamamaduckandherbabiescrossingastreetinBoston,sotheyputasculptureofitinthePublicGarden.Inthesummer,littlekidswouldsitonMrsMallardandgettheirpicturestaken.AtChristmas,the

ducksgotlittleSantahats.Atthemomenttheywerenakedandalone,burieduptotheirnecksinfreshsnowfall.Hearthstonepassedhishandsoverthestatueslikehewastestingastovetopforheat.HeglancedatBlitzandshookhishead.‘AsIfeared,’Blitzsaid.‘HearthandIhavebeentravellingtoomuch.Wewon’tbeabletoactivate

theducks.Magnus,we’llneedyou.’Iwaitedforanexplanation,butBlitzjuststudiedthesculptures.Hewastestingoutanewhatthis

morning–apithhelmetwithdarknettingthatdrapedtohisshoulders.AccordingtoBlitz,thenetfabricwashisowndesign.Itblockedninety-eightpercentofthesunlight,allowingustoseehisfacewhilenotcoveringuphisfashionableoutfit.Itmadehimlooklikeabeekeeperinmourning.‘Okay,I’llbite,’Isaid.‘HowdoIactivateducks?’Samscannedoursurroundings.Shedidn’tlooklikeshe’dsleptmuch.Hereyeswerepuffy.Her

handswererawandblisteredfromourfishingexpedition.She’dchangedintoablackwooltrenchcoat,butotherwiseshewasdressedthesameasyesterday:greenhijab,axe,shield,jeans,winterboots–alltheaccoutrementsofafashionableex-Valkyrie.‘Howeveryoudoit,’shesaid,‘doitquickly.Idon’tlikehowclosewearetothegatesofValhalla.’‘ButIdon’tknowhow,’Iprotested.‘Don’tyouguysgoworld-jumpingallthetime?’Hearthsigned,Toomuch.

‘Kid,’Blitzsaid,‘themorefrequentlyyoutravelbetweentheworlds,theharderitgets.It’skindoflikeoverheatinganengine.Atsomepoint,youhavetostopandlettheenginecooldown.Besides,jumpingrandomlyfromoneworldtoanotherisonething.Travellingonaquest–that’sdifferent.Wecan’tbesurewhereexactlyweneedtogo.’IturnedtoSam.‘Whataboutyou?’‘WhenIwasaValkyrie,itwould’vebeennoproblem.Butnow?’Sheshookherhead.‘You’rea

childofFrey.Yourfatheristhegodofgrowthandfertility.YoushouldbeabletocoaxYggdrasil’sbranchescloseenoughtoletusjumpon.Besides,it’syourquest.Youhavethebestchanceofnavigating.Justusethesculptureasapointoffocus.Findusthequickestpath.’Shewould’vehadbetterluckexplainingcalculustome.Ifeltstupid,butIkneltnexttothesculpture.Itouchedtheducklingattheendoftheline.Coldcrept

upmyarm.Isensedice,foganddarkness–somewhereharshandunwelcoming.‘This,’Idecided,‘isthequickestwaytoNiflheim.’‘Excellent,’Blitzsaid.‘Let’snotgothere.’Iwasjustreachingforthenextduckwhensomeoneyelled,‘MAGNUSCHASE!’Twohundredyardsaway,ontheoppositesideofCharlesStreet,CaptainGunillastoodflankedby

twootherValkyries.Behindthemwasalineofeinherjar.Icouldn’tmakeouttheirexpressions,butthegreyloomingmassofXthehalf-trollwasunmistakable.Gunillahaddraftedmyownhallmatestofightagainstme.Myfingerstwitchedwithanger.IwantedtogetameathookandgofishingwithGunillaasbait.I

reachedformypendant.‘Magnus,no,’Samsaid.‘Concentrateontheducks.Wehavetochangeworldsnow.’OneithersideofGunilla,theValkyriesslungglowingspearsfromtheirbacks.Theyyelledatthe

einherjartoreadytheirweapons.Gunillapulledtwoofherhammersandthrewtheminourdirection.Samdeflectedonewithhershield.Sheknockedtheotherasidewithheraxe,spinningthehammer

intothenearestwillowtree,whereitembeddeditselfuptothehandle.Acrossthestreet,allthreeValkyriesroseintotheair.‘Ican’tfightthemall,’Samwarned.‘It’sleavenoworbecaptured.’Myangerturnedtopanic.Ilookedattherowofbronzeducks,butmyconcentrationwasshattered.

‘I–Ineedmoretime.’‘Wedon’thavetime!’Samdeflectedanotherhammer.Theforceoftheblowcrackedhershield

downthemiddle.‘Hearth.’Blitzennudgedtheelf’sarm.‘Nowwouldbegood.’AfrowntuggedatthecornersofHearthstone’smouth.Hereachedintohispouchandpulledouta

runestone.Hecuppeditinhishandsandmutteredtoitsilently,asifspeakingtoacapturedbird.Hethrewthestoneintotheair.Itexplodedaboveus,creatingaruneofburninggoldenlight:

BetweenGunilla’shuntingpartyandus,distanceseemedtoelongate.TheValkyriesflewtowardsusattopspeed;myeinherjarcomradesdrewtheirweaponsandcharged–buttheymadenoprogress.Itremindedmeofthosecheap1970scartoonswhereacharacterrunsbutthescenerybehindhim

justkeepsrepeatingitself.CharlesStreetspiralledaroundourpursuerslikeagianthamsterwheel.Forthefirsttime,IgotwhatSamhadtoldmeaboutrunesbeingabletochangereality.‘Raidho,’Blitzensaidappreciatively.‘Itstandsforthewheel,thejourney.Hearthstonehasbought

yousometime.’Onlyseconds,Hearthsigned.Hurry.HepromptlycollapsedintoSam’sarms.Iranmyhandsquicklyacrossthebronzeducks.Atthefourthone,Istopped.Ifeltwarmth,safety

…asenseofrightness.‘Thisone,’Isaid.‘Well,openit!’Blitzenshouted.Irosetomyfeet.NotsurewhatIwasdoing,Ipulledmypendantfromitschain.TheSwordof

Summerappearedinmyhands.Itsbladepurredlikeadementedcat.Itappeditagainstthebronzeduckandslicedupward.Theairpartedlikeacurtain.Stretchinginfrontofme,insteadofasidewalk,wasanexpanseoftree

branches.Thenearestone,aswideasBeaconStreet,randirectlyunderus,maybethreefeetdown,suspendedoveragreyvoid.Unfortunately,thecutI’dmadeinthefabricofMidgardwasalreadyclosing.‘Hurry!’Isaid.‘Jump!’Blitzendidn’thesitate.Heleapedthroughtherift.OveronCharlesStreet,Gunillascreamedinoutrage.SheandherValkyrieswerestillflyingfull-

tiltontheircartoonhamsterwheel,theeinherjarstumblingalongbehindthem.‘Youaredoomed,MagnusChase!’Gunillashouted.‘Wewillpursueyoutotheendsof–’WithaloudPOP,Hearth’sspellbroke.Theeinherjarfellfacefirstinthestreet.ThethreeValkyries

shotoverourheads.Judgingfromthesoundofbreakingglass,theymusthavehitabuildingoveronArlingtonStreet.Ididn’twaitformyoldhallmatestorecovertheirsenses.IgrabbedHearth’sleftarmwhileSamtookhisright.Together,weleapedintotheWorldTree.

THIRTY-SEVEN

IAmTrash-TalkedbyaSquirrel

Ialwayslikedclimbingtrees.Mymomhadbeenprettyunderstandingaboutthat.She’donlygetnervousifIgotabovetwenty

feet.Thenalittletensioncreptintohervoice.‘Pumpkin,thatbranchmaynotholdyou.Couldyoucomedownalittle?’OntheWorldTree,everybranchwouldholdme.ThebiggestoneswerewiderthanInterstate93.

Thesmallestwereaslargeasyouraverageredwood.AsforYggdrasil’strunk,itwassoimmenseitjustdidn’tcompute.Eachcreviceinitssurfaceseemedtoleadtoadifferentworld,asifsomeonehadwrappedtreebarkaroundacolumnoftelevisionmonitorsglowingwithamilliondifferentmovies.Thewindroared,rippingatmynewdenimjacket.Beyondthetree’scanopyIsawnothingbuta

hazywhiteglow.Belowwasnoground–justmorebranchescrisscrossingthevoid.Thetreehadtoberootedsomewhere,butIfeltwoozyandunbalanced–asifYggdrasilandeverythingitcontained,includingmyworld,wasfree-floatinginprimordialmist–theGinnungagap.IfIfellhere,inthebest-casescenarioI’dhitanotherbranchandbreakmyneck.Worst-case

scenario,I’dkeepfallingforeverintotheGreatWhiteNothingness.Imust’vebeenleaningforward,becauseBlitzengrabbedmyarm.‘Careful,kid.Firsttimeinthe

treewillmakeyoudizzy.’‘Yeah,Inoticed.’HearthstonestillsaggedbetweenSamandme.Hetriedtofindhisfooting,buthisankleskept

bendinginodddirections.Samstumbled.Herbrokenshieldslippedfromhergripandsomersaultedintotheabyss.Shecrouched,alookofbarelycontrolledpanicinhereyes.‘IlikedYggdrasilalotbetterwhenI

couldfly.’‘WhataboutGunillaandtheothers?’Iasked.‘Willtheybeabletofollowus?’‘Noteasily,’Samsaid.‘Theycanopenanotherportal,butitwon’tnecessarilyleadtothesame

branchofthetree.Still,weshouldkeepmoving.BeingonYggdrasilisnotgoodforyoursanity.’Hearthstonemanagedtostandonhisown.Hesigned,I’mokay.Let’sgo.Thoughhishandswereso

shakyitlookedmorelike:Youarearabbittunnel.Wemovedfurtheralongthebranch.TheSwordofSummerhummedinmyhand,tuggingmealonglikeitknewwhereweweregoing.I

hopeditdid,anyway.Hostilewindsbuffetedusfromsidetoside.Branchesswayed,throwingdeeppoolsofshadowand

brilliantpatchesoflightacrossourpath.Aleafthesizeofacanoeflutteredby.

‘Stayfocused,’Blitzentoldme.‘Thatfeelingyouhadwhenyouopenedtheportal?Lookforitagain.Findusanexit.’Afterwalkingaboutaquarterofamile,wefoundasmallerbranchcrossingdirectlyunderours.

Myswordhummedlouder,tuggingtotheright.Ilookedatmyfriends.‘Ithinkweneedtotakethisexit.’Changingbranchesmightsoundeasy,butitinvolvedslidingdowntenfeetfromonecurved

surfacetoanother,withthewindhowlingandthebranchesswayingapart.Amazingly,wemanageditwithoutanyonegettingcrushedorfallingintooblivion.Navigatingthenarrowerbranchwasworse.Itbobbedmoreviolentlyunderourfeet.AtonepointI

gotflattenedbyaleaf–likeagreentarpdroppingontopofmeoutofnowhere.AtanotherpointIlookeddownandrealizedIwasstandingoveracrackinthebark.Halfamiledown,insidethebranch,Icouldseeasnow-cappedmountainrange,asifIwerestandinginaglass-bottomaeroplane.Wepickedourwaythroughamazeoflichenpatchesthatlookedlikehillsofburned

marshmallows.Imadethemistakeoftouchingone.MyhandsunkuptomywristandIalmostcouldn’tpullitfree.Finallythelichendispersedintosmallerclumpslikeburnedmarshmallowsofas.Wefollowedour

branchuntilitsplitintohalfadozenunclimbabletwigs.TheSwordofSummerseemedtogotosleepinmyhand.‘Well?’Samasked.Ipeeredovertheside.Aboutthirtyfeetbelowus,alargerbranchswayed.Inthemiddleofthat

branch,ahot-tub-sizeknotholeglowedwithsoftwarmlight.‘That’sit,’Isaid.‘That’sourwayout.’Blitzenscowled.‘Yousure?Nidavellirisn’twarmandglowy.’‘I’mjusttellingyou–theswordseemstothinkthat’sourdestination.’Samwhistledsilently.‘Quiteajump.Ifwemissthehole…’Hearthstonespelledout:S-P-L-A-T.Agustofwindhitus,andHearthstumbled.BeforeIcouldcatchhim,hefellbackwardsintoa

clumpoflichen.Hislegswerepromptlyswallowedinthemarshmallowgunk.‘Hearth!’Blitzenscrambledtohisside.HepulledatHearth’sarms,butthemuckylichenheldonto

hislegslikeaneedytoddler.‘Wecancuthimout,’saidSam.‘Yoursword,myaxe.It’lltaketime.We’llhavetobecarefulofhis

legs.Butitcouldbeworse.’Naturally,thingsgotworse.FromsomewhereaboveuscameanexplosiveYARK!Blitzencrouchedunderhispithhelmet.‘Ratatosk!Thatdamnablesquirrelalwaysappearsatthe

worsttime.Hurrywiththoseblades!’Samcutintothelichenwithheraxe,butherbladestuck.‘Thisislikecuttingthroughmeltingtyres!

It’snotgoingtobequick.’GO!Hearthsigned.Leaveme.‘Notanoption,’Isaid.YAAAAARRRRK!Thesoundwasmuchlouderthistime.Adozenbranchesaboveus,alargeshadow

passedacrosstheleaves.

Iheftedmysword.‘We’llfightthesquirrel.Wecandothat,right?’SamlookedatmelikeIwasmad.‘Ratatoskisinvulnerable.Thereisnofightinghim.Ouroptions

arerunning,hidingordying.’‘Wecan’trun,’Isaid.‘AndI’vealreadydiedtwicethisweek.’‘Sowehide.’Samunwrappedherhijab.‘Atleast,HearthandIdo.Icancovertwopeople,nomore.

YouandBlitzrun–findthedwarves.We’llmeetupwithyoulater.’‘What?’IwonderedifUtgard-Lokiwasmessingwithherbrainsomehow.‘Sam,youcan’thide

underagreenpieceofsilk!Thesquirrelcan’tbethatstupid…’Sheshookoutthefabric.Itgrewtothesizeofabedsheet,thecoloursripplinguntilthehijabwas

exactlythesamebrownandyellowandwhiteofthelichenpatch.She’sright,Hearthsigned.GO.Samcrouchednexttohimandpulledthehijaboverthemboth,andtheyvanished,blending

perfectlyagainstthelichen.‘Magnus.’Blitztuggedatmyarm.‘It’snowornever.’Hepointedtothebranchbelow.The

knotholewasclosing.Atthatmoment,Ratatoskbrokethroughfoliageabove.IfyoucanimagineaShermantankcovered

inredfur,barrellingdownthesideofatree…well,thesquirrelwaswayscarierthanthat.Hisfrontteethweretwinwedgesofwhiteenamelterror.Hisclawswerescimitars.Hiseyesweresulphuryellow,burningwithfury.YARK!Thesquirrel’sbattlecrypiercedmyeardrums.Athousandinsultswerepackedintothatone

sound,alloftheminvadingmybrain,drowningoutanyrationalthought.Youhavefailed.Noonelikesyou.Youaredead.Yourdwarf ’spithhelmetisstupid.Youcouldnotsaveyourmother.Ifelltomyknees.Asobbuiltinmychest.IprobablywouldhavediedthenandthereifBlitzhadn’t

hauledmeupwithallhisdwarvenstrengthandslappedmeacrosstheface.Icouldn’thearhim,butIreadhislipswellenough:‘NOW,KID!’Grippingmyhandinroughcallousedfingers,hejumpedoffthebranch,draggingmewithhim

intothewind.

THIRTY-EIGHT

IBreakDowninaVolkswagen

IstoodinasunlitmeadowwithnomemoryofhowIgotthere.Inthedistance,wildflowersdustedrollinggreenhills.Thebreezesmelledoflavender.Thelight

waswarmandrichasiftheairhadturnedtobutter.Mythoughtsmovedsluggishly.Light…sunlightwasbadfordwarves.IwasprettysureI’dbeen

travellingwithadwarf–someonewhohadslappedmeandsavedmylife.‘Blitz?’Hestoodtomyleft,holdinghispithhelmetathisside.‘Blitz,yourhat!’Iwasafraidhe’dalreadybecomestone.Thenheturned.Hiseyeswerestormyanddistant.‘It’sokay,kid.Thisisn’tregularsunlight.We’re

notonMidgardanymore.’Hesoundedlikehewastalkingthroughwaxpaper.Thesquirrel’syaphadleftacracklinginmy

earsandsomecorrosivethoughtsrattlingaroundinmybrain.‘Ratatosk…’Icouldn’tfinishthesentence.Justsayinghisnamemademewanttocurlupinthe

foetalposition.‘Yeah,’Blitzsaid.‘Hisbarkisliterallyworsethanhisbite.He…’Blitzlookeddown,blinking

rapidly.‘He’sthemostdestructivecreatureintheWorldTree.Hespendshistimerunningupanddownthetrunk,carryinginsultsfromtheeaglewholivesatthetoptoNidhogg,thedragonwholivesattheroots.’Igazedtowardsthehills.Faintsoundsofmusicseemedtobecomingfromthatdirection,ormaybe

itwasthestaticinmyears.‘Whywouldasquirreldothat?’‘Todamagethetree,’Blitzsaid.‘Ratatoskkeepstheeagleandthedragonwhippedintoafrenzy.He

tellsthemlies,rumours,nastygossipabouteachother.Hiswordscan…well,youknowwhathiswordscando.ThedragonNidhoggisalwayschewingontherootsoftheWorldTree,tryingtokillit.TheeagleflapshiswingsandcreateswindstormsthatripthebranchesandcausedevastationthroughouttheNineWorlds.Ratatoskmakessurethetwomonstersstayangryandincompetitionwitheachother,toseewhichonecandestroytheirendofYggdrasilfaster.’‘Butthat’s…crazy.Thesquirrellivesinthetree.’Blitzgrimaced.‘Wealldo,kid.Peoplehavedestructiveimpulses.Someofuswanttoseetheworld

inruinsjustforthefunofit…evenifwe’reruinedalongwithit.’Ratatosk’schatterechoedinmyhead:Youhavefailed.Youcouldnotsaveyourmother.Thesquirrel

haddrivenmetodespair,butIcouldseehowhisbarkmightstirupotheremotions–hatred,bitterness,self-loathing.

‘Howdidyoukeepyourwits?’IaskedBlitz.‘Whenthesquirrelbarked,whatdidyouhear?’Blitzranhisfingersacrossthebrimofhispithhelmet,pinchingtheedgeoftheblackveil.

‘NothingIdon’ttellmyselfallthetime,kid.Weshouldgetgoing.’Hetrudgedofftowardsthehills.Despitehisshortstride,Ihadtopower-walktokeepup.Wecrossedastreamwhereapicturesquelittlefrogsatonalilypad.Dovesandfalconsspiralled

throughtheairliketheywereplayingtag.IhalfexpectedachoruslineoffuzzyanimalstopopoutofthewildflowersandlaunchintoaDisneymusicalnumber.‘I’mguessingthisisnotNidavellir,’Isaidasweclimbedthehill.Blitzensnorted.‘No.Muchworse.’‘Alfheim?’‘Worse.’Blitzenstoppedjustshortofthecrestandtookadeepbreath.‘Comeon.Let’sgetthisover

with.’AtthetopofthehillIfroze.‘Whoa.’Downtheotherside,greenfieldsstretchedtothehorizon.Meadowswerestrewnwithpicnic

blankets.Crowdsofpeoplewerehangingout–eating,laughing,chatting,playingmusic,flyingkites,tossingbeachballs.Itwastheworld’slargest,mostlaid-backoutdoorconcert,minustheconcert.Somefolksweredressedinvariousbitsofarmour.Mosthadweapons,buttheydidn’tseemveryinterestedinusingthem.Intheshadeofanoaktree,acoupleofyoungladieswereswordfighting,butaftercrossingblades

afewtimestheygotbored,droppedtheirweaponsandstartedchatting.Anotherguyloungedinalawnchair,flirtingwiththegirlonhisleftwhilehecasuallyparriedattacksfromtheguystandingonhisright.Blitzpointedtothecrestofthenexthillabouthalfamileaway,whereastrangepalacegleamed.It

lookedlikeanupside-downNoah’sArkmadeofgoldandsilver.‘Sessrumnir,’saidBlitzen.‘TheHallofManySeats.Ifwe’relucky,maybeshewon’tbehome.’‘Who?’Insteadofanswering,hewadedintothecrowd.Wehadn’tgonetwentyfeetbeforeaguyonanearbypicnicblanketcalled,‘Hey,Blitzen!What’s

up,dude?’BlitzengroundhisteethsohardIcouldhearthempopping.‘Hello,Miles.’‘Yeah,I’mgood!’Milesraisedhisswordabsentlyasanotherguyinbeachtrunksandavest

chargedtowardshimwithabattleaxe.Theattackerscreamed,‘DIE!Ha,ha,justkidding.’Thenhewalkedawayeatingachocolatebar.‘So,Blitz,’Milessaid,‘whatbringsyoutoCasadeAwesome?’‘Niceseeingyou,Miles.’Blitzengrabbedmyarmandledmeonward.‘Okay,cool!’Milescalledafterus.‘Keepintouch!’‘Whowasthat?’Iasked.‘Nobody.’‘Howdoyouknowhim?’‘Idon’t.’

Aswemadeourwaytowardstheupside-downarkmansion,morepeoplestoppedandsaidhellotoBlitzen.Afewgreetedmeandcomplimentedmeonmysword,ormyhair,ormyshoes.Onegirlsaid,‘Oh,niceears!’Whichdidn’tevenmakesense.‘Everybodyisso–’‘Stupid?’Blitzenoffered.‘Iwasgoingtosaymellow.’Hegrunted.‘ThisisFolkvanger,theFieldoftheArmy…oryoucouldtranslateitasthePeople’s

Battlefield.’‘SothisisVolkswagen.’Iscannedthecrowds,wonderingifIwouldspotmymother,butIcouldn’t

imagineherinaplacelikethis.Therewastoomuchloungingaround,notenoughaction.Mymomwould’veroustedthesewarriorstotheirfeet,ledthemonaten-milehike,theninsistedtheysetuptheirowncampsitesiftheywantedanydinner.‘Theydon’tseemlikemuchofanarmy.’‘Yeah,well,’Blitzsaid,‘thesefallenarejustaspowerfulastheeinherjar,buttheyhaveadifferent

attitude.ThisrealmisonelittlesubsectionofVanaheim–sortoftheVanirgods’flipsideversionofValhalla.’Itriedtopicturemyselfspendingeternityhere.Valhallahaditsgoodpoints,butasfarasI’dseenit

didn’thavepicnicsorbeachballs,andIdefinitelywouldn’tdescribeitasmellow.Still…Iwasn’tsureIlikedFolkvangeranybetter.‘Sohalftheworthydeadgohere,’Iremembered,‘halfgotoValhalla.Howdotheypickwhogoes

where?Isitacointoss?’‘Thatwouldmakemoresense,actually.’‘ButIwastryingtogetustoNidavellir.Whydidwecomehere?’Blitzenstaredatthemansionatopthehill.‘Youwerelookingforthepathweneededforourquest.

ThatpathledusthroughFolkvanger.Unfortunately,IthinkIknowwhy.Let’sgopayourrespectsbeforeIlosemynerve.’Asweapproachedthegates,IrealizedSessrumnirwasn’tjustbuilttolooklikeanupside-down

ship.Itactuallywasanupside-downship.Therowsoftallwindowswereoarslots.Theslopingwallsofthehullweremadefromclinkeredgoldplanksrivetedwithsilvernails.Themainentrancehadalongawningthatwould’veservedasagangplank.‘Whyisitaboat?’Iasked.‘What?’Blitzenfiddlednervouslywithhiscarnation.‘Notsounusual.YourNorseancestorsmade

lotsofbuildingsbyturningtheirshipsupsidedown.InthecaseofSessrumnir,whentheDayofDoomcomesaround,they’lljustflipthepalaceoverandvoilà,it’savesselbigenoughforallthewarriorsofFolkvangertosailnoblytotheirdeaths.Sortoflikewe’redoingnow.’Heledmeinside.I’dbeenexpectingagloomyinteriorliketheholdofaship,buttheHallofManySeatswasmore

likeacathedral.Theceilingroseallthewaytothekeel.Theoar-holewindowscrosshatchedtheairwithbarsoflight.Theentirespacewasopen,noseparateroomsorpartitions–justclustersofsofas,comfychairs,throwpillowsandfreestandinghammocks,mostofwhichwereoccupiedbysnoringwarriors.IhopedthehalfmillioninhabitantsofFolkvangerlikedoneanother ’scompany,because

therewasnoprivacy.Mebeingme,themainthingIwonderedwaswheretheyallwenttothebathroom.DownthecentreofthehallrananaisleofPersiancarpets,flankedbybrazierswithglowing

spheresofgoldlight.Atthefarendstoodathroneonaraiseddais.Blitzmarchedinthatdirection,ignoringthewarriorswhogreetedhimwith‘Dude!’and‘Sup,

DwarfMan!’and‘Welcomehome!’Welcomehome?Infrontofthedais,acosyfirecrackledinthehearth.Pilesofjewelleryandpreciousgems

glitteredhereandthereasifsomebodyhadsweptthemupjusttogetthemoffthefloor.Oneithersideofthestepsloungedacalicohousecatthesizeofasabre-toothedtiger.Thethronewascarvedfromwoodassoftandbutteryasthelight–lindenwood,maybe.Theback

wasdrapedwithacloakofdownyfeatherslikeontheundersideofafalcon.InthethroneitselfsatthemostbeautifulwomanI’deverseen.Shelookedmaybetwentyyearsold,surroundedbyanauraofgoldenradiancethatmademe

realizewhatBlitzenmeantearlierwhenhe’dsaidthedaylightherewasn’tnormal.TheentirerealmofFolkvangerwaswarmandbright,notbecauseofthesun,butbecauseitbaskedinthiswoman’spower.Herblondehairfellacrossoneshoulderinasinglelongplait.Herwhitehaltertopshowedoffher

tannedshouldersandsmoothmidriff.Herknee-lengthskirtwasbeltedwithagoldbraidholdingasheathedknifeandaringofkeys.Aroundherneckwasadazzlingpieceofjewellery–alaceworkcollarofgoldandgems,likeRan’snetinminiature,exceptwithrubiesanddiamondsinsteadofsailors’soulsandhubcaps.Thewomanfixedmewithhersky-blueeyes.Whenshesmiled,heattravelledfromthetipsofmy

earsrightdowntomytoes.Iwouldhavedoneanythingtomakeherkeepsmilingatme.Ifshe’dtoldmetojumpofftheWorldTreeintooblivion,Iwould’vedoneitinasecond.Irememberedherpicturefrommyoldchildren’smythologybookandrealizedhowridiculouslyit

undersoldherbeauty.Thegoddessoflovewasverypretty!Shehadcats!Ikneltbeforemyaunt,thetwinsisterofmyfather.‘Freya.’‘MydearMagnus,’shesaid,‘hownicetomeetyouinperson!’SheturnedtoBlitzen,whowas

gloweringathisboots.‘Andhowareyou,Blitzen?’askedthegoddess.Blitzensighed.‘I’mfine,Mom.’

THIRTY-NINE

FreyaIsPretty!SheHasCats!

‘Mom?’IwassostartledIwasn’tsureI’dsaiditaloud.‘Wait…You,Blitzen.Mom?’Blitzenkickedmeintheshin.Freyacontinuedsmiling.‘Isupposemysondidn’ttellyou?He’squitemodest.Blitzendear,you

lookverynice,butcouldyoustraightenyourcollar?’Blitzendid,mutteringunderhisbreath,‘Beenalittlebusyrunningformylife.’‘And,dear,’Freyasaid,‘areyousureaboutthewaistcoat?’‘Yes,Mom,’Blitzgrumbled,‘I’msureaboutthewaistcoat.Waistcoatsaremakingacomeback.’‘Well,Isupposeyouknowbest.’Freyawinkedatme.‘Blitzenisageniuswithfabricsandfashion.

Theotherdwarvesdon’tappreciatehisexpertise,butIthinkit’smarvellous.Hewantstoopenhisown–’‘Anyway,’Blitzensaid,alittletooloudly,‘we’reonthisquest…’Freyaclapped.‘Iknow!It’sveryexciting.You’retryingtogettoNidavellirtofindoutmoreabout

theropeGleipnir.Andso,naturally,theWorldTreedirectedyoufirsttome.’OneofhercatsclawedataPersianrug,rippingseveralthousanddollarsofweavingintofluff.I

triednottoimaginewhatthecatcoulddotome.‘So,LadyFreya,’Isaid,‘canyouhelpus?’‘Ofcourse!’saidthegoddess.‘Moreimportantly,youcanhelpme.’‘Herewego,’saidBlitzen.‘Son,bepolite.First,Magnus,howareyoufaringwithyoursword?’Imissedabeat.IguessIstilldidn’tthinkoftheSwordofSummerasmine.Ipulledoffthependantandtheblade

tookshapeinmyhand.InFreya’spresence,itwassilentandstilllikeitwasplayingdead.Maybeitwasafraidofcats.‘Ihaven’thadmuchtimetouseit,’Isaid.‘JustgotitbackfromRan.’‘Yes,Iknow.’Freya’snosewrinkledwiththeslightesthintofdistaste.‘Andyoudeliveredanapple

toUtgard-Lokiinexchange.Perhapsnotthewisestmove,butIwon’tcriticizeyourchoices.’‘Youjustdid,’Blitzensaid.Thegoddessignoredhiscomment.‘Atleastyoudidn’tpromisemetoUtgard-Loki.Usuallywhen

giantsmakedemands,theywantapplesandmyhandinmarriage.’Sheflippedherbraidoverhershoulder.‘Itgetsverytiresome.’IhadahardtimelookingatFreyawithoutstaring.Therereallywasn’tanythingsafetofocuson–

hereyes,herlips,herbellybutton.Isilentlyscoldedmyself,ThisisBlitzen’smom!Thisismyaunt!Idecidedtofocusonherlefteyebrow.Therewasnothingentrancingaboutalefteyebrow.

‘Soanyway,’Isaid,‘Ihaven’treallykilledanythingyetwiththeeyebrow–Imeanthesword.’Freyasatforward.‘Killedanythingwithit?Oh,dear,that’stheleastofitspowers.Yourfirsttaskis

tobefriendthesword.Haveyoudonethis?’Iimaginedtheswordandmesittingsidebysideinamovietheatre,atubofpopcornbetweenus.I

imagineddraggingtheswordonaleash,takingitforawalkthroughthepark.‘HowdoIbefriendasword?’‘Ah…well,ifyouhavetoask–’‘Look,AuntFreya,’Isaid,‘couldn’tIjustgivetheswordtoyouforsafekeeping?It’saVanir

weapon.You’reFrey’ssister.You’vegotafewhundredthousandwell-armed,laid-backwarriorstoguarditfromSurt–’‘Oh,no,’shesaidsadly.‘Theswordisalreadyinyourhands,Magnus.Yousummoneditfromthe

river.Youhavelaidclaimtoit.ThebestwecanhopeforisthatSumarbrander,theSwordofSummer,willallowyoutouseit.KeepingitfromSurtisyourjobnow,aslongasyoumanagetostayalive.’‘Ihatemyjob.’Blitzelbowedme.‘Don’tsaythat,kid.You’lloffendtheblade.’Ilookeddownatthegleamingrunesontheblade.‘I’msorry,longsharppieceofmetal.Didthat

hurtyourfeelings?Also,ifyouallowpeopletowieldyou,whywouldyouallowanevilfiregianttodoso?Whywouldn’tyouwanttogobacktoFrey,oratleasthislovelysisterhere?’Thesworddidnotreply.‘Magnus,’saidthegoddess,‘thisisnojestingmatter.TheswordisfatedtobelongtoSurt,sooner

orlater.Youknowthis.Theswordcannotescapeitsdestinyanymorethanyoucanescapeyours.’IenvisionedLokichucklingasheloungedontheHighSeatofOdin.Ourchoicescanalterthe

details.That’showwerebelagainstdestiny.‘Besides,’Freyasaid,‘theswordwouldneverallowmetouseit.Sumarbranderholdsmepartially

responsibleforitsloss…ItresentsmealmostasmuchasitresentsFrey.’Maybeitwasmyimagination,buttheswordseemedtobecomecolderandheavier.‘Butit’sFrey’ssword,’Iprotested.Blitzengrunted.‘Itwas.Itoldyou,kid,hegaveitawayforlove.’ThecalicocatonFreya’srightrolledoverandstretched.Itsspottedtummywasprettycute,except

forthefactthatIkeptimagininghowmanywarriorsitcouldcomfortablydigest.‘WhenFreysatonOdin’sthrone,’continuedthegoddess,‘hedidsoformysake.Itwasadarktime

forme.IwaswanderingtheNineWorlds,grievingandbereft.Freyhopedthatbysittinginthethronehemightfindme.Instead,thethroneshowedhimhisheart’sdesire–afrostgiantess,Gerd.Hefellmadlyinlovewithher.’IstaredatFreya’seyebrow.Herstorywasn’thelpingmyopinionofmydad.‘Hefellinloveatfirstsight…withafrostgiantess.’‘Oh,shewasbeautiful,’Freyasaid.‘SilvertoFrey’sgold,coldtohiswarmth,wintertohis

summer.You’veheardthatoppositesattract?Shewashisperfectmatch.Butshewasagiant.ShewouldneveragreetomarryaVanir.Herfamilywouldnotallowit.Knowingthis,Freyfellintodespair.Cropsstoppedgrowing.Summerlostitswarmth.Finally,Frey’sservantandbestfriendcametoaskhimwhatwaswrong.’

‘Skirnir,’Isaid.‘Thedudewhogotthesword.’Freyafrowned.‘Yes.Him.’Blitzentookastepback,likehewasafraidhismommightexplode.Forthefirsttime,Irealized

howscarythegoddesscouldlook–beautiful,yes,butalsoterrifyingandpowerful.Iimaginedherarmedwithashieldandspear,ridingwiththeValkyries.IfIsawheronthebattlefield,Iwouldrunintheotherdirection.‘SkirnirpromisedhecoulddeliverGerdwithinninedays,’saidthegoddess.‘Allherequiredwasa

smallfeeforhisservices–theSwordofSummer.Freywassolove-strickenthatheaskednoquestions.Thesword…Icanonlyimaginehowitfeltwhenitwasbetrayedbyitsmaster.ItallowedSkirnirtowieldit,thoughnothappily.’Freyasighed.‘ThatiswhytheswordwillneverallowFreytouseitagain.Andthatiswhy,at

Ragnarok,Freyisfatedtodiebecausehedoesnothavehisweapon.’Iwasn’tsurewhattosay.Bummerdidn’tseemtocoverit.IrememberedLoki’swarningabout

sittingonOdin’sthrone,lookingformyheart’sdesire.WhatwouldIlookfor?Mymother ’swhereabouts.WouldIgiveupaswordtofindher?Ofcourse.WouldIriskgettingkilledorevenhasteningDoomsday?Yes.SomaybeIcouldn’tjudgemyfather.Blitzgrippedmyarm.‘Don’tlooksoglum,kid.Ihavefaithinyou.’Freya’sexpressionsoftened.‘Yes,Magnus.Youwilllearntousethesword–andIdon’tmeanjust

swingingitlikeabrute.Onceyoudiscoveritsfullabilities,youwillbeformidableindeed.’‘Idon’tsupposeitcomeswithauser ’smanual?’Freyalaughedgently.‘I’msorryIdidn’tgetyouinFolkvanger,Magnus.Youwould’vebeena

goodadditiontomyfollowers.ButValhallacalledyoufirst.Itwasmeanttobe.’IwantedtoarguethattheNorns,theeinherjarandthecaptainoftheValkyriesdidn’tseemtothink

so.ThinkingaboutGunillamademerememberourflightintotheWorldTree,andSamand

Hearthstonehidingunderaveilfromamurderoussquirrel.‘Ourfriends…wegotseparatedfromthemonYggdrasil.Freya,doyouknowiftheymadeitheresafely?’Freyapeeredintothedistance.‘TheyarenotinFolkvanger.Iseethem…Yes.Wait.Lostthem

again.Ah!’Shewinced.‘Thatwasaclosecall,butthey’refineforthemoment.Aresourcefulpair.Isensetheywillnotcomehere.YoumustcontinueonandmeettheminNidavellir.Whichbringsustoyourquest.’‘Andhowwecanhelpyou,’Blitzsaid.‘Exactly,darling.Yourneedbroughtyouhere.NeedspeaksstronglywhenyoutraveltheWorld

Tree.Afterall,that’showmypoorsonfoundhimselfbeingabondservanttoMimir.’‘We’renothavingthisdiscussionagain,’Blitzsaid.Freyaturnedoverherlovelyhands.‘Fine.Movingalong.Asyouwellknow,thedwarvescreated

theropeGleipnir,whichboundFenrisWolf…’‘Yes,Mom,’Blitzsaid,rollinghiseyes.‘Everyonelearnsthatnurseryrhymeinkindergarten.’Isquintedathim.‘Nurseryrhyme?’‘Gleipnir,Gleipnir,strongandstout,wrappedtheWolfaroundthesnout.Humansdon’tlearnthat

one?’

‘Um…Idon’tthinkso.’‘Atanyrate,’saidthegoddess,‘thedwarveswillbeabletotellyoumoreabouthowtheropewas

madeandhowitmightbereplaced.’‘Replaced?’Iwilledtheswordbackintopendantform.Evenso,hangingaroundmyneck,it

seemedtoweighahundredpounds.‘Ithoughttheideawastokeeptheropefromgettingcutinthefirstplace.’‘Ah…’Freyatappedherlips.‘Magnus,Idon’twanttodiscourageyou,butI’dsaythereisagood

chance,perhapsaseventy-fivepercentchance,thatevenifyoukeeptheswordfromSurtthefiregiantwillstillfindawaytofreeFenrisWolf.Insuchacase,youmustbepreparedwithareplacementrope.’Mytonguefeltalmostasheavyasmyswordpendant.‘Yeah,that’snotatalldiscouraging.Thelast

timetheWolfwasfree,didn’tittakeallthegodsworkingtogethertobindhim?’Freyanodded.‘Ittookthreetriesandmuchtrickery.PoorTyrlosthishand.Butdon’tworry.The

Wolfwillneverfallforthehand-in-the-mouthtrickagain.Ifitcomestothat,youwillhavetofindanotherwaytobindhim.’IbetMilesoutinthePeople’sBattlefielddidn’thavethesesortsofproblems.Iwonderedifhe’dbe

interestedintradingplacesforawhile,goingafterFenrisWolfwhileIplayedvolleyball.‘Freya,canyouatleasttelluswheretheWolfis?’‘OnLyngvi–theIsleofHeather.’Thegoddesstappedherchin.‘Let’ssee,todayisThor ’sDaythe

sixteenth.’‘YoumeanThursday?’‘That’swhatIsaid.Theislandwillriseonthefullmoonsixdaysfromnow,onthetwenty-second,

whichisWoden’sDay.’‘Wednesday?’Iasked.‘That’swhatIsaid.Soyoushouldhaveplentyoftimetogetmyearringsbeforeyouseekoutthe

Wolf.Unfortunately,theisland’slocationshiftseveryyearasthebranchesofYggdrasilswayinthewindsofthevoid.Thedwarvesshouldbeabletohelpyoulocateit.Blitzen’sfatherknewtheway.Othersmightaswell.’Atthementionofhisfather,Blitz’sfacecloudedover.Verycarefully,hetookthecarnationfrom

hiswaistcoatandtosseditintothehearthfire.‘Andwhatdoyouwant,Mother?What’syourpartinthis?’‘Oh,myneedsaresimple.’Herfingersflutteredoverhergoldenlacecollar.‘Iwantyouto

commissionsomeearringstomatchmynecklaceBrisingamen.Somethingnice.Nottooflashy,butnoticeable.Blitzen,youhaveexcellenttaste.Itrustyou.’Blitzenglaredatthenearestpileofriches,whichcontaineddozens,maybehundredsofearrings.

‘YouknowwhoIhavetotalktoinNidavellir.OnlyonedwarfhastheskilltoreplacetheropeGleipnir.’‘Yes,’Freyaagreed.‘Fortunately,he’salsoanexcellentjeweller,sohewillbeableto

accommodatebothourrequests.’‘Unfortunately,’saidBlitzen,‘thisparticulardwarfwantsmedead.’Freyawavedasidehisobjection.‘Oh,hecan’tpossibly.Notafterallthistime.’

‘Dwarveshaveverylongmemories,Mother.’‘Well,generouspaymentwillsoftenhisattitude.Icanhelpwiththat.’Shecalledacrossthehall,

‘Dmitri?Ineedyou!’Fromoneofthesofaclusters,threeguysscrambledtotheirfeet,grabbedtheirmusicalinstruments

andhustledover.TheyworematchingHawaiianshirts,Bermudashortsandsandals.Theirhairwasgreasedbackinpompadours.Thefirstguyhadaguitar.Thesecondhadbongos.Thethirdhadatriangle.TheguywiththeguitarbowedtoFreya.‘Atyourservice,mylady!’Freyagavemeaconspiratorialsmile,asifshehadsomewonderfulsecrettoshare.‘Magnus,meet

DmitriandtheDo-Runs,thebestbandyou’veneverheardof.Theydiedin1963,justastheywereabouttogettheirbigbreak.Sosad!TheyvaliantlyswervedtheircaroffRouteOnetospareabusloadofschoolchildrenfromaterriblecollision.Inhonouroftheirselflessdeaths,IbroughtthemheretoFolkvanger.’‘Andwe’reverygrateful,mylady,’saidDmitri.‘Beingyourhousebandhasbeenasweetgig!’‘Dmitri,Ineedtocry,’shesaid.‘Couldyoupleaseplaytheoneaboutmylosthusband?Ilovethat

song.’‘Ihatethatsong,’Blitzenmumbledunderhisbreath.Thetriohummed.Dmitristrummedachord.IwhisperedtoBlitzen,‘Whydoesyourmomneedtocry?’Heturnedtowardsmeandmadeafinger-down-the-throatgesture.‘Justwatch.You’llsee.’Dmitribegantosing:‘Oh,Odur!Od,Od,Odur,WhereisthatOdur;whereismylove?’

Theothertwomusiciansharmonizedonthechorus:‘Odwandersfar,myOdurismissing,Howodditis,nottobekissingMyOdur!MysweetOd,Odur!’

Triangle.Bongosolo.Blitzenwhispered,‘HergodlyhusbandwasanAesirnamedOdur,Odforshort.’Iwasn’tsurewhichnamewasworse.‘Hedisappeared?’Iguessed.‘Twothousandyearsago,’Blitzensaid.‘Freyawentlookingforhim,disappearedherselffor

almostacenturywhileshesearched.Sheneverfoundhim,butthat’swhyFreysatinOdin’schairinthefirstplace–tolookforhissister.’Thegoddessleanedforwardandcuppedherfaceinherhands.Shedrewashakybreath.Whenshe

lookedupagain,shewasweeping–buthertearsweresmallpelletsofredgold.Sheweptuntilherhandswerefullofglitteringdroplets.‘Oh,Odur!’shesobbed.‘Whydidyouleaveme?Imissyoustill!’Shesniffledandnoddedtothemusicians.‘Thankyou,Dmitri.That’senough.’Dmitriandhisfriendsbowed.ThenthebestbandIwishedI’dneverheardofshuffledaway.

Freyaraisedhercuppedhands.Outofnowhere,aleatherpouchappeared,hoveringaboveherlap.Freyaspilledhertearsintothebag.‘Here,myson.’FreyapassedthepouchtoBlitzen.‘ThatshouldbeenoughpaymentifEitriJunior

isatallreasonable.’Blitzenstaredglumlyatthepouchoftears.‘Theonlyproblemis,he’snot.’‘Youwillsucceed!’Freyasaid.‘Thefateofmyearringsisinyourhands!’Iscratchedthebackofmyneck.‘Uh,LadyFreya…thanksforthetearsandall,butcouldn’tyou

justgotoNidavellirandpickoutyourownearrings?Imean,isn’tshoppinghalfthefun?’Blitzenshotmeawarninglook.Freya’sblueeyesturnedafewdegreescolder.Herfingertipstracedthefiligreeofhernecklace.

‘No,Magnus,Ican’tjustgoshoppinginNidavellir.YouknowwhathappenedwhenIboughtBrisingamenfromthedwarves.Doyouwantthattohappenagain?’Actually,Ihadnoideawhatshewastalkingabout,butshedidn’twaitforananswer.‘EverytimeIgotoNidavellir,Igetmyselfintrouble,’shesaid.‘It’snotmyfault!Thedwarves

knowmyweaknessforbeautifuljewellery.Believeme,it’smuchbetterthatIsendyou.Now,ifyou’llexcuseme,it’stimeforoureveningluauwithoptionalcombat.Goodbye,Magnus.Goodbye,mydarlingBlitzen!’Theflooropenedbeneathus,andwefellintodarkness.

FORTY

MyFriendEvolvedfroma–Nope.ICan’tSayIt

Idon’trememberlanding.Ifoundmyselfonadarkstreetonacold,cloudynight.Three-storeyterracedclapboardhouses

edgedthesidewalk.Attheendoftheblock,atavern’sgrimywindowsglowedwithneondrinksigns.‘ThisisSouthie,’Isaid.‘AroundDStreet.’Blitzenshookhishead.‘ThisisNidavellir,kid.ItlookslikeSouthBoston…orrather,South

Bostonlookslikeit.Itoldyou,Bostonisthenexus.TheNineWorldsblendtogetherthereandaffectoneanother.Southiehasadefinitedwarvishfeelingtoit.’‘IthoughtNidavellirwouldbeunderground.Withclaustrophobictunnelsand–’‘Kid,that’sacavernceilingaboveyourhead.It’sjustalongwayupandhiddenbyairpollution.

Wedon’thavedaytimehere.It’sthisdarkallthetime.’Istaredintothemurkyclouds.AfterbeinginFreya’srealm,theworldofthedwarvesseemed

oppressive,butitalsoseemedmorefamiliar,more…genuine.IguessnotrueBostonianwouldtrustaplacethatwassunnyandpleasantallthetime.Butagritty,perpetuallycoldandgloomyneighbourhood?ThrowinacoupleofDunkin’Donutslocations,andI’mrightathome.Blitzwrappedhispithhelmetinitsdarknetting.Thewholethingcollapsedintoasmallblack

handkerchief,whichhetuckedintohiscoatpocket.‘Weshouldgetgoing.’‘We’renotgoingtotalkaboutwhathappenedupthereinVolkswagen?’‘What’stheretosay?’‘Foronething,we’recousins.’Blitzshrugged.‘I’mhappytobeyourcousin,kid,butchildrenofthegodsdon’tputmuchstockin

thatsortofconnection.Godlyfamilylinesaresotangled–thinkingaboutitwilldriveyoucrazy.Everybody’srelatedtoeverybody.’‘Butyou’reademigod,’Isaid.‘That’sagoodthing,right?’‘Ihatetheworddemigod.Ipreferbornwithatargetonmyback.’‘Comeon,Blitz.Freyaisyourmom.That’simportantinformationyoukindaforgottomention.’‘Freyaismymother,’heagreed.‘AlotofsvartalfsaredescendedfromFreya.Downhere,it’snot

suchabigdeal.ShementionedhowshegotBrisingamen?AfewmillenniaagoshewasstrollingthroughNidavellir–whoknowswhy–andshecameacrossthesefourdwarveswhowerecraftingthenecklace.Shewasobsessed.Shehadtohaveit.Thedwarvessaidsure,fortherightprice.Freyahadtomarryeachofthem,oneaftertheother,foronedayeach.’‘She…’Iwantedtosay,Gross,shemarriedfourdwarves?ThenIrememberedwhowastellingthe

story.‘Oh.’‘Yeah.’Blitzsoundedmiserable.‘Shehadfourdwarvishchildren,oneforeachmarriage.’

Ifrowned.‘Wait.Ifshewasmarriedforonedaytoeachdwarfandapregnancylasts…themathsdoesn’tworkoutonthat.’‘Don’taskme.Goddesseslivebytheirownrules.Anyway,shegotthenecklace.Shewasashamed

ofherselfformarryingdwarves.Triedtokeepitasecret.Butthethingis,sheloveddwarvenjewellery.ShekeptcomingbacktoNidavellirtopickoutnewpieces,andeverytime…’‘Wow.’Blitzen’sshouldersslumped.‘That’sthemaindifferencebetweendarkelvesandregulardwarves.

ThesvartalfsaretallerandgenerallymorehandsomebecausewehaveVanirblood.We’redescendedfromFreya.YousayI’mademigod.IsayI’mareceipt.MydadcraftedapairofearringsforFreya.Shemarriedhimforaday.Shecouldn’tresisthiscraftsmanship.Hecouldn’tresistherbeauty.Nowshesendsmetopurchaseanewpairofearringsbecauseshe’stiredoftheoldonesandAsgardforbidshefindherselfsaddledwithanotherlittleBlitzen.’Thebitternessinhisvoicecould’vemeltedironplating.IwantedtotellhimIunderstoodhowhe

felt,butIwasn’tsureIdid.EvenifIneverknewmydad,I’dhadmymom.Thathadalwaysbeenenoughforme.ForBlitzen…notsomuch.Iwasn’tsurewhathadhappenedtohisfather,butIrememberedwhathe’dtoldmeattheEsplanadelagoon:You’renottheonlyonewho’slostfamilytothewolves,kid.‘Comeon,’hetoldme.‘Ifwestandinthestreetanylonger,we’llgetmuggedforthisbagoftears.

Dwarvescansmellredgoldamileaway.’Hepointedtothebaronthecorner.‘I’llbuyyouadrinkatNabbi’sTavern.’

Nabbi’srestoredmyfaithindwarves,becauseitwasinfactaclaustrophobictunnel.Theceilingwasalow-clearancehazard.ThewallswerepaperedwitholdfightposterslikeDONNERTHEDESTROYERVS.MINI-MURDERER,ONENIGHTONLY!featuringpicturesofmuscular,snarlingdwarvesinwrestlingmasks.Mismatchedtablesandchairswereoccupiedbyadozenmismatcheddwarves–somesvartalfslike

Blitzenwhocouldeasilyhavepassedforhuman,somemuchshorterguyswhocouldhaveeasilypassedforgardengnomes.Afewofthepatronsglancedatus,butnobodyseemedshockedthatIwasahuman…iftheyevenrealized.TheideathatIcouldpassforadwarfwasprettydisturbing.ThemostunrealthingaboutthebarwasTaylorSwift’s‘BlankSpace’blastingfromthespeakers.‘Dwarveslikehumanmusic?’IaskedBlitzen.‘Youmeanhumanslikeourmusic.’‘But…’IhadasuddenimageofTaylorSwift’smomandFreyahavingagirls’nightoutin

Nidavellir.‘Nevermind.’Aswemadeourwaytowardsthebar,Irealizedthatthefurniturewasn’tjustmismatched.Every

singletableandchairwasunique–apparentlyhandcraftedfromvariousmetals,withdifferentdesignsandupholstery.Onetablewasshapedlikeabronzewagonwheelwithaglasstop.Anotherhadatinandbrasschessboardhammeredintothesurface.Somechairshadwheels.Othershadadjustableboosterseats.Somehadmassagecontrolsorpropellersontheback.Overbytheleftwall,threedwarveswereplayingdarts.Theboard’sringsrotatedandblewsteam.

Onedwarftossedhisdart,whichbuzzedtowardsthetargetlikeatinydrone.Whileitwasstillin

flight,anotherdwarftookashot.Hisdartrocketedtowardsthedronedartandexploded,knockingitoutoftheair.Thefirstdwarfjustgrunted.‘Niceshot.’Finallywereachedthepolishedoakbar,whereNabbihimselfwaswaiting.Icouldtellwhohewas

becauseofmyhighlytraineddeductivemind,andalsobecausehisstainedyellowapronread:HI!I’MNABBI.IthoughthewasthetallestdwarfI’dmetsofaruntilIrealizedhewasstandingonacatwalkbehind

thecounter.Nabbiwasactuallyonlytwofeettall,includingtheshockofblackhairthatstuckupfromhisscalplikeaseaurchin.Hisclean-shavenfacemademeappreciatewhydwarveswearbeards.Withoutone,Nabbiwasgods-awfulugly.Hehadnochintospeakof.Hismouthpuckeredsourly.Hescowledatuslikewe’dtrackedinmud.‘Greetings,Blitzen,sonofFreya,’hesaid.‘Noexplosionsinmybarthistime,Ihope?’Blitzenbowed.‘Greetings,Nabbi,sonofLoretta.Tobefair,Iwasn’ttheonewhobroughtthe

grenades.Also,thisismyfriendMagnus,sonof–’‘Um.SonofNatalie.’Nabbinoddedtome.Hisbusyeyebrowswerefascinating.Theyseemedtomovelikelive

caterpillars.Ireachedforabarstool,butBlitzenstoppedme.‘Nabbi,’hesaidformally,‘maymyfriendusethisstool?Whatisitsnameandhistory?’‘ThatstoolisRear-Rester,’saidNabbi.‘CraftedbyGonda.Onceitheldthetushofthemastersmith

Alviss.Useitincomfort,Magnus,sonofNatalie.And,Blitzen,youmaysitonKeister-Home,famedamongstools,madebyyourstruly.ItsurvivedtheGreatBarFightof4109A.M.!’‘Mythanks.’Blitzenclimbedontohisstool,whichwaspolishedoakwithavelvet-paddedseat.‘A

fineKeister-Homeitis!’Nabbilookedatmeexpectantly.Itriedmystool,whichwashardsteelwithnocushion.Itwasn’t

muchofaRear-Rester.ItwasmoreofaMagnus-Mangler,butItriedforasmile.‘Yep,that’sanicestoolallright!’Blitzenrappedhisknucklesonthebar.‘Meadforme,Nabbi.Andformyfriend–’‘Uh,sodaorsomething?’Iwasn’tsureIwantedtobewalkingaroundDwarvenSouthiewitha

meadbuzz.Nabbifilledtwomugsandsettheminfrontofus.Blitzen’sgobletwasgoldontheinside,silveron

theoutside,decoratedwithimagesofdancingdwarfwomen.‘ThatcupisGoldenBowl,’saidNabbi.‘Madebymyfather,Darbi.Andthisone–’henudgedmy

pewtertankard–‘isBoomDaddy,madebyyourstruly.Alwaysaskforarefillbeforeyoureachthebottomofthecup.Otherwise–’hesplayedhisfingers–‘boom,Daddy!’Ireallyhopedhewaskidding,butIdecidedtotakesmallsips.Blitzdrankhismead.‘Mmm.Afinecupforquaffing!Andnowthatwearepasttheformalities,

Nabbi…weneedtospeakwithJunior.’AveinthrobbedinNabbi’slefttemple.‘Doyouhaveadeathwish?’Blitzreachedintohispouch.Heslidasinglered-goldtearacrossthecounter.‘Thisoneisforyou,’

hesaidinalowvoice.‘Justformakingthecall.TellJuniorwehavemore.Allwewantisachanceto

barter.’AftermyexperiencewithRan,thewordbartermademeevenmoreuncomfortablethanRear-

Rester.NabbilookedbackandforthbetweenBlitzenandthetear,hisexpressionvacillatingbetweenapprehensionandgreed.Finallythegreedwon.Thebarkeepersnatchedthedropofgold.‘I’llmakethecall.Enjoyyourdrinks.’Heclimbedoffhiscatwalkanddisappearedintothekitchen.IturnedtoBlitz.‘Afewquestions.’Hechuckled.‘Onlyafew?’‘Whatdoes4109A.M.mean?Isitthetime,or–’‘Dwarvescountyearsfromthecreationofourspecies,’Blitzsaid.‘A.M.isAfterMaggots.’IdecidedmyearsmuststillbedefectivefromRatatosk’sbarking.‘Saywhat?’‘Thecreationoftheworld…Comeon,youknowthestory.Thegodskilledthelargestofthe

giants,Ymir,andusedhisfleshtocreateMidgard.NidavellirdevelopedunderMidgard,wheremaggotsateintothegiant’sdeadfleshandcreatedtunnels.Someofthosemaggotsevolved,withalittlehelpfromthegods,intodwarves.’Blitzenlookedproudofthishistoricaltidbit.Idecidedtodomybesttoeraseitfrommylong-term

memory.‘Differentquestion,’Isaid.‘Whydoesmygoblethaveaname?’‘Dwarvesarecraftsmen,’saidBlitzen.‘We’reseriousaboutthethingswemake.Youhumans–you

makeathousandcrappychairsthatalllookalikeandallbreakwithinayear.Whenwemakeachair,wemakeonechairtolastalifetime,achairunlikeanyotherintheworld.Cups,furniture,weapons…everycrafteditemhasasoulandaname.Youcan’tappreciatesomethingunlessit’sgoodenoughforaname.’Istudiedmytankard,whichwaspainstakinglyengravedwithrunesandwavedesigns.Iwishedit

hadadifferentname–likeNoWayWillIExplode–butIhadtoadmititwasanicecup.‘AndcallingNabbisonofLoretta?’Iasked.‘OrmethesonofNatalie?’‘Dwarvesarematriarchal.Wetraceourlineagethroughourmothers.Again,itmakesmuchmore

sensethanyourpatrilinealway.Afterall,onecanonlybebornfromasinglebiologicalmother.UnlessyouarethegodHeimdall.Hehadninebiologicalmothers.Butthat’sanotherstory.’Synapsesmeltedinmybrain.‘Let’smovealong.Freya’stears…redgold?Samtoldmethat’sthe

currencyofAsgard.’‘Yes.ButFreya’stearsareonehundredpercentpure.Thefinestredgoldincreation.Forthepouch

oftearswe’recarrying,mostdwarveswouldgivetheirrighteyeballs.’‘SothisguyJunior–he’llbargainwithus?’‘Eitherthat,’Blitzsaid,‘orhe’llchopusintosmallpieces.Youwantsomenachoswhilewewait?’

FORTY-ONE

BlitzMakesaBadDeal

IhadtohandittoNabbi.Heservedgoodnear-deathnachos.Iwashalfwaythroughmyplateofguacamole-enhancedtastinesswhenJuniorshowedup.Onfirst

sight,IwonderedifitwouldbefasterjusttodrainBoomDaddyandgoboom,becauseIdidn’tlikeourchancesofbarteringwiththeolddwarf.Juniorlookedabouttwohundredyearsold.Scrapsofgreyhairclungtohisliver-spottedhead.His

beardgavescragglyabadname.Hismaliciousbrowneyesflittedaroundthebarasifhewerethinking,Ihatethat.Ihatethat.AndIreallyhatethat.Hewasn’tphysicallyintimidating,shufflingalongwithhisgold-platedwalker,buthewasflankedbyapairofdwarvenbodyguards,eachsoburlythattheycould’vebeenusedasNFLtackledummies.Theothercustomersgotupandquietlyleft,likeinascenefromanoldWestern.BlitzenandIboth

stood.‘Junior.’Blitzbowed.‘Thankyouformeetingwithus.’‘Somenerve,’Juniorsnarled.‘Wouldyoulikemyseat?’Blitzenoffered.‘ItisKeister-Home,madeby–’‘No,thanks,’Juniorsaid.‘I’llstand,complimentsofmywalker,GrannyShuffler,famousamong

geriatricproducts,madebyNurseBambi,myprivateassistant.’Ibittheinsideofmycheek.Idoubtedthatlaughingwouldbegooddiplomacy.‘ThisisMagnus,sonofNatalie,’Blitzensaid.Theolddwarfglaredatme.‘Iknowwhoheis.FoundtheSwordofSummer.Youcouldn’twait

untilafterIdied?I’mtoooldforthisRagnaroknonsense.’‘Mybad,’Isaid.‘IshouldhavecheckedwithyoubeforeIgotattackedbySurtandsenttoValhalla.’Blitzencoughed.ThebodyguardsappraisedmelikeImighthavejustmadetheirdaymore

interesting.Juniorcackled.‘Ilikeyou.You’rerude.Let’sseethisblade,then.’Ishowedhimmymagic-pendanttrick.Inthedimneonlightsofthebar,theblade’srunesglowed

orangeandgreen.Theolddwarfsuckedhisteeth.‘That’sFrey’sblade,allright.Badnews.’‘Then,perhaps,’Blitzensaid,‘you’llbewillingtohelpus?’‘Helpyou?’Juniorwheezed.‘Yourfatherwasmynemesis!Youbesmirchedmyreputation.Andyou

wantmyhelp.You’vegotironguts,Blitzen,I’llgiveyouthat.’ThetendonsinBlitz’snecklookedliketheymightbusthiswell-starchedcollar.‘Thisisn’tabout

ourfamilyfeud,Junior.Thisisabouttherope.It’saboutsecuringFenrisWolf.’

‘Oh,ofcourseitis.’Juniorsneeredathisbodyguards.‘Thefactthatmyfather,EitriSenior,wastheonlydwarftalentedenoughtomakeGleipnir,andyourfather,Bilì,spenthislifequestioningthequalityoftherope–thathasnothingtodowithit!’Blitzenclenchedhispouchofred-goldtears.IwasafraidhemightsmackJuniorupsidethehead

withit.‘TheSwordofSummerisrighthere.InjustsixMidgardiannights,SurtisplanningtofreetheWolf.We’regoingtodoourbesttostophim,butyouknowtheropeGleipnirisbeyonditsexpirationdate.WeneedinformationabouttheWolf’sbindings.Moreimportantly,weneedareplacementropejustincase.Onlyyouhavethetalenttomakeone.’Juniorcuppedhisear.‘Saythatlastpartagain.’‘You’retalented,youcrustyold–’Blitzenstopped.‘Onlyyouhavetheskilltomakeanewrope.’‘True.’Juniorsmirked.‘ItsohappensIhaveareplacementropealreadymade.Notbecauseofany

problemswithGleipnir,mindyou,orbecauseofanyofyourfamily’sscandalousaccusationsaboutitsquality–justbecauseIliketobeprepared.Unlikeyourfather,Imightadd,goingoffalonetocheckonFenrisWolflikeanidiotandgettinghimselfkilled.’IhadtostepinfrontofBlitzentokeephimfromattackingtheolddwarf.‘Okay,then!’Isaid.‘Guys,thisisn’tthetime.Junior,ifyou’vegotanewrope,that’sgreat.Let’s

talkprice.And,um,we’llalsoneedanicesetofearrings.’‘Heh.’Juniorwipedhismouth.‘Ofcourseyouwill.ForBlitzen’smother,nodoubt.Whatareyou

offeringinpayment?’‘Blitzen,’Isaid,‘showhim.’Blitz’seyesstilldancedwithrage,butheopenedthepouchandspilledsomered-goldtearsintohis

palm.‘Huh,’saidJunior.‘Anacceptableprice…oritwouldbe,ifitwasn’tfromBlitzen.I’llsellyou

whatyouwantforthatpouchoftears,butfirstmyfamily’shonourmustbesatisfied.It’shightimewesettledthisfeud.Whatdoyousay,sonofFreya?Acontest–youandme.Thetraditionalrules,thetraditionalwager.’Blitzenbackedintothebar.HesquirmedsobadlyIcouldalmostbelievehehadevolvedfrom

maggots.(ERASE.Bad,long-termmemory.ERASE!)‘Junior,’hesaid,‘youknowIdon’t–Icouldn’tpossibly–’‘Shallwesaytomorrowatmossglow?’Juniorasked.‘Thepanelofjudgescanbeheadedbya

neutralparty–perhapsNabbi,whoI’msureisnoteavesdroppingbehindthebarrightnow.’Somethingbangedagainstthecatwalk.Frombelowthecounter,Nabbi’smuffledvoicesaid,‘I

wouldbehonoured.’‘Thereyouare,then!’Juniorsmiled.‘Well,Blitzen?Ihavechallengedyouaccordingtoour

ancientcustoms.Willyoudefendthehonourofyourfamily?’‘I…’Blitzenhunghishead.‘Whereshouldwemeet?’‘TheforgesinKenningSquare,’Juniorsaid.‘Oh,thiswillbeamusing.Comeon,boys.Ihaveto

tellNurseBambiaboutit!’Theolddwarfshuffledoutwithhisbodyguardsintow.Assoonastheyweregone,Blitzen

collapsedonKeister-HomeanddrainedGoldenBowl.

Nabbiemergedfrombehindthecounter.HiscaterpillareyebrowswriggledwithconcernasherefilledBlitz’sgoblet.‘Thisone’sonthehouse,Blitzen.It’sbeenniceknowingyou.’Hewentbacktothekitchen,leavingBlitzandmealonewithTaylorSwiftsinging‘IKnowPlaces’.

Thelyricstookonawholenewmeaninginasubterraneandwarfworld.‘Areyougoingtoexplainwhatjusthappened?’IaskedBlitz.‘Whatisthiscontestatmossglow?

Also,whatismossglow?’‘Mossglow…’Blitzenstaredintohiscup.‘Dwarfversionofdawn,whenthemossbeginstoglow.

Asforthecontest…’Heswallowedbackasob.‘It’snothing.I’msureyou’llbeabletocontinuethequestwithoutme.’Justthenthebar-roomdoorsburstopen.SamandHearthstonetumbledinsidelikethey’dbeen

pushedfromamovingcar.‘They’realive!’Ijumpedup.‘Blitz,look!’Hearthstonewassoexcitedhecouldn’tevensign.HerushedoverandalmosttackledBlitzenoffhis

stool.‘Hey,buddy.’Blitzpattedhisbackabsently.‘Yeah,I’mgladtoseeyou,too.’Samdidn’thugme,butshemanagedasmile.Shewasscratchedupandcoveredwithleavesand

twigs,butshedidn’tlookbadlyhurt.‘Magnus,gladyouhaven’tdiedyet.Iwanttobethereforthat.’‘Thanks,al-Abbas.Whathappenedtoyouguys?’Sheshrugged.‘Wehidunderthehijabaslongaswecould.’Withalltheotherstuffgoingon,I’dforgottenaboutthescarf.‘Yeah,whatwasthatabout?You’ve

gotaninvisibilityhijab?’‘Itdoesn’tmakemeinvisible.It’sjustcamouflage.AllValkyriesaregivenswancloakstohelpus

hidewhennecessary.Ijustmademineahijab.’‘Butyouweren’taswan.Youweretreemoss.’‘Itcandodifferentthings.Anyway,wewaiteduntilthesquirrelleft.Thebarkingleftmeinbad

shape,but,thankfully,Hearthwasn’taffected.WeclimbedYggdrasilforawhile–’Amoosetriedtoeatus,Hearthsigned.‘Excuseme?’Iasked.‘Amoose?’Hearthgruntedinexasperation.Hespelledout:D-E-E-R.Samesignforbothanimals.‘Oh,that’smuchbetter,’Isaid.‘Adeertriedtoeatyou.’‘Yes,’Samagreed.‘DvalinnormaybeDuneyrr–oneofthestagsthatroamtheWorldTree.Wegot

away,tookawrongturnintoAlfheim…’Hearthstoneshuddered,thensimplysigned,Hate.‘Andhereweare.’SameyedBlitzen,whoseexpressionwasstillblankwithshock.‘So…what’s

goingon?’ItoldthemaboutourvisitwithFreya,thenourconversationwithJunior.Hearthstonesteadied

himselfonthebar.Hespelledwithonehand:M-a-k-i-n-g?Thenheshookhisheadvehemently.‘Whatdoyoumean,making?’Iasked.‘Amaking,’Blitzmutteredintohisgoblet,‘isthedwarvencontest.Ittestsourcraftingskills.’Samtappedherfingersonheraxe.‘Judgingfromyourexpression,I’mguessingyoudon’ttrust

yourskills.’

‘Iamrubbishatcrafting,’Blitzensaid.Nottrue,Hearthprotested.‘Hearthstone,’Blitzensaid,‘evenifIwasexcellentatcrafting,Junioristhemostskilleddwarf

alive.He’lldestroyme.’‘Comeon,’Isaid.‘You’lldofine.Andifyoulosewe’llfindanotherwaytogetthatrope.’Blitzenlookedatmemournfully.‘It’sworsethanthat,kid.IfIlose,Ipaythetraditionalprice:my

head.’

FORTY-TWO

WeHaveaPre-DecapitationParty,withSpringRolls

CrashingatBlitzen’sapartmentwasthehighpointofourtrip.Notthatthatwassayingmuch.BlitzrentedthethirdfloorofaterracedhouseacrossthestreetfromSvartalfMart(yes,that’sa

realthing).Consideringthefactthathewasduetobedecapitatedthenextday,hewasagoodhost.Heapologizedfornotcleaningup(thoughtheplacelookedspotlesstome),microwavedsomespringrollsandbroughtoutalitreofDietSergeantPepperandasix-packofFjalar ’sFoamingMead,eachbottleuniquelyhandcraftedinadifferentcolourofglass.Hisfurniturewassparebutstylish:anL-shapedsofaandtwospace-agearmchairs.Theyprobably

hadnamesandwerefamousamongliving-roomfurniture,butBlitzendidn’tintroducethem.Neatlyarrangedonthecoffeetablewasaspreadofdwarfmen’sfashionandinterior-designmagazines.WhileSamandHearthsatwithBlitz,tryingtoconsolehim,Ipacedtheroom.Ifeltangryand

guiltythatI’dputBlitzeninsuchatightspot.He’dalreadyriskedenoughforme.He’dspenttwoyearsonthestreetswatchingoutformewhenhecould’vebeenhere,kickingbackwithspringrollsandfoamingmead.He’dtriedtoprotectmebyattackingthelordofthefiregiantswithatoysign.Nowhewasgoingtolosehisheadinacraft-offwithanevilseniorcitizen.Also…thedwarvenphilosophyofcraftinghadunsettledme.InMidgard,mostthingswere

breakable,replaceablejunk.I’dlivedoffthatjunkforthelasttwoyears–pickingthroughwhatpeoplediscarded,findingbitsIcoulduseorselloratleastmakeafirewith.IwonderedwhatitwouldbelikelivinginNidavellir,whereeveryitemwascraftedtobealifetime

workofart–rightdowntoyourcuporyourchair.Itmightgetannoyingtohavetorecitethedeedsofyourshoesbeforeyouputthemoninthemorning,butatleastyou’dknowtheywereamazingshoes.IwonderedabouttheSwordofSummer.Freyahadtoldmetobefriendit.She’dimpliedthatthe

weaponhadthoughtsandfeelings.Everycrafteditemhasasoul,Blitzhadtoldme.MaybeIhadn’tproperlyintroducedmyself.MaybeIneededtotreattheswordlikeanother

companion…‘Blitz,youmusthaveaspeciality,’Samirahwassaying.‘Whatdidyoustudyintradeschool?’‘Fashion.’Blitzensniffled.‘Idesignedmyowndegreeprogramme.Butclothingisn’tarecognized

craft.They’llexpectmetohammermolteningotsortinkerwithmachinery!I’mnogoodatthat!’Youare,Hearthsigned.‘Notunderpressure,’Blitzsaid.‘Idon’tgetit,’Isaid.‘Whydoestheloserhavetodie?Howdotheydecidethewinner?’

BlitzenstaredatthecoverofDwarfQuarterly–NewLooksforSpring!100UsesforWargLeather!‘Eachcontestantmakesthreeitems.Theycanbeanything.Attheendoftheday,thejudgesrateeachitemaccordingtoitsusefulness,beauty,quality,whatever.Theycanassignpointsanywaytheywish.Thecontestantwiththemostoverallpointswins.Theotherguydies.’‘Youmustnothavealotofcompetitions,’Isaid,‘iftheloseralwaysgetsdecapitated.’‘That’sthetraditionalwager,’Blitzsaid.‘Mostpeopledon’tinsistonitanymore.Juniorisold-

fashioned.Also,hehatesme.’‘SomethingaboutFenrisWolfandyourdad?’Hearthshookhisheadtoshutmeup,butBlitzenpattedhisknee.‘It’sokay,buddy.Theydeserveto

know.’Blitzleanedbackonthesofa.Heseemedsuddenlycalmerabouthisimpendingdoom,whichI

foundunsettling.Ikindofwantedhimtobepunchingwalls.‘Itoldyoudwarvenitemsaremadeforlife?’hesaid.‘Well…lifetimeforadwarfcanmean

hundredsofyears.’IstudiedBlitz’sbeard,wonderingifhedyedoutthegreywhiskers.‘Howoldareyou?’‘Twenty,’Blitzsaid.‘ButJunior…he’sgoingonfivehundred.Hisdad,Eitri,wasoneofthemost

famouscraftsmenindwarvenhistory.Helivedoverathousandyears,madesomeofthegods’mostimportantitems.’Samirahnibbledonaspringroll.‘EvenI’veheardofhim.He’sintheoldstories.HemadeThor ’s

hammer.’Blitznodded.‘Anyway,theropeGleipnir…youcouldargueitwashismostimportantwork,even

morethanThor ’shammer.TheropekeepsFenrisWolffromgettingfreeandstartingDoomsday.’‘I’mwithyousofar,’Isaid.‘Thethingis–theropewasarushjob.Thegodswereclamouringforhelp.They’dalreadytriedto

bindFenriswithtwomassivechains.Theyknewtheirwindowofopportunitywasclosing.TheWolfwasgettingstrongerandwilderbytheday.Prettysoonhe’dbeuncontrollable.SoEitri…well,hedidhisbest.Obviously,theropehasheldtogetherthislong.Butathousandyearsisalongtime,evenforadwarvenrope,especiallywhenthestrongestwolfintheuniverseisstrainingagainstitdayandnight.Mydad,Bilì,wasagreatropemaker.HespentyearstryingtoconvinceJuniorthatGleipnirneededtobereplaced.Juniorwouldn’thearofit.JuniorsaidhewenttotheWolf’sislandfromtimetotimetoinspecttherope,andhesworethatGleipnirwasfine.Hethoughtmydadwasjustinsultinghisfamily’sreputation.Finallymydad…’Blitz’svoicecracked.Hearthstonesigned,Youdon’thavetotell.‘I’mokay.’Blitzenclearedhisthroat.‘Juniorusedallhisinfluencetoturnpeopleagainstmydad.

Ourfamilylostbusiness.NobodywouldbuyBilì’scrafts.FinallyDadwenttotheislandofLyngvihimself.Hewantedtochecktherope,provethatitneededreplacing.Henevercameback.Monthslateradwarvenpatrolfound…’Helookeddownandshookhishead.Hearthstonesigned,Clothes.Ripped.Washeduponshore.EitherSamirahwascatchingontosignlanguageorshegotthegeneralidea.Sheputherfingertips

tohermouth.‘Blitz,I’msosorry.’

‘Well–’heshruggedlistlessly–‘nowyouknow.Juniorisstillholdingagrudge.Mydad’sdeathwasn’tenough.Hewantstoshameandkillme,too.’Isetmydrinkonthecoffeetable.‘Blitz,IthinkIspeakforallofuswhenIsaythatJuniorcan

shovehisGrannyShuffler–’‘Magnus…’Samwarned.‘What?Thatolddwarfneedstobedecapitatedintheworstway.WhatcanwedotohelpBlitzwin

thecontest?’‘Iappreciateit,kid.’Blitzstruggledtohisfeet.‘Butthere’snothing.I…ifyou’llexcuseme…’Hestaggeredtohisbedroomandshutthedoorbehindhim.Samirahpursedherlips.ShestillhadatwigofYggdrasilstickingoutofhercoatpocket.‘Isthere

anychanceJuniorisn’tthatgood?He’sveryoldnow,isn’the?’Hearthstoneunwrappedhisscarfandthrewitonthecouch.Hewasn’tdoingwellinthedarknessof

Nidavellir.Thegreenveinsonhisneckstoodoutmorethanusual.Hishairfloatedwithstatic,likeplanttendrilssearchingforsunlight.Juniorisverygood.Hemadeasignlikerippingapieceofpaperinhalfandthrowingawaythe

pieces:Hopeless.IfeltlikethrowingbottlesofFjalar ’sFoamingMeadoutofthewindow.‘ButBlitzcancraft,right?

Orwereyoujustbeingencouraging?’Hearthrose.Hewalkedtoasideboardalongthedining-roomwall.Ihadn’tpaidthetablemuch

attention,butHearthpressedsomethingonitssurface–ahiddenswitch,Iguess–andthetabletopopenedlikeaclamshell.Theundersideofthetopsectionwasonebiglightpanel.Itflickeredtolife,glowingwarmandgolden.‘Atanningbed.’AssoonasIsaidthat,thetruthsankin.‘WhenyoufirstcametoNidavellir,Blitzen

savedyourlife.That’show.Hemadeawayforyoutogetsunlight.’Hearthnodded.FirsttimeIusedrunesformagic.Mistake.IdroppedintoNidavellir.Almostdied.

Blitzen–hecancraft.Kindandsmart.Butnogoodunderpressure.Contests…no.Samhuggedherknees.‘Sowhatdowedo?Doyouhaveanymagicthatwillhelp?’Hearthhesitated.Some.Willusebeforecontest.Notenough.ItranslatedforSamandthenasked,‘WhatcanIdo?’Protecthim,Hearthsigned.Juniorwilltrytos-a-b-o-t-a-g-e.‘Sabotage?’Ifrowned.‘Isn’tthatcheating?’‘I’veheardaboutthis,’Samsaid.‘Indwarvencontests,youcanmesswithyourcompetitoraslong

asyouaren’tcaught.Theinterferencehastolooklikeanaccident,oratleastsomethingthejudgescan’ttracebacktoyou.ButitsoundslikeJuniordoesn’tneedtocheattowin.’Hewillcheat.Hearthmadeasignlikeahookswingingintoalatch.Spite.‘Okay,’Isaid.‘I’llkeepBlitzsafe.’Stillnotenough.HearthpeeredatSam.Onlywaytowin–messwithJunior.WhenItoldSamwhathe’dsigned,sheturnedasgreyasadwarfinsunlight.‘No.’Shewaggedher

fingeratHearth.‘No,absolutelynot.Itoldyou.’Blitzwilldie,Hearthsigned.Youdiditbefore.‘What’shetalkingabout?’Iasked.‘Whatdidyoudobefore?’

Shegottoherfeet.ThetensionintheroomwassuddenlyatDEFCONTwo.‘Hearthstone,yousaidyouwouldn’tmentionit.Youpromised.’Shefacedme,herexpressionshuttingdownanyfurtherquestions.‘Excuseme.Ineedsomeair.’Shestormedoutoftheapartment.IstaredatHearthstone.‘Whatwasthat?’Hisshouldersslumped.Hisfacewasempty,drainedofhope.Hesigned,Amistake.Thenhe

climbedontohissunbedandturnedtowardsthelight,hisbodycastingawolf-shapedshadowacrossthefloor.

FORTY-THREE

LettheCraftingofDecorativeMetalWaterfowlBegin

Kenningsquarelookedlikeabasketballcourtwithoutthebaskets.Achain-linkfenceborderedastretchofcrackedasphalt.Alongonesidestoodarowofstonepillarscarvedliketotempoleswithdragonheads,centipedesandtrollfaces.Alongtheotherside,bleacherswerepackedwithdwarfspectators.Onthecourt,wherethefree-throwlineswould’vebeen,twoopen-airblacksmithshopswerereadyforaction.Eachhadaforgewithbellowstostokethefire,anassortmentofanvils,afewsturdytablesandracksoftoolsthatlookedliketortureequipment.Thecrowdseemedpreparedforalongday.They’dbroughtcoolers,blanketsandpicnicbaskets.A

fewenterprisingdwarveshadparkedtheirfoodtrucksnearby.ThesignforÌRI’SHANDCRAFTEDCONFECTIONSshowedawaffleconetoppedwithathree-storeyice-creampalace.BUMBURR’S

BREAKFASTBURRITOShadalinetwentydwarveslong,whichmademesorryI’deatenstaledoughnutsatBlitz’splace.Asweapproachedthecourt,thecrowdgaveBlitzenasmatteringofapplause.Samwasnowhereto

beseen.She’dnevercomebacktotheapartmentthepreviousnight.Iwasn’tsurewhethertobeworriedorangry.Juniorwaswaiting,leaningonhisgold-platedwalker.Histwobodyguardsstoodbehindhim,

dressedliketheirbossinoverallsandleathergauntlets.‘Well,well,Blitzen.’Theolddwarfsneered.‘Mossglowstartedtenminutesago.Wereyougetting

yourbeautysleep?’Blitzenlookedlikehehadn’tsleptatall.Hiseyesweresunkenandbloodshot.He’dspentthepast

hourworryingaboutwhattowear,finallydecidingongreyslacks,asmartwhiteshirtwithblackbraces,pointyblackshoesandapork-piehat.Hemightnotwinforhiscrafting,buthewoulddefinitelygetthevoteforbest-dressedblacksmith.Heglancedarounddistractedly.‘Getstarted?’Thecrowdcheered.HearthstoneaccompaniedBlitzentotheforge.AfteranightonBlitzen’s

tanningbed,theelf’sfacehadarosysheenasifhe’dbeeninfusedwithpaprika.Beforewelefttheapartment,he’dcastaruneonBlitztohelphimfeelrestedandfocused,whichhadleftHearthexhaustedandunfocused.Nevertheless,HearthstokedtheforgewhileBlitzenputteredaroundhisworkstation,staringinconfusionattheracksoftoolsandbasketsofmetalore.MeanwhileJuniorscootedaroundonhiswalker,barkingatoneofhisbodyguardstofetchhima

lumpofironandasackofbonechips.Theotherbodyguardstoodwatch,scanningforanythingthatmightdisrupthisboss’swork.ItriedtodothesameforBlitz,butIdoubtedIlookedasintimidatingasamusculardwarfin

overalls.(And,yes,thatwasdepressing.)

Afteraboutanhour,myinitialadrenalinerushworeoff.Ibegantorealizewhythespectatorshadbroughtpicniclunches.Craftingwasnotafast-movingsport.EveryonceinawhilethecrowdwouldclapormurmurapprovinglywhenJuniorstruckagoodhitwithhishammer,orplungedapieceofmetalintothecoolingvatwithasatisfyinghiss.Nabbiandtwootherjudgespacedbackandforthbetweentheworkstations,scribblingnotesontheirclipboards.But,forme,mostofthethemorningwasspentstandingaroundwiththeSwordofSummerinmyhand,tryingnottolooklikeafool.AcoupleoftimesIhadtodomyjob.Onceadartshotoutofnowhere,headingforBlitzen.The

SwordofSummerleapedintoaction.BeforeIevenknewwhatwashappening,thebladeslicedthedartoutoftheair.Thecrowdapplauded,whichwouldhavebeengratifyingifI’dactuallydoneanything.Alittlelater,arandomdwarfchargedmefromthesidelines,swinginganaxeandscreaming,

‘BLOOD!’Ihithimintheheadwiththehiltofmysword.Hecollapsed.Morepoliteapplause.Acoupleofbystandershauledthedwarfawaybyhisankles.Juniorwasbusyhammeringoutared-hotironcylinderthesizeofashotgunbarrel.He’dalready

craftedadozensmallermechanismsthatIguessedwouldfittogetherwiththecylinder,butIcouldn’ttellwhatthefinalproductwassupposedtobe.Theolddwarf’swalkerdidn’tslowhimdownatall.Hehadsometroubleshufflingaround,buthecouldstandinoneplacejustfine.Despitehisage,hisarmmuscleswererippedfromalifetimeofswinginghammersatanvils.Meanwhile,Blitzenhunchedoverhisworktablewithapairofneedle-nosepliers,connectingthin

sheetsofcurvedmetalintosomekindoffigurine.Hearthstonestoodnearby,drenchedwithsweatfromworkingthebellows.ItriednottoworryabouthowexhaustedHearthlooked,orwhereSamwas,orhowmanytimes

Blitzendroppedhistoolsandweptoverhisproject.FinallyNabbiyelled,‘Tenminutesuntilmid-morningbreak!’Blitzensobbed.Heattachedanothersheetofmetaltohisproject,whichwasstartingtoresemblea

duck.Mostofthecrowdfocusedontheotherworkstation,whereJuniorwasattachingvarious

mechanismstothecylinder.Hehobbledtotheforgeandreheatedthewholecontraptionuntilitwasglowingred.Carefully,hesetthecylinderagainsttheanvil,holdingitsteadywithhistongs.Heraisedhis

hammer.Justashestruck,somethingwentwrong.Juniorscreamed.Thehammerwentaskew,flatteningthe

cylinderandsendingattachmentsflyingeverywhere.Juniorstaggeredbackwards,hishandscuppedoverhisface.Hisbodyguardsrushedtohisaid,crying,‘What?Whatisit?’Icouldn’thearthewholeconversation,butapparentlysomekindofinsecthadbittenJunior

betweentheeyes.‘Didyougetit?’askedoneoftheguards.‘No!Thelittlepestflewoff!Quick,beforethecylindercools–’‘Time!’shoutedNabbi.Juniorstompedhisfootandcursed.Heglaredathisruinedprojectandyelledathisbodyguards.

IwenttocheckonBlitzen,whosatslumpedonhisanvil.Hispork-piehatwaspushedbackonhishead.Hisleftbracehadsnapped.‘Howyoudoing,champ?’Iasked.‘Horrible.’Hegesturedathisproject.‘Imadeaduck.’‘Yeah…’Isearchedforacompliment.‘It’sareallyniceduck.That’sthebill,right?Andthoseare

thewings?’Hearthstonesatnexttousontheasphalt.Ducks,hesigned.Alwaysducks.‘I’msorry,’Blitzmoaned.‘WhenI’mstressed,Idefaulttowaterfowl.Idon’tknowwhy.’‘Noworries,’Isaid.‘Juniorhadasetback.Hisfirstprojectisprettymuchruined.’Blitztriedtobrushthecindersoffhiswhiteshirt.‘Itdoesn’tmatter.Junior ’sfirstitemisalwayshis

warm-up.He’sgottwomorechancestodestroyme.’‘Hey,noneofthat.’Irummagedthroughoursupplybagandhandedoutcanteensofwaterand

somepeanut-buttercrackers.Hearthstoneatelikeastarvingelf.Thenhesatbackandshoneaflashlightonhisface,tryingto

absorbtherays.Blitzenbarelysippedhiswater.‘Ineverwantedthis,’Blitzmurmured.‘Craftingcontests,magicitems.AllIeverwantedwasto

designqualityclothingandsellitatreasonablepricesinmyownstore.’Istaredathissweat-stainedcollarandthoughtaboutwhatFreyahadsaid:Blitzenisageniusat

fabricsandfashion.Theotherdwarvesdon’tappreciatehisexpertise,butIthinkit’smarvellous.‘That’syourdream,’Irealized.‘That’swhyyoudrankfromMimir ’sWell–tofindouthowto

openaclothingshop?’Blitzenscowled.‘Itwasmorethanthat.Iwantedtofollowmydream.Iwantedotherdwarvesto

stoplaughingatme.Iwantedtoavengemyfather ’sdeathandrestorethefamily’shonour!Butthosethingsdidn’tgotogether.IwenttoMimirforadvice.’‘And…whatdidhesay?’Blitzenshruggedhelplessly.‘Fouryearsofservice–thatwasthepricefordrinkingfromhiswell.

Hesaidthecostofknowledgewasalsotheanswer.Byservinghim,IwouldgetwhatIwanted.ExceptIdidn’t.NowI’mgoingtodie.’No,Hearthsigned.Somedayyouwillgetyourdream.‘How,exactly?’Blitzenasked.‘It’salittlehardtocutandsewfabricwhenyou’redecapitated.’‘That’snotgoingtohappen,’Isaid.Inmychest,severalideasstartedtosmelttogetherintoausablemolteningot–unlessthatsensation

wasjustthepeanut-buttercrackers.Ithoughtaboutmyswordthatcouldturnintoapendant,andSam’shijabthatwasmagicalhigh-techcamouflage.‘Blitz,yournexttwoitemsaregoingtobeawesome.’‘Howdoyouknow?Imightpanicandmakemoreducks!’‘Youwanttomakeclothing,right?Somakeclothing.’‘Kid,thisisaforge,notahaberdashery.Besides,fashionisnotarecognizedcraft.’‘Whataboutarmour?’Blitzhesitated.‘Well,yeah,but–’‘Whataboutfashionableclothingthatdoublesasarmour?’

Blitz’smouthfellopen.‘Balder’sBling…Kid,youmaybeontosomething!’Heshottohisfeetandbeganhurryingaroundtheworkspace,gatheringtools.Hearthbeamedatme–literally,sincehestillhadtheflashlightaimedathisface.Hetappedhisfree

handtohishead–thesignforgenius.WhenNabbicalledtime,ItookoveratthebellowstogiveHeartharest.Hestoodguard.Stoking

thefirewasaboutasfunasridingastationarybikeinsideabakingoven.Afterawhile,Blitzentookmeoffthebellowsandhadmeassistwiththecrafting.Iwashopelessat

it,butbeingforcedtogivemedirectionsseemedtoincreaseBlitz’sconfidence.‘No,putthathere.No,thebigtongs!Holditsteady,kid!That’snotsteady!’Ilosttrackoftime.Ididn’tpaymuchattentiontowhatBlitzwasmaking–somethingsmall,woven

fromchain.InsteadIkeptthinkingabouttheSwordofSummer,nowbackinpendantformaroundmyneck.IrememberedwalkingfromthedockstoCopleySquare,halfdeliriouswithhungerand

exhaustion,andtheimaginaryconversationI’dhadwiththeblade.Iconsideredhowtheswordeitherhummedorstayedsilent,eitherguidedmyhandorlayheavyandinert.Ifithadasoulandemotions–thenIhadn’tgivenitenoughcredit.I’dbeentreatingitlikeadangerousobject.Ishouldbetreatingitlikeaperson.‘Thanks,’Isaidundermybreath,tryingnottofeelridiculous.‘Whenyoucutthatdartoutoftheair

earlier,yousavedmyfriend.Ishould’vethankedyousooner.’Thependantseemedtogrowwarmer,thoughstandingnexttotheforgeitwashardtobesure.‘Sumarbrander,’Isaid.‘Isthatwhatyouliketobecalled?SorryI’vebeenignoringyou.’Hmmm,thependanthummedsceptically.‘You’remuchmorethanasword,’Isaid.‘You’renotjustforslashingatthings.You–’Fromacrossthecourtyard,Nabbiyelled,‘Tenminutesuntillunchbreak!’‘Oh,gods,’Blitzenmuttered.‘Ican’t–Kid,quick!Handmethattexturinghammer.’Hishandsflew,snatchingupvarioustools,makingminoradjustmentstohiscreation.Itdidn’tlook

likemuch–justaflat,narrowlengthofchainmail–butBlitzworkedasifhislifedependedonit,whichitdid.Hefoldedandcrimpedthechainmailintoitsfinalshape,thensolderedtheseam.‘It’sanecktie!’Irealized.‘Blitzen,Iactuallyrecognizewhatyoumade!’‘Thankyou.Shutup.’Heraisedhissolderinggunandannounced,‘Done!’justasacrash

reverberatedfromJunior ’sworkstation.‘GAAHHH!’screamedtheolddwarf.Theentirecrowdsurgedtotheirfeet.Juniorwasonhisbutt,cradlinghisfaceinhishands.Onhisworktablesataflattened,misshapen

lumpofcoolingiron.Hisbodyguardsrushedtohelphim.‘Damnableinsect!’Juniorhowled.Hewasbleedingfromthebridgeofhisnose.Helookedathis

palmsbutapparentlyfoundnosquashedbug.‘Ihititthistime,I’msure!Whereisit?’Nabbiandtheotherjudgesfrownedinourdirection,asifwesomehowmighthaveorchestrateda

kamikazeinsectattack.Iguesswelookedcluelessenoughtoconvincethemotherwise.

‘Timeforlunch,’Nabbiannounced.‘Onemoreitemshallbemadethisafternoon!’Weatequickly,becauseBlitzwasraringtogetbacktowork.‘I’vegotthehangofitnow,’hesaid.‘I’vegotit.Kid,Ioweyoubig-time.’IglancedoveratJunior ’sworkstation.Hisbodyguardswereglaringatme,crackingtheir

knuckles.‘Let’sjustgetthroughthecontest,’Isaid.‘IwishSamwashere.Wemayneedtofightourwayout.’HearthgavemeacuriouslookwhenImentionedSam.‘What?’Iasked.Heshookhisheadandwentbacktoeatinghiswatercresssandwich.Theafternoonsessionwentquickly.IwassobusyonguarddutyIbarelyhadtimetothink.Junior

musthavehiredsomeextrasaboteurs,becauseeveryhalfhourorsoIhadtodealwithanewthreat:aspearthrownfromtheaudience,arottenappleaimedatBlitzen’shead,asteam-poweredpredatordroneandapairofdwarvesingreenSpandexjumpsuitswieldingbaseballbats.(Thelesssaidaboutthat,thebetter.)Eachtime,theSwordofSummerguidedmyhandandneutralizedthethreat.Eachtime,Irememberedtothankthesword.Icouldalmostdiscernitsvoicenow:Yeah,okay.Mmm-hmm.Isuppose.Likeitwasslowlywarming

uptome,gettingoveritsresentmentatbeingignored.Hearthstonerushedaroundtheworkstation,bringingBlitzextramaterialsandtools.Blitzwas

weavingalarger,morecomplicatedpieceofmetalfabric.Whateveritwas,heseemedpleased.Finally,hesetdownhisbezelrollerandshouted,‘Success!’Atthesamemoment,Juniorsufferedhismostspectacularfail.Hisbodyguardshadbeenstanding

close,readyforanotherkamikazeinsectattack,butitmadenodifference.AsJuniorbroughtdownhishammerforamasterstroke,adarkspeckzippedoutofthesky.ThehorseflybitJunioronthefacesohardhespunsidewaysunderthemomentumofhishammer.Wailingandstaggering,heknockedbothhisguardsunconscious,destroyedthecontentsoftwoworktablesandswepthisthirdinventionintotheforgebeforehecollapsedontheasphalt.Itshouldn’thavebeenfunny–anolddwarfgettinghumiliatedlikethat.Exceptthatitwas,kindof.

Probablybecausethatolddwarfwasaspiteful,nastypieceofwork.Inthemidstofthecommotion,Nabbirangahandbell.‘Thecontesthasended!’heannounced.

‘Timeforjudgingtheitems…andkillingtheloser!’

FORTY-FOUR

JuniorWinsaBagofTears

Sampickedthatmomenttoshowup.Sheshoulderedthroughthecrowd,herheadscarfpulledlowoverherface.Herjacketwasdusted

withash,asifshe’dspentthenightinachimney.Iwantedtoyellatherforbeinggonesolong,butmyangerevaporatedwhenInoticedherblack

eyeandswollenlip.‘Whathappened?’Iasked.‘Areyouokay?’‘Littlescuffle,’shesaid.‘Noworries.Let’swatchthejudging.’Spectatorsgatheredaroundtwotablesonthesideline,whereJunior ’sandBlitzen’scraftswereon

display.Blitzenstoodwithhishandsclaspedbehindhisback,lookingconfidentdespitehissnappedbraces,hisgrease-stainedshirtandhissweat-soakedpork-piehat.Junior ’sfacewasabloodymess.Hecouldbarelyholdhimselfuponhiswalker.Themurderous

gleaminhiseyesmadehimlooklikeaserialkillerexhaustedafterahardday’swork.Nabbiandtheotherjudgescircledthetables,inspectingthecrafteditemsandjottingnotesontheir

clipboards.AtlastNabbifacedtheaudience.Hearchedhiswrigglyeyebrowsandtriedforasmile.‘Well,then!’hesaid.‘Thankyouallforattendingthiscontest,sponsoredbyNabbi’sTavern,

famousamongtaverns,builtbyNabbiandhometoNabbi’sStout,theonlymeadyou’lleverneed.Nowourcontestantswilltellusabouttheirfirstitems.Blitzen,sonofFreya!’Blitzgesturedtohismetalsculpture.‘It’saduck.’Nabbiblinked.‘And…whatdoesitdo?’‘WhenIpressitsback…’Blitzendidso.Theduckswelledtothreetimesitssize,likeafrightened

pufferfish.‘Itturnsintoalargerduck.’Thesecondjudgescratchedhisbeard.‘That’sit?’‘Well,yes,’Blitzsaid.‘IcallittheExpando-Duck.It’sperfectifyouneedasmallmetalduck.Ora

largermetalduck.’Thethirdjudgeturnedtohiscolleagues.‘Gardenknick-knack,perhaps?Conversationpiece?

Decoy?’Nabbicoughed.‘Yes,thankyou,Blitzen.Andnowyou,EitriJunior,sonofEdna.Whatisyourfirst

creation?’Juniorwipedthebloodoutofhiseyes.Hehelduphisflattenedironcylinder,withseveralsprings

andlatchesdanglingfromit.‘Thisisaself-guidingtroll-seekingmissile!Ifitwereundamaged,itcoulddestroyanytrollatadistanceofhalfamile.Andit’sreusable!’Thecrowdmurmuredappreciatively.

‘Um,butdoesitwork?’askedthesecondjudge.‘No!’Juniorsaid.‘Itwasruinedonthefinalhammerstroke.Butifitdidwork–’‘Butitdoesn’t,’observedthethirdjudge.‘Sowhatisitatthemoment?’‘It’sauselessmetalcylinder!’Juniorsnarled.‘Whichisn’tmyfault!’Thejudgesconferredandscribbledsomenotes.‘So,inthefirstround,’Nabbisummedup,‘wehaveanexpandableduckversusauselessmetal

cylinder.Ourcontestantsarerunningverycloseindeed.Blitzen,whatisyourseconditem?’Blitzenproudlyhelduphischain-mailneckware.‘Thebulletprooftie!’Thejudgesloweredtheirclipboardsinperfectsynchronicity.‘What?’askedNabbi.‘Oh,comenow!’Blitzturnedtotheaudience.‘Howmanyofyouhavebeenintheembarrassing

situationofwearingabulletproofwaistcoatwithoutamatchingbulletprooftie?’Inthebackofthecrowd,onedwarfraisedhishand.‘Exactly!’Blitzensaid.‘Notonlyisthisaccessoryfashionable,butitwillstopanythinguptoa30-

06round.Itcanalsobewornasacravat.’Thejudgesfrownedandtooknotes,butafewaudiencemembersseemedimpressed.They

examinedtheirshirts,maybethinkinghowunderdressedtheyfeltwithoutachain-mailneckpiece.‘Junior?’askedNabbi.‘Whatisyoursecondworkofcraftsmanship?’‘TheGobletofInfinity!’Juniorgesturedtoamisshapenhunkofiron.‘Itholdsalimitlessamount

ofanyliquid–greatforroadtripsthroughwaterlesswastelands.’‘Uh…’Nabbipointedwithhispen.‘Itlooksabitcrushed.’‘Stupidhorseflyagain!’Juniorprotested.‘Itbitmerightbetweentheeyes!Notmyfaultifaninsect

turnedmybrilliantinventionintoaslagheap.’‘Slagheap,’Nabbirepeated,jottingonhisclipboard.‘And,Blitzen,yourfinalitem?’Blitzenheldupaglitteringlengthofwoven-metalfabric.‘Thechain-mailwaistcoat!Forusewitha

three-piecesuitofchainmail.Or,ifyouwanttodressitdown,youcanwearitwithjeansandaniceshirt.’Andashield,Hearthstoneoffered.‘Yes,andashield,’Blitzensaid.Thethirdjudgeleanedforward,squinting.‘Isupposeitwouldoffersomeminorprotection.Ifyou

werestabbedinthebackatadisco,forinstance.’Thesecondjudgejottedsomethingdown.‘Doesithaveanymagicalabilities?’‘Well,no,’Blitzsaid.‘Butit’sreversible:silverontheoutside,goldontheinside.Dependingon

whatjewelleryyou’rewearing,orwhatcolourarmour–’‘Isee.’NabbimadeanoteonhisclipboardandturnedtoJunior.‘Andyourfinalitem,sir?’Junior ’sfiststrembledwithrage.‘Thisisunfair!Ihaveneverlostacontest.Allofyouknowmy

skills.Thismeddler,thisposeurBlitzenhassomehowmanagedtoruinmy–’‘EitriJunior,sonofEdna,’interruptedNabbi,‘whatisyourthirditem?’Hewavedimpatientlyatthefurnace.‘Mythirditemisinthere!Itdoesn’tmatterwhatitwas,

becauseit’snowboilingsludge!’Thejudgescircledupandconferred.Thecrowdshiftedrestlessly.

Nabbifacedtheaudience.‘Judginghasbeendifficult.WehaveweighedthemeritsofJunior ’sboilingsludge,slagheapanduselessmetalcylinderagainstthechain-mailwaistcoat,bulletprooftieandExpando-Duck.Itwasaclosecall.However,wejudgethewinnerofthiscontesttobeBlitzen,sonofFreya!’Spectatorsapplauded.Somegaspedindisbelief.Afemaledwarfinanurse’soutfit,possiblyBambi,

famousamongdwarfnurses,passedoutcold.Hearthstonejumpedupanddownandmadetheendsofhisscarfdothewave.IlookedforSam,but

shewashangingbackattheedgesofthecrowd.Juniorscowledathisfistsasifdecidingwhethertohithimself.‘Fine,’hegrowled.‘Takemyhead!

Idon’twanttoliveinaworldwhereBlitzenwinscraftingcontests!’‘Junior,Idon’twanttokillyou,’Blitzensaid.Despitehiswin,hedidn’tsoundproudorgloating.

Helookedtired,maybeevensad.Juniorblinked.‘You–youdon’t?’‘No.Justgivemetheearringsandtheropeasyoupromised.Oh,andapublicadmissionthatmy

fatherwasrightaboutGleipnirallalong.Youshouldhavereplaceditcenturiesago.’‘Never!’Juniorshrieked.‘Youimpugnmyfather ’sreputation!Icannot–’‘Okay,I’llgetmyaxe,’Blitzensaidinaresignedtone.‘I’mafraidthebladeisalittledull…’Juniorgulped.Helookedlonginglyatthebulletproofnecktie.‘Verywell.Perhaps…perhapsBilì

hadapoint.Theropeneededreplacement.’‘Andyouwerewrongtotarnishhisreputation.’Theolddwarf’sfacialmusclesconvulsed,buthemanagedtogetoutthewords.‘AndIwas…

wrong.Yes.’Blitzengazedupintothegloom,whisperingsomethingunderhisbreath.Iwasn’tagoodlip-

reader,butIwasprettysurehesaid,Iloveyou,Dad.Goodbye.HerefocusedonJunior.‘Now,abouttheitemsyoupromised…’Juniorsnappedhisfingers.Oneofhisbodyguardswobbledover,hisheadnewlybandagedfrom

hisrecentencounterwithahammer.HehandedBlitzenasmallvelvetbox.‘Earringsforyourmother,’Juniorsaid.Blitzopenedthebox.InsideweretwotinycatsmadefromgoldfiligreelikeBrisingamen.AsI

watched,thecatsstretched,blinkingtheiremeraldeyesandflickingtheirdiamondtails.Blitzsnappedtheboxshut.‘Adequate.Andtherope?’Thebodyguardtossedhimaballofsilkkitestring.‘You’rejoking,’Isaid.‘That’ssupposedtobindFenrisWolf?’Juniorgloweredatme.‘Boy,yourignoranceisbreathtaking.Gleipnirwasjustasthinandlight,but

itsparadoxingredientsgaveitgreatstrength.Thisropeisthesame,onlybetter!’‘Paradoxingredients?’Blitzhelduptheendoftheropeandwhistledappreciatively.‘Hemeansthingsthataren’tsupposed

toexist.Paradoxingredientsareverydifficulttocraftwith,verydangerous.Gleipnircontainedthefootfallofacat,thespittleofabird,thebreathofafish,thebeardofawoman.’‘Dunnoifthatlastoneisaparadox,’Isaid.‘CrazyAliceinChinatownhasaprettygoodbeard.’

Juniorhuffed.‘Thepointis,thisropeisevenbetter!IcallitAndskoti,theAdversary.ItiswovenwiththemostpowerfulparadoxesintheNineWorlds–Wi-Fiwithnolag,apolitician’ssincerity,aprinterthatprints,healthydeep-friedfoodandaninterestinggrammarlecture!’‘Okay,yeah,’Iadmitted.‘Thosethingsdon’texist.’Blitzstuffedtheropeinhisbackpack.Hetookouthispouchoftearsandhandedittotheolddwarf.

‘Thankyou,Junior.Iconsiderourbargaincomplete,butIwouldaskonemorething.WhereistheislandofFenrisWolf?’Juniorheftedhispayment.‘IfIcouldtellyou,Blitzen,Iwould.I’dbehappytoseeyourippedapart

bytheWolflikeyourfatherwas!Alas,Idon’tknow.’‘But–’‘Yes,IsaidIcheckedontheropefromtimetotime.Ilied!Thetruthis,veryfewgodsordwarves

knowwheretheWolf’sislandappears.Mostofthemaresworntosecrecy.Howyourfatherfoundtheplace,Ireallydon’tknow,but,ifyouwanttofindit,thebestpersontoaskisThor.Heknows,andhehasabigmouth.’‘Thor,’Isaid.‘WheredowefindThor?’‘Ihavenoidea,’Junioradmitted.Hearthstonesigned,Sammight.Sheknowsalotaboutthegods.‘Yeah.’Iturned.‘Sam,getoverhere!Whyareyoulurking?’Thecrowdpartedaroundher.AssoonasJuniorsawher,hemadeastrangledsquawk.‘You!Itwasyou!’Samtriedtocoverherbustedlip.‘Sorry?Havewemet?’‘Oh,don’tplayinnocentwithme.’Juniorscootedforwardonhiswalker,hisflushedscalpturning

hisgreyhairpink.‘I’veseenshape-shiftersbefore.Thatscarfisthesamecolourasthehorsefly’swings.AndthatblackeyeisfromwhenIswattedyou!You’reinleaguewithBlitzen!Friends,colleagues,honestdwarves–killthesecheaters!’Iwasproudthatthefourofusrespondedasateam.Inperfectunison,likeawell-oiledcombat

machine,weturnedandranforourlives.

FORTY-F IVE

IGettoKnowJack

I’mprettygoodatmultitasking,soIfiguredIcouldfleeinterrorandargueatthesametime.‘Ahorsefly?’IyelledatSam.‘Youcanturnintoahorsefly?’Sheduckedasasteam-powereddartbuzzedoverherhead.‘Nowisnotthetime!’‘Oh,excuseme.Ishouldwaitforthedesignatedtalk-about-turning-into-horsefliestime.’HearthstoneandBlitzenledtheway.Behindus,amobofthirtydwarveswasclosingfast.Ididn’t

liketheirmurderousexpressionsortheirfineassortmentofhandcraftedweapons.‘Thisway!’Blitzenduckeddownanalley.Unfortunately,Hearthstonewasn’twatching.Theelfbarrelledstraightahead.‘Mother!’Blitzcursed–atleast,IthoughtitwasacurseuntilSamandIreachedthecornerand

faltered.Afewstepsdownthealley,Blitzwastrappedinanetoflight.Hesquirmedandcussedasthe

glowingwebliftedhimintotheair.‘It’smymother!’heyelped.‘Shewantsherdamnableearrings.Go!CatchupwithHearthstone!I’llmeetyou–’POP!Ourdwarfdisappearedinaflash.IglancedatSam.‘Didthatjusthappen?’‘We’vegototherproblems.’Shepulledoutheraxe.Themobhadcaughtupwithus.Theyfannedoutinanangrysemicircleofbeards,scowls,baseball

batsandbroadswords.Iwasn’tsurewhattheywerewaitingfor.ThenIheardJunior ’svoicesomewherebehindthem.‘Holdon!’hewheezed.‘I–’Wheeze.‘Kill–’Wheeze.‘First!’Themobparted.Flankedbyhisbodyguards,theolddwarfpushedhiswalkertowardsus.Heeyedme,thenSam.‘WhereareBlitzenandtheelf?’Juniormuttered.‘Well,nomatter.We’llfindthem.You,boy,I

don’tcareaboutsomuch.RunnowandImightletyoulive.ThegirlisobviouslyadaughterofLoki.Shebitmeandruinedmycrafting!Shedies.’Ipulledoffmypendant.TheSwordofSummergrewtofulllength.Thecrowdofdwarvesedged

backwards.Iguesstheyknewadangerousbladewhentheysawone.‘I’mnotgoinganywhere,’Isaid.‘You’llhavetotakeonbothofus.’Theswordhummedforattention.‘Correction,’Isaid.‘You’llhavetotakeonallthreeofus.ThisisSumarbrander,theSwordof

Summer,craftedby…actuallyI’mnotsure,butitisdefinitelyfamousamongswords,anditisabouttokickyourcollectivebutts.’‘Thankyou,’saidthesword.

Sammadeasqueakingnoise.Thedwarves’shockedexpressionstoldmeIhadn’timaginedhearingthesword’svoice.Ihelduptheblade.‘Youcantalk?Imean…ofcourseyoucantalk.Youhavemany,uh,incredible

abilities.’‘That’swhatI’vebeensaying.’Thesword’svoicewasdefinitelymale.Itemanatedfromtherunes

alongtheblade,whichvibratedandglowedwitheverywordlikethelightsonastereoequalizer.Igavethedwarvesanarrogantlook,like,Yeah,that’sright.I’vegotatalkingdiscoswordandyou

don’t.‘Sumarbrander,’Isaid,‘howdoyoufeelabouttakingonthismob?’‘Sure,’saidthesword.‘Youwantthemdeador…?’Themobshuffledbackwardsinalarm.‘Nah,’Idecided.‘Justmakethemgoaway.’‘You’renofun,’theswordsaid.‘Okay,then,letgo.’Ihesitated.Ididn’tparticularlywanttoholdaflashing,talking,hummingsword,butdroppingmy

weapondidn’tseemlikethenaturalfirststeptowardsvictory.Juniormust’vesensedmyreluctance.‘Wecantakehim!’heyelled.‘He’soneboywithaswordhedoesn’tknowhowtouse!’Samsnarled.‘AndaformerValkyriewithanaxesheverymuchdoesknowhowtouse.’‘Bah!’Juniorsaid.‘Let’sget’em,boys!GrannyShuffler,activate!’Rowsofdaggerbladesextendedfromthefrontofhiswalker.Twominiaturerocketenginesfired

intheback,propellingJuniortowardsusatamind-bogglingonemileanhour.Hiscomradesroaredandcharged.Iletgoofmysword.Ithoveredintheairforasplitsecond.Thenitflewintoaction.Fasterthan

youcouldsaysonofEdna,everydwarfwasdisarmed.Theirweaponswerecutinhalf,splitdownthemiddle,knockedtothegroundordicedintohorsd’oeuvre-sizecubes.ThedaggersandrocketswereshearedoffJunior ’swalker.Theseveredendsofthirtybeardsflutteredtotheground,leavingthirtyshockeddwarveswithfiftypercentlessfacialhair.TheSwordofSummerhoveredbetweenthemobandme.‘Anybodywantmore?’theswordasked.Thedwarvesturnedandfled.Junioryelledoverhisshoulderashehobbledaway,followinghisbodyguards,whowerealreadya

blockaheadofhim.‘Thisisn’tover,boy!I’llbebackwithreinforcements!’Samloweredheraxe.‘Thatwas…Wow.’‘Yeah,’Iagreed.‘Thankyou,Sumarbrander.’‘Denada,’saidthesword.‘But,youknow,Sumarbranderisareallylongname,andI’venever

likeditmuch.’‘Okay.’Iwasn’tsurewheretolookwhenaddressingthesword–theglowingrunes?Thetipofthe

blade?‘Whatwouldyoulikeustocallyou?’Theswordhummedthoughtfully.‘Whatisyourname?’‘Magnus.’‘That’sagoodname.CallmeMagnus.’

‘Youcan’tbeMagnus.I’mMagnus.’‘Thenwhatishername?’‘Sam.Youcan’tbeSam,either.Itwouldbetooconfusing.’Thebladeswishedfromsidetoside.‘Well,whatisagoodname?Somethingthatfitsmy

personalityandmymanytalents.’‘ButIdon’treallyknowyouaswellasI’dliketo.’IlookedatSamirah,whojustshookherhead

like,Hey,it’syourdiscosword.‘Honestly,’Isaid.‘Idon’tknowjack–’‘Jack!’theswordcried.‘Perfect!’Thethingabouttalkingswords…it’shardtotellwhenthey’rekidding.Theyhavenofacial

expressions.Orfaces.‘So…youwantmetocallyouJack.’‘Itisanoblename,’saidthesword.‘Fitforkingsandsharpcarvingimplements!’‘Okay,’Isaid.‘Well,then,Jack,thanksforthesave.Youmindif…?’Ireachedforthehilt,butJack

floatedawayfromme.‘Iwouldn’tdothatyet,’hewarned.‘Thepriceofmyamazingabilities:assoonasyousheatheme,

orturnmeintoapendant,orwhatever,youwillfeeljustasexhaustedasifyouhadperformedallmyactionsyourself.’Myshouldermusclestightened.IconsideredhowtiredIwouldfeelifIhadjustdestroyedallthose

weaponsandcutallthosebeards.‘Oh.Ididn’tnoticethatearlier.’‘Becauseyouhadn’tusedmeforanythingamazingyet.’‘Right.’Inthedistance,anair-raidhornhowled.Idoubtedtheygotmanyairraidsinanunderground

world,soIfiguredthealarmhadtodowithus.‘Weneedtogo,’Samurged.‘WehavetofindHearthstone.IdoubtJuniorwasjokingabout

reinforcements.’FindingHearthstonewastheeasypart.Twoblocksaway,weranintohimashewascomingbackto

findus.WhattheH-e-l-h-e-i-m?hesigned.WhereisBlitzen?ItoldhimaboutFreya’sgoldnet.‘We’llfindhim.Rightnow,JunioriscallinguptheDwarven

NationalGuard.’Yourswordisfloating,Hearthnoted.‘Yourelfisdeaf,’Jacknoted.Iturnedtothesword.‘Iknowthat.Sorry,introductions.Jack,Hearth.Hearth,Jack.’Hearthsigned,Isittalking?Idon’treadswordlips.‘Whatishesaying?’Jackasked.‘Idon’treadelfhands.’‘Guys.’Sampointedbehindus.Afewblocksaway,aniron-platedvehiclewithcaterpillartreads

andamountedturretwasturningslowlyontoourstreet.‘That’satank’Isaid.‘Juniorhasatank?’‘Weshouldleave,’Jacksaid.‘Iamawesome,butifItrytodestroyatankthestrainmightkillyou.’‘Yeah,’Iagreed.‘HowdowegetoutofNidavellir?’

Hearthstoneclappedformyattention.Thisway.Wesprintedafterhim,zigzaggingthroughalleys,knockingovercarefullyhandcraftedgarbage

cansthatprobablyhadnamesandsouls.Fromsomewherebehindus,adeepBOOM!rattledwindowsandmadepebblesrainfromabove.‘Isthetankshakingthesky?’Iyelled.‘Thatcan’tbegood.’Hearthstoneledusdownanotherstreetofterracedclapboardhouses.Dwarvessatonstoops,

clappingandcheeringasweranby.Afewofthemrecordedvideosofusonuniquelycraftedsmartphones.IfiguredourattemptedgetawaywouldgoviralontheDwarvenInternet,famousamongInternets.Finallywereachedwhatwould’vebeenthesouthernedgeofSouthBoston.Onthefarsideofthe

avenue,insteadoftheMStreetBeach,thegrounddroppedoffintoachasm.‘Oh,thisisveryhelpful,’Samsaid.Behindusinthegloom,Junior ’svoiceshouted,‘Bazookas,taketherightflank!’Hearthstoneledustotherimofthecanyon.Farbelow,ariverroared.Hesigned,Wejumpin.‘Areyouserious?’Iasked.BlitzenandIdidthisbefore.RiverwashesoutofNidavellir.‘Towhere?’Depends,Hearthstonesigned.‘That’snotreassuring,’saidSam.Hearthstonepointedbacktowardstheavenue.Thedwarvenmobwasgathering,tanksandjeepsand

RPGsandawholebunchofreallyangrygeriatricdwarvesinarmour-platedwalkers.‘Wejump,’Idecided.JacktheSwordhoverednexttome.‘Betterholdmenow,boss.OtherwiseImightgetlostagain.’‘Butyousaidtheexhaustion–’‘Mightmakeyoupassout,’theswordagreed.‘Onthebrightside,itlookslikeyou’regoingtodie

anyway.’Hehadapoint.(Oh,sorry.Thatwasbad.)Itooktheswordandwilleditbackintopendantform.I

justhadtimetoattachittothechainbeforemylegsbuckled.Samcaughtme.‘Hearthstone!Takehisotherarm!’Asmyvisionwentdark,SamandHearthhelpedmeleapoffthecliff.Because,youknow,whatare

friendsfor?

FORTY-S IX

AboardtheGoodShipToenail

IknewIwasintroublewhenIwokeupdreaming.IfoundmyselfstandingnexttoLokionthedeckofamassiveship.‘Thereyouare!’saidLoki.‘Iwasstartingtowonder.’‘How…?’Inoticedhisoutfit.‘Whatareyouwearing?’‘Youlikeit?’Hisscarredlipstwistedintoagrin.Hiswhiteadmiral’sjacketgleamedwithmedals,

butLokiwasn’texactlywearingitregulation-style.ItwasopenoverablackT-shirtfeaturingJackNicholson’sfacefromTheShining.Thecaptionread:HEEEERE’SLOKI!‘Wherearewe?’Iasked.Lokipolishedhismedalswithhiscoatsleeve.‘Well,neitherofusishere,ofcourse.I’mstilltied

uponastoneslabwithsnakepoisondrippinginmyface.You’redyingonthebanksofariverinJotunheim.’‘I’mwhat?’‘Whetheryouliveornot,thismaybeourlastchancetotalk.Iwantedyoutoseethis–Naglfar,the

ShipofNails!It’salmostcomplete.’Theshipcameintoclearerfocus–aVikinglongshiplargerthananaircraftcarrier.Themaindeck

could’veaccommodatedtheBostonMarathon.Giantshieldslinedtherailings.Foreandaftrosethirty-foot-tallfigureheadsshapedlikesnarlingwolves.Naturally,theyhadtobewolves.Ipeeredoverthesidebetweentwoshields.Ahundredfeetdown,braidedironcablesmooredthe

shiptoadock.Thegreyseachurnedwithice.Iranmyhandalongtherailing.Thesurfacewasbumpyandprickly–enamelledwithwhiteand

greyridgeslikefishscalesorpearlshavings.Atfirstglance,I’dassumedthedeckwasmadeofsteel,butnowIrealizedthewholeshipwasconstructedofthisweirdtranslucentmaterial–notmetal,notwood,butsomethingstrangelyfamiliar.‘Whatisthis?’IaskedLoki.‘Idon’tseeanywoodornails.WhyisitcalledtheShipofNails?’Lokichuckled.‘Notcarpentrynails,Magnus.Naglfarismadefromthefingernailsandtoenailsof

deadmen.’Thedeckseemedtopitchbeneathme.Iwasn’tsureifitwaspossibletopukeinadream,butIwas

tempted.Itwasn’tjusttheobviousgrossnessofstandingonashipmadeofnailclippingsthatmademenauseated–itwasthesheervolumeofthematerial.Howmanycorpseshadhadtocontributetheirnailstomakeashipthissize?OnceImanagedtosteadymybreathing,IfacedLoki.‘Why?’Evenwiththeruinedlipsandscarredface,Loki’sgrinwassoinfectiousthatIalmostsmiledback–

almost.

‘Amazinglydisgusting,isn’tit?’hesaid.‘Backintheolddays,yourancestorsknewthatnailclippingscarriedpartofyourspirit,youressence…yourDNA,you’dcallitnow.Throughouttheirlives,mortalswerecarefultoburnanyclippingstheymade.Whentheydied,theirnailswouldbetrimmedandtheclippingsdestroyedsothematerialwouldn’tcontributetothisgreatship.Butsometimes–’Lokishrugged–‘asyoucansee,theproperprecautionsweren’ttaken.’‘You’vebuiltyourselfabattleshipoutoftoenails.’‘Well,theshipisbuildingitself.And,technically,NaglfarbelongstoSurtandthefiregiants,but

whenRagnarokcomesIwillguidethisshipoutoftheharbour.We’llhaveanarmyofgiantsledbyCaptainHrym,plushundredsofthousandsofdishonoureddeadfromHelheim–allthosewhowerecarelessorunluckyenoughtodiewithoutaswordintheirhand,aproperburialandadecentpost-mortemmani-pedi.We’llsailtoAsgardanddestroythegods.It’llbeawesome.’Ilookedaft,expectingtoseeanarmygatheringontheshore,butthemistwassothickIcouldn’t

seetheendofthedock.Despitemyusualresistancetocold,thedampairsoakedintomybonesandmademyteethchatter.‘Whyareyoushowingmethis?’Iasked.‘BecauseIlikeyou,Magnus.You’vegotasenseofhumour.You’vegotzing.Sorareinademigod!

Evenrareramongtheeinherjar.I’mgladmydaughterfoundyou.’‘Samirah…that’showshecanturnintoahorsefly.She’sashape-shifterlikeyou.’‘Oh,she’sDaddy’sgirl,allright.Shedoesn’tliketoadmitit,butshe’sinheritedalotofthings

fromme:myabilities,mydashinggoodlooks,mykeenintellect.Shecanspottalent,too.Afterall,shechoseyou,myfriend.’Iclutchedmystomach.‘Idon’tfeelsogood.’‘Duh!You’reonthevergeofdeath.Personally,Ihopeyouwakeup,becauseifyoukickthebucket

nowyourdeathwillbemeaninglessandnothingyou’vedonewillmatter.’‘Thanksforthepeptalk.’‘Listen–Ibroughtyouhereforsomeperspective.WhenRagnarokcomes,allbondswillbreak,

notjusttheropesbindingFenris.Themooringsofthisship–snap.Thebindingsthatholdmecaptive–snap.WhetherornotyoukeepthatswordoutofSurt’shands,it’sonlyamatteroftime.Onebondwillsnapandthey’llallstartgoing–unravellinglikeonehugetapestry.’‘You’retryingtodiscourageme?IthoughtyouwantedRagnarokdelayed.’‘Oh,Ido!’Heputuphishands.Hiswristswererawandbleeding,asifhe’dbeenhandcuffedtoo

tightly.‘I’mtotallyonyourside,Magnus!Lookatthefigureheads.Thewolves’snoutsaren’tfinishedyet.Isthereanythingmoreembarrassingthansailingintobattlewithhalf-finishedfigureheads?’‘Sowhatdoyouwant?’‘ThesamethingI’vealwayswanted,’Lokisaid.‘Tohelpyoufightyourfate.Whichofthegods

besidesmehasbotheredtospeaktoyouasafriendandanequal?’HiseyeswerelikeSam’s–brightandintense,thecolourofburning–buttherewassomething

harderandmorecalculatingaboutLoki’sgaze–somethingthatdidn’tjibewithhisfriendlysmile.IrememberedhowSamhaddescribedhim:aliar,athief,amurderer.‘We’refriendsnow?’Iasked.‘Equals?’

‘Wecouldbe,’hesaid.‘Infact,Ihaveanidea.ForgetgoingtoFenris’sisland.ForgetfacingSurt.Iknowaplacewheretheswordwillbesafe.’‘Withyou?’Lokilaughed.‘Don’ttemptme,kid.No,no.IwasthinkingaboutyourUncleRandolph.He

understandsthevalueofthesword.He’sspenthislifelookingforit,preparingtostudyit.Youmightnotknowit,buthishouseisheavilyfortifiedwithmagic.Ifyoutooktheswordtohim…well,theoldmancan’tuseithimself.Buthewouldstoreitaway.ItwouldbeoutofSurt’shands.Andthat’swhatmatters,eh?Itwouldbuyusallsometime.’IwantedtolaughinLoki’sfaceandtellhimno.Ifiguredhewastryingtotrickme.YetIcouldn’t

seehisangle.‘Youthinkit’satrap,’Lokisaid.‘Igetthat.ButyoumusthavewonderedwhyMimirtoldyouto

takethebladetotheWolf’sisland–theveryplacewhereSurtwantstouseit.What’sthesenseinthat?WhatifMimirisplayingyou?Imean,comeon.Thatoldseveredheadrunsapachinkoracket!Ifyoudon’tbringtheswordtotheisland,Surtwon’tbeablegethishandsonit.Whytaketherisk?’Istruggledtoclearmythoughts.‘You’re–you’reasmoothtalker.You’dmakeagoodused-car

salesman.’Lokiwinked.‘Ithinkthetermispre-owned.You’vegottomakeachoicesoon,Magnus.Wemay

notbeabletospeakagain.Ifyouwantagestureofgoodfaith,however,Icansweetenthedeal.MydaughterHelandI…we’vebeentalking.’Myheartjackknifed.‘Talkingabout…’‘I’lllethertellyou.Butnow…’Hetiltedhishead,listening.‘Yes,wedon’thavemuchtime.You

mightbewakingup.’‘Whywereyoubound?’ThequestionforceditselfoutbeforeIrealizedIwasthinkingit.‘I

rememberyoukilledsomebody…’Hissmilehardened.Theangrylinesaroundhiseyesmadehimlooktenyearsolder.‘Youknowhowtoruinaconversation,’Lokisaid.‘IkilledBalder,thegodoflight–thehandsome,

perfect,incrediblyannoyingsonofOdinandFrigg.’Hesteppedtowardsmeandpokedmychest,emphasizingeachword.‘And–I’d–do–it–again.’Inthebackofmybrain,mycommonsenseyelled,DROPIT!But,asyouhaveprobablyfiguredout

bynow,Idon’tlistentomycommonsensemuch.‘Whydidyoukillhim?’Lokibarkedalaugh.Hisbreathsmelledofalmonds,likecyanide.‘DidImentionhewasannoying?

Friggwassoworriedabouthim.Thepoorbabyhadbeenhavingbaddreamsabouthisowndoom.Welcometoreality,Balder!Weallhavebaddreams.ButFriggcouldn’tstandtheideathatherpreciousangelmightbruisehislittlefoot.Sheexactedpromisesfromeverythingincreationthatnothingwouldhurtherbeautifulson–people,gods,trees,rocks…Canyouimagineexactingapromisefromarock?Friggmanagedit.Afterwards,thegodshadapartytocelebrate.TheystartedthrowingthingsatBalderjustforlaughs.Arrows,swords,boulders,eachother…nothingwouldhurthim.Itwasasiftheidiotwassurroundedbyaforcefield.Well…I’msorry.ThethoughtofMrPerfectalsobeingMrInvulnerablemademesick.’

Iblinked,tryingtogetthestingoutofmyeyes.Loki’svoicewassofullofhatreditseemedtomaketheairburn.‘Youfoundawaytokillhim.’‘Mistletoe!’Loki’ssmilebrightened.‘Canyouimagine?Friggforgotonetinylittleplant.I

fashionedadartfromthestuff,gaveittoBalder ’sblindbrother,agodnamedHod.Ididn’twanthimtomissthefunofchuckingdeadlyobjectsatBalder,soIguidedHod’shandand…well,Frigg’sworstfearscametrue.Balderdeservedit.’‘Forbeingtoohandsomeandpopular.’‘Yes!’‘Forbeingloved.’‘Exactly!’Lokileanedforwarduntilwewerealmostnose-to-nose.‘Don’ttellmeyouhaven’tdone

thesamekindsofthings.Thosecarsyoubrokeinto,thosepeopleyoustolefrom…youpickedpeopleyoudidn’tlike,eh?Youpickedtherich,handsome,stuck-upsnobswhoannoyedyou.’Myteethchatteredharder.‘Ineverkilledanyone.’‘Oh,please.’Lokisteppedback,examiningmewithalookofdisappointment.‘It’sonlyamatterof

degree.SoIkilledagod.Bigdeal!HewenttoHelheimandbecameanhonouredguestinmydaughter ’spalace.Andmypunishment?Youwanttoknowmypunishment?’‘Youweretiedonastoneslab,’Isaid.‘Withpoisonfromasnakedrippingonyourface.Iknow.’‘Doyou?’Lokipulledbackhiscuffs,showingmetherawscarsonhiswrists.‘Thegodswerenot

contenttopunishmewitheternaltorture.Theytookouttheirwrathuponmytwofavouritesons–ValiandNarvi.TheyturnedValiintoawolfandwatchedwithamusementwhilehedisembowelledhisbrotherNarvi.Thentheyshotandguttedthewolf.Thegodstookmyinnocentsons’ownentrails…’Loki’svoicecrackedwithgrief.‘Well,MagnusChase,let’sjustsayIwasnotboundwithropes.’Somethinginmychestcurledupanddied–possiblymyhopethattherewasanykindofjusticein

theuniverse.‘Gods.’Lokinodded.‘Yes,Magnus.Thegods.ThinkaboutthatwhenyoumeetThor.’‘I’mmeetingThor?’‘I’mafraidso.Thegodsdon’tevenpretendtodealingoodandevil,Magnus.It’snottheAesirway.

Mightmakesright.Sotellme…doyoureallywanttochargeintobattleontheirbehalf?’Theshiptrembledundermyfeet.Fogrolledacrossthedeck.‘Timeforyoutogo,’Lokisaid.‘RememberwhatIsaid.Oh,andhavefungettingmouth-to-mouth

fromagoat.’‘Wait…what?’Lokiwiggledhisfingers,hiseyesfullofmaliciousglee.Thentheshipdissolvedintogrey

nothingness.

FORTY-SEVEN

IPsychoanalyseaGoat

AsLokihadpromised,Iwokeupwithagoatinmyface.Confessiontime:myonlypreviousexperiencewithkissinghadbeenwithJackieMolotovin

seventhgrade,behindthebleachersataschooldance.Yes,Iknowthat’slame,seeingashowIwasnowsixteen.ButduringthepastfewyearsI’dbeenalittlebusy,livingonthestreetandwhatnot.Anyway,withapologiestoJackie,gettingmouth-to-mouthfromagoatremindedmeofher.Irolledoverandpukedintotheriverconvenientlylocatedrightnexttome.Mybonesfeltasif

they’dbeenbrokenandmendedwithducttape.Mymouthtastedlikechewedgrassandoldnickels.‘Oh,you’realive,’saidthegoat.Hesoundedmildlydisappointed.Isatupandgroaned.Thegoat’shornscurvedoutwardlikethetophalfofanhourglass.Sticker

burrsmattedhisshaggybrownfur.Alotofquestionscrowdedintomyhead:WhereamI?Whyareyouatalkinggoat?Whydoesyour

breathsmellsobad?Haveyoubeeneatingsparechange?Thefirstquestionthatcameoutwas:‘Wherearemyfriends?’‘Theelfandgirl?’askedthegoat.‘Oh,they’redead.’Myheartthreatenedtoexitviamythroat.‘What?No!’Thegoatgesturedwithhishorns.Afewyardstomyright,HearthstoneandSamlaycrumpledon

therockybeach.Iscrambledover.Iplacedmyhandsontheirthroatsandalmostpassedoutagain,fromreliefthis

time.‘They’renotdead,’Itoldthegoat.‘Theybothhavepulses.’‘Oh.’Thegoatsighed.‘Well,givethemafewmorehoursandthey’llprobablybedead.’‘Whatiswrongwithyou?’‘Everything,’saidthegoat.‘Mywholelifeisonebig–’‘Nevermind,’Isaid.‘Justbequiet.’Thegoatbrayed.‘Sure,Iunderstand.Youdon’twanttoknowmyproblems.Noonedoes.I’llbe

overhere,weepingorwhatever.Justignoreme.’KeepingmyhandsagainstSam’sandHearthstone’scarotidarteries,Isentwarmththroughmy

fingertipsintotheircirculatorysystems.Samwaseasytoheal.Herheartwasstrong.Sherespondedalmostimmediately,hereyesfluttering

open,herlungsgaspingforair.Shecurledsidewaysandbeganvomiting,whichItookasagoodsign.Hearthstone,though…somethingwaswrongbeyondthewaterinhislungsandthecoldinhis

limbs.Rightathiscore,adenseknotofdarkemotionsappedhiswilltolive.Thepainwassointense

itthrewmebacktothenightofmymother ’sdeath.Irememberedmyhandsslippingfromthefireescape,thewindowsofourapartmentexplodingaboveme.Hearthstone’sgriefwasevenworsethanthat.Ididn’tknowexactlywhathehadsuffered,buthis

despairalmostoverwhelmedme.Igraspedforahappymemory–mymomandmepickingwildblueberriesonHancockHill,theairsoclearIcouldseeQuincyBayglitteringonthehorizon.IsentafloodofwarmthintoHearthstone’schest.Hiseyesflewopen.Hestaredatme,uncomprehending.Thenhepointedatmyfaceandgesturedweakly–thesignfor

light.‘Whatdoyoumean?’Iasked.Samgroaned.Sheroseononearmandsquintedatme.‘Magnus…whyareyouglowing?’Ilookedatmyhands.Sureenough,IseemedtohavebeendippedinFolkvangerlight.Thewarm

butteryaurawasstartingtofade,butIcouldfeelresidualpowertinglingalongmyarmhairs.‘Apparently,’Isaid,‘ifIhealtoomuchatonce,Iglow.’Samwinced.‘Well,thanksforhealingus.Buttrynottoself-combust.HowisHearth?’Ihelpedhimsitup.‘Howyoufeeling,buddy?’Hemadeacirclewithhisthumbandmiddlefinger,thenflickeditupward,thesignforterrible.Nosurprise.GiventhedepthofpainI’dfeltwithinhim,Iwassurprisedhewasn’tconstantly

screaming.‘Hearth…’Istartedtosay,‘whenIhealedyou,I–’Heputhishandsovermine–asign-languageversionofhush.Maybewehadsomeresidualconnectionfromthehealingmagic,butwhenImetHearthstone’s

eyesIcouldtellwhathewasthinking.Hismessagewasanalmostaudiblevoiceinmyhead–likewhenJacktheswordhadstartedtospeak.Later,Hearthtoldme.Thankyou…brother.Iwastoostartledtoreply.Thegoatploddedover.‘Youreallyshouldtakebettercareofyourelf.Theyneedlotsofsunshine–

notthisweakJotunheimlight.Andyoucan’toverwaterthembydrowningtheminrivers.’Hearthstonefrowned.Hesigned,Thegoatisspeaking?Itriedtoclearmyhead.‘Uh,yeah,heis.’‘Ialsoreadsignlanguage,’saidthegoat.‘MynameisTanngnjóstr,whichmeansTeethGrinder,

because…well,it’sanervoushabitofmine.ButnobodycallsmeTanngnjóstr.It’sahorriblename.JustcallmeOtis.’Samstruggledtoherfeet.Herhijabhadcomeundoneandnowhungaroundhernecklikea

gunslinger ’sbandanna.‘So,Otis,whatbringsyouheretothisplacethatis…whereverweare?’Otissighed.‘Igotlost.Whichistypical.IwastryingtofindmywaybacktocampwhenIfound

youallinstead.Isupposeyou’llkillmeandeatmefordinnernow.’IfrownedatSam.‘Wereyouplanningtokillthegoat?’‘No.Wereyou?’IlookedatOtis.‘Weweren’tplanningtokillyou.’‘It’sokayifyouwantto,’Otissaid.‘I’musedtoit.Mymasterkillsmeallthetime.’

‘He…does?’Iasked.‘Oh,sure.I’mbasicallyatalkingmealonfourhooves.Mytherapistsaysthat’swhyI’msodown

allthetime,butIdon’tknow.IthinkitgoeswaybacktowhenIwasakid–’‘Sorry.Wait.Whoisyourmaster?’Hearthstonespelledout:T-H-O-R.D-U-H.‘That’sright,’saidthegoat.‘AlthoughhislastnameisnotDuh.Youhaven’tseenhim,haveyou?’‘No…’Ithoughtaboutmydream.IcouldstillsmellthebitteralmondsonLoki’sbreath.Thegods

don’tevenpretendtodealingoodandevil,Magnus.ThinkaboutthatwhenyoumeetThor.JuniorhadtoldustoseekoutThor.Theriverhadsomehowbroughtustowhereweneededtobe.

Onlynow,Iwasn’tsureIwantedtobehere.Samreadjustedherheadscarf.‘I’mnotabigfanofThor,butifhecangiveusdirectionstoLyngvi

weneedtotalktohim.’‘Exceptthegoatislost,’Isaid.‘SohowdowefindThor?’Hearthstonepointedtomypendant.AskJack.Insteadofspellingthename,hemadethesignforjack-in-the-box,whichlookedlikeafinger

rabbitpoppingupfrombehindhishand.Sometimessignlanguagecanbealittletooliteral.Ipulledoffthependant.Theswordgrewtofulllengthandbegantohum.‘Hey,’saidJack,therunesglowingalonghisblade,‘gladyousurvived!Oh,isthatOtis?Cool!

Thormustbearoundheresomewhere.’Otisbleated.‘Youhaveatalkingsword?I’veneverbeenkilledbyatalkingswordbefore.That’s

fine.Ifyoucouldjustmakeacleancutrightacrossthethroat–’‘Otis!’Jacksaid.‘Don’tyouknowme?I’mFrey’ssword,Sumarbrander.Wemetatthatpartyat

Bilskirner–theonewhereyouwereplayingtug-of-warwithLoki?’‘Oh…’Otisshookhishorns.‘Yes.Thatwasembarrassing.’‘Jack,’Isaid,‘we’relookingforThor.Anychanceyoucanpointusintherightdirection?’‘EasyMcSqueezy.’Theswordtuggedatmyarm.‘I’mreadingabigconcentrationofhotairand

thunderthatway!’SamandIhelpedHearthstonetohisfeet.Hewasn’tlookingtoogood.Hislipswerepalegreen.He

wobbledlikehe’djustgotoffaTilt-a-Whirl.‘Otis,’Samsaid,‘canourfriendrideyou?Itmightbequicker.’‘Sure,’thegoatsaid.‘Rideme,killme,whatever.ButIshouldwarnyou,thisisJotunheim.Ifwego

thewrongway,we’llrunacrossgiants.Thenwe’llallbebutcheredandputinastewpot.’‘Wewon’tgothewrongway,’Ipromised.‘Willwe,Jack?’‘Hmm?’saidthesword.‘Oh,no.Probablynot.Like,asixtypercentchancewe’lllive.’‘Jack…’‘Kidding,’hesaid.‘Jeez,souptight.’Hepointedupstreamandledusthroughthefoggymorning,withspottysnowflurriesandaforty

percentchanceofdeath.

FORTY-EIGHT

HearthstonePassesOutEvenMorethanJasonGrace(ThoughIHaveNoIdeaWhoThatIs)

JotunheimlookedalotlikeVermont,justwithfewersignsofferingmaple-syrupproducts.Snowdustedthedarkmountains.Waist-highdriftschokedthevalleys.Pinetreesbristledwithicicles.Jackhoveredinfront,guidingusalongtheriverasitzigzaggedthroughcanyonsblanketedinsub-zeroshadows.Weclimbedtrailsnexttohalf-frozenwaterfalls,mysweatchillinginstantlyagainstmyskin.Inotherwords,itwasahugeamountoffun.SamandIstayedclosetoHearthstone.IhopedmyresidualauraofFrey-glowmightdohimsome

good,buthestilllookedprettyweak.Thebestwecoulddowaskeephimfromslidingoffthegoat.‘Hanginthere,’Itoldhim.Hesignedsomething–maybesorry–buthisgesturewassolistlessIwasn’tsure.‘Justrest,’Isaid.Hegruntedinfrustration.Hegropedthroughhisbagofrunes,pulledoneoutandplaceditinmy

hands.Hepointedtothestone,thentohimself,asiftosay,Thisisme.TherunewasoneIdidn’tknow:

Samfrownedwhenshesawit.‘That’sperthro.’‘Whatdoesitmean?’Iasked.SheglancedcautiouslyatHearth.‘Areyoutryingtoexplainwhathappenedtoyou?Youwant

Magnustoknow?’Hearthstonetookadeepbreath,likehewaspreparingforasprint.Hesigned,Magnus–felt–pain.Iclosedmyfingersaroundthestone.‘Yeah…WhenIhealedyou,therewassomethingdark–’Hearthpointedagainatthestone.HelookedatSam.‘Youwantmetotellhim?’sheasked.‘Yousure?’Henodded,thenrestedhisheadagainstthegoat’sbackandclosedhiseyes.WewalkedforabouttwentyyardsbeforeSamsaidanything.‘WhenHearthandIwereinAlfheim,’shestarted,‘hetoldmepartofhisstory.Idon’tknowallthe

details,but…hisparents…’Shestruggledtofindwords.Otisthegoatbleated.‘Goon.Ilovedepressingstories.’‘Bequiet,’Samordered.‘I’lljustbequiet,then,’thegoatagreed.

IstudiedHearthstone’sface.Helookedsopeacefulasleep.‘Blitzentoldmealittlebit,’Isaid.‘Hearth’sparentsneveracceptedhim,becausehewasdeaf.’‘Itwasworsethanthat,’Samsaid.‘Theywere…notgoodpeople.’SomeofLoki’sacidictonecreptintohervoice,asifshewereimaginingHearth’sparentsonthe

receivingendofmistletoedarts.‘Hearthhadabrother–Andiron–whodiedveryyoung.Itwasn’tHearthstone’sfault,buthisparentstookouttheirbitternessonhim.Theyalwaystoldhimthewrongbrotherhaddied.Tothem,Hearthwasadisappointment,adisabledelf,apunishmentfromthegods.Hecoulddonoright.’Iclenchedtherunestone.‘Hestillcarriesallthatpaininside.Gods…’SamlaidherhandonHearth’sankle.‘Hecouldn’ttellmethedetailsofhowhegrewup,butI–I

gotthefeelingitwasworsethanyoucanimagine.’Ilookedattherune.‘Nowonderhedaydreamedaboutworkingmagic.Butthissymbol…?’‘Perthrosymbolizesanemptycuplyingsideways,’Samsaid.‘Itcouldbespilleddrink,oracup

waitingtobefilled,oracupforthrowingdice,likefate.’‘Idon’tunderstand.’SambrushedsomegoathairfromHearthstone’strousercuff.‘Ithink…Ithinkperthroistherune

Hearthstonepersonallyrelatesto.WhenhewenttoMimiranddrankfromthewell,Hearthstonewasofferedachoicebetweentwofutures.Ifhetookthefirstpath,MimirwouldgranthimspeechandhearingandsendhimbacktoAlfheimtoliveanormallife,buthewouldhavetogiveuphisdreamofmagic.Ifhechosethesecondpath–’‘He’dlearnmagic,’Iguessed,‘buthewouldstaythewayheis–deaf,hatedbyhisownparents.

Whatkindofmessed-upchoiceisthat?Ishould’vesteppedonMimir ’sfacewhenIhadthechance.’Samshookherhead.‘Mimirjustpresentedthechoices.Magicandnormallifearemutually

exclusive.Onlypeoplewhohaveknowngreatpainhavethecapacitytolearnmagic.Theyhavetobelikehollowcups.EvenOdin…hegaveupaneyetodrinkfromMimir ’swell,butthatwasjustthebeginning.Inordertolearntherunes,OdinfashionedanooseandhangedhimselffromabranchoftheWorldTreeforninedays.’Mystomachcheckedtoseeifithadanythinglefttoretch.Itsettledfordryspasms.‘That’s…not

right.’‘Butitwasnecessary,’Samsaid.‘Odinpiercedhissidewithhisownspearandhungthereinpain,

withoutfoodorwater,untiltherunesrevealedthemselves.Thepainmadehimhollow…areceptacleformagic.’IlookedatHearthstone.Iwasn’tsurewhethertohughimorwakehimupandscoldhim.How

couldanyonewillinglychoosetoholdontothatmuchpain?Whatkindofmagiccouldpossiblybeworththecost?‘I’vedonemagic,’Isaid.‘Healing,walkingintoflames,blastingweaponsoutofpeople’shands.

ButI’veneversufferedlikeHearthhas.’Samirahpursedherlips.‘That’sdifferent,Magnus.Youwerebornwithyourmagic–an

inheritancefromyourfather.Youcan’tchooseyourabilitiesorchangethem.Alfseidrisinnate.It’salsolessermagiccomparedtowhattherunescando.’

‘Lesser?’Ididn’twanttoargueaboutwhosemagicwasmoreimpressive,butmostofthethingsI’dseenHearthstonedohadbeenpretty…subtle.‘ItoldyoubackinValhalla,’Samsaid,‘therunesarethesecretlanguageoftheuniverse.Learning

them,youcanrecodereality.Theonlylimitsonyourmagicareyourstrengthandyourimagination.’‘Sowhydon’tmorepeoplelearnrunes?’‘That’swhatI’vebeentellingyou.Itrequiresincrediblesacrifice.Mostpeoplewoulddiebefore

theygotasfarasHearthstonehas.’ItuckedHearthstone’sscarfaroundhisneck.Iunderstoodnowwhyhe’dbeenwillingtoriskrune

magic.Toaguywithhistroubledpast,recodingrealitymusthavesoundedprettygood.Ialsothoughtaboutthemessagehe’dwhisperedintomymind.He’dcalledmebrother.AftereverythingHearthstonehadbeenthroughwithhisownbrother ’sdeath…thatcouldnothavebeeneasy.‘SoHearthmadehimselfanemptycup,’Isaid.‘Likeperthro.’‘Tryingtofillhimselfwiththepowerofmagic,’Samagreed.‘Idon’tknowallthemeaningsof

perthro,Magnus.ButIdoknowonething–Hearthstonecastitwhenwewerefallingfromthecliffintotheriver.’Itriedtoremember,butI’dbeenoverwhelmedwithexhaustionassoonasIgrippedthesword.

‘Whatdiditdo?’‘Itgotushere,’Samsaid.‘AnditleftHearthstonelikethat.’Shenoddedtohissnoringform.‘I

can’tbesure,butIthinkperthroishis…whatdoChristianscallit?A“HailMarypass”.Hewasthrowingthatrunelikeyou’dthrowdicefromacup,turningourfateovertothegods.’Mypalmwasnowbruisedfromclenchingthestone.Istillwasn’tsurewhyHearthstonehadgivenit

tome,butIfeltastronginstincttokeepitforhim–ifonlytemporarily.Nooneshouldcarrythatkindoffatealone.Islippedtheruneintomypocket.Wetrekkedthroughthewildernessinsilenceforawhile.Atonepoint,Jackledusovertheriveron

afallentreetrunk.Icouldn’thelplookingbothwaysforgiantsquirrelsbeforecrossing.InplacesthesnowwassodeepwehadtohopfrombouldertoboulderwhileOtisthegoat

speculatedaboutwhichoneofuswouldslip,fallanddiefirst.‘Iwishyou’dbequiet,’Imuttered.‘Ialsowishwehadsnowshoes.’‘You’dneedUllerforthat,’saidthegoat.‘Who?’‘Thegodofsnowshoes,’saidOtis.‘Heinventedthem.Alsoarcheryand…Idon’tknow,other

stuff.’I’dneverheardofasnowshoegod.ButIwould’vepaidrealmoneyifthegodofsnowmobileshad

comeroaringoutofthewoodsrightthentogiveusalift.Wekepttrudgingalong.Once,wespottedastonehouseonthesummitofahill.Thegreylightandthemountainsplayed

trickswithmyperception.Icouldn’ttellifthehousewassmallandnearby,ormassiveandfaraway.Irememberedwhatmyfriendshadtoldmeaboutgiants–thattheylivedandbreathedillusions.‘Seethathouse?’Jacksaid.‘Let’snotgothere.’Ididn’targue.

Judgingtimewasdifficult,butbylateafternoontheriverhadturnedintoaragingcurrent.Cliffsrosealongtheoppositebank.Inthedistance,throughthetrees,Iheardtheroarofawaterfall.‘Oh,that’sright,’saidOtis.‘Iremembernow.’‘Yourememberwhat?’Iasked.‘WhyIleft.Iwassupposedtogethelpformymaster.’Sambrushedaclumpofsnowoffhershoulder.‘WhywouldThorneedhelp?’‘Therapids,’saidOtis.‘Iguesswe’dbetterhurry.Iwassupposedbequick,butIstoodwatching

youguysforalmostaday.’Iflinched.‘Wait…wewereunconsciousforawholeday?’‘Atleast,’saidOtis.‘He’sright,’Jacksaid.‘Accordingtomyinternalclock,it’sSundaythenineteenth.Iwarnedyou,

onceyoutookholdofme…well,wefoughtthosedwarvesonFriday.YousleptallthewaythroughSaturday.’Samgrimaced.‘We’velostvaluabletime.TheWolf’sislandwillappearinthreemoredays,andwe

don’tevenknowwhereBlitzenis.’‘Probablymyfault,’Otisoffered.‘Ishould’vesavedyouearlier,butgivingahumanmouth-to-

mouth–Ihadtoworkupmynerve.Mytherapistgavemesomebreathingexercises–’‘Guys,’Jacktheswordinterrupted,‘we’reclosenow.Forrealthistime.’Hehoveredoffthrough

thewoods.Wefollowedthefloatingsworduntilthetreesparted.Infrontofusstretchedabeachofjagged

blackrocksandchunksofice.Ontheoppositebank,sheercliffsroseintothesky.Theriverhadturnedintofull-onclass-fiverapids–acombatzoneofwhite-waterandhalf-submergedboulders.Upstream,theriverwascompressedbetweentwoskyscraper-sizestonecolumns–man-madeornatural,Icouldn’ttell.Theirtopswerelostintheclouds.Fromthefissurebetweenthem,theriverblastedoutinaverticalsheet–lesslikeawaterfallandmorelikeadamsplittingdownthemiddle.SuddenlyJotunheimdidnotseemlikeVermont.ItseemedmoreliketheHimalayas–someplace

notmeantformortals.Itwashardtofocusonanythingexcepttheragingfalls,buteventuallyInoticedasmallcampsiteon

thebeach–atent,afirepitandasecondgoatwithdarkfurpacingnervouslyontheshore.Whenthegoatsawus,hecamegallopingover.Otisturnedtousandshoutedovertheroaroftheriver,‘ThisisMarvin!He’smybrother!His

propernameisTanngrisnr–Snarler–but–’‘Otis!’Marvinyelled.‘Wherehaveyoubeen?’‘IforgotwhatIwasdoing,’saidOtis.Marvinbleatedinexasperation.Hislipswerecurledinapermanentsnarl,which–gee,Idunno–

mighthavebeenhowhegotthenameSnarler.‘Thisisthehelpyoufound?’Marvinfixedhisyelloweyesonme.‘Twoscrawnyhumansanda

deadelf?’‘He’snotdead!’Iyelled.‘WhereisThor?’‘Intheriver!’Marvinpointedwithhishorns.‘Thegodofthunderisabouttodrown,andifyou

don’tfigureoutawaytohelphimI’llkillyou.Bytheway,nicetomeetyou.’

FORTY-NINE

Well,There’sYourProblem.You’veGotaSwordUpYourNose

Icouldn’thelpit.WhenIheardthenameThor,Ithoughtabouttheguyfromthemoviesandcomics–abig

superherofromouterspace,withbrightSpandextights,aredcape,goldilockshairandmaybeahelmetwithfluffylittledovewings.Inreallife,Thorwasscarier.Andredder.Andgrungier.Also,hecouldcusslikeadrunken,creativesailor.‘Mother-grubbingscumbucket!’heyelled.(Orsomethingalongthoselines.Mybrainmayhave

filteredtheactuallanguage,asitwould’vemademyearsbleed.)‘Whereismybackup?’Hestoodchest-deepinthefloodneartheoppositeside,clingingtoascrubbybushthatgrewfrom

thecliff.Therockwassosmoothandslicktherewerenootherhandholds.Thebushlookedlikeitwasabouttopullfreeofitsroots.Anyminute,Thorwasgoingtogetflusheddownstream,whererowsofjaggedrocksshreddedthecurrentinaseriesofcataracts,perfectformakingaThorsmoothie.Fromthisdistance,throughthesprayofwaterandmist,Icouldn’tseemuchofthegodhimself:

shoulder-lengthredhair,acurlyredbeardandbodybuilderarmsprotrudingfromasleevelessleatherjerkin.Heworedarkirongauntletsthatremindedmeofrobothands,andachain-mailwaistcoatBlitzenwould’vefoundverytrendy.‘Beard-burningsonofamud-lover!’roaredthegod.‘Otis,isthatyou?Where’smyartillery?My

airsupport?WheretheHelheimismycavalry?’‘I’mhere,boss!’Otiscalled.‘Ibrought…twokidsandadeadelf!’‘He’snotdead,’Isaidagain.‘Ahalf-deadelf,’Otiscorrected.‘Whatgoodisthat?’Thorbellowed.‘Ineedthatgiantesskilled,andIneedherkilledNOW!’‘Giantess?’Iasked.Marvinheadbuttedme.‘Thatone,stupid.’Henoddedtowardsthewaterfall.Foramoment,thefogclearedfromthetopsofthecliffs,andI

sawtheproblem.Nexttome,Sammadeasoundlikeshewasbeinggarroted.‘HolyHeimdall.’Thoseskyscraper-sizepillarsofrockwereactuallylegs–immenselegssogreyandroughthey

blendedinwiththesurroundingcliffs.TherestofthewomanwassotallshemadeGodzillalooklikeatoypoodle.ShemadetheSearsTowerlooklikeatrafficcone.Herthigh-lengthdresswasstitchedtogetherfromsomanyanimalhidesitprobablyrepresentedtheextinctionofseveraldozenspecies.

Herface,somewhereupthereinthestratosphere,wasasstonyandgrimasaMountRushmorepresident’s,surroundedbyahurricaneoflongdarkhair.Shegrippedtheclifftopsoneithersideoftheriverasifstraddlingthetorrentwashardevenforher.Shelookeddown,smilingcruellyatthelittlespeckofthundergodcaughtinthecurrent,then

squeezedherlegsclosertogether.Thewaterfallsprayedoutbetweenhershinsinahighlypressurizedcurtainofliquidforce.Thortriedtoshoutbutgotamouthfulofriver.Hisheadwentunder.Thebushhewasclingingto

bentsideways,itsrootssnappingoneaftertheother.‘She’sgoingtowashhimintooblivion!’Marvinsaid.‘Dosomething,humans!’Likewhat?Ithought.‘He’sagod,’Isaid.‘Can’thefly?Can’thezapherwithlightningor–whatabouthishammer?

Doesn’thehaveahammer?’Marvinsnarled.Hewasverygoodatsnarling.‘Gee,whydidn’twethinkofthat?IfThorcoulddo

anyofthosethingswithoutlosinghisgripandgettinginstantlykilled,don’tyouthinkhewould’vedoneitbynow?’Iwantedtoaskhowagodcouldgetkilled,sincetheyweresupposedtobeimmortal.ThenI

thoughtaboutMimirexistingforeverasaseveredhead,andBaldergettingcutdownbyamistletoedartandspendingeternitydowninHelWorld.IlookedatSam.Sheshruggedhelplessly.‘Againstagiantthatbig,Ihavenothing.’Hearthstonemumbledinhissleep.Hiseyelidswerestartingtoflutter,buthewasn’tgoingtobe

castingmagicanytimesoon.Thatleftmeonlyonefriendtocallon.‘Jack.’Theswordhoverednexttome.‘Yeah?’‘Youseethatmassivegiantessblockingtheriver?’‘Technicallyspeaking,’Jacksaid,‘Ican’tseeanything,becauseIdon’thaveeyes.But,yes,Iseethe

giant.’‘Youthinkyoucouldflyupthereand,Idunno,killher?’Jackhummedindignantly.‘Youwantmetokillatwo-thousand-foot-tallgiantess?’‘Yeah.’‘Well,here’sthething.You’dneedtograbmeandthrowmelikeyou’veneverthrownanything

before.You’dneedtoreallybelievethatkillingthisgiantessisaworthydeed.Andyou’dneedtobepreparedforwhatwillhappenwhenyoutakeholdofmeagain.Howmuchenergywouldittakeyou,personally,toclimbthattwo-thousand-foot-tallgiantandkillher?’Theeffortwouldprobablydestroyme,Ithought.ButIdidn’tseemuchchoice.WeneededinformationfromThor.SamandHearthstoneandtwoantisocialtalkinggoatswere

dependingonme.‘Let’sdoit.’Igrabbedthesword.Itriedtofocus.Ididn’tcaresomuchaboutsavingThor.Ididn’tevenknowtheguy.NordidI

particularlycarewhyahalf-mile-tallgiantessthoughtitwasfunnytostandinariverandspraya

waterfallbetweenhershins.ButIdidcareaboutSam,BlitzenandHearthstone.They’driskedtheirlivestogetmethisfar.No

matterwhatLokipromised,IhadtofindawaytostopSurtandkeepFenrisWolfchained.TheWolfhadcausedmymother ’sdeath.MimirhadsaidthatFenrissenthistwochildren…Theyweresupposedtokillme.Mymomhadsacrificedherlifetokeepmealive.Ihadtomakehersacrificemeansomething.Thehugegreygiantessrepresentedeverythingthatwasinmyway.Shehadtogo.Witheverybitofmystrength,Ithrewthesword.Jackslicedskywardlikearocket-poweredboomerang.Whathappenednext…well,Iwasn’tsureIsawcorrectly.Itwasalongwayup.Butitlookedlike

Jackflewintothegiantess’sleftnostril.Thegiantessarchedherback.Shemadeafacelikeshewasgoingtosneeze.Herhandsslipped

fromtheclifftops.Jackflewoutofherrightnostrilasthegiantess’skneesbuckledandshefelltowardsus.‘Timber!’Jackyelled,spirallingbacktome.‘RUN!’Iscreamed.Toolate.Thegiantessface-plantedintheriverwithamightyFLOOM!Ihavenomemoryofthewallofwaterthatwashedmeintoatree,alongwithSam,ahalf-asleep

Hearthstoneandthetwostartledgoats.Nevertheless,that’swhatmusthavehappened.Bysheerluck,noneofusdied.Thegiantess’sbodyhadcompletelychangedthetopography.Wheretherehadbeenariver,there

wasnowawideicymarsh,withwatergurglingandsplutteringaroundDeadLadyIslandasittriedtofindnewwaystogetdownstream.Thebeachwassixinchesunderwater.Thor ’scampsitehadvanished.Thegodhimselfwasnowheretobeseen.‘YoukilledThor!’Otisbleated.‘Youdroppedagiantessonhim!’Thegiantess’srightarmtwitched.Ialmostfelloutofthetree.IwasafraidJackhadonlystunned

her,butthenThorwriggledhiswayoutofthegiantess’sarmpitwithmuchcursingandgrunting.SamandIhelpedHearthstoneoutofthetreeasthegodofthundertrudgedacrossthegiantess’s

back,jumpedintothemarshandwadedtowardsus.Hiseyeswereblue,rimmedwithangryred.Hisexpressionwassofierceitwould’vesentwildboarsrunningfortheirmommies.Jacktheswordappearedatmyside,glisteningwithvarioustypesofgootypicallyfoundina

giant’snostril.‘Sowhatdoyouthink,señor?’Hisrunesglowed.‘Youproudofme?’‘I’llanswerthatifIsurvivethenexttwominutes.’Theangrygodstoppedinfrontofme.Waterdrippedfromhisredbeardontohisextremelylarge

chain-mail-cladchest.Hispot-roast-sizefistswereclenchedintheirirongauntlets.‘That–’hecrackedagrin–‘wasamazing!’Heclappedmeontheshouldersohardhedislocatedseveraljoints.‘Joinmefordinner!Wecan

killOtisandMarvin!’

F I FTY

NoSpoilers.ThorIsWayBehindonHisShows

Yep.wekilledthegoats.Thorpromisedtheywouldberesurrectedgoodasnewthenextmorning,solongaswedidn’t

breakanybones.Otisassuredmefrequentdeathwasgoodforhisexposuretherapy.Marvingrowledatmetogetonwithitandnotbeaweak-kneedwimp.ItwasaloteasierkillingMarvin.Aftertwoyearsofhomelessness,IthoughtIknewhowtoughitcouldbetokeepmyselffed,butlet

metellyou:killingandbutcheringananimalformyownsupperwasanewexperience.Youthinkit’sgrosstopullahalf-eatensandwichoutofabin?Tryskinningagoat,cuttingitintochunks,buildingafire,thencookingthemeatonaspitwhileattemptingtoignorethegoatheadsstaringatyoufromthescrappile.Youmightassumethatkindofexperiencewouldturnmeintoavegetarian.Butnope.AssoonasI

smelledthecookingmeat,myhungertookover.Iforgotallaboutthehorrorsofgoatslaughter.ThoseOtis-kebabswerethebestthingsIevertasted.Asweate,Thorchattedaboutgiants,JotunheimandhisopinionsofMidgardtelevisionshows,

which,forsomereason,hefollowedreligiously.(CanIsayagoddidsomethingreligiously?)‘Giants!’Heshookhisheadindisgust.‘Afterallthesecenturies,you’dthinktheywouldlearnto

stopinvadingMidgard.Butno!They’relikethe…whatisit?TheLeagueofAssassinsinArrow!Theyjustkeepcomingback!AsifIwouldletanythinghappentohumans!Youguysaremyfavouritespecies!’Hepattedmycheek.Fortunately,hehadtakenoffhisirongloves,orhewould’vebrokenmyjaw.

Unfortunately,hehadn’twashedhishandsafterguttingthegoats.Hearthstonesatatthefire,nibblingonapieceofMarvinhaunch.Hewasgettingsomeofhis

strengthback,thougheverytimeIlookedathimIhadtoforcemyselfnottosob.Iwantedtohugthepoorguy,bakehimabatchofcookiesandtellhimhowsorryIwasabouthiscrappychildhood,butIknewhewouldn’twantpity.Hewouldn’twantmetostarttreatinghimdifferently.Still…theempty-cuprunestoneweighedheavilyinmycoatpocket.Samstayedattheedgeofthefire,asfarfromThorasshecouldget.Shesaidaslittleaspossible

andmadenosuddenmovements,whichmeantthatmostofThor ’sattentionwasonme.Everythingthethundergoddid,hedidwithgusto.Helovedcookinghisgoats.Helovedeatingand

drinkingmead.Helovedtellingstories.Andhelovedfarting.Boy,didhelovefarting.Whenhegotexcited,sparksofelectricityflewfromhishands,hisearsand…well,I’llleavetheresttoyourimagination.

Unlikehismovieversion,therewasnothingpolishedaboutThor.Hisfacewashandsomeinabeat-upway,likehe’dspentyearsintheboxingring.Hischainmailwasfilthy.Hisleatherjerkinandtrousershadworntothecolourofdirtysnow.Tattooscoveredhismusculararms.Onhisleftbiceps,SIFwasinscribedinsideaheart.AroundhisrightforearmcoiledastylizedWorldSerpent.Acrosshisknucklesoneitherhand,inblockletters,werethenamesMAGNIandMODI.AtfirstIwasnervousaboutthenameMagni,becauseitwassoclosetoMagnus–thelastthingIwantedwasmynameprintedacrossthethundergod’sfist–butSamassuredme,quietly,thatitwasatotallydifferentname.ThorregaledmewithhistheoriesaboutahypotheticaldeathmatchbetweenDarylfromThe

WalkingDeadandMikefromBreakingBad.BackwhenIwashangingoutonthesidewalksofBoston,Iwould’vebeenhappytotalkTVforhoursjusttopassthetime,butnowIhadaquestlooming.We’dlostawholedaytounconsciousness.Speculatingonthenewautumnline-upwasn’tgoingtomeanmuchiftheworldwasconsumedinflamesthreedaysfromnow.Still,Thorwashavingsomuchfunitwashardtochangethesubject.‘Sowhatdothink?’heasked.‘Bestvillaininanongoingseries?’‘Uh…wow,toughone.’Ipointedathisknuckles.‘WhoareMagniandModi?’‘Mysons!’Thorbeamed.Withthegoatgreaseinhisbeardandtherandomelectricalsparksflying

fromhisfingers,Iwasworriedhemightsethimselfonfire.‘I’vegotalotofsons,ofcourse,butthey’remyfavourites.’‘Yeah?’Iasked.‘Howoldarethey?’Hefrowned.‘Ah,thisisembarrassing,butI’mnotsure.Theymightnotevenbebornyet.’‘How–?’‘Magnus,’Saminterrupted,‘LordThor ’stwosonsMagniandModiarefatedtosurviveRagnarok.

TheirnamesarespokeninthepropheciesoftheNorns.’‘That’sright!’ThorleanedtowardsSam.‘Whoareyouagain?’‘Uh…Sam,mylord.’‘Youhaveafamiliaraura,girl.’Thegodfurrowedhisredeyebrows.‘Whyisthat?’‘IwasaValkyrie…?’Saminchedbackwards.‘Oh.Maybethat’sit.’Thorshrugged.‘You’llhavetoexcuseme.I’vebeenonthreethousand,five

hundredandsixconsecutivedeploymentstotheeasternfront,keepingthegiantsatbay.Igetalittlejumpysometimes.’Hearthstonesigned,Andgassy.Thorbelched.‘Whatdidtheelfsay?IdonotspeakGesticulation.’‘Um,hewaswonderinghowyoukeepcurrentontelevision,’Isaid,‘seeingasyou’reoutinthe

fieldsomuch.’Thorlaughed.‘Ihavetodosomethingtokeepmyselfsane!’Hearthstonesigned,How’sthatworkingoutforyou?‘Theelfagrees!’Thorguessed.‘Icanwatchmyshowsanywhere,oratleastIcould.Amongits

manyotherpowers,myhammerMjolnirgotfullbarsofserviceandHDresolutioninanyoftheNineWorlds!’‘Got,pasttense?’Samasked.

Thorclearedhisthroatloudly.‘Butenoughabouttelevision!How’sthatgoatmeat?Youdidn’tbreakanybones,didyou?’SamandIexchangedlooks.Whenwe’dfirstintroducedourselvestothegod,I’dfounditstrange

thatThordidn’thavehishammer.Itwassortofhissignatureweapon.I’dfiguredmaybeitwasjustindisguise,likemysword.NowIwasstartingtowonder.Hispiercingbloodshotgazemademethinkitmightbedangeroustoask,though.‘Uh,no,sir,’Isaid.‘Wedidn’tbreakanybones.Justtheoretically,whatwouldhappenifwedid?’‘Thegoatswouldberesurrectedwiththatdamage,’hesaid.‘Whichwouldtakealongtimetoheal

andbeveryannoying.ThenI’deitherhavetokillyouormakeyoumyslaveforever.’Hearthstonesigned,Thisgodisafreak.‘You’reright,MrElf,’Thorsaid.‘Itisafairandjustpunishment!That’showIgotmyregular

manservant,Thjalfi.’Thorshookhishead.‘Poorkid.Thesedeploymentswerestartingtogettohim.Ihadtogranthimafurlough.Ireallycoulduseanotherslave…’Hestudiedmeappraisingly.‘So…’Isetasidemygoatmeat.‘Howdidyouendupintheriver,andwhywasthatgiantesstrying

todrownyou?’‘Oh,her.’Thorgloweredattheneighbourhood-sizecorpseinthemiddleoftheicyswamp.‘She’s

adaughterofGeirrod,oneofmyoldenemies.Ihatethatguy.He’salwayssendinghisdaughterstokillme.’Hegesturedtowardsthecliffs.‘Iwasheadingtohisfortresstoseeif–Well,nomatter.Thankyoufortheassist.ThatwasFrey’ssword,wasn’tit?’‘Yes.Jack’saroundheresomewhere.’Iwhistled.Jackcamehoveringover.‘Hello,Thor,’saidthesword.‘Longtimenosee.’‘Ha!’Thegodclappedhishandsindelight.‘IthoughtIrecognizedyou.Butisn’tyourname

Sumarbrander?WhydidthehumancallyouJorvik?’‘Jack,’theswordcorrected.‘Yak.’‘No,’theswordsaidpatiently.‘Jack,withtheEnglishjaysound.’‘Okay,fine.Well,nicejobwiththegiantess.’‘Youknowwhattheysay.’Jacksoundedsmug.‘Thebiggertheyare,theeasieritistoflyuptheir

nasalcavity.’‘True,’Thorsaid.‘ButIthoughtyouwerelost.Howdidyoucometobewiththesestrangefolk?’Hecallsusstrange?Hearthstonesigned.‘LordThor,’Samsaid,‘weactuallycameherelookingforyou.Weneedyourhelp,asMagnuswill

nowexplain.’Shestaredatmelike,Ifheknowswhat’sgoodforhim.ItoldThorabouttheNorns’prophecy–ninedayshence,sungoingeast,Surtexplodeseverything,

FenrisWolf,nastyteeth,eatsworld,etcetera.Thorbecameagitated.Sparksflewfromhiselbows.Heroseandpacedaroundthefire,

occasionallypunchingnearbytrees.‘Youwantmetotellyouwheretheislandis,’hededuced.‘Thatwouldbegreat,’Isaid.‘ButIcan’t,’Thormutteredtohimself.‘Ican’tbesendingrandommortalsonwolf-watchingtours.

Toodangerous.ButRagnarok.Notready.No.Notunless–’Hefroze,thenturnedtowardsuswithan

eagergleaminhiseyes.‘Perhapsthat’swhyyou’rehere.’Idonotlikethis,Hearthstonesigned.Thornodded.‘Theelfagrees!Youhavecometoassistme!’‘Exactly!’saidJack,hummingwithexcitement.‘Let’sdoit,whateveritis!’Ihadasuddendesiretohidebehindthegoatcarcasses.AnythingthegodofthunderandtheSword

ofSummeragreedon,Ididn’twanttobepartof.Samplacedheraxeatherside,asifsheanticipatedneedingitsoon.‘Letmeguess,LordThor:

you’velostyourhammeragain.’‘Now,Ididnotsaythat!’Thorwaggedafingerather.‘Youdidnothearthatfromme.Becauseif

thatweretrue,hypotheticallyspeaking,andifwordgotout,thegiantswouldinvadeMidgardimmediately!Youmortalsdon’trealizehowoftenIkeepyousafe.Myreputationalonemakesmostgiantstooafraidtoattackyourworld.’‘Backup,’Isaid.‘WhatdidSammeanbyagain?You’velostyourhammerbefore?’‘Once,’Thorsaid.‘Okay,twice.Threetimesifyoucountthistime,whichyoushouldn’t,becauseI

amnotadmittingthatthehammerismissing.’‘Right…’Isaid.‘Sohowdidyouloseit?’‘Idon’tknow!’Thorstartedtopaceagain,hislongredhairsparkingandpopping.‘Itwasjustlike

…Poof!Itriedretracingmysteps.ItriedtheFindMyHammerapp,butitdoesn’twork!’‘Isn’tyourhammerthemostpowerfulweaponintheuniverse?’Iasked.‘Yes!’‘AndIthoughtitwassoheavynobodyexceptyoucouldpickitup.’‘True.EvenIneedmyironglovesofstrengthtoliftit!Butgiantsaretricky.They’rebigand

strongandtheyhavemagic.Withthem,manyimpossiblethingsarepossible.’IthoughtabouttheeagleBigBoyandhoweasilyhe’dsuckeredme.‘Yeah,Igetit.Isthatwhyyou

weregoingtoA-Rod’s?’‘Geirrod’s,’Thorcorrected.‘And,yes.He’salikelysuspect.Evenifhedoesn’thaveit,hemight

knowwhodoes.Besides,withoutmyhammer,Ican’twatchmyshows.I’maseasonbehindonSherlockandit’skillingme!IwasreadytogotoGeirrod’sfortressmyself,butI’mverygladyouvolunteeredtogoforme!’Wedid?Hearthstoneasked.‘That’sthespirit,MrElf!I’mgladyouarereadytodieformycause!’Reallynot,Hearthsigned.‘JustgotoGeirrod’sfortressandcheckformyhammer.Ofcourseit’simportantyoudon’tleton

thatitismissing.IfGeirroddoesn’thaveit,wedon’twanthimtoknowthatIdon’thaveit.But,youknow,ifhedoesn’thaveit,obviouslyaskhimifheknowswhodoes,withoutactuallyadmittingthatit’smissing.’Samirahpressedherfingerstohertemples.‘I’mgettingaheadache.LordThor,howarewe

supposedtofindyourhammerifwecan’tmention–’‘You’llfigureitout!’hesaid.‘Youhumansareacleverbunch.Then,onceyou’vedeterminedthe

truth,IwillknowyouareworthyoffacingFenrisWolf.I’llgiveyouthelocationofhisislandandyoucanstopRagnarok.Youhelpme,Ihelpyou.’

ItsoundedmorelikeYouhelpme,thenyouhelpmesomemore,butIdoubtedtherewasapolitewaytodeclinewithoutgettinganirongauntletinmyteeth.Sammusthavebeenthinkingthesamething.Herfaceturnedroughlythesameshadeofgreenas

herhijab.‘LordThor,’shesaid,‘invadingagiant’sfortresswithonlythreepeoplewouldbe…’Suicidal,Hearthstonesuggested.Stupid.‘Difficult,’Samsaid.Justthen,anearbypinetreeshuddered.Blitzendroppedfromthebranchesandlandedwaist-deepin

apileofslush.Hearthstonescrambledoverandhelpedhimtohisfeet.‘Thanks,buddy,’Blitzsaid.‘Stupidtreetravel.Where–?’‘Isthisafriendofyours?’Thorraisedoneironcladfist.‘OrshouldI–’‘No!Imean,yes,he’safriend.Blitzen,Thor.Thor,Blitzen.’‘TheThor?’Blitzenbowedsolowitlookedlikehewastryingtoavoidanairstrike.‘Honoured.

Seriously.Hi.Wow.’‘Well,then!’Thethundergodgrinned.‘Youhavefourpeopletostormthegiant’scitadel!Friend

dwarf,helpyourselftomygoatmeatandmyfire.Asforme,afterbeingstuckinthatriversolong,I’mgoingtoturninearly.Inthemorning,youallcansetofftofindmyhammer,whichofcourseisnotofficiallymissing!’Thortrompedovertohisbedoffurs,threwhimselfdownandbegansnoringwithasmuchgusto

ashe’dbeenfarting.Blitzenfrownedatme.‘Whathaveyougotusinto?’‘Longstory,’Isaid.‘Here,havesomeMarvin.’

F I FTY-ONE

WeHavetheTalk-About-Turning-Into-HorsefliesChat

Hearthstonewenttosleepfirst,mostlybecausehewastheonlyonewhocouldsleepwithThor ’ssnoring.Sincethegodhadcrashedoutside,Hearthstonecommandeeredthetwo-mantent.Hecrawledinsideandpromptlycollapsed.Therestofusstayedupandtalkedaroundthecampfire.AtfirstIwasworriedwemightwake

Thor,butIsoonrealizedwecould’vetap-dancedaroundhishead,bangedgongs,shoutedhisnameandsetofflargeexplosions,andhewould’vesleptrightthroughit.Iwonderedifthatwashowhehadlosthishammer.Thegiantscould’vewaiteduntilhewasasleep,

backedupacoupleofindustrialcranesanddonethejobeasy.Asnightfell,Iwasgratefulforthefire.Thedarknesswasmorecompletethaninthewildestplaces

mymomandIhadevercamped.Wolveshowledintheforest,whichgavemeabadcaseoftheshivers.Windmoanedthroughthecanyonslikeachorusofzombies.ImentionedthistoBlitzen,buthesetmestraight.‘No,kid,’hesaid.‘Norsezombiesarecalleddraugr.Theymovesilently.You’dneverhearthem

coming.’‘Thanks,’Isaid.‘That’sahugerelief.’Blitzenstirredhiscupofgoatstew,thoughhedidn’tseeminterestedintastingit.He’dchangedinto

abluewoolsuitwithacream-colouredtrenchcoat,perhapssohecouldblendinwiththeJotunheimsnowinthemoststylishwaypossible.He’dalsobroughteachofusanewsupplypackfilledwithfreshwinterclothes,whichofcoursehe’dsizedperfectlyjustbyguessing.Sometimesitpaystohaveafriendwho’sathoughtfulclotheshorse.Blitzexplainedhowhe’ddeliveredtheearringstohismother,thenhadbeendetainedin

FolkvangerforvariousdutiesasFreya’srepresentative:judginganoysterbake,refereeingavolleyballgame,servingasguestofhonouratthe678thannualukulelefestival.‘Itwasmurder,’hesaid.‘Momlikedtheearrings.Didn’taskhowIgotthem.Didn’twanttohear

aboutthecontestwithJunior.Shejustsaid,“Oh,don’tyouwishyoucoulddoworklikethis,Blitzen?”’Fromhiscoatpocket,hepulledtheropeAndskoti.Theballofsilkglowedsilverlikeaminiaturemoon.‘Ihopethiswasworthit.’‘Hey,’Itoldhim,‘whatyoudidinthatcontest?I’veneverseenanybodyworkthathard.Youpoured

yourheartandsoulintothatExpando-Duck.Andthebulletprooftie?Thechain-mailwaistcoat?Justwait.We’llgetyouanendorsementdealwithThor,andyou’llstartafashiontrend.’‘Magnusisright,’Samsaid.‘Well,maybenotabouttheendorsementdealwithThor–butyouhave

realtalent,Blitzen.IfFreyaandtheotherdwarvesdon’tseeit,that’stheirproblem.Withoutyou,weneverwould’vegotthisfar.’

‘Youmeanyouwouldn’thavebeenkickedoutoftheValkyries;Magnuswouldn’thavedied;wewouldn’thavehalfthegodsmadatus;firegiantsandeinherjarwouldn’tbeouttokillus;andwewouldn’tbesittinginthewildernessofJotunheimwithasnoringgod?’‘Exactly,’Samsaid.‘Lifeisgood.’Blitzensnorted,butIwashappytoseealittlesparkofhumourinhiseyes.‘Yeah,okay.I’mgoing

tosleep.I’llneeditifwe’regoingtostormagiant’scastleinthemorning.’HecrawledintothetentandmutteredtoHearthstone,‘Makesomeroom,youtenthog!’Thenhe

drapedhisovercoatacrosstheelf,whichIthoughtwaskindofsweet.Samsatcross-leggedinherjeansandnewsnowjacket,herhoodpulledoverherheadscarf.Snow

hadstartedtofall–bigfluffyflakesthatdissolvedandhissedintheflames.‘SpeakingofthecontestinDwarfland,’Isaid,‘wenevergottotalkaboutthehorsefly–’‘Hush.’SamglancedapprehensivelyatThor.‘Certainpeoplearen’tkeenonmyfather,ormy

father ’schildren.’‘Certainpeoplearesnoringlikeachainsaw.’‘Still…’Shestudiedherhandasifmakingsureithadn’tchanged.‘IpromisedmyselfIwouldn’t

shape-shift,andinthelastweekI’vedoneittwice.Thefirsttime…well,thestagwasafterusontheWorldTree.IturnedintoadeertodistractitsoHearthstonecouldgetaway.Ididn’tthinkIhadachoice.’Inodded.‘AndthesecondtimeyouturnedintothehorseflytohelpBlitzen.Thosearebothgreat

reasons.Besides,shape-shiftingisanawesomepower.Whywouldn’tyouwanttouseit?’ThefirelightmadeheririsesalmostasredasSurt’s.‘Magnus,trueshape-shiftingisn’tlikemy

hijab’scamouflage.Shape-shiftingdoesn’tjustchangeyourappearance.Itchangesyou.EverytimeIdoit,Ifeel…Ifeelmoreofmyfather ’snaturetryingtotakeholdofme.He’sfluid,unpredictable,untrustworthy–Idon’twanttobelikethat.’IgesturedatThor.‘Youcouldhavehimforadad–afartinggiantwithgoatgreaseinhisbeardand

tattoosonhisknuckles.TheneverybodyinValhallawouldloveyou.’Icouldtellshewastryingnottosmile.‘Youareverybad.Thorisanimportantgod.’‘Nodoubt.SoisFrey,supposedly,butI’venevermethim.Atleastyourdadiskindofcharming,

andhehasasenseofhumour.Hemaybeasociopath,but–’‘Wait.’Sam’svoicetightened.‘Youtalkasifyou’vemethim.’‘I…Ikindofwalkedrightintothat,didn’tI?Truthis,he’sbeeninafewofmynear-death

experiences.’ItoldSamaboutthedreams:Loki’swarnings,hispromises,hissuggestionthatItaketheswordto

myUncleRandolphandforgetaboutthequest.Samlistened.Icouldn’ttellifshewasangryorshockedorboth.‘So,’shesaid,‘youdidn’ttellmethisearlierbecauseyoudidn’ttrustme?’‘Maybeatfirst.Later,Ijust–Iwasn’tsurewhattodo.Yourdadiskindofunsettling.’Shetossedatwigintotheflamesandwatcheditburn.‘Youcan’tdowhatmydadsuggests,no

matterwhathepromises.WehavetofaceSurt.We’llneedthesword.’Irememberedmydreamoftheburningthrone–thedarkfacefloatinginthesmoke,thevoicewith

theheatofaflamethrower.YOUANDYOURFRIENDSWILLBEMYTINDER.YOUWILLSTART

THEFIRETHATBURNSTHENINEWORLDS.IlookedaroundforJack,butIdidn’tseehim.Theswordhadvolunteeredtohovertheperimeter

‘onpatrol’,asheputit.HesuggestedIwaituntilthelastpossibleminutetoreclaimhim,sinceonceIdidIwouldpassoutinstantlyfromthestrainofmurderingagiantessbynostrilcide.Snowcontinuedtofall,steamingagainstthestonesaroundthefirepit.Ithoughtaboutournear-

lunchinthefoodcourtoftheTransportationBuilding,hownervousSamhadactedaroundAmir.Thatseemedlikeathousandyearsago.‘WhenwewereonHarald’sboat,’Irecalled,‘yousaidyourfamilyhadalonghistorywithallthe

Norsegodstuff.How?YousaidyourgrandparentscamefromIraq…?’Shethrewanotherstickintotheflames.‘Vikingsweretraders,Magnus.Theytravelledeverywhere.

TheygotallthewaytoAmerica.Itshouldn’tbeasurprisetheygottotheMiddleEast,too.ArabiccoinshavebeenfoundinNorway.ThebestVikingswordsweremodelledafterDamascussteel.’‘Butyourfamily…You’vegotamorepersonalconnection?’Shenodded.‘Backinmedievaltimes,someoftheVikingssettledinRussia.Theycalledthemselves

theRus.That’swherethewordRussiancomesfrom.Anyway,theCaliph–thebigkingdowninBaghdad–hesentanambassadornorthtofindoutmoreabouttheVikings,setuptraderouteswiththem,thatkindofstuff.Theambassador ’snamewasAhmedibn-Fadlanibn-al-Abbas.’‘FadlanlikeFadlan’sFalafel.Al-Abbaslike–’‘Right.Likeme.Al-Abbasmeansofthelion.That’smybranchoftheclan.Anyway–’shepulleda

sleepingbagoutofherbackpack–‘thisguyIbnFadlankeptajournalabouthistimewiththeVikings.It’soneoftheonlywrittensourcesaboutwhattheNorsewerelikebackthen.Eversince,myfamilyandtheVikingshavebeenintertwined.Overthecenturies,myrelativeshaverackedupalotofweirdencounterswith…supernaturalbeings.Maybethat’swhymymotherwasn’ttoosurprisedwhenshefoundoutwhomydadreallywas.’Shespreadouthersleepingbagnexttothefire.‘Andthat’swhySamirahal-Abbasisfatednevertohaveanormallife.Theend.’‘Normallife,’Imused.‘Idon’tevenknowwhatthatmeansanymore.’Shelookedlikeshewantedtosaysomething,thenchangedhermind.‘I’mgoingtosleep.’Ihadaweirdvisionofourancestors,medievalChaseandmedievalal-Abbas,sittingarounda

campfireinRussiatwelvehundredyearsago,comparingnotesonhowtheNorsegodshadmesseduptheirlives,maybewithThorsnoringonabedoffursnearby.Sam’sfamilymightbeintertwinedwiththegods,butasmyValkyrieshewasalsointertwinedwithmyfamilynow.‘We’llfigurethingsout,’Ipromised.‘Idon’tknowaboutnormal,butI’lldoeverythingIcanto

helpyougetwhatyouwant–aplaceintheValkyriesagain,yourmarriagewithAmir,apilot’slicence.Whateverittakes.’Shestaredatmeasifprocessingthewordsfromanotherlanguage.‘What?’Iasked.‘DoIhavegoatbloodonmyface?’‘No.Well,yes,youdohavegoatbloodonyourface.Butthat’snot…Iwasjusttryingto

rememberthelasttimeanybodysaidsomethingthatnicetome.’‘Ifyouwant,I’llgobacktoinsultingyoutomorrow,’Isaid.‘Fornow,getsomesleep.Sweet

dreams.’

Samcurledupbythefire.Snowsettledlightlyonthesleeveofhercoat.‘Thankyou,Magnus.Butnodreams,please.Idon’twanttodreaminJotunheim.’

F I FTY-TWO

IGottheHorseRightHere.HisNameIsStanley

Thorwasstillsnoringlikeadefectivewoodchipperwhenwewerereadytoleavethenextmorning.That’sreallysayingsomething,sinceIhadsleptforever.Jacktheswordhadnotbeenkiddingabouttheeffectofkillingthegiantess.AssoonasI’dreclaimedtheswordafterSamfellasleep,Ihadpassedoutinstantly.AtleastIhadn’tlostafulltwenty-fourhoursthistime.WithFenrisWolfappearinginonlytwo

moredays,Icouldn’taffordanymorelongnaps.Iwonderedifmaybe,justmaybe,IwasgrowingmoreresilientasIbecamebondedtothesword.Ihopedso,butIstillfeltlikeI’dbeenflattenedunderagiantrollingpinallnight.WepackedupourgearandateacoldbreakfastofMORNING,MAGGOT!energybarsfromBlitz’s

supplybags(yum).ThenHearthstonenestledtheseveredheadsofthetwostill-deadgoatsinThor ’sarmsliketeddybears.Neverletitbesaidthatelvesdon’thaveasenseofhumour.IlookeddownatthedroolturningtoiceinThor ’sbeard.‘AndtothinkthatthedefenceofNine

Worldsrestsonthisgod.’‘Let’sgetgoing,’Blitzenmuttered.‘Idon’twanttobearoundwhenhewakesupwithOtisand

Marvin.’Thedeadgiantessprovedhelpful.Weclimbedoverhertocrosstheicyswamp.Thenwe

discoveredthatwecouldscaleherleftfoottoreachthefirstledgeinthesideofthecliff.Oncewegotthatfar,Istaredupattheremainingfivehundredmetresofsheericyrock.‘Awesome.

Nowtherealfunbegins.’‘WishIcouldstillfly,’Sammurmured.Iimaginedshecouldfly,withalittleshape-shifting,butafterourconversationlastnightIdecided

againstmentioningthat.BlitzhandedhispacktoHearthstone,thenwriggledhisstubbyfingers.‘Don’tworry,kids.You’re

climbingwithadwarftoday.’Ifrowned.‘You’reamountaineernowaswellasamasteroffashion?’‘Itoldyou,kid,dwarveswereformedfrommaggotsthatburrowedthroughYmir ’sflesh.’‘Andyouseemstrangelyproudofit.’‘Rocktousislike…well,notrock.’Hepunchedthesideofthecliff.Ratherthanbreakinghisfist,

heleftanindentationjusttherightsizeforahandhold.‘I’mnotsayingit’llbefastoreasy.Ittakesmealotofefforttoshaperock.Butwecandoit.’IglancedatSam.‘Didyouknowdwarvescouldpunchthroughstone?’‘Nope.That’snewtome.’Hearthstonesigned,Usethemagicrope?Rathernotfalltodeath.

Ishuddered.Icouldn’tthinkabouttheropeAndskotiwithoutthinkingabouttheWolf,andIdidn’tlikethinkingabouttheWolf.‘WeneedthatropetobindFenris,right?Idon’twanttodoanythingthatmightweakenit.’‘Don’tworry,kid.’Blitzbroughtoutthesilkencord.‘Thisropecan’tbeweakened.And

Hearthstone’sright.Wemightaswelltieittooneanotherforsafety.’‘Thatwayifwefall,’Samsaid,‘we’llfalltogether.’‘Sold,’Isaid,tryingtotampdownmyanxiety.‘Ilovedyingwithfriends.’Wegothitched(sotospeak)andfollowedourintrepidrock-shaping,fashion-consciousguideup

thesideofMountYou-Gotta-Be-Kidding-Me.I’dheardhomelessmilitaryveteransdescribewarasninety-fivepercentboredomandfiveper

centterror.Climbingthecliffwasmorelikefivepercentterrorandninety-fivepercentexcruciatingpain.Myarmsshook.Mylegswobbled.EverytimeIlookeddownIwantedtocryorthrowup.DespitethehandholdsandfootholdsBlitzenmade,thewindalmostknockedmeoffseveraltimes.

TherewasnothingIcoulddoexceptkeepgoing.IknewforcertainthatmyValhalla-enhancedstrengthwastheonlythingkeepingmealive.Magnus

1.0wouldhavefallentohisdeath.Ididn’tunderstandhowHearthstonecouldmanage,bringinguptheendoftherope,buthedid.AndSam…demigodornot,shedidn’thavetheadvantageofbeinganeinherji.Yetshedidn’tcomplain,didn’twaver,didn’tslip–whichwasgood,sinceshewasclimbingrightaboveme.Finally,astheskybegantodarken,wereachedthetop.Downinthecanyonwe’dcomefrom,the

bodyofthegiantesswassosmallitlookedlikeanormal-sizebody.Theriverglitteredinthegloom.IfThor ’scampwasstillthere,Isawnosignofit.Intheotherdirection,Jotunheimspreadoutlikeanelectron-microscopelandscape–impossibly

jaggedpeaks,crystallinecliffs,ravinesfilledwithovoidcloudslikefloatingbacteria.Thegoodnews:Icouldseethegiant’sfortress.Acrossamile-widechasm,windowsglowedredin

thesideofamountain.Towersrosefromthesummitasifthey’dbeenshapedfromtherockdwarven-styleratherthanbuilt.Thebadnews:didImentionthemile-widechasm?Theclifftopwherewewerestandingwasno

morethananarrowplateau.Thedropontheothersidewasjustasprecipitousastheonewe’dclimbed.Consideringithadtakenusalldaytogetthisfar,Ifiguredwe’dreachthecastleinanothersix

months,easy.Unfortunately,itwasMondayeveningandtheWolf’sislandwassupposedtoriseonWednesday.‘Let’scampheretonight,’Blitzensaid.‘Maybeinthemorningwe’llseeabetterwayacross.’Despiteourtimecrunch,nobodyargued.Wewereallsotiredwecollapsed.

Asissooftenthecase,inthefreshlightofmorningoursituationlookedmuchworse.Therewerenostairs,noconvenientziplines,nodirectcommuterflightstoGeirrod’sfortress.I

wasabouttoriskanaxeinthefacebysuggestingthatSamshape-shift–maybechangeintoagiantsugargliderandcarryusacross–whenHearthstonesigned,Haveanidea.Hepulledoutarunestone:

‘M,’Isaid.Heshookhisheadthenspelledoutthename:E-H-W-A-Z.‘Right,’Isaid.‘BecausecallingitMwouldbetooeasy.’SampluckedthestonefromHearth’spalm.‘Iknowthisone.Itsymbolizesahorse,right?The

shapeislikeasaddle.’Isquintedattherune.ThewindwassocoldandharshthatIhadahardtimethinkingimaginatively,

butthesymbolstilllookedlikeanMtome.‘Howdoesthishelpus?’Hearthstonesigned,Meanshorse,transportation.Maybeawaytogo–hepointedtothecastle.Blitzentuggedhisbeard.‘Soundslikepowerfulmagic.Haveyoutrieditbefore?’Hearthstoneshookhishead.Don’tworry.Icandoit.‘Iknowyoucan,’saidBlitz.‘Butyou’vealreadytaxedyourselftothelimitseveraltimes.’Befine,Hearthinsisted.‘Idon’tseethatwehavemuchchoice,’Isaid,‘sincewedon’thaveanyonewhocangrowwings.’‘Iwillpushyouoffthismountain,’Samwarned.‘Allright,’Blitzendecided,‘let’stryit.Imeantherune,notpushingMagnusoffthemountain.

MaybeHearthcansummonahelicopter.’‘Geirrodwouldhearahelicopter,’Isaid.‘Andprobablythrowrocksatus.Andkillus.’‘Well,then,’Blitzensaid,‘perhapsastealthhelicopter.Hearthstone,doyourstuff!’Samreturnedthestone.Hearthpassedhishandoverit,movinghislipsasifimagininghowthe

syllablesmightsound.Therunestoneburstintodust.Hearthstonestaredatthewhitepowdertricklingthroughhisfingers.‘I’mguessingitwasn’tsupposedtodothat?’Iasked.‘Guys.’Sam’svoicewassosmallitwasalmostlostinthewind.Shepointedup,whereagreyshapewashurtlingoutoftheclouds.Itmovedsofastandblended

withtheskysowellthatIdidn’trealizewhatthecreaturewasuntilitwasalmostontopofus–astalliontwicethesizeofanormalhorse,hiscoatripplinglikeliquidsteel,hiswhitemanebillowing,hiseyesglitteringblack.Thestallionhadnowings,buthegallopedthroughtheairaseasilyasifhewererunningdowna

gentleslope.OnlywhenhelandednexttousdidInoticehehadfour,five,six…eightlegs–apairineachplacewhereanormalhorsewouldhaveone,kindoflikedualwheelsonapickuptruck.IturnedtoHearthstone.‘Dude,whenyousummonahorse,youdon’tmessaround.’Hearthstonegrinned.Thenhiseyesrolledupinhisheadandhefellforward.Imanagedtocatch

himandeasehimtothegroundwhileBlitzenandSammovedwarilyaroundthestallion.‘It–itc-can’tbe,’Blitzenstammered.‘OneofSleipnir’soffspring?’Samwondered.‘Gods,whatamagnificentanimal.’Thehorsenuzzledherhand,clearlypleasedwiththecompliment.Imovedtowardshim,fascinatedbyhisintelligenteyesandhisregalstance.Thestalliongavethe

wordhorsepoweranewmeaning.Heradiatedstrength.

‘Issomebodygoingtointroduceme?’Iasked.Samshookherselfoutofherreverie.‘I…Idon’tknowwhoheis.HelookslikeSleipnir,Odin’s

steed,butthiscan’tbehim.OnlyOdincansummonhim.I’mguessingthisisoneofSleipnir ’ssons.’‘Well,he’samazing.’Iextendedmyhand.Thehorsebrushedhislipsagainstmyfingers.‘He’s

friendly.Andhe’sdefinitelybigenoughtocarryusallacrossthechasm.Wouldyoubeokaywiththat,buddy?’Thehorsenickered,like,Uh,duh,that’swhyI’mhere.‘Theeightlegsare–’Iwasabouttosayweirdbutchangedmymind–‘awesome.Howdidthat

happen?’BlitzenglancedatSam.‘SleipnirwasoneofLoki’schildren.Theytendtocomeout…interesting.’Ismiled.‘Sothishorseisyournephew,Sam?’Sheglaredatme.‘Let’snotgothere.’‘Howdidyourdadfatherahorse?’Blitzencoughed.‘Actually,LokiwasSleipnir ’smother.’‘What–?’‘Let’sdefinitelynotgothere,’Samwarned.Ifiledthatawayforlaterresearch.‘Okay,MrHorse,sincewedon’tknowyourname,I’mgoingto

callyouStanley,becauseyoulooklikeaStanley.Thatokaywithyou?’Thehorseseemedtoshrug,whichwasgoodenoughforme.WedrapedHearthstoneoverStanley’sextra-longbacklikeasackofelfishpotatoes.Therestofus

climbedon.‘We’regoingtothatcastleoverthere,Stanley,’Itoldthestallion.‘Lookingforaquietentrance.

Thatworkforyou?’Thehorsewhinnied.Iwasprettysurehewaswarningmetoholdon.IwonderedwhatexactlyIshouldholdonto,sincetherewerenoreinsandnosaddle.Thenthe

stallionpawedtherockswithhisfrontfourhooves,leapedoffthesideofthecliffandplummetedstraightdown.Andwealldied.

F I FTY-THREE

HowtoKillGiantsPolitely

Justkiddingthistime.Itonlyfeltlikeweweregoingtodie.Thehorsemusthaveenjoyedthefeelingoffreefall.Ididn’t.Igrabbedhisneckandscreamedin

terror(whichwasnotverystealthy).Meanwhile,Blitzengrabbedmywaist,andbehindhimSamsomehowstayedonboardwhilemanagingtokeepHearthstonefromslippingintooblivion.Thefallfeltlikehours,thoughitprobablylastedonlyasecondortwo.DuringthattimeIthought

ofseveralmorecolourfulnamesforStanley.Finallyhechurnedhiseightlegslikelocomotivewheels.Welevelledoutandbegantoclimb.Stanleypunchedthroughacloud,zigzaggedalongthefaceofthemountainandlandedona

windowledgenearthetopofthefortress.Idismounted,mylegsshaking,thenhelpedtheotherswithHearthstone.Theledgewassowidethatthefourofusplusthehorsecouldstandinonecornerandseemno

biggerthanmice.Thewindowhadnoglass(probablybecausetherewasn’tthatmuchglassintheworld),butStanleyhadlandedusbehindapanelofgatheredcurtain,sonobodyinsidecould’veseenus,eveniftheywererandomlyscanningthewindowformice.‘Thanks,buddy,’ItoldStanley.‘Thatwashorrifying.Imean,great.’Stanleynickered.Hegavemeanaffectionatenip,thendisappearedinaburstofdust.Onthe

windowsillwherehe’dbeenstandingwastheehwazrunestone.‘Heseemedtolikeme,’Inoted.BlitzensliddownnexttoHearthstoneandsaid,‘Eep.’OnlySamdidn’tseemruffled.Infact,sheseemedexhilarated.Hereyessparkledandshecouldn’t

stopsmiling.Iguessshereallydidloveflying,evenifitwasanear-deathfreefallonaneight-leggedhorse.‘OfcourseStanleylikedyou.’Shepickeduptherunestone.‘HorsesareoneofFrey’ssacred

animals.’‘Huh.’IthoughtaboutmyexperienceswiththeBostonmountedpolicethatpatrolledthePublic

Garden.Thehorsesalwaysseemedfriendly,eveniftheirridersweren’t.Onetime,whenamountedofficerhadstartedtoquestionme,hishorsehadsuddenlytakenoff,gallopingtowardsthenearestlow-hangingtreebranch.‘I’vealwayslikedhorses,’Isaid.‘Frey’stempleskepttheirownherds,’Samtoldme.‘Nomortalwasallowedtoridethemwithout

thegod’spermission.’

‘Well,IwishStanleyhadaskedmypermissionbeforeleaving,’Isaid.‘Wehavenoexitstrategy,andHearthstonedoesn’tlooklikehe’sgoingtobecastingmorespellsanytimesoon.’Theelfhadregainedconsciousness…sortof.HeleanedagainstBlitz,gigglingsilentlyand

makingrandomsignslike,Butterfly.Pop.Yippee.Blitzenclutchedhisstomachandstaredintospaceasifhewerethinkingofinterestingwaystodie.SamandIcrepttotheedgeofthecurtain.Wepeekedarounditandfoundwewereatceilinglevel

ofastadium-sizeroom.Inthehearthburnedafireasbigasanurbanriot.Theonlyexitwasaclosedwoodendooronthefarwall.Inthecentreoftheroom,seatedatastonetable,twogiantesseswerehavingdinner,rippingintoacarcassthatremindedmeoftheroastbeastinValhalla’sdininghall.Thegiantessesdidn’tlookastallasthedeadonebackintheriver,thoughitwashardtobesure.In

Jotunheim,proportionsmadenosense.Myeyesfeltliketheywereconstantlyadjustingtodifferentfunhousemirrors.Samnudgedmyarm.‘Look.’Shepointedtoabirdcagesuspendedfromtheceiling,hangingjustabouteye-leveltous.Insidethe

cage,waddlingaroundonabedofstrawandlookingmiserable,wasawhiteswan.‘That’saValkyrie,’Samsaid.‘Howcanyoubesure?’‘Ijustam.Notonlythat…I’mprettysureit’sGunilla.’Ishuddered.‘Whatwouldshebedoinghere?’‘Lookingforus.Valkyriesareexcellenttrackers.Iimagineshegotherebeforewedidand…’Sam

mimedahandsnatchingsomethingoutoftheair.‘So…doweleaveher?’‘Forthegiantstoeat?Ofcoursenot.’‘Shesetyouup.ShegotyoukickedoutoftheValkyries.’‘She’sstillmycaptain,’Samsaid.‘She…well,shehasherreasonsformistrustingme.Afew

centuriesago,therewasasonofLokiwhomadeitintoValhalla.’‘HeandGunillafellinlove,’Iguessed.‘Ikindofgotthatimpressionwhenshewastakingmeona

tourofthehotel.’Samnodded.‘ThesonofLokibetrayedher.Turnedouthewasaspyformydad.Brokeherheart.

Well…yougetthepicture.Anyway,I’mnotgoingtoleavehertodie.’Isighed.‘Okay.’Ipulledoffmypendant.Jacktheswordhummedtolife.‘Abouttime,’hesaid.‘WhatdidImissyesterday?’‘Bunchofclimbing,’Itoldhim.‘Nowwe’relookingattwomoregiantesses.Howdoyoufeel

aboutflyinguptheirnostrils?’Theswordtuggedatmyhand,hisbladepeekingaroundthecornerofthecurtain.‘Dude,we’reon

theirwindowsill.We’vetechnicallycrossedthethresholdofthegiants’home.’‘So?’‘Soyouhavetofollowtherules!Killingthemintheirhomewithoutprovocationwouldberude!’‘Right,’Isaid.‘Wewouldn’twanttokillthemrudely.’

‘Hey,señor,guestrightsandhostrightsareimportantmagicprotocols.Theykeepsituationsfromescalating.’Blitzengroanedinthecorner.‘Theswordhasapoint,kid.And,no,thatwasn’tajoke.Weshould

goin,claimguestrightsandbarterforwhatweneed.Ifthegiantstrytokillus,thenwecanattack.’Hearthstonehiccupped,grinnedandsigned,Washingmachine.Samshookherhead.‘Youtwoareinnoconditiontogoanywhere.Blitz,stayhereandwatch

Hearthstone.MagnusandIwillgoin,findThor ’shammerandfreeGunilla.Ifthingsgowrong,it’llbeuptoyoutwotofigureouthowtorescueus.’‘But–’Blitzenputhisfistoverhismouthandstifledanurp.‘Yeah…okay.Howareyouguys

goingtogetdownthere?’Sampeeredovertheledge.‘We’lluseyourmagicropetoreachthefloor.Thenwe’llwalkupto

thegiantsandintroduceourselves.’‘Ihatethisplan,’Isaid.‘Let’sdoit.’

F I FTY-FOUR

WhyYouShouldNotUseaSteakKnifeasaDivingBoard

Rappellingdownthewallwastheeasypart.Whenwereachedthebottom,Istartedhavingseriousdoubts.Thegiantessesweredefinitely

smallerthantheirdeadsister–maybefiftyfeettall.IfI’dbeenaskedtowrestleoneoftheirbigtoes,Icould’vewonnoproblem.Otherthanthat,Ididn’tlikemychances.‘IfeellikeJackupthebeanstalk,’Imuttered.Samlaughedunderherbreath.‘Wheredoyouthinkthatstorycomesfrom?It’saculturalmemory

–awatered-downaccountofwhathappenswhenhumansblunderintoJotunheim.’‘Super.’Theswordbuzzedinmyhand.‘Besides,youcan’tbeJack.I’mJack.’Icouldn’targuewiththatlogic.Wenavigatedacrossthestonefloor,throughawastelandofdustballs,foodscrapsandgrease

puddles.Thefireplacewassohotmyclothessteamed.Myhaircrackled.Thesmellofthegiants’body

odour–acombinationofwetclayandsourmeat–wasalmostasdeadlyasaswordflyingupmynose.Wegotwithinshoutingdistanceofthediningtable,butthetwogiantessesstillhadn’tnoticedus.

Theybothworesandals,size-120leatherdressesandFlintstones-stylenecklacesmadefrompolishedboulders.Theirstringyblackhairwaswovenintopigtails.Theirgreyfaceswerehideouslypaintedwithrougeandlipstick.Ididn’thavemyfashionadvisorBlitzenwithme,butIguessedthegiantsistersweredolledupforagirls’nightout,eventhoughitwasbarelylunchtime.‘Ready?’Samaskedme.Theanswerwasno,butItookadeepbreathandyelled,‘Hello!’Thegiantesseskeptchatting,bangingtheircupsandchompingtheirmeat.Itriedagain.‘YO!’Thebigladiesfroze.Theyscannedtheroom.Finallytheoneontheleftspottedus.Sheburstout

laughing,sprayingbitsofmeadandmeat.‘Morehumans!Idon’tbelieveit!’Theothergiantessleanedover.‘IsthatanotherValkyrie?And…’Shesniffedtheair.‘Theboyisan

einherji.Perfect!Iwasjustwonderingwhatwe’dhavefordessert.’‘Weclaimguestrights!’Iyelled.Thegiantessontheleftmadeasourface.‘Now,whydidyouhavetogoanddothat?’‘Wewanttobarter.’Ipointedtothebirdcage,nowsofaraboveusIcouldonlyseeitsrustedbase

hoveringlikeamoon.‘Forthatswan’sfreedom.Andalso…possibly,youknow,ifyouhaveanystolenweaponslyingaround.Like,Idon’tknow,ahammerorsomething.’

‘Smooth,’Sammuttered.Thegiantesseslookedateachotherliketheyweretryingnottogiggle.They’dobviouslybeen

hittingthemeadprettyhard.‘Verywell,’saidthegiantessontheleft.‘IamGjalp.ThisismysisterGreip.Weagreetohostyou

whilewebarter.Whatareyournames?’‘IamMagnus,sonofNatalie,’Isaid.‘Andthisis–’‘Samirah,daughterofAyesha,’saidSam.‘Youarewelcomeinthehouseofourfather,Geirrod,’saidGjalp.‘ButIcanbarelyhearyoudown

there.DoyoumindifIputyouinachair?’‘Uh,okay,’Isaid.Theothersister,Griep,snatchedusupliketoys.Shesetusonanemptychair,itsseatthesizeofa

livingroom.Thetabletopwasstillagoodfivefeetabovemyhead.‘Oh,dear,’Griepsaid.‘That’sstilltoolow.MayIraiseyourchairforyou?’Samstartedtosay,‘Magnus–’Iblurtedout,‘Sure.’Withashriekofglee,Grieppickedupourchairandthrustitoverherhead.Ifnotforthebackrest,

SamandIwould’vebeensmashedflatagainsttheceiling.Asitwas,wegotknockedoffourfeetandshoweredinplaster.Griepputdownthechair.Ittookamomentformyeyeballstostoprattling.ThenIsawthe

giantesses’scowlingfacesloomingoverus.‘Itdidn’twork,’Griepsaid,withobviousdisappointment.‘Ofcourseitdidn’twork,’Gjalpgrowled.‘Youneverdothattrickright.Itoldyou,ithastobe

somethingwithoutaback,likeastool.Andweshouldhaveinstalledthosespikesintheceiling.’‘Youweretryingtokillus!’Isaid.‘Thatcan’tbeintherulesforgoodhosts.’‘Killyou?’Gjalplookedoffended.‘That’sanabsolutelybaselessaccusation.Mysisteronlydidas

yourequested.Sheaskedyourpermissiontoraisethechair.’‘Youjustsaiditwasatrick.’‘DidI?’Gjalpblinked.Upclose,herheavilymascaraedlasheslookedliketheobstaclecoursefora

mudrun.‘PrettysureIdidn’t.’IlookedattheSwordofSummer,whichwasstillinmyhand.‘Jack,havetheybrokenthehostrules

yet?Becausetryingtokillusseemskindaborderline.’‘Notunlesstheyadmittheirintent,’Jacksaid.‘Andthey’resayingitwasanaccident.’Thegiantessesbothstraightened.‘Atalkingsword?’Gjalpsaid.‘Wellnow,that’sinteresting.’‘YousureIcan’traiseyourchairforyouagain?’Griepoffered.‘Icouldruntothekitchenandget

astool.It’snotrouble.’‘Honouredhosts,’Samsaid,hervoiceshaky,‘pleaseputusgentlyandsafelyonthetopofyour

table,sowemaybarterwithyou.’Griepmutteredunhappily,butshedidasSamasked.Thegiantessdepositedusnexttoherforkand

knife,whichwereroughlythesamesizeasme.Hermugwould’vemadeafinewatertowerforaruraltown.Ijusthopeditwasn’tnamedBoomDaddy.

‘So…’Griepploppedbackinherchair.‘Youwantfreedomfortheswan?You’llhavetowaituntilourfathergetshometonegotiateterms.Sheishisprisoner,notours.’‘She’saValkyrie,ofcourse,’Gjalpadded.‘Flewinourwindowlastnight.Sherefusestoshowher

trueform.Thinksshecanfoolusbystayinginthatsillyswancostume,butDadistoocleverforher.’‘Bummer,’Isaid.‘Well,wetried.’‘Magnus…’Samchided.‘Gracioushosts,willyouatleastconsentnottokilltheswanuntilwe’ve

hadachancetospeakwithGeirrod?’Gjalpshrugged.‘LikeIsaid,herfateisuptoDad.Hemightlethergoifyousurrendered

yourselvesinexchange,butIdon’tknow.Weneedsomethingspicyforthestewtonight.’‘Let’sputapininthat,’Isaid.‘Whichisonlyanexpression,’Samaddedhastily.‘Bynomeansismyfriendgrantingyou

permissiontoputapininanything,especiallyus.’‘Nicesave,’Itoldher.Samgavemeayou’re-such-an-idiotlook.Iwasgettingusedtothat.Gjalpcrossedherarms,forminganewmesaagainstherchest.‘Yousaidyoualsowantedtobarter

forastolenweapon?’‘Yeah,’Isaid.‘Somethingthunder-goddish,ifyouhaveit–notthatanyparticularthundergodis

missinganyparticularweapon.’Griepcackled.‘Oh,wehavesomethinglikethat…somethingthatbelongstoThorhimself.’SinceThorwasn’ttheretocreativelycuss,Samdidthehonours,mutteringafewcommentsthatI

doubtedhergrandparentswould’veapprovedof.‘Thosearejustexpressions,’Iaddedhastily.‘Innowaywasmyfriendgivingyoupermissiontodo

…anyofthoserudeandcolourfulthings.Willyoubarterwithusfortheh–fortheweaponyouspokeof?’‘Ofcourse!’Gjalpgrinned.‘Infact,I’dliketowrapupthesenegotiationsquicklysincemysister

andIhaveanappointment–’‘Withhotfrost-gianttwins,’Griepsaid.‘–sowe’llmakeyouafairdeal,’Gjalpcontinued.‘We’llgiveyouThor ’sweaponforthatlovely

talkingsword.Andwe’llreleasetheswan–I’mprettysureDadwillbeokaywiththat–aslongasyougiveyourselvesinexchange.Youwon’tgetabetterdealthanthat.’‘That’shardlyadeal,’Samgrowled.‘Thenyoucanrefuse,’Griepsaid,‘andleaveinpeace.It’sallthesametous.’Jackthrummedindignantly,hisrunesglowing.‘Magnus,you’dnevergivemeup,right?We’re

friends!You’renotlikeyourdad–notgonnatossmeasideassoonasyouseesomethingyoulikebetter?’IthoughtaboutLoki’ssuggestionthatIgivetheswordtomyUncleRandolph.Atthetime,I’d

actuallybeentempted.Now,theideaseemedimpossible–andonlypartlybecausethegiantesseswantedtoputusinacageandhaveusfordinner.Jackhadsavedourlivesatleasttwicenow.Ilikedhim,evenifhedidoccasionallycallmeseñor.Analternativecametome.Abadidea,yes,butbetterthanthegiants’offer.

‘Jack,’Isaid,‘hypotheticallyspeaking,ifItoldthesegiantesseshowwekilledtheirsister,wouldthatbreaktherulesofguestetiquette?’‘What?’Gjalpcried.Jack’srunesglowedamorecheerfulshadeofred.‘Noetiquetteproblemthere,myfriend,because

thathappenedbeforewewereguestshere.’‘Okay.’Ismiledatthegiantesses.‘Wekilledyoursister–biguglylady,tryingtoblocktheriver

anddrownThor?Yeah.She’sdeadnow.’‘LIES!’Gjalpshottoherfeet.‘Punyhumans!Youcouldnotpossiblyhavekilledoursister!’‘Actually,myswordflewuphernoseandscrambledherbrains.’Griephowledinoutrage.‘Ishouldhavecrushedyoulikebugs!Cursemylackofastooland

strategicallyplacedceilingspikes!’I’lladmit,havingtwogiantessestowerovermebellowingdeaththreatswasaweebitunnerving.ButSamkepthercool.ShepointedheraxeaccusinglyatGriep.‘So,youweretryingtokillusjustnow!’‘Ofcourse,youdolt!’‘Whichviolatestherulesofhosts.’‘Whocares?’Griepcried.‘Magnus’ssworddoes,’Samsaid.‘Jack,didyouhearthat?’‘Isuredid.I’dliketopointout,though,thattheeffortrequiredtokillthesetwogiantessesmightbe

toomuch–’‘Doit!’Ihurledthesword.Jackspiralledupward,straightintoGriep’srightnostrilandoutofherleft.Thegiantesscollapsed,

shakingtheroomat6.8ontheRichterscale.Gjalpstifledascream.ShecoveredhernoseandmouthandstumbledaroundasJacktriedinvain

tostabhiswaythroughherfingers.‘Oh,thisoneisgettingsmart!’Jackyelled.‘Alittlehelpoverhere?’‘Magnus!’Sampushedthegiantess’ssteakknifetotheedgeofthetableuntilthebladeextended

likeadivingboard.Igotwhatshewantedmetodo.Itwasstupidcrazy,butIdidn’tgivemyselftimetoreflect.Iranfull

tiltattheknifeandjumpedtowardstheendoftheblade.Samyelled,‘Wait!’BythenIwasalreadyinmid-air.Ilandedontheknife,whichcatapultedupwardasIdropped.The

planworked,sortof.Ilandedontheemptyseatofthechair,whichwasnotfarenoughdowntokillme,butwasenoughtobreakmyleg.Hooray!Thepaindroveahotnailupthebaseofmyspine.Gjalpgotitworse.Thespinningsteakknifehitherinthechest.Itdidn’timpaleher.Itdidn’teven

gothroughherdress,butthepokewasenoughtomakeheryell.Sheloweredherhands,grabbinginstinctivelyforherchest,whichallowedJackfullaccesstohernose.Asecondlater,Gjalpwaslyingdeadonthefloornexttohersister.‘Magnus!’Samloweredherselfoffthetableanddroppednexttomeonthechair.‘Youfool!I

wantedyoutohelpmethrowasaltshakerontheblade!Ididn’texpectyoutojumponityourself!’‘You’rewelcome.’Igrimaced.‘Also,ow.’

‘Isitbroken?’‘Yeah.Don’tworry,I’mafasthealer.Givemeanhour–’‘Idon’tthinkwehave–’Samstartedtosay.Fromthenextroom,adeepvoiceboomed,‘Girls,I’mhome!’

F I FTY-F IVE

I’mCarriedintoBattlebytheFirstDwarvenAirborneDivision

There’sneveragreattimeforDaddyGianttocomehome.Butwhenyou’resittinginhisdiningroomwithyourlegbroken,thecorpsesoftwoofhis

daughterssprawlednearby…that’sanespeciallybadtime.SamandIstaredateachotherasthegiant’sfootstepsechoedlouderandlouderinthenextchamber.Sam’sexpressionsaid:Igotnothing.I,also,hadnothing.Whichisexactlythesortofmomentwhenyoumightwelcomeadwarf,anelfandaswan

parachutingontoyourchair.BlitzenandHearthwerelashedside-by-sideintheharness,withGunillathewaterfowlcradledinHearthstone’sarms.Blitzenpulledthesteeringtogglesandexecutedaperfectlanding.Behindhimpooledtheparachute–aswatheofturquoisesilkthatexactlymatchedBlitz’ssuit.Thatwastheonlyfactabouthisentrancethatdidnotsurpriseme.‘How?’Iasked.Blitzenscoffed.‘Whydoyoulooksoamazed?Youdistractedthosegiantesseslongenough.I’dbe

apoordwarfindeedifIcouldn’trigagrapplinghook,shootalinefromthewindowtothebirdcage,shimmyacross,freetheswanandusemyemergencyparachutetogetdownhere.’Sampinchedhernose.‘You’vehadanemergencyparachutethisentiretime?’‘Don’tbesilly,’Blitzensaid.‘Dwarvesalwayscarryemergencyparachutes.Don’tyou?’‘We’lltalkaboutthislater,’Isaid.‘Rightnow–’‘Girls?’calledthegiantfromthenextroom.Hisspeechsoundedalittleslurred.‘Wh-whereare

you?’Isnappedmyfingers.‘Comeon,guys,options.Sam,canyouandGunillacamouflageus?’‘Myhijabcanonlycovertwopeople,’Samsaid.‘AndGunilla…thefactthatshe’sstillaswan

mightindicateshe’stooweaktochangebacktonormal.’Theswanhonked.‘I’lltakethatasayes,’Samsaid.‘Itcouldbeafewhours.’‘Whichwedon’thave.’IlookedatHearth.‘Runestones?’Nostrength,hesigned,thoughhehardlyneededtotellmethat.Hewasuprightandconsciousbut

stilllookedlikehe’dbeenrunoverbyaneight-leggedhorse.‘Jack!’Icalledtothesword.‘WhereisJack?’Fromthetableaboveus,theswordyelled,‘Dude,what?I’mwashingoffinthisgoblet.Giveaguy

someprivacy,huh?’

‘Magnus,’Samsaid,‘youcan’taskhimtokillthreegiantsinarow.Thatmucheffortreallywillkillyou.’Inthenextroom,thefootstepsgotlouder.Thegiantsoundedlikehewasstumbling.‘Gjalp?Griep?

Iswear–HIC!–ifyou’retextingthosefrost-giantboysagain,Iwillwringyournecks!’‘Thefloor,’Idecided.‘Getmetothefloor!’Blitzenscoopedmeup,whichalmostmademeblackoutfrompain.Heyelled,‘Hangon!’and

leapedfromthechair,somehowmanagingtoparaglidemedownsafely.BythetimeIregainedmysenses,Sam,Hearthandhisnewpetswanwerestandingnexttous,apparentlyhavingusedthechairlegasafirepole.Ishiveredwithnausea.Myfacewasslickwithsweat,andmybrokenlegfeltlikeoneenormous

openblister,butwehadnotimeforminorconcernslikemyunbearablepain.Acrossthethresholdofthedining-roomdoor,theshadowsofthegiant’sfeetgotcloseranddarker,thoughtheydidseemtobeweavingbackandforth.‘Blitzen,carrymeunderthatdoor!’Isaid.‘WehavetointerceptGeirrod.’‘Excuseme?’askedthedwarf.‘You’restrong!You’realreadyholdingme.Hurry!’Grumbling,hejoggedtowardsthedoor,everybouncesendingastabofpainintothebaseofmy

skull.Theparachuteslitheredbehindus.SamandHearthfollowed,theswanhonkingunhappilyinHearthstone’sarms.Thedoorknobstartedtoturn.Weduckedunderthesillandchargedouttheotherside,right

betweenthegiant’sfeet.Iyelled,‘HI!HOWYADOING?’Geirrodstumbledback.Iguesshehadn’tbeenexpectingtoseeaparatrooperdwarfcarryinga

human,followedbyanotherhumanandanelfholdingaswan.Iwasn’tpreparedforwhatIsaweither.Foronething,theroomweenteredwasabouthalfthesizeoftheonewe’djustleft.Bymost

standards,thehallwould’vebeenconsideredgrand.Theblack-marblefloorgleamed.Rowsofstonecolumnswereinterspersedwithironbraziersfilledwithburningcoalslikedozensofbarbecuegrills.Buttheceilingswereonlyabouttwenty-five-feettall.Eventhedoorwe’dcomethroughwassmalleronthisside,thoughthatmadenosense.Squeezingbackunderthesillwouldbeimpossible.Infact,Ididn’tseehowGjalporGriepcould

havefittedthroughthedoorway,unlesstheychangedsizeastheymovedfromroomtoroom.Maybethat’swhattheydid.Giantswereshape-shifters.Magicandillusionweresecondnatureto

them.IfIspentmuchmoretimehere,I’dhavetobringalargesupplyofmotion-sicknessmedicineandsome3-Dglasses.Infrontofus,Geirrodwasstillstaggeringaround,sloshingmeadfromhisdrinkinghorn.‘Whoeryou?’heslurred.‘Guests!’Icalled.‘Wehaveclaimedguestrights!’Idoubtedthoseappliedanymore,sincewe’dkilledourhosts,butsincemyetiquette-mindedsword

wasstillinthenextroom,washingthenostrilgoooffhisblade,nobodychallengedme.

Geirrodfrowned.Helookedlikehe’djustcomefromawildpartyattheJotunheimMarquee,whichwasweird,sincethedaywasyoung.Giantsapparentlypartied24/7.Heworearumpledmauvejacket,anuntuckedblackshirt,stripedslacksandshinyshoesthatmany

patentleatheranimalshaddiedtocreate.Hisdarkhairwasgreasedbackbutspringingupinunrulycowlicks.Hisfacehadathree-daystubble.Hereekedoffermentedhoney.Theoverallimpressionwasless‘fashionablenightclubdude’andmore‘well-dressedwino’.Theweirdestthingabouthimwashissize.I’mnotgoingtosayhewasshort.Twentyfeettallisstill

goodifyou’relookingforsomebodytoplaypointintheNBAorchangethosehard-to-reachlightbulbs.Buttheguywasminusculecomparedtohisdaughters,whowere,ofcourse,nowdead.Geirrodbelched.Judgingfromhisexpression,hewasmakingamightyefforttoformrational

thoughts.‘Ifyou’reguests…whyhaveyougotmyswan?Andwherearemydaughters?’Samforcedalaugh.‘Oh,thosecrazygirls?Wewerebarteringwiththemforyourswan.’‘Yeah,’Isaid.‘Rightnowthey’reonthefloorintheotherroom.Theydon’tlooksogood.’I

mimeddrinkingfromabottle,whichprobablyconfusedHearthstone,asitlookedlikethesignforIloveyou.Geirrodseemedtogetmymeaning.Hisshouldersrelaxed,asiftheideaofhisdaughterspassing

outdrunkonthefloorwasnothingtobeconcernedabout.‘Well,then,’hesaid,‘aslongastheyweren’t–HIC!–entertainingthosefrost-giantboysagain.’‘Nope,justus,’Iassuredhim.Blitzengruntedasheshiftedmeinhisarms.‘Heavy.’Hearthstone,tryingtokeepupwiththeconversation,signedIloveyouatthegiant.‘Oh,GreatGeirrod!’Samsaid.‘WeactuallycameheretobargainforThor ’sweapon.Your

daughterstoldusyouhaveit.’Geirrodglancedtohisright.Againstthefarwall,almosthiddenbehindacolumn,wasahuman-

sizeirondoor.‘Andtheweaponisbehindthatdoor,’Iguessed.Geirrod’seyeswidened.‘Whatsorceryisthis?Howdidyouknowthat?’‘Wewanttobarterfortheweapon,’Irepeated.InHearthstone’sarms,Gunillahonkedirritably.‘Andalsoforthefreedomofthisswan,’Samadded.‘Ha!’Geirrodsloshedmoremeadfromhisdrinkinghorn.‘Idon’t–HIC!–needanythingyou

couldoffer.Butperhapsyoucould–BELCH–earntheweaponandthegoldengoose.’‘Theswan,’Icorrected.‘Whatever,’saidthegiant.Blitzenwhimpered,‘Heavy.Veryheavy.’Thepaininmylegmadeithardtothink.EverytimeBlitzenmovedIwantedtoscream,butItried

tokeepaclearhead.‘Whatdidyouhaveinmind?’Iaskedthegiant.‘Entertainme!Joinmeinagame!’‘Like…WordswithFriends?’

‘What?No!Likecatch!’Hegestureddisdainfullytowardsthediningroom.‘Ihaveonlydaughters.Theyneverwanttoplaycatchwithme.Ilikeplayingcatch!Playcatchwithme.’IglancedatSam.‘Ithinkhewantstoplaycatch.’‘Badidea,’shemurmured.‘Survivetenminutes!’Geirrodsaid.‘That’sallIask!ThenI’llbe–HIC!–happy.’‘Survive?’Iasked.‘Agameofcatch?’‘Good,soyouagree!’Hestumbledtothenearestbrazierandscoopedupared-hotcoalthesizeof

aneasychair.‘Golong!’

F I FTY-S IX

NeverAskaDwarfto‘GoLong’

‘Run!’ItoldBlitzen.‘Run,run,run!’Blitzen,whowasstilltrailingtheparachute,onlymanagedadazedstumble.‘Heavy,veryheavy,’he

wheezedagain.WemadeitabouttwentyfeetbeforeGeirrodyelled,‘CATCH!’Thefourofusduckedbehindthenearestcolumnasacoalcannonballslammedagainstit,burning

aholestraightthroughthestoneandsprayingashandsparksoverourheads.Thecolumngroaned.Cracksspreadallthewayuptotheceiling.‘Runmore!’Samyelped.WeshambledacrossthehallasGeirrodscoopedcoalsandthrewthemwithappallingaccuracy.If

hehadn’tbeendrunk,wewould’vebeeninserioustrouble.ThenextsalvosetBlitzen’sparachuteonfire.Samwasabletocutitoffwithheraxe,butwelost

valuabletime.Anotherchunkofflamingapocalypseblastedacraterinthefloornexttous,singeingGunilla’swingsandHearthstone’sscarf.SparksflewintoBlitzen’seyes.‘I’mblind!’heyelped.‘I’lldirectyou!’Ishouted.‘Left!Left!Yourotherleft!’Meanwhile,acrossthehall,GeirrodwashavingagrandoldtimesinginginJotunese,staggering

frombraziertobrazier,occasionallydousinghimselfinmead.‘Comeonnow,littleguests!Thisisnothowyouplay.You’resupposedtocatchthecoalsandthrowthemback!’Ilookedarounddesperatelyforexits.Therewasoneotherdoor,onthewalldirectlyacrossfrom

thediningroom,butitwastoosmalltocrawlunderandtoobigtoforceopen,nottomentionbarredwithatree-trunkbeamacrossironbrackets.Forthefirsttimesincebecominganeinherji,Iwasannoyedthatmysuper-quickhealingwasn’t

superquickenough.Ifweweregoingtodie,Iatleastwantedtobestandingonmyowntwofeet.Iglancedattheceiling.AbovethelastcolumnGeirrodhadhit,cracksspreadacrosstheroof.The

columnbowed,readytosnap.Irememberedthefirsttimemymomhadmademesetupourcampingtentbymyself.Thepoleshadbeenanightmare.Gettingthemtoholdtheroofrequiredjusttherightbalanceoftension.Butmakingthemcollapse…thatwaseasy.‘I’vegotanidea,’Isaid.‘Blitzen,you’regoingtohavetocarrymeawhilelonger,unlessSam–’‘Um,no,’saidSam.‘I’mfine,’Blitzenwhimpered.‘I’mjustgreat.Icanalmostseeagain.’‘Okay,everybody,’Isaid.‘We’regoingtoruntowardsthegiant.’Ididn’tneedsignlanguagetoreadHearth’sexpression:Areyoucrazy?Theswangavemethesame

look.

‘Justfollowmylead,’Isaid.‘It’llbefun.’‘Please,’Sambegged,‘don’tletthosewordsbecarvedonmytombstone.’Iyelledatthegiant,‘Hey,Geirrod,youthrowlikeaFolkvangerperson!’‘What?BAH!’Geirrodturnedtoscoopupanothercoal.‘Straightathim,’Itoldmyfriends.‘Go!’Asthegiantpreparedtothrow,ItoldBlitzen,‘Right,goright!’Weallduckedbehindthenearestpillar.Geirrod’scoalboredstraightthroughit,spewingcinders

andsendingmorecracksuptheceiling.‘Nowleft,’Itoldmyfriends.‘Towardshimandupanotherrow.’‘Whatareyou–’Sam’seyeswidenedwithunderstanding.‘Oh,gods,youreallyarecrazy.’‘Gotabetteridea?’‘Sadly,no.’WeranacrossGeirrod’slineofsight.‘Yourdaughtersaren’tdrunk!’Ishouted.‘They’redead!’‘WHAT?NO!’Anothercoalcannonballhurtledtowardsus,hittingthenearestcolumnwithsuchforceitcollapsed

intoapileofcolossalstonePolomints.Theceilinggroaned.Thecracksspread.WeranintothecentralaisleandIyelled,‘MISSED

AGAIN!’Geirrodhowledinfury.Hetossedasidehisdrinkinghornsohecouldscoopcoalswithbothhands.

Fortunatelyforus,hisangerandhisdouble-handedthrowingmadehisaimterrible.Wejoggedaroundhim,weavingfromcolumntocolumnashesplatteredcoaleverywhere,tippingoverbraziers,breakingpillars.IinsultedGeirrod’ssuit,hishaircut,hispatent-leathershoes.Finallythegianttossedanentire

brazieratus,takingoutthelastsupportpillaronhissideoftheroom.‘Retreat!’ItoldBlitzen.‘Go!NOW!’PoorBlitzenhuffedandwheezed.WeranforthefarwallasGeirrodshouted,‘Cowards!Iwillkill

you!’Heeasilycouldhaverunafterusandcaughtus,butthegiant’sdrunkenmindwasstillthinkingin

termsofprojectileweapons.Hesearchedaroundhimformorecoalsastheceilingabovehimcrumbled.Toolate,herealizedwhatwashappening.Helookedupandscreamedashalftheroomcollapsed

ontopofhim,buryingGeirrodunderathousandtonsofrock.ThenextthingIknew,Iwasonthefloorinawhite-outofdustanddebris,tryingmybesttocough

upmylungs.Slowlytheaircleared.Afewfeetaway,Samsatcross-legged,alsohackingandgasping,looking

likeshe’dbeenrolledinflour.‘Blitzen?’Icalled.‘Hearth?’IwassoworriedaboutthemIforgotaboutmybrokenleg.Itriedtostandandwassurprisedtofind

thatIcould.Thelegstillthrobbedwithagony,butitheldmyweight.

Blitzencamestumblingoutofadustcloud.‘Present,’hesqueaked.Hissuitwasruined.Hishairandbeardhadgoneprematurelygreywithplaster.Itackledhiminahug.‘You,’Isaid,‘arethestrongest,mostamazingdwarfever.’‘Okay,kid,okay.’Hepattedmyarm.‘Where’sHearthstone?Hearth!’Inmomentslikethat,weforgotthatyellingHearthstone’snamewasn’treallyhelpful.‘Hereheis,’Samcalled,brushingsomerubbleoffthefallenelf.‘Ithinkhe’sokay.’‘ThankOdin!’Blitzstartedforwardbutalmostfell.‘Whoa,there.’Iproppedhimagainstoneoftheremainingcolumns.‘Justrestforasec.I’llberight

back.’IjoggedovertoSamandhelpedherextractHearthstonefromthewreckage.Hishairwassmouldering,butotherwisehelookedallright.Wepulledhimtohisfeet.Immediately

hestartedscoldingmeinsignlanguage:Stupid?Tryingtokillus?Ittookmeasecondtorealizehewasn’tholdingtheswan.‘Wait,’Isaid.‘Where’sGunilla?’Behindme,Blitzenyelped.Iturnedanddiscoveredahostagesituationinprogress.‘I’mrighthere,’Gunillasnarled.Shewasbackinhumanform,standingbehindBlitzen,thepoint

ofherblazingspearpressedtohisthroat.‘AndthefourofyouarecomingbacktoValhallaasmyprisoners.’

F I FTY-SEVEN

SamHitstheEJECTButton

GunillajabbedherspeartipagainstBlitz’sjugular.‘Nocloser,’shewarned.‘Roguesandliars,allofyou.You’veendangeredMidgardandAsgard,

rousedthegiants,causedchaosacrosstherealms–’‘Wealsorescuedyoufromabirdcage,’Iadded.‘Afterluringmehereinthefirstplace!’‘Nobodyluredyou,’Isaid.‘Nobodyaskedyoutohuntus.’‘Gunilla.’Samirahplacedheraxeonthefloor.‘Letthedwarfgo,please.’‘Urgh,’Blitzenagreed.TheValkyriecaptainglancedatHearthstone.‘You,elf–don’teventhinkaboutit.Putthatbagof

runestonesonthefloororIwillburnyoutoashes.’Ihadn’trealizedHearthstonewasabouttomakeamove.HecompliedwithGunilla’sorder,though

hiseyesblazed.HelookedlikehewantedtodosomethingmuchworsetoGunillathanputherinamagichamsterwheel.Samraisedherpalms.‘We’renotgoingtofightyou.Please,releasethedwarf.Weallknowwhata

Valkyriespearcando.’Ididn’t,actually,butItriedtolookasmeekandharmlessaspossible.AsexhaustedasIfelt,it

wasn’thard.Gunillaeyedme.‘Whereisyoursword,Magnus?’Igesturedtotheruinedendofthehall.‘LastIchecked,hewastakingabathinagoblet.’Gunillaconsideredthat.Itwasthesortofstatementthatonlymadesenseintheloonyworldofthe

Vikings.‘Verywell.’SheshovedBlitzentowardsme.Shesweptherspearforward,keepingusallwithinstrikingdistance.Theweapon’slightwasso

intenseIfeltlikeitwasbakingmyskin.‘WewillreturntoAsgardassoonasmyfullstrengthreturns,’saidGunilla.‘Inthemeantime,

explainwhyyouwereaskingthegiantsaboutThor ’sweapon.’‘Oh…’IrememberedThorbeingprettyspecificaboutnottellinganyoneofhismissinghammer.

‘Well–’‘Atrick,’Saminterrupted.‘Toconfusethegiants.’Gunillanarrowedhereyes.‘Adangeroustrick.IfthegiantsbelievedThorhadlosthishammer…

theconsequenceswouldbeunthinkable.’‘Speakingofunthinkable,’Isaid,‘SurtisgoingtoreleaseFenrisWolftomorrownight.’‘Tonight,’Samcorrected.Mystomachdropped.‘Isn’titTuesday?FreyasaidthefullmoonwasWednesday–’

‘WhichtechnicallystartsatsundownonTuesday,’Samsaid.‘Thefullmoonrisestonight.’‘Well,that’sjustwonderful,’Isaid.‘Whydidn’tyousayso?’‘Ithoughtyouunderstood.’‘Silence,bothofyou!’Gunillaordered.‘MagnusChase,you’vefallenfortheliesofthisdaughter

ofLoki.’‘Youmeanthefullmoonisn’ttonight?’‘No,it’stonight.Imeant–’Gunillascowled.‘Stopconfusingme!’Blitzenwhimperedasshethrottledhimwithherlightspear.Hearthstoneedgednexttome,hisfists

clenched.Iraisedmyhands.‘Gunilla,allI’msayingis,ifyoudon’tletusgosowecanstopSurt–’‘Iwarnedyou,’Gunillasaid.‘ListeningtoSamirahwillonlyhastenRagnarok.FeelfortunateI

foundyouratherthantheotherValkyrieswhoarehuntingyou,oryourformereinherjarhallmates.TheyareanxioustoprovetheirloyaltytoValhallabykillingyou.I,atleast,willmakesureyougetapropertrialbeforethethanescastyoursoulintoGinnungagap!’SamirahandIexchangedglances.Wedidn’thavetimetobecapturedandsentbacktoAsgard.I

definitelydidn’thavetimetogetmysoulcastintoaplaceIcouldn’tevenpronounce.Hearthstonesavedus.Hisfacebecametransfixedwithhorror.HepointedbehindGunillaasif

Geirrodwasrisingfromtherubble.ItwastheoldesttrickintheNineWorlds,anditworked.Gunillaglancedbehindher.Samlungedwithblindingspeed.InsteadoftryingtotackletheValkyrie

captain,shesimplytouchedthegoldenbraceronGunilla’sarm.Theairhummedasifsomeonehadturnedonanindustrialvacuumcleaner.Gunillashrieked.ShestaredatSamindismay.‘Whathaveyou–’TheValkyrieimploded.Shecollapsedintoapinpointoflightandwasgone.‘Sam?’Icouldn’tbelievewhathadhappened.‘You–youkilledher?’‘Ofcoursenot!’Samswattedmyarm.(Thankfully,Ididnotimplode.)‘Ijustrecalledherto

Valhalla.’‘Thearmband?’askedBlitzen.Samsmiledmodestly.‘Ididn’tknowifitwouldwork.Iguessmyfingerprintshaven’tbeende-

registeredfromtheValkyriedatabaseyet.’Hearthstonerolledhishand.Explain.‘Valkyriearmbandshaveanemergencyevacuationfeature,’Samsaid.‘IfaValkyrieiswoundedin

battleandneedsimmediateattention,anotherValkyriecansendherbacktotheHallsofHealingsimplybytouchingherarmband.She’llbeinstantlyextracted,butit’spowerfulmagic.Oneuseandthearmbandmelts.’Iblinked.‘SoGunillagotyankedtoValhalla.’‘Yep.ButIhaven’tboughtusmuchtime.She’llbebackassoonasshegathersherstrength.I

imagineshe’llbringreinforcements,too.’‘Thor ’shammer,’Isaid.‘Thestorageroom.’Weranforthesmallirondoor.I’dliketosayIhadcarefullyplannedtheceiling’scollapsetomake

surethedoordidn’tgetburiedinwreckage.Intruth,Ijustgotlucky.

Sam’saxecutthroughthelockinoneswipe.Hearthstoneyankedopenthedoor.Insidewasacloset,emptyexceptforanironpolethesizeofabroomhandleleaningagainstthecorner.‘Well,’Isaid.‘That’skindofanticlimactic.’Blitzenstudiedtheironpole.‘Idunno,kid.Seethisrunework?Itisn’tMjolnir,butthisstaffwas

forgedwithpowerfulmagic.’Sam’sfacefell.‘Oh…Thor ’sweapon.Justnottherightweapon.’‘Mmm.’Blitzennoddedsagely.‘Mmm,’Iagreed.‘Wouldoneofyoutellmewhatyou’retalkingabout?’‘Kid,thisisThor ’sbackupweapon,’Blitzexplained.‘Thestaffwasagiftfromafriendofhis–the

giantessGrid.’‘Threequestions,’Isaid.‘First:Thorhasagiantessfriend?’‘Yes,’Blitzsaid.‘Notallgiantsarebad.’‘Second:doallgiantessnamesbeginwithG?’‘No.’‘Lastquestion:Thorisamartialartist?Doeshehave,like,backupnunchuks,too?’‘Hey,kid,don’tdisthestaff.Itmaynotbedwarvenworklikethehammer,butgiant-forgedironis

stillpowerfulstuff.Ihopewe’reabletopickitupandcarryitbacktoThor.I’msureit’sheavyandprotectedbyenchantments.’‘Youneedn’tworryaboutthat!’bellowedavoiceabove.Fromoneofthehighwindows,thegodofthundersoaredintotheroomonachariotpulledbyOtis

andMarvin.MyswordJackfloatedalongnexttothem.Thorlandedinfrontofusinallhisgrungyglory.‘Goodwork,mortals!’Hegrinned.‘Youfound

thestaff.That’sbetterthannothing!’‘And,dude,’saidJack,‘Itakeonequickbath.Iturnaroundandnotonlyhaveyoulefttheroombut

you’vecollapsedtheexit.What’saswordsupposedtothink?’Ibitbackacomment.‘Yeah.Sorry,Jack.’Thorreachedouttowardsthesupplycloset.Theironrodflewintohishand.Thorexecutedafew

thrusts,swipesandbatontwirls.‘Yes,thiswilldonicelyuntilIfindthat–ah,otherweaponwhichisnotofficiallymissing.Thanks!’Itriedtoresisttheurgetosmackhim.‘Youhaveaflyingchariot?’‘Ofcourse!’Helaughed.‘Thorwithouthisflyingchariotwouldbelikeadwarfwithoutan

emergencyparachute!’‘Thankyou,’Blitzsaid.‘Youcouldhaveflownusstraighthere,’Inoted.‘Youcouldhavesavedusadayandahalfand

severalclosecallswithdeath.Butyouletusclimbthatcliff,navigateachasm–’‘Iwouldneverdepriveyouofthechancetoproveyourheroism!’thethundergodsaid.Blitzenwhimpered.Hearthstonesigned,Ihatethisgod.‘Exactly,MrElf!’Thorsaid.‘Igaveyoutheopportunitytoproveyourmettle.You’requite

welcome!’

Otisbleatedandcloppedhishooves.‘Besides,thebosscouldn’tshowupherewithouthishammer,especiallysincehisdaughterwasstuckinthatbirdcage.’Samflinched.‘Youknewaboutthat?’Thorscowledathisgoat.‘Otis,weneedtohaveanothertalkaboutyoukeepingyoursnoutshut.’‘Sorry.’Otishunghishorns.‘Goaheadandkillme.It’sfine.’Marvinnippedhim.‘Willyoushutup?Everytimeyougetkilled,Igetkilled!’Thorrolledhiseyesattheceiling.‘“Whatkindofanimalswouldyoulikepullingyourchariot,

Thor?”mydadaskedme.“Goats,”Isaid.“Flyingre-consumablegoatswouldbegreat.”Icould’vechosendragonsorlions,butnoooo.’HefacedSam.‘Toansweryourquestion,yes,IsensedGunillawashere.Icanusuallytellwhenoneofmychildrenisnearby.Ifigured,ifyoucouldsaveher,thatwouldbeanicebonus.ButIalsodidn’twantherlearningaboutmymissinghammer.Thatinformationisabitsensitive.YoushouldfeelhonouredItoldyouaboutit,daughterofLoki.’Saminchedaway.‘Youknowaboutthat?Listen,LordThor–’‘Girl,stopcallingmelord.I’magodofthecommonpeople,notalord!Anddon’tworry–Iwon’t

killyou.NotallofLoki’sbroodisevil.EvenLokihimself…’Heheavedasigh.‘Ikindofmisstheguy.’Samlookedathimsideways.‘Youdo?’‘Oh,sure.’Thorscratchedhisredbeard.‘MostofthetimeIwantedtokillhim,likewhenhecutoff

allmywife’shair,orconvincedmetowearabridalgown.’‘Dowhatnow?’Iasked.‘ButLokimadelifeinteresting,’Thorcontinued.‘Peoplegottheideawewerebrothers,whichisn’t

true.HewasOdin’sbloodbrother.Still,Iunderstandhowtherumourgotstarted.Ihatetoadmitit,butLokiandImadeagoodteam.’‘LikeMarvinandme,’Otissuggested.‘Mytherapistsays–’‘Shutup,youdolt!’saidMarvin.Thortwirledhisironstaff.‘Atanyrate,thanksforthis.ItwillhelpuntilIcanfindthatotheritem.

AndpleaseDONOTmentionmylosstoanyone.Notevenmychildren.Especiallynotthem.OtherwiseI’dhavetokillyou,andImightevenfeelbadaboutthat.’‘ButwhatwillyoudowithoutMjolnir?’Samasked.‘Howwillyou–’‘Watchtelevision?’Thorshrugged.‘Iknow…thescreensizeandresolutionontheendofthis

staffarepitiful,butIwillhavetomakedo.Asforyou,theislandofLyngvirisesfromthewavestonight.Youmusthurry!Goodbye,mortals,and–’‘Holdup,’Isaid.‘Weneedthelocationoftheisland.’Thorfrowned.‘Oh,right.Iwassupposedtogivethattoyou.Well,allyouhavetodoisseekoutthe

dwarfbrothersattheLongWharfinBoston.Theywilltakeyoutotheisland.Theirboatusuallyleavesatsunset.’‘Ah,dwarves.’Blitznoddedapprovingly.‘Wecantrustthem,then?’‘Oh,no,’Thorsaid.‘They’lltrytokillyouatthefirstopportunity,buttheydoknowthewaytothe

island.’‘LordTh–Imean,Thor,’saidSam,‘Won’tyoucomewithus?Thisisanimportantbattle–thefire

lordSurt,FenrisWolf.Surelythat’sworthyofyourattention.’

Thor ’srighteyetwitched.‘That’safineoffer.Really.I’dloveto,butIhaveanotherpressingappointment–’‘GameofThrones,’Marvinexplained.‘Shutup!’Thorraisedhisstaffoverourheads.‘Useyourtimewell,heroes.Prepareforbattle,and

beattheLongWharfbysundown!’Theroomstartedtospin.Jacktheswordflewintomyhand,floodingmewithexhaustion.Ibracedmyselfagainstthenearestcolumn.‘Thor,whereareyousendingus?’Thethundergodchuckled.‘Whereveryoueachneedtogo.’Jotunheimcollapsedaroundmelikeatentfallingonmyhead.

F I FTY-EIGHT

WhattheHel?

IstoodaloneinasnowstormonBunkerHill.Myexhaustionwasgone.Jackhadreturnedtopendantformaroundmyneck.Noneofthatmade

sense,butIdidn’tseemtobedreaming.IfeltlikeIwasreallyinCharlestown,justacrosstheriverfromBoston,standingrightwheremy

fourth-gradeschoolbushaddroppedusoffforaclasstrip.Gauzycurtainsofsnowsweptacrossthebrownstones.Theparkitselfwasn’tmuchmorethanawhitefielddottedwithbaretrees.Inthecentre,agreyobeliskroseintothewintersky.AftermytimeinGeirrod’sfortress,themonumentlookedsmallandsad.ThorhadsaidI’dbesentwhereIneededtogo.WhydidIneedtobehere,andwhereweremy

friends?Avoiceatmyshouldersaid,‘Tragic,isn’tit?’Ihardlyflinched.IsupposedIwasgettingusedtostrangeNorseentitiespoppingupinmypersonal

space.Standingnexttome,gazingatthemonument,wasawomanwithelven-paleskinandlongdark

hair.Inprofile,shelookedheart-achinglybeautiful,abouttwenty-fiveyearsold.Hererminecloakshimmeredlikeasnowdriftripplinginthewind.Thensheturnedtowardsme,andmylungsflattenedagainstthebackofmyribcage.Therightsideofthewoman’sfacewasanightmare–witheredskin,patchesofblueicecovering

decayedflesh,membrane-thinlipsoverrottenteeth,amilky-whiteeyeandtuftsofdesiccatedhairlikeblackspiderwebs.Itriedtotellmyself,Okay,thisisn’tsobad.She’sjustlikethatguyTwo-FacefromBatman.But

Two-Facehadalwaysstruckmeaskindofcomical,like,comeon,nobodywiththatmuchfacialdamagecouldbealive.Thewomaninfrontofmewasveryreal.Shelookedlikesomeonewho’dbeenstuckhalfway

throughadoorwhenadevastatingblizzardstruck.Orworse…somehideousghoulwho’dtriedtotransformintoahuman,onlytogetinterruptedinthemiddleoftheprocess.‘You’reHel.’MyvoicesoundedlikeIwasfiveyearsoldagain.Sheliftedherskeletalrighthand,brushingatuftofhairbehindherear…orthestuboffrostbitten

fleshthatmightoncehavebeenanear.‘IamHel,’sheagreed.‘SometimescalledHela,thoughmostmortalsdarenotspeakmynameat

all.Nojokes,MagnusChase?WhotheHelareyou?WhattheHeldoyouwant?YoulookHelabad.Iwasexpectingmorebravado.’

Iwasfreshoutofbravado.ThebestIcouldmanagewasnotrunningawayshrieking.WindgustedaroundHel,liftingafewflakesofblackenedskinfromherzombieforearmandswirlingthemintothesnow.‘Wh-whatdoyouwant?’Iasked.‘I’malreadydead.I’maneinherji.’‘Iknowthat,younghero.Idon’twantyoursoul.Ihaveplentyofthosealready.Icalledyouhereto

talk.’‘Youbroughtme?IthoughtThor–’‘Thor.’Thegoddessscoffed.‘Ifyouwantsomeonewhocannavigateonehundredandseventy

channelsofHDcontent,gotoThor.IfyouwantsomeonewhocanaccuratelysendpeoplethroughtheNineWorlds,he’snotyourguy.’‘So–’‘SoIthoughtitwashightimewetalked.MyfatherdidmentionI’dbeseekingyouout,yes?He

gaveyouanexitstrategy,Magnus:surrendertheswordtoyouruncle.Removeitfromplay.Thisisyourlastopportunity.Perhapsyoucantakealessonfromthisplace.’‘BunkerHill?’Sheturnedtowardsthemonumentsoonlyhermortalsidewasvisible.‘Sadandmeaningless.

Anotherhopelessbattle,liketheoneyou’reabouttoengagein…’Granted,myAmericanhistorywasalittlerusty,butIwasprettysuretheydidn’tbuildmonuments

atthesiteofsadandmeaninglessevents.‘Wasn’tBunkerHillavictory?AmericansholdingofftheBritishatthetopofthehill?Don’tfire

untilyousee…’Shefixedmewithhermilkyzombiegaze,andIcouldn’tmakemyselfsaythewhitesoftheireyes.‘Foreveryhero,athousandcowards,’saidHel.‘Foreverybravedeath,athousandsenselessones.

Foreveryeinherji…athousandsoulswhoentermyrealm.’Shepointedwithherwitheredhand.‘Rightoverthere,aBritishboyofyouragediedbehindahay

bale,cryingforhismother.Hewastheyoungestofhisregiment.Hisowncommandershothimforcowardice.Doyouthinkheappreciatesthislovelymonument?Andthere,atthetopofthehill,aftertheirammunitionranout,yourancestorsthrewrocksattheBritish,fightinglikecavemen.Somefled.Somestayedandwerebutcheredwithbayonets.Whichweresmarter?’Shesmiled.Iwasn’tsurewhichsideofhermouthwasmoreghastly–thelivingzombie,orthe

beautifulwomanwhowasamusedbymassacres.‘Nooneeversaidthewhitesoftheireyes,’shecontinued.‘That’samyth,madeupyearslater.This

isn’tevenBunkerHill.It’sBreed’sHill.And,thoughthebattlewascostlytotheBritish,itwasanAmericandefeat,notavictory.Suchishumanmemory…youforgetthetruthandbelievewhatmakesyoufeelbetter.’Snowmeltedagainstmyneck,dampeningmycollar.‘What’syourpoint?Ishouldn’tfight?I

shouldjustletSurtfreeyourbrothertheBigBadWolf?’‘Imerelypointoutoptions,’Helsaid.‘DidBunkerHillreallyaffecttheoutcomeofyour

Revolution?IfyoufaceSurttonight,willyoudelayRagnarokorhastenit?Chargingintobattleiswhattheherowoulddo–thesortofpersonwhoendsupinValhalla.Butwhatofthemillionsofsouls

wholivedmorecarefullivesanddiedpeacefullyintheirbedsatanoldage?Theyendedupinmyrealm.Weretheynotwiser?DoyoureallybelonginValhalla,Magnus?’ThewordsoftheNornsseemedtospiralaroundmeinthecold.Wronglychosen,wronglyslain;a

heroValhallacannotcontain.IthoughtaboutmyhallmateT.J.,stillcarryinghisrifleandwearinghisCivilWarcoat,charging

uphillsdayafterdayinaseriesofendlessbattles,waitingforhisfinaldeathatRagnarok.IthoughtaboutHalfbornGunderson,tryingtostaysanebyearningPhDsinliteraturewhenhewasn’tgoingberserkandsmashingskulls.DidIbelongwiththoseguys?‘Taketheswordtoyouruncle,’Helurged.‘Leteventsunfoldwithoutyou.Thisisthesafercourse.

Ifyoudoso…myfatherLokihasaskedmetorewardyou.’Theskinonmyfaceburned.IhadanirrationalfearthatImightbedecayingfromfrostbite,

becominglikeHel.‘Rewardme?’‘Helheimisnotsuchaterribleplace,’saidthegoddess.‘Myhallhasmanyfinechambersformy

favouredguests.Areunioncouldbearranged.’‘Areunion…’Icouldbarelyspeakthewords.‘Withmymother?Youhaveher?’Thegoddessseemedtoconsiderthequestion,tiltingherheadfromthelivingsidetothedead.‘I

couldhaveher.Thestatusofhersoul,ofeverythingthatshewas,isstillinflux.’‘How…?Idon’t–’‘Theprayersandwishesofthelivingoftenaffectthedead,Magnus.Mortalshavealwaysknown

that.’Shebaredherteeth–rottenononeside,pristinewhiteontheother.‘IcannotreturnNatalieChasetolife,butIcanuniteyoubothinHelheimifyouwishit.Icanbindyoursoulstheresothatyouwillneverbeseparated.Youcouldbeafamilyagain.’Itriedtoimaginethat.Mytonguefrozeinmymouth.‘Youneednotspeak,’Helsaid.‘Onlygivemeanindication.Cryforyourmother.Letyourtears

fall,andIwillknowyouagree.Butyoumustdecidenow.Ifyourejectmyoffer,ifyouinsistonfightingyourownBunkerHilltonight,Ipromiseyouwillneverseeyourmotheragaininthislifeoranyother.’IthoughtaboutmymotherskippingstoneswithmeatHoughton’sPond,hergreeneyessparkling

withhumour.Shespreadherarmsinthesunlight,tryingtoexplainwhatmyfatherwaslike.That’swhyIbringyouhere,Magnus.Can’tyoufeelit?He’sallaroundus.ThenIimaginedmymotherinacold,darkpalace,hersoulboundforeternity.Irememberedmy

owncorpseinthefuneralhome–anembalmedrelic,dressedupfordisplay.IthoughtaboutthefacesofthedrownedsoulsswirlinginRan’snet.‘Youarecrying,’Helnotedwithsatisfaction.‘Thenwehaveadeal?’‘Youdon’tunderstand.’Ilookedatthegoddess.‘I’mcryingbecauseIknowwhatmymotherwould

want.She’dwantmetorememberherasshewas.That’stheonlymonumentsheneeds.Shewouldn’twanttobetrapped,preserved,forcedtoliveasaghostinsomecold-storageunderworld.’Helscowled,therightsideofherfacewrinklingandcrackling.‘Youdare?’‘Youwantbravado?’Ipulledmypendantfromitschain.Jacktheswordstretchedtofulllength,his

bladesteaminginthecold.‘Leavemealone.TellLokiwehavenodeal.IfIseeyouagain,I’llcutyourightdownthedottedline.’

Iraisedmyblade.Thegoddessdissolvedintosnow.Mysurroundingsfaded.SuddenlyIfoundmyselfbalancedatthe

edgeofarooftop,fivestoreysaboveastretchofasphalt.

F I FTY-NINE

TheTerrorThatIsMiddleSchool

BeforeIcouldplummettomydeath,someonegrabbedmeandpulledmeback.‘Whoa,there,cowboy,’Samsaid.Shewasdressedinanewpeacoat–navybluethistime–withdarkjeansandboots.Bluewasn’tmy

favouritecolour,butitmadeherlookdignifiedandserious,likeanair-forceofficer.Herheadscarfwasfreckledwithsnow.Heraxewasn’tatherside;Iguesseditwastuckedinthebackpackoverhershoulder.Shedidn’tlooksurprisedtoseeme.Thenagain,herexpressionwaspreoccupied,hergazestuck

somewhereinthedistance.Mysensesstartedtoadjust.Jackwasstillinmyhand.Forsomereason,Ididn’tfeelanyexhaustion

fromhisrecentslayingofthegiantsisters.Belowus,thepatchofasphaltwasnotexactlyaplayground–morelikeaholdingareabetween

schoolbuildings.Insidethechain-linkfence,afewdozenstudentshuddledincliques,chattingindoorwaysorpushingeachotheraroundtheicyground.Theylookedlikeseventh-graders,thoughitwashardtobesurewitheverybodyintheirdarkwintercoats.Iwilledmyswordbackintopendantformandreturnedittoitschain.IfiguredIshouldn’tbe

walkingontheroofofaschoolwithabroadsword.‘Wherearewe?’IaskedSam.‘Myoldstompingground.’Hervoicehadabitteredge.‘MalcolmXMiddleSchool.’ItriedtoimagineSamdowninthatcourtyard,minglingwiththosecliquesofgirls,herheadscarf

theonlysplashofcolourinthecrowd.‘WhydidThorsendyoubacktomiddleschool?’Iasked.‘Thatseemsespeciallycruel.’Shesmirked.‘Heactuallytransportedmehome.Iappearedinmybedroom,justintimeforJidand

BibitobargeinanddemandtoknowwhereI’dbeen.Thatconversationwasworsethanmiddleschool.’Myheartsank.I’dbeensofocusedonmyownproblemsI’dforgottenthatSamwastryingto

balanceanormallifeontopofeverythingelse.‘Whatdidyoutellthem?’‘ThatI’dbeenstayingwithfriends.They’llassumeImeantMarianneShaw.’‘Ratherthanthreestrangeguys.’Shehuggedherarms.‘ItoldBibiItriedtotexther,whichistrue.She’llassumeitwasherfault.

Bibiishopelesswithphones.Actually,Jotunheimjusthasnoreception.I–Itrynottoactuallylie,butIhatemisleadingthem.Aftereverythingthey’vedoneforme,theyworryI’mgoingtogetintrouble,turnoutlikemymom.’‘Youmeanasuccessfuldoctorwholikedtohelppeople?Gee,thatwouldbeterrible.’

Shegavemeaneyeroll.‘YouknowwhatImean–arebel,anembarrassment.Theylockedmeinmyroom,toldmeIwasgroundeduntilDoomsday.Ididn’thavethehearttotellthemthatmightbetonight.’Thewindpickedup,spinningtheoldmetalrooffanslikepinwheels.‘Howdidyousneakout?’Iasked.‘Ididn’t.Ijustappearedhere.’Shegazeddownintothecourtyard.‘MaybeIneededareminderof

howitallstarted.’Mybrainfeltasrustyastherooffans,butonethoughtgainedtractionandstartedtospin.‘Thisis

whereyoubecameaValkyrie.’Samnodded.‘Afrostgiant…he’dgotintotheschoolsomehow.Maybelookingforme,maybe

huntingsomeotherdemigod.Hewreckedafewclassrooms,causedapanic.Hedidn’tseemtocareifthereweremortalcasualties.Theschoolwentonlockdown.Theydidn’tknowwhattheyweredealingwith.Theythoughtsomecrazyhumanwasmakingascene.Theycalledthepolice,buttherewasnotime…’Sheslippedherhandsintohercoatpockets.‘Itauntedthegiant–insultedhismom,thatkindof

thing.Iluredhimupheretotheroofand…’Shelookedbelowus.‘Thegiantcouldn’tfly.Helandedrightthereontheasphaltandshatteredintoamillionshardsofice.’Shesoundedstrangelyembarrassed.‘Youtookonagiantsingle-handed,’Isaid.‘Yousavedyourschool.’‘Isuppose,’shesaid.‘Thestaff,thepolice…theyneverfiguredoutwhathappened.Theythought

theguymust’vefledthescene.Intheconfusion,nobodynoticedwhatI’ddone…exceptOdin.Afterthegiantdied,theAll-Fatherappearedinfrontofme,rightwhereyou’restanding.HeofferedmeajobasaValkyrie.Iaccepted.’AftermyconversationwithHel,Ididn’tthinkitwaspossibleformetofeelworse.Thelossofmy

motherstillstungaspainfullyasthenightshe’ddied.ButSam’sstorymademefeelbadinadifferentway.SamhadbroughtmetoValhalla.She’dlostherplaceamongtheValkyriesbecauseshebelievedIwasahero–aherolikeher.And,despiteallthathadhappenedsince,shedidn’tseemtoblameme.‘Doyouregretit?’Iasked.‘TakingmysoulwhenIfell?’Shelaughedunderherbreath.‘Youdon’tgetit,Magnus.IwastoldtobringyoutoValhalla.And

notbyLoki.ByOdinhimself.’Mypendantheatedupagainstmycollarbone.Foraninstant,Ismelledwarmrosesand

strawberries,asifI’dsteppedthroughapocketofsummer.‘Odin,’Isaid.‘Ithoughthewasmissing…hadn’tappearedsinceyoubecameaValkyrie.’‘Hetoldmetosaynothing.’Samshivered.‘IguessIfailedinthat,too.Thenightbeforeyourfight

withSurt,Odinmetmeoutsidemygrandparents’house.Hewasdisguisedasahomelessguy–arattybeard,anoldbluecoat,abroad-brimmedhat.ButIknewwhohewas.Theeyepatch,thevoice…Hetoldmetowatchforyouand,ifyoufoughtwell,tobringyoutoValhalla.’Downinthecourtyard,aperiodbellrang.Thestudentsheadedinside,jostlingandlaughing.For

them,itwasanormalschoolday–thekindofdayIcouldhardlyremember.‘Iwaswronglychosen,’Isaid.‘TheNornstoldmeIwasn’tsupposedtobeinValhalla.’

‘Yetyouwere,’Samsaid.‘Odinforesawit.Idon’tknowwhythecontradiction,butwehavetofinishthisquest.Wehavetoreachthatislandtonight.’Iwatchedthesnowerasefootprintsintheemptyyard.Soonthere’dbenomoretraceofthestudents

thantherewasofthefrostgiant’simpactfromtwoyearsago.Iwasn’tsurewhattothinkaboutOdinchoosingmeforValhalla.IsupposeIshould’vefelt

honoured.TheAll-FatherhimselfthoughtIwasimportant.Hehadchosenme,nomatterwhattheNornssaid.But,ifthatwastrue,whyhadn’tOdinbotheredtomeetmeinperson?Lokiwasboundonaslabforeternity.He’dfoundawaytotalktome.Mimirwasaseveredhead.He’dmadethetrip.ButtheAll-Father,thegreatsorcererwhocouldsupposedlybendrealityjustbyspeakingarune–hecouldn’tfindthetimeforaquickcheck-in?Hel’svoiceechoedinmyhead:DoyoureallybelonginValhalla,Magnus?‘IjustcamefromBunkerHill,’ItoldSam.‘Helofferedmeareunionwithmymother.’Imanagedtotellherthestory.Samirahreachedoutasiftotouchmyarm,thenapparentlychangedhermind.‘I’msosorry,

Magnus.ButHellies.Youcan’ttrusther.She’sjustlikemyfather,onlycolder.Youmadetherightchoice.’‘Yeah…still.Youeverdotherightthing,andyouknowit’stherightthing,butitleavesyou

feelinghorrible?’‘You’vejustdescribedmostdaysofmylife.’Sampulledupherhood.‘WhenIbecameaValkyrie

…I’mstillnotsurewhyIfoughtthatfrostgiant.ThekidsatMalcolmXwereterribletome.Theusualgarbage:theyaskedmeifIwasaterrorist.Theyyankedoffmyhijab.Theyslippeddisgustingnotesandpicturesintomylocker.Whenthatgiantattacked…Icould’vepretendedtobejustanothermortalandgotmyselftosafety.ButIdidn’teventhinkaboutrunningaway.WhydidIriskmylifeforthosekids?’Ismiled.‘What?’shedemanded.‘Somebodyoncetoldmethatahero’sbraveryhastobeunplanned–agenuineresponsetoacrisis.

Ithastocomefromtheheart,withoutanythoughtofreward.’Samhuffed.‘Thatsomebodysoundsprettysmug.’‘Maybeyoudidn’tneedtocomehere,’Idecided.‘MaybeIdid.Tounderstandwhywe’reagood

team.’‘Oh?’Shearchedaneyebrow.‘Areweagoodteamnow?’‘We’reabouttofindout.’Igazednorthintothesnowstorm.Somewhereinthatdirectionlay

downtownBostonandLongWharf.‘Let’sfindBlitzenandHearthstone.We’vegotafiregianttoextinguish.’

S IXTY

ALovelyHomicidalSunsetCruise

BlitzandHearthwerewaitingforusoutsidetheNewEnglandAquarium.Blitzhadscoredanewoutfit,ofcourse:olive-colouredfatigues,ayellowascotnecktieanda

matchingyellowpithhelmetwithyellowsun-proofnetting.‘Mywolf-huntingclothes!’hetolduscheerfully.HeexplainedhowThor ’smagichadtransportedhimwherehemostneededtobe:thebest

departmentstoreinNidavellir.He’dusedhisSvartalfExpressCardtochargeanumberofexpeditionarysupplies,includingseveralspareoutfitsandaretractablebone-steelharpoon.‘Notonlythat,’Blitzsaid,‘butthecontestscandalwithJunior?Itbackfiredontheoldmaggot!

Wordgotaroundabouthowbadlyhefailed.Nobodyisblamingmeanymore,orthehorsefly,oranything!Peoplestartedtalkingaboutmystylisharmourdesigns,andnowthey’reclamouringforproduct.IfIlivethroughtonight,Imightgettostartmyownclothinglineafterall!’SamandIbothcongratulatedhim,thoughlivingthroughthenightdidseemlikeaprettybigif.

Nevertheless,BlitzwassohappyIdidn’twanttobringhimdown.Hestartedbouncingonhisheels,singing‘SharpDressedDwarf’underhisbreath.AsforHearth,he’ddoneadifferentkindofshopping.Hewasnowcarryingapolishedstaffof

whiteoak.Atthetop,thestaffsplitintoaYlikeaslingshot.Igotthefeeling–Idon’tknowhow–thatapiecewasmissingbetweenthetwoprongs.Withhisstaffinhand,Hearthlookedlikeapropersword-and-sorceryelf–exceptthathewasstill

wearingblackjeans,aleatherjacketoveraHOUSEOFBLUEST-shirtandacandy-stripedscarf.Hearthrestedthestaffinthecrookofhisarmandexplainedinsignshowhe’dendedupatMimir ’s

Well.TheCapohadpronouncedhimafullmasterofalfseidr,readytouseasorcerer ’sstaff.‘Isn’tthatawesome?’Blitzenclappedhimontheback.‘Iknewhecoulddoit!’Hearthstonepursedhislips.Idon’tfeellikeamaster.‘I’vegotsomethingthatmighthelp.’Ireachedinmypocketandpulledouttherunestoneperthro.

‘AcoupleofhoursagoIhadaconversationwithHel.SheremindedmeofeverythingI’velost.’Itoldthemwhatthehalf-zombiegoddesshadofferedme.‘Ah,kid…’Blitzenshookhishead.‘HereI’vebeengoingonaboutmynewclothinglineandyou

hadtodealwiththat.’‘It’sokay,’Iassuredhim.Strangely,itdidfeelokay.‘Thethingis,whenIappearedonBunkerHill,

I’djustusedmyswordtokilltwogiantesses.Ishould’vepassedoutordiedfromexhaustion.Ididn’t.IthinkIknowwhy.’Iturnedtherunestonebetweenmyfingers.‘ThelongerI’mwithyouguys,theeasieritgetstouse

mysword,orheal,ordoanything,really.I’mnomagicexpert,butIthink…somehow,we’re

sharingthecost.’IheldouttheruneforHearthstone.‘Iknowwhatitfeelsliketobeanemptycup,tohaveeverything

takenawayfromyou.Butyou’renotalone.Howevermuchmagicyouneedtouse,it’sokay.We’vegotyou.We’reyourfamily.’Hearth’seyesrimmedwithgreenwater.Hesignedtous,andthistimeIthinkheactuallymeantI

loveyouandnotthegiantessesaredrunk.Hetooktheruneandsetitbetweentheprongsofhisnewstaff.Thestonesnappedintoplacethe

samewaymypendantdidonitschain.Thesymbolperthroglowedwithagentlegoldlight.Mysign,heannounced.Myfamily’ssign.Blitzensniffled.‘Ilikethat.Afamilyoffouremptycups!’Samwipedhereyes.‘SuddenlyIfeelthirsty.’‘Al-Abbas,’Isaid,‘Inominateyoufortheroleofannoyingsister.’‘Shutup,Magnus.’Shestraightenedhercoat,shoulderedherbackpackandtookadeepbreath.‘All

right.Ifwe’redonewiththefamilybonding,Idon’tsupposeanyoneknowswherewecanfindtwodwarveswithaboat?’‘Ido.’Blitzenfluffedhisascot.‘HearthandIscouteditoutbeforeyougothere.Comeon!’Heledthewaydownthepier.Ithinkhejustwantedustoappreciatehowwellheswaggeredinhis

newyellowpithhelmet.AttheendofLongWharf,acrossfromtheclosed-for-the-seasonkioskforwhale-watchingtours,

anotherkioskhadbeencobbledtogetherfromplywoodscrapsandcardboardapplianceboxes.Abovetheservicewindow,asloppilyfinger-paintedsignread:WOLF-WATCHINGCRUISE.TONIGHTONLY!ONE

REDGOLDPERPERSON!CHILDRENUNDERFIVEFREE!

Sittingintheboothwasadwarfwhowasdefinitelylesssvartalfandmoremaggot.Abouttwofeettall,hehadsomuchfacialhairitwasimpossibletotellifhehadeyesoramouth.Hewasdressedinayellowraincoatandacaptain’shat,whichnodoubtprotectedhimfromthedimdaylightandalsomadehimlooklikethemascotforagnomishlobster-restaurantfranchise.‘Hello,there!’saidthedwarf.‘Fjalar,atyourservice.Caretotakethecruise?Lovelywolf-spotting

weather!’‘Fjalar?’Blitzen’sfacesagged.‘Youwouldn’thappentohaveabrothernamedGjalar?’‘Rightoverthere.’Iwasn’tsurehowI’dmissedit,butdockedafewfeetawaywasaVikinglongshipfittedwithan

outboardmotor.Atthestern,chewingonapieceofjerky,satanotherdwarfwholookedexactlylikeFjalarexceptheworegrease-stainedoverallsandafloppy-brimmedfelthat.‘Icanseeyou’veheardaboutourexceptionalservice,’Fjalarcontinued.‘SocanIputyoudownfor

fourtickets?Once-a-yearopportunity!’‘Excuseusamoment.’Blitzensteeredusoutofearshot.‘ThoseareFjalarandGjalar,’he

whispered.‘They’renotorious.’‘Thorwarnedus,’Samsaid.‘Wedon’thavemuchchoice.’‘Iknow,but–’Blitzenwrunghishands–‘FjalarandGjalar?They’vebeenrobbingandmurdering

peopleforoverathousandyears!They’lltrytokillusifwegivethemanyopportunity.’‘Sobasically,’Isummedup,‘they’relikeprettymucheveryoneelsewe’vemet.’

‘They’llstabusintheback,’Blitzfretted,‘orstrandusonadesertisland,orshoveusoverboardintothemouthofashark.’Hearthpointedtohimselfthentappedafingertohispalm.I’msold.Wemarchedbacktothekiosk.Ismiledatthehomicidallobstermascot.‘We’dlovefourtickets,please.’

S IXTY-ONE

HeatherIsMyNewLeastFavouriteFlower

Ididn’tthinkanythingcouldbeworsethanourfishingexpeditionwithHarald.Iwaswrong.Assoonaswelefttheharbour,theskydarkened.Thewaterturnedasblackassquidink.Through

thehazeofsnow,theshorelineofBostonmorphedintosomethingprimeval–thewayitmighthavelookedwhenSkirnir ’sdescendantfirstsailedhislongshipuptheCharles.Downtownwasreducedtoafewgreyhills.TherunwaysatLoganAirportturnedtosheetsofice

floatingonopenwater.Islandssankandrosearounduslikeatime-lapsevideoofthelasttwomillennia.ItoccurredtomethatImightbelookingatthefutureratherthanthepast–thewayBostonwould

appearafterRagnarok.Idecidedtokeepthatthoughttomyself.Inthequietofthebay,Gjalar ’soutboardmotormadeanobsceneamountofnoise–rattling,

growlingandcoughingsmokeasourboatcutthroughthewater.Anymonsterswithinafive-mileradiuswouldknowwheretofindus.Attheprow,Fjalarkeptwatch,occasionallyshoutingwarningstohisbrother,‘Rockstoport!

Icebergtostarboard!Krakenattwoo’clock!’Noneofthathelpedcalmmynerves.Surthadpromisedwewouldmeettonight.Heplannedon

burningmyfriendsandmealiveanddestroyingtheNineWorlds.Butinthebackofmymindlurkedanevendeeperfear.IwasabouttomeettheWolfatlast.ThatrealizationdredgedupeverynightmareI’deverhadaboutglowingblueeyes,whitefangs,feralsnarlsinthedarkness.Sittingnexttome,Samkeptheraxeacrossherlap,wherethedwarvescouldseeit.Blitzenfussed

withhisyellowascot,asifhecouldintimidateourhostswithhiswardrobe.Hearthstonepractisedmakinghisnewstaffappearanddisappear.Ifhediditright,thestaffshotintohishandoutofnowhere,likeabouquetofflowersspring-loadedinamagician’ssleeve.Ifhediditwrong,hegoosedBlitzenorwhoppedmeupsidethebackofthehead.Afterafewhoursandadozenstaff-inducedconcussions,theboatshudderedlikewe’dhitacross-

current.Fromthebow,Fjalarannounced,‘Itwon’tbelongnow.We’veenteredAmsvartnir–Pitch-BlackBay.’‘Gee–’Ilookedattheinkywaves–‘whydotheycallitthat?’Thecloudsbroke.Thefullmoon,paleandsilver,peereddownatusfromastarlessvoid.Infront

ofus,fogandmoonlightwovetogether,formingacoastline.I’dneverhatedthefullmoonsomuch.‘Lyngvi,’Fjalarannounced.‘TheIsleofHeather,prisonoftheWolf.’Theislandlookedlikethecalderaofanancientvolcano–aflattenedconemaybefiftyfeetabove

sealevel.I’dalwaysthoughtofheatheraspurple,buttherockyslopeswerecarpetedwithghostlywhiteflowers.

‘Ifthat’sheather,’Isaid,‘theresureisalotofit.’Fjalarcackled.‘It’samagicalplant,myfriend–usedtowardoffevilandkeepghostsatbay.What

betterprisonforFenrisWolfthananislandentirelyringedwiththestuff?’Samrose.‘IfFenrisisasbigasI’veheard,shouldn’twebeabletoseehimbynow?’‘Oh,no,’Fjalarsaid.‘Youhavetogoashoreforthat.Fenrisliesboundinthecentreoftheisland

likearunestoneinabowl.’IglancedatHearthstone.IdoubtedhecouldreadFjalar ’slipsbehindthatbushybeard,butIdidn’t

likethereferencetoarunestoneinabowl.Irememberedtheothermeaningofperthro:adice-rollingcup.Ididn’twanttorunblindlyintothatcalderaandhopeforYahtzee.Whenwewereabouttenfeetfromthebeach,thekeeloftheboatgroundagainstasandbar.The

soundremindedmeunpleasantlyofthenightmymotherdied–ourapartmentdoorcreakingjustbeforeitburstopen.‘Outyougo!’Fjalarsaidcheerfully.‘Enjoyyourwalkingtour.Justheadovertheridgethere.I

thinkyou’llfindtheWolfwellworththetrip!’Maybeitwasmyimagination,butmynostrilsfilledwiththesmellofsmokeandwetanimalfur.

Myneweinherjiheartwastestingthelimitsofhowfastitcouldbeat.Ifithadn’tbeenformyfriends,I’mnotsureIwould’vehadthecouragetodisembark.Hearthstone

leapedoverthesidefirst.SamandBlitzenfollowed.Notwantingtobestuckontheboatwithlobsterdwarfandhisjerky-eatingbrother,Iswungmylegsoverboard.Thewaist-deepwaterwassocoldIimaginedIwouldbesingingsopranofortherestoftheweek.Isloggedontothebeach,andawolf’showlsplitmyeardrums.Now,sure…I’dbeenexpectingawolf.Eversincechildhood,wolveshadterrifiedme,soI’dtried

mybesttogathermycourage.ButFenris’showlwasunlikeanythingI’deverheard–anoteofpureragesodeepitseemedtoshakemeapart,breakingmymoleculesintorandomaminoacidsandicyGinnungagaprun-off.Safeintheirboat,thetwodwarvescackledwithglee.‘Ishouldhavementioned,’Fjalarcalledtous,‘theridebackisalittlemoreexpensive.Allyour

valuables,please.Gatherthemtogetherinoneofyourbags.Tossthemtome.Otherwise,we’llleaveyouhere.’Blitzencursed.‘They’llleaveushereanyway.That’swhattheydo.’Atthemoment,headinginlandtoconfrontFenrisWolfwasverylowonmywishlist.Atthetopof

mywishlistwas:CryandPleadfortheTreacherousDwarvestoTakeMeBacktoBoston.Myvoicequavered,butItriedtoactmorecourageousthanIfelt.‘Getlost,’Itoldthedwarves.‘Wedon’tneedyouanymore.’FjalarandGjalarexchangedlooks.Alreadytheirboatwasdriftingfurtheraway.‘Didn’tyouheartheWolf?’Fjalarspokemoreslowly,asifhe’doverestimatedmyintelligence.

‘You’restuckonthatisland.WithFenris.That’sabadthing.’‘Yeah,weknow,’Isaid.‘TheWolfwilleatyou!’Fjalarcried.‘Boundornot,hewilleatyou.Atdawntheislandwill

disappearandtakeyouwithit!’‘Thanksforthelift,’Isaid.‘Pleasanttripback.’

Fjalarflunguphishands.‘Idiots!Suityourself.We’llcollectyourvaluablesfromyourskeletalremainsnextyear!Comeon,Gjalar,backtothedocks.Wemighthavetimetopickupanotherloadoftourists.’Gjalarrevvedthemotor.Thelongshipturnedanddisappearedintothedarkness.Ifacedmyfriends.Igotthefeelingtheywouldn’tmindanotherrousingspeechlike,We’reafamily

ofemptycupsandwewilldominate!‘Well,’Isaid,‘afterrunningfromanarmyofdwarves,facingamonstersquirrel,killingthree

giantsistersandbutcheringapairoftalkinggoats…howbadcanFenrisWolfbe?’‘Verybad,’SamandBlitzsaidinunison.HearthstonemadetwoOKsigns,crossedthematthewristsandflickedthemapart–thesignfor

awful.‘Right.’Ipulledmyswordfrompendantform.Theblade’sglowmadetheheatherlookevenpaler

andmoreghostly.‘Jack,youready?’‘Dude,’saidthesword,‘Iwasforgedready.Still,Igetthefeelingwe’rewalkingintoatraphere.’‘Showofhands,’Iaskedmyfriends,‘isanybodysurprisedbythat?’Nobodyraisedtheirhand.‘Okay,cool,’saidJack.‘Aslongasyourealizeyou’llprobablyalldieinagonyandstart

Ragnarok,I’mdown.Let’sdothis!’

S IXTY-TWO

TheSmallBadWolf

IrememberthefirsttimeIsawPlymouthRock.Myreactionwas,‘That’sit?’SamewiththeLibertyBellinPhiladelphiaandtheEmpireStateBuildinginNewYork–upclose

andpersonal,theyseemedsmallerthanI’dimagined,notworththehype.That’showIfeltwhenIsawFenrisWolf.I’dheardalltheseterriblestoriesabouthim:thegodsweretooscaredtofeedhim;hecouldbreak

thestrongestchains;he’deatenTyr ’shand;hewasgoingtoswallowthesunonDoomsday;hewasgoingtodevourOdininasinglebite.I’dexpectedawolfbiggerthanKingKongwithflamethrowerbreath,death-rayeyesandlasernostrils.WhatIgotinsteadwasaWolfthesizeofawolf.Westoodatthetopoftheledge,lookingdownintothevalleywhereFenrissatcalmlyonhis

haunches.HewaslargerthananaverageLabradorretriever,butdefinitelynobiggerthanme.Hislegswerelongandmuscular,builtforrunning.Hisshaggygreycoatswirledwithtuftsofblack.Nobodywould’vecalledhimcute–notwiththosegleamingwhitefangs,ortheboneslitteringthegroundaroundhispaws–buthewasahandsomeanimal.I’dbeenhopingtofindtheWolflyingonhisside,hog-tiedandfastenedtothegroundwithnails,

staples,ducttapeandKrazyGlue.Instead,thegoldenropeGleipnirrestrainedhimmorelikethelegironsusedtotransportcriminals.Theglimmeringcordwastiedaroundallfourofhisanklejoints,allowingenoughslackfortheWolftoshufflearound.PartoftheropehadapparentlyoncebeentiedaroundtheWolf’ssnoutlikeamuzzle.Thatsectionnowfellacrosshischestinalooseloop.Theropedidn’tevenappeartobeanchoredtotheground.Iwasn’tsurewhatwaskeepingFenrisfromleavingtheislandunlesstherewasoneofthosedoggyno-noinvisiblefencesaroundtheperimeter.Allinall,ifIwerethegodTyr,gettingmyhandbittenoffsotheothergodswouldhavetimeto

bindtheWolf,Iwould’vebeenprettytorquedoffatthisshoddywork.Didn’ttheAesirhaveonedecentgodofknots?Iglancedatmyfriends.‘Where’stherealFenris?Thathastobeadecoy,right?’‘No.’Sam’sknuckleswhitenedonthehandleofheraxe.‘That’shim.Icansenseit.’TheWolfturnedtowardsthesoundofourvoices.Hiseyesshonewithafamiliarbluelightthatsent

axylophonemalletdownthebackofmyribcage.‘Well.’Hisvoicewasdeepandrich.Hisblacklipscurledinaveryhumansneer.‘Whodowehave

here?Havethegodssentmeasnack?’IrevisedmyimpressionoftheWolf.Maybehissizewasordinary.Maybehedidn’tsneezelaser

beams.ButhiseyeswerecolderandmoreintelligentthananypredatorI’deverencountered–animal

orhuman.Hissnoutquiveredasifhecouldsmellthefearonmybreath.Andhisvoice…hisvoiceflowedovermelikemolasses,dangerouslysmoothandsweet.IrememberedmyfirstfeastinValhalla,whenthethanesdidn’twantSamtospeakinherdefencebecausetheyfearedthesilvertongueofLoki’schildren.NowIunderstood.ThelastthingIwantedtodowasapproachtheWolf.Yethistonesaid,Comeondown.We’reall

friendshere.Theentirecalderawasmaybeahundredyardsacross,whichmeanttheWolfwasmuchcloserthan

Iwould’veliked.Thegroundslopedgently,buttheheatherwasslickundermyfeet.IwasterrifiedImightslipandsliderightbetweentheWolf’spaws.‘I’mMagnusChase.’Myvoicewasnotassmoothasmolasses.IforcedmyselftomeetFenris’s

gaze.‘Wehaveanappointment.’TheWolfbaredhisteeth.‘Wedoindeed,sonofFrey.Vanir-spawnhavesuchaninterestingscent.

NormallyIonlygettodevourthechildrenofThor,orOdin,ormyoldfriendTyr.’‘Sorrytodisappoint.’‘Oh,notatall.’Thewolfpaced,theropegleamingbetweenhisfeet,barelyslowinghisgait.‘I’m

quitepleased.I’vebeenwaitingalongtimeforthis.’Onmyleft,Hearthstonebangedhiswhiteoakstaffagainsttherocks.Theheatherplantsglowed

brighter,afinesilverymistrisingfromthemlikealawn-sprinklersystem.Withhisfreehand,Hearthsignedtome,Flowersmaketheprison.Staywithin.FenrisWolfchuckled.‘Theelfiswise.Notpowerfulenough–notnearlypowerfulenoughtoface

me–butheisrightabouttheheather.Ican’tstandthestuff.Funny,though…howmanybravemortalschoosetoleaveitssafetyandcomewithinmyreach.Theywanttotesttheirskillagainstme,orperhapstheysimplywanttomakesureIamstillbound.’TheWolfleeredatBlitzen.‘Yourfatherwasoneofthose.Anobledwarfwiththebestofintentions.Heapproachedme.Hedied.Hisbonesarearoundheresomewhere.’Blitzenletlooseagutturalscream.SamandIhadtorestrainhimtokeephimfromchargingthe

Wolfwithhisnewharpoon.‘Quitesad,really,’theWolfmused.‘Bilìwashisname?Hewasright,ofcourse.Thisridiculous

ropehasbeenlooseningforages.Atonetime,Iwascompletelyunabletowalk.Afterafewcenturies,Imanagedtohobble.Istillcan’tcrosstheheather.ThefurtherImovefromthecentreoftheisland,themoretheropetightensandthemorepainIendure.Butit’sprogress!Therealbreakthroughcame…oh,alittleovertwoyearsago,whenIfinallymanagedtoshakethatcursedmuzzleoffmysnout!’Samfaltered.‘Twoyearsago…’TheWolftiltedhishead.‘That’sright,littlesister.Surelyyouknew.Ibeganwhisperinginthe

dreamsofOdin–whatafineideaitwouldbetomakeyou,thedaughterofLoki,aValkyrie!Whatafinewaytoturnapotentialenemyintoavaluablefriend.’‘No,’Samsaid.‘Odinwouldneverlistentoyou.’‘Wouldhenot?’TheWolfsnarledwithpleasure.‘That’sthewonderfulthingaboutyouso-called

goodfolk.Youhearwhatyouwanttobelieve.Youthinkyourconscienceiswhisperingtoyouwhenitis,perhaps,theWolfinstead.Oh,youhavedoneverywell,littlesister,bringingMagnustome–’‘Ididn’tbringhimtoyou!’Samshouted.‘AndI’mnotyourlittlesister!’

‘No?Ismellthechangelingbloodinyourveins.Youcouldbepowerful.Youcouldmakeourfatherproud.Whydoyoufightit?’TheWolf’steethwereassharpasever,hisleerjustasvicious,buthisvoicefilledwithsympathy,

disappointment,melancholy.Histonesaid,Icouldhelpyou.Iamyourbrother.Samtookastepforward.Igrabbedherarm.‘Fenris,’Isaid,‘yousentthosewolves…thenightmymotherdied.’‘Ofcourse.’‘Youwantedtokillme–’‘Now,whywouldIwantthat?’Hisblueeyeswereworsethanmirrors.Theyseemedtoreflectback

atmeallmyfailures–mycowardice,myweakness,myselfishnessinrunningawaywhenmymotherneededmemost.‘Youwerevaluabletome,Magnus.Butyouneeded…seasoning.Hardshipiswonderfulforcultivatingpower.Andlook!Youhavesucceeded–thefirstchildofFreystrongenoughtofindtheSwordofSummer.Youhavebroughtmethemeanstoescapethesebondsatlast.’Theworldspunbeneathme.IfeltlikeIwasbackonStanleythehorse–plummetingwithnoreins,

nosaddle,nocontrol.Allthistime,I’dassumedFenriswantedmedead.That’swhyhiswolveshadattackedourapartment.Buthisrealtargethadbeenmymother.He’dkilledhertoaffectme.Thatideawasevenworsethanbelievingmymomhaddiedtoprotectme.She’ddiedsothismonstercouldforgemeintohisharbinger–ademigodcapableofattainingtheSwordofSummer.IwasfilledwithsomuchrageIcouldn’tfocus.Inmyhand,theswordbegantohum.IrealizedhowlongJackhadbeensilent.Hepulledatmyarm,

tuggingmeforward.‘Jack,’Imuttered.‘Jack,whatareyou–?’TheWolflaughed.‘Yousee?TheSwordofSummerisdestinedtocutthesebonds.Youcannotstop

it.ThechildrenofFreyhaveneverbeenfighters,MagnusChase.Youcan’thopetocontroltheblade,muchlessfightmewithit.Yourusefulnessisatanend.Surtwillarrivesoon.Thebladewillflytohishands.’‘Mistake…’Jackmurmured,tuggingtoescapemygrip.‘Mistaketobringmehere.’‘Yes,’theWolfpurred.‘Yes,itwas,myfineblade.Surtthinksallofthiswashisidea,you

understand.He’sanimperfecttool.Likemostfiregiants,he’salotofhotair,moreblusterthanbrains,buthewillservehispurpose.He’llbeveryhappytotakepossessionofyou.’‘Jack,you’remyswordnow,’Isaid,thoughIcouldbarelyholdonwithbothhands.‘Cutthecord…’Jackhummedinsistently.‘Cutthecord.’‘Doit,MagnusChase,’saidFenris.‘WhywaitforSurt?CutmelooseofyourownfreewillandI

willbegrateful.PerhapsIwouldevenspareyouandyourfriends.’BlitzengrowledevenbetterthantheWolf.Fromhispack,hepulledoutthenewstring,Andskoti.‘I

wasreadytobindthismutt.NowIthinkImightjuststranglehim.’‘Iagree,’Samirahsaid.‘Hedies.’Iwantedmorethananythingtojointhem.Iwantedtochargethebeastandrunhimthrough.The

SwordofSummerwassupposedtobethesharpestbladeintheNineWorlds.Surelyitcouldcutwolfhide.

Ithinkwewould’vedoneit,butHearthstoneswepthisstaffinfrontofus.Therunestoneperthroflaredwithgoldlight.Look.Thecommandwasmoreatremorthanasound.Iturnedandstaredinamazementat

Hearthstone.Thebones.Hedidn’tusesignlanguage.Hedidn’tspeak.Histhoughtwassimplythere,clearingmy

mindlikewindthroughfog.Ilookedagainattheskeletonslitteringtheground.Allofthemhadbeenheroes–thechildrenof

Odin,ThororTyr.Dwarves,humans,elves.They’dallbeentricked,enraged,enchantedbyFenris.They’dalldied.Hearthstonewastheonlyoneofuswhocouldn’theartheWolf’svoice.Hewastheonlyone

thinkingclearly.Suddenlytheswordwaseasiertocontrol.Itdidn’tstopfightingme,butIfeltthebalanceshift

slightlyinmyfavour.‘I’mnotfreeingyou,’ItoldtheWolf.‘AndIdon’tneedtofightyou.We’llwaitforSurt.We’llstop

him.’TheWolfsniffedtheair.‘Oh…toolateforthat.Youdon’tneedtofightme?Poormortal…I

don’tneedtofightyou,either.Thereareotherstodothatforme.AsIsaid,goodfolkaresoeasytomanipulate,soreadytodomyworkforme.Herearesomenow!’Acrosstheisland,avoiceyelled,‘STOP!’AttheoppositesideoftheridgestoodouroldfriendGunillawithaValkyrieoneithersideofher.

Fanningouttoherleftandrightweremyoldhallmates:T.J.,Halfborn,MalloryandXthehalf-troll.‘Caughtintheactofaidingtheenemy,’Gunillasaid.‘You’vesignedyourowndeathwarrants!’

S IXTY-THREE

IHateSigningMyOwnDeathWarrant

‘Well,well,’saidtheWolf.‘Ihaven’thadthismuchcompanysincemybindingparty.’Gunillagrippedherspear.Shedidn’tlookattheWolf,asifignoringhimmightmakehimgoaway.‘ThomasJeffersonJr,’shesaid,‘youandyourhallmatestaketheprisoners.Goaroundtheedges,

obviously.Slowandcareful.’T.J.didn’tlookhappyaboutit,buthenodded.Hisarmyjacketwasbuttoneduptight.Hisbayonet

gleamedinthemoonlight.MalloryKeengavemethestinkeye,butthatcouldhavebeenherversionofahappygreeting.Thetwoofthemwentleft,pickingtheirwayacrosstherimofthecraterwhilethethreeValkyrieskepttheirspearspointedatFenris.Xlumberedtotheright,followedbyHalfborn,whowastwirlinghisbattleaxesandwhistlingunder

hisbreath,asifthiswasapleasantstrollthroughafieldoffallenenemies.‘Sam,’Imuttered,‘ifwe’retaken–’‘Iknow.’‘NoonewillbeheretostopSurt.’‘Iknow.’‘Wecantakethem,’Blitzsaid.‘They’renotwearingarmour,muchlessfashionablearmour.’‘No,’Isaid.‘Thesearemyshieldbro–myshieldsiblings.Letmetrytalkingtothem.’Hearthsigned,Crazy.You?Thebeautyofsignlanguage.Hecould’vemeantAreyoucrazy?OrI’mcrazy.Justlikeyou!I

decidedtointerpretitasashowofsupport.FenrisWolfsatonhishaunchesandtriedtoscratchhisear,whichwasn’tpossiblewiththecord

bindinghislegs.Hesniffedtheairandgrinnedatme.‘Interestingcompanyyoukeep,MagnusChase.Someoneis

hiding,butIcansmellhim.Whichoneishe,eh?PerhapsIwillgetafeasttodayafterall!’IglancedatSam.ShelookedjustasmystifiedasIfelt.‘Sorry,fuzzball,’Isaid.‘Noideawhatyou’retalkingabout.’Fenrislaughed.‘Weshallsee.Iwonderifhewilldaretoshowhistrueface.’‘Chase!’Gunillapluckedahammerfromherbandolier.‘DonotspeakwiththeWolfagainorIwill

caveinyourskull.’‘Gunilla,’Isaid,‘greattoseeyouagain,too.Surtisonhiswayrightnow.Wedon’thavetimefor

this.’‘Oh?Haveyoumadecommoncausewiththefirelordwhokilledyou?Orperhapsthatwaspartof

theplanfromthebeginning–togetyouintoValhalla.’Samsighed.‘ForachildofThor,youthinktoomuch.’

‘Andyou,daughterofLoki,listentoolittle.Jefferson,hurryitup!’Myhallmatesgottoeithersideofus.Mallorymadeatsk-tsksound.‘Youledusonquiteachase,Chase.’‘Clever,’Isaid.‘Howlonghaveyoubeenwaitingtousethatline?’Mallorysmirked.Nexttoher,Xwipedbeadsofgreensweatfromhisforehead.‘Wolf’sropeisloose.Thisisnot

good.’Fromacrossthevalley,Gunillayelled,‘Nofraternizing!Iwanttheminchains!’T.J.dangledfoursetsofhandcuffsfromhisfinger.‘Here’sthething,Magnus:Gunillamadeit

clearthatifwedon’tproveourloyaltytoValhallabyapprehendingyouwewillspendthenexthundredyearsintheboilerroomshovellingcoal.Soconsideryourselfunderarrest,blah,blah,blah.’Halfborngrinned.‘Buttheotherthingis:we’reVikings.We’reprettybadatfollowingorders.So

consideryourselffreeagain.’T.J.letthehandcuffsslipfromhisfinger.‘Oops.’Myspiritslifted.‘Youmean–’‘Hemeans,youidiot,’Mallorysaid,‘thatwe’reheretohelp.’‘Iloveyouguys.’‘Whatdoyouneedustodo?’T.J.asked.SamnoddedtoBlitzen.‘OurdwarfhasaropetorebindtheWolf.Ifwecan–’‘Enough!’Gunillashouted.Oneitherside,herValkyrielieutenantsreadiedtheirspears.‘Iwilltake

youallbackinchainsifImust!’Fenrishowledwithpleasure.‘Thatwouldbedelightfultowatch.Unfortunately,Valkyrie,youare

tooslow.Myotherfriendshavearrived,andtheywon’tbetakinganyprisoners.’Xgazedtowardsthesouth,hisneckmusclesripplinglikefreshlypouredcement.‘There.’Atthesamemoment,Hearthstonepointedwithhisstaff,thewholelengthofwhiteoaksuddenly

burningwithgoldfire.Ontheridgetotheright,betweentheValkyriesandus,adozenfiregiantsmarchedintoview.Each

stoodabouttenfeettall.Theyworeleather-scalearmour,carriedswordsthesizeofploughblades,andhadvariousaxesandkniveshangingfromtheirbelts.Theircomplexionswereanassortmentofvolcaniccolours–ash,lava,pumice,obsidian.ThefieldsofheathermayhavebeennoxioustotheWolf,butthestuffdidn’tseemtobotherthefiregiants.Wherevertheystepped,theplantsburnedandsmoked.InthemiddleoftheirlinestoodSatan’sfashionconsultanthimself,thefirelordSurt,wearinga

trim-cutthree-piecesuitofchainmail,atieandashirtthatappearedtobewovenfromflame–elegantlyaccessorizedwithaburningscimitarinhishand.Helookedprettygood,despitethefactthathisnosewasstillcutoff.Thatfact,atleast,mademehappy.Blitzenclenchedhisteeth.‘That’smydesign.Hestolemydesign.’‘MagnusChase!’Surt’svoiceboomed.‘Iseeyouhavebroughtmynewsword.Excellent!’Jackalmostleapedoutofmyhands.Imusthavelookedridiculoustryingtokeephimunder

control,likeafiremanwrestlingahigh-pressurehose.‘Mymaster…’Jacksaid.‘Heshallbemymaster.’

Surtlaughed.‘SurrendertheswordandIwillkillyouquickly.’HesneeredatGunillaandhertwolieutenants.‘AsforOdin’swenches,Imakenopromises.’FenrisWolfroseandstretched.‘LordSurt,asmuchasIloveposturingandthreats,canwemove

thingsalong?Moonlightisa-wasting.’‘T.J.,’Isaid.‘Yeah?’‘Youaskedhowyoucouldhelp.MyfriendsandIneedtorebindFenrisWolf.Canyoukeepthose

firegiantsbusy?’T.J.smiled.‘IchargeduphillagainstseventeenhundredConfederates.IthinkIcanhandleadozen

firegiants.’Hecalledacrossthevalley,‘CaptainGunilla,areyouwithus?BecauseI’drathernotfightanother

CivilWar.’Gunillascannedthearmyoffiregiants.Herexpressionsoured,asifshefoundthemevenmore

repugnantthanshefoundme.Sheraisedherspear.‘DeathtoSurt!DeathtotheenemiesofAsgard!’Sheandherlieutenantschargedatthegiants.‘Iguesswe’reinbusiness,’T.J.said.‘Fixbayonets!’

S IXTY-FOUR

WhoseIdeaWasIttoMakeThisWolfUnkillable?

Valhalla’sdailycombattrainingfinallymadesensetome.Aftertheterrorandchaosofwarinthehotelcourtyard,IwasmorepreparedtofaceFenrisWolfandthefiregiants,eveniftheydidn’thaveAK-47sorchestspaintedwithCOMEATME,BRO!

Iwasstillhavingtroublecontrollingthesword,though.Theonlythingthathelped:JacknowseemeddividedbetweenwantingtoflytoSurt’shandorflyingtowardstheWolf.Luckyforme,IneededtoapproachtheWolf.Samknockedagiant’sthrownaxeoutoftheair.‘RebindingFenris–anyideahowwe’redoing

that?’‘Yes,’Isaid.‘Maybe.Notreally.’Afiregiantchargedinourdirection.Blitzenwassoangry–betweentheWolfgloatingabouthis

dad’sdeathandSurtstealinghisfashionideas–thathehowledlikeCrazyAliceinChinatownandrammedhisharpoonrightthroughthegiant’sgut.Thefiregiantstumbledoff,belchingflamesandtakingtheharpoonwithhim.HearthstonepointedtotheWolf.Idea,hesigned.Followme.‘Ithoughtweneededtostayintheheather,’Irecalled.Hearthstoneraisedhisstaff.Acrossthegroundathisfeet,arunespreadlikeashadow:

Heatherbloomedaroundit,sproutingnewtendrils.‘Algiz,’Sammarvelled.‘Theruneofshielding.I’veneverseenitused.’IfeltasifIwereseeingHearthstoneforthefirsttime.Hedidn’tstumble.Hedidn’tfaint.Hestrode

confidentlyforward,theflowersexpandingbeforehimlikeanunrollingcarpet.NotonlywasHearthimmunetothewolf’svoice,hisrunemagicwasliterallyredrawingtheboundariesofFenris’sprison.Weinchedintothevalley,followingHearthstone.Ontherightsideoftheisland,myeinherjar

friendsclashedwithSurt’sforces.HalfbornGundersonburiedhisaxeinthebreastplateofagiant.Xpickedupanotherfire-breatherandtossedhimoffthesideoftheridge.MalloryandT.J.foughtback-to-back,jabbingandslashinganddodgingblastsofflame.GunillaandhertwoValkyrielieutenantswerefightingSurthimself.Betweentheshiningwhite

spearsandtheflamingsword,theircombatwasalmosttoobrighttowatch.Myfriendsfoughtvaliantly,buttheywereoutnumberedtwo-to-one.Thefiregiantsdidn’twantto

die.EventheoneBlitzenhadharpoonedwasstillstaggeringaround,tryingtoblowtorchtheeinherjarwithhisbadbreath.

‘Wehavetohurry,’Isaid.‘Opentosuggestions,kid,’Blitzensaid.Fenrispacedexpectantly.Hedidn’tseemconcernedtoseeusshufflingtowardshimonacarpetof

heather,collectivelyarmedwithanaxe,aglowingwhitestaff,anuncooperativeswordandaballofstring.‘Byallmeans,comedown,’hesaid.‘Bringthatbladecloser.’Blitzenhuffed.‘I’lltiehimup.Hearthcanguardme.MagnusandSam–youtwokeephimfrom

bitingoffmyheadforafewminutes.’‘Terribleidea,’Samsaid.‘Gotabetterone?’Blitzasked.‘Ido!’Fenrislunged.Hecould’vetornmythroatout,butthatwasn’thisplan.Hisfrontpawspassed

oneithersideofmysword.Jackcheerfullycooperated,slicingtheropeinhalf.SambroughtdownheraxebetweentheWolf’sears,butFenrisleapedoutoftheway.Hisbacklegs

werestillhobbled,buthisfrontpawswerefree.TheWolf’scoatsteamedfromcontactwiththeheather.Blistersswelledalloverhislegs,buthesoundedtoodelightedtocare.‘Oh,that’swonderful,’hecrowed.‘Justthebacklegsnow,please.ThenwecangetRagnarokunder

way!’Alltheragethathadbuiltinsidemefortwoyearsboiledtothesurface.‘Blitz,’Isaid,‘dowhatyouneedtodo.I’mgoingtoknockthismutt’steethout.’IranattheWolf–possiblymyworstideaever.Samchargedinnexttome.Fenrismighthavebeenthesizeofanormalwolf,but,evenwithhisbacklegshobbled,hisspeed

andstrengthwereimpossibletomatch.AssoonasIsteppedfromtheedgeoftheheather,hebecameablurofclawsandteeth.Istumbled

andfell,alineofdeepcutsacrossmychest.Fenriswould’vetornmeopenifSam’saxehadn’tslammedhimaside.TheWolfsnarled.‘Youcan’thurtme.Thegodscouldn’thurtme.Don’tyouthinktheywould’ve

slitmythroatiftheycouldhave?Mydestinyisfixed.UntilRagnarok,Iamunkillable!’‘Mustbenice.’Istumbledtomyfeet.‘Butitwon’tkeepmefromtrying.’Unfortunately,Jackwasn’thelping.EverytimeItriedtoattack,theswordturnedandswerved,

doingitsbesttocuttheropearoundtheWolf’sbacklegs.MyfightwiththeWolfwasmorelikeagameofpiggy-in-the-middle.Blitzenlungedforward,theendofAndskotitiedinanoose.HetriedtosnaretheWolf’s

hindquarters,buthemightaswellhavebeenmovinginslowmotion.Fenrissteppedaside,dodginganotherstrikefromSam’saxe.TheWolfslashedBlitzenacrossthethroatandthedwarffellfacedown.Thestringrolledaway.‘NO!’Iyelled.ImovedtowardsBlitzen,butHearthstonewasfaster.HeslammedhisstaffacrossFenris’sskull.Goldenfireblazed.TheWolfclamberedaway,whining

inpain.Arunemarknowsteamedonhisforehead–asimplearrowsearedintothegreyfur:

‘Tiwaz?’TheWolfsnarled.‘YoudareattackmewiththeruneofTyr?’ThewolflungedatHearthstonebutseemedtohitaninvisiblebarrier.Hestumbledandhowled.Samappearednexttome.Heraxewasgone.Herlefteyewasswollenshutandherhijabhadbeen

cuttoshreds.‘Hearthusedtheruneofsacrifice,’shesaid,hervoicequavering.‘TosaveBlitz.’‘Whatdoesthatmean?’Iasked.Hearthcollapsedtohisknees,leaningagainsthisstaff.Stillhemanagedtoputhimselfbetweenthe

dwarfandtheWolf.‘Yousacrificeyourstrengthtoshieldyourfriend?’TheWolflaughed.‘Fine.Enjoyyour

spellwork.Thedwarfisalreadydead.Yourownrunemagichasdoomedyou.YoucanwatchwhileIdealwithmyothertastyprey.’Hebaredhisfangsatus.Acrossthefield,thebattlewasnotgoingwell.OneofGunilla’sValkyriessprawledlifelessontherocks.Theotheronefell,herarmourburning

fromSurt’ssword.Gunillafacedthefirelordalone,swingingherspearlikeawhipoflight,butshecouldn’tlast.Herclothessmouldered.Hershieldwascharredandcracked.Theeinherjarweresurrounded.Halfbornhadlostoneofhisaxes.Hewascoveredwithsomany

burnsandgashesIdidn’tunderstandhowhecouldstillbealive,buthejustkeptfighting,laughingashechargedthegiants.Mallorywasononeknee,cursingassheparriedattacksfromthreegiantsatonce.T.J.swunghisriflewildly.EvenXlookedtinycomparedtotheenemiesnowloomingoverhim.Myheadthrobbed.Icouldfeelmyeinherjipowersatwork,tryingtoclosethecutsonmychest,but

IknewFenriscouldkillmefasterthanIcouldpossiblyheal.TheWolfsniffed,nodoubtsmellingmyweakness.‘Ah,well,’hechuckled.‘Agoodtry,Magnus,butthesonsofFreyneverwerefighters.Allthat’s

leftformetodonowisdevourmyenemies.Ilovethispart!’

S IXTY-F IVE

IHateThisPart

Thestrangestthingscansaveyourlife.Likelions.Orbulletproofascots.Fenrislungedatmyface.Icleverlyescapedbyfallingonmybutt.Ablurredshapelauncheditself

attheWolfandknockedhimaside.Twoanimalstumbledacrosstheboneyardinawhirloffangsandclaws.Whentheyseparated,I

realizedFenriswasfacingashe-lionwithaswolleneye.‘Sam?’Iyelped.‘Gettherope.’Shekepthergazeonherenemy.‘Ineedtohaveatalkwithmybrother.’Thefactthatshecouldspeakinlionformfreakedmeoutevenmorethanthefactthatshehadalion

form.Herlipsmovedinaveryhumanway.Hereyeswerethesamecolour.HervoicewasstillSam’svoice.Fenris’sfurstooduponthebackofhisneck.‘Soyouacceptyourbirthrightasyouareaboutto

die,littlesister?’‘IacceptwhoIam,’Samsaid.‘Butnotthewayyoumean.IamSamirahal-Abbas.Samirahofthe

Lion.’SheleapedattheWolf.Theyclawed,bit,kickedandhowled.I’dheardthetermfurflying,butI’dneverrealizedwhatahorrificthingitcouldbe.Thetwobeastsliterallytriedtoteareachotherapart.Andoneofthosebeastswasafriendofmine.Myfirstinstinctwastochargeintobattle.Butthatwouldn’twork.Freyahadtoldmethatkillingwastheleastofthesword’spowers.ThesonsofFreyhaveneverbeenfighters,theWolfhadsaid.SowhatwasI?Blitzenrolledover,groaning.Hearthstonefranticallycheckedthedwarf’sneck.Theascotglittered.Somehow,ithadturnedfromyellowsilktowovenmetal,savingBlitzen’s

throatintheprocess.Itwashonest-to-Friggbulletproofneckwear.Icouldn’thelpgrinning.Blitzwasalive.Hehadplayedtohisstrength.Hewasn’tafighter.NeitherwasI.Buttherewereotherwaystowinabattle.Isnatcheduptheballofstring.Itfeltlikewovensnow–impossiblysoftandcold.Inmyother

hand,theswordbecamestill.‘Whatarewedoing?’Jackasked.‘Figuringstuffout.’‘Oh,cool.’Thebladequiveredasifstretchingafteranap.‘How’sthatgoing?’‘Better.’Istabbedtheendofthebladeintotheground.Jackdidnottrytoflyaway.‘Surtmayget

yousomeday,’Isaid,‘buthedoesn’tunderstandyourpower.Idonow.We’reateam.’

Iloopedthestring’snoosearoundJack’shiltandpulledittight.Thebattleseemedtofadearoundme.IstoppedthinkingabouthowtofighttheWolf.Hecouldn’tbekilled–atleastnotnow,notbyme.Instead,IfocusedonthewarmthIfeltwheneverIhealedsomeone:thepowerofgrowthandlife–

thepowerofFrey.TheNornshadtoldmeninedaysago:Thesunmustgoeast.Thisplacewasallaboutnight,winterandsilvermoonlight.Ineededtobethesummersun.FenrisWolfnoticedthechangeintheair.HeswipedatSamandsenthertumblingacrossthelawn

ofbones.Hissnoutwasshreddedwithclawmarks.TheruneofTyrglisteneduglyandblackonhisforehead.‘Whatareyouupto,Magnus?Noneofthat!’Helunged,butbeforehecouldreachmehefelloutof

theair,twistingandhowlinginpain.Lightsurroundedme–thesamegoldenauraaswhenI’dhealedSamandHearthstoneinJotunheim.

Itwasn’thotlikethefiresofMuspellheim.Itwasn’tparticularlybright,butitobviouslypainedtheWolf.Hesnarledandpaced,squintingatmelikeI’dbecomeaspotlight.‘Stopthat!’hehowled.‘Areyoutryingtoannoymetodeath?’Samthelionstruggledtoherfeet.Shehadanastycutonherflank.Herfacelookedlikeshe’drear-

endedatractor-trailer.‘Magnus,whatareyoudoing?’‘Bringingthesummer.’Thecutsonmychestmended.Mystrengthreturned.Myfatherwasthegodoflightandwarmth.

Wolveswerecreaturesofdarkness.ThepowerofFreycouldconstrainFenrisjustasitconstrainedtheextremesoffireandice.Stickingupfromtheground,Jackhummedwithsatisfaction.‘Summer.Yeah,Iremembersummer.’IrolledoutAndskotiuntilittrailedJacklikeakitestring.IfacedtheWolf.‘Anolddwarfoncetoldmethatthemostpowerfulcraftingmaterialsare

paradoxes.Thisropeismadeofthem.ButI’vegotonemore–thefinalparadoxthatwillbindyou:theSwordofSummer,aweaponthatwasn’tdesignedtobeaweapon,abladethatisbestusedbylettinggoofit.’IwilledJacktofly,trustinghewoulddotherest.HecouldhaveslicedthelastoftheWolf’sbonds.Hecouldhaveflownacrossthebattlefield

straightintoSurt’shands,buthedidn’t.HezippedundertheWolf’sbelly,threadingthecordAndskotiaroundhislegsfasterthanFenriscouldreact,bindinghimandtopplinghim.Fenris’showlshooktheisland.‘No!Iwillnot–!’Theswordzippedaroundhissnout.Jacktiedofftheropeinanaerialpirouettethenfloatedbackto

me,hisbladeglowingwithpride.‘How’dIdo,boss?’‘Jack,’Isaid,‘youareoneawesomesword.’‘Well,Iknowthat,’hesaid.‘Buthowaboutthatrope-work,huh?That’saperfectstevedore’sknot

rightthere,andIdon’tevenhavehands.’Samstumbledtowardsus.‘Youdidit!You–ugh.’HerlionformmeltedintoregularoldSam–badlyinjured,facebattered,hersidesoakedwith

blood.Beforeshecouldfall,IgrabbedheranddraggedherawayfromtheWolf.Evenfullybound,hethrashedandfrothedatthemouth.Ididn’twanttobeanyclosertohimthanIhadtobe.

Hearthstonestaggeredafterme,holdingupBlitzen.Thefourofusfelltogetheronabedofheather.‘Alive,’Isaid.‘Iwasn’texpectingthat.’Ourmomentoftriumphlastedabout…well,onemoment.Thenthesoundsofbattlebecamelouderandcleareraroundus,asifacurtainhadbeenripped

away.Hearthstone’sshieldingmagicmayhavegivenusextraprotectionagainsttheWolf,butithadalsosealedusofffromthefightwiththefiregiants…andmyeinherjarfriendsweren’tdoingwell.‘TotheValkyrie!’T.J.shouted.‘Hurry!’Hestumbledacrosstheridge,bayonetingafiregiantandtryingtoreachGunilla.Allthistime,

whilewe’dbeendealingwiththeWolf,theValkyriecaptainhadbeenholdingoffSurt.Nowshewasontheground,herspearheldweaklyaboveherasSurtraisedhisscimitar.Mallorystaggeredaroundweaponless,toofarawayandtoobloodiedtohelp.Xwastryingtodig

hiswayoutfrombeneathapileofgiantcorpses.HalfbornGundersonsatbloodyandunmoving,hisbackproppedagainstarock.Iprocessedthisinasplitsecond.Justasquickly,IrealizedHearth,Blitz,SamandIwouldn’tbe

thereintimetomakeadifference.Nevertheless,Igrippedmyswordandrose.IstaggeredtowardsGunilla.Oureyesmetacrossthe

field,herlastexpressiononeofresignationandanger:Makeitcount.Thefirelordbroughtdownhisscimitar.

S IXTY-S IX

Sacrifices

Idon’tknowwhyitbrokemesobadly.Ididn’tevenlikeGunilla.ButwhenIsawSurtstandingoverherlifelessbody,hiseyessmoulderingintriumph,Iwantedto

falldowninthepileofbonesandstaythereuntilRagnarok.Gunillawasdead.Herlieutenantsweredead.Ididn’tevenknowtheirnames,butthey’dsacrificed

theirlivestobuymetime.Halfbornwasdeadordying.Theothereinherjarwerenotmuchbetteroff.SamandBlitzandHearthwereinnoshapetofight.AndSurtwasstillonhisfeet,asstrongasever,hisburningswordready.Threeofhisfiregiants

werealsostillaliveandarmed.Afterallwe’dbeenthrough,thefirelordcouldkillme,takemyswordandcutthewolffree.Judgingfromthesmileonhisface,Surtexpectedtodojustthat.‘Iamimpressed,’headmitted.‘TheWolftoldmeyouhadpotential.Idon’tthinkevenFenris

expectedyoutodothiswell.’TheWolfthrashedinhisnewmagicbonds.Afewfeetfromthefirelord,T.J.crouched,hisbayonetready.Heglancedatme,waitingforasign.

Iknewhewasreadytochargeonelasttime,distractthegiantsifitwouldhelpme,butIcouldn’tletanotherpersondie.‘Gonow,’ItoldSurt.‘GobacktoMuspellheim.’Thefirelordthrewbackhisheadandlaughed.‘Bravetotheend!Ithinknot,MagnusChase.Ithink

youwillburn.’Hethrustouthishand.Acolumnoffireshottowardsme.Istoodmyground.IimaginedbeingwithmymomintheBlueHillsonthefirstdayofspring,thesunlightwarming

myskin,gentlythawingthreemonthsofcoldanddarknessoutofmysystem.Mymomturnedtome,hersmileluminous:ThisiswhereIam,Magnus.Inthismoment.Withyou.Asenseofserenityanchoredme.Irememberedmymomoncetellingmehowthetownhousesin

BackBay,likeourfamily’sancestralhome,hadbeenbuiltonlandfill.Everysooften,engineershadtosinknewpylonsbeneaththefoundationstokeepthebuildingsfromcollapsing.IfeltlikeI’dhadmypylonsreinforced.Iwassolid.Surt’sflamesrolledoverme.Theylosttheirintensity.Theywerenothingbutghostlyflickersof

warmorange,asharmlessasbutterflies.Atmyfeet,theheatherbegantobloom–whiteflowersspreadingacrossthelandscape,reclaiming

thetrampledandburnedareaswhereSurt’swarriorshadwalked,soakinguptheblood,coveringthe

corpsesofthefallengiants.‘Thebattleisover,’Iannounced.‘IconsecratethisgroundinthenameofFrey.’Thewordssentashockwaveineverydirection.Swords,daggersandaxesflewfromthefire

giants’hands.T.J.’sriflespunfromhisgrasp.Eventheweaponslyingonthegroundwereexpelledfromtheisland,blastedintothedarknesslikeshrapnel.Theonlyoneleftholdingaweaponwasme.Withouthisflamingscimitar,Surtdidn’tlooksoconfident.‘Tricksandchildishmagic,’hesnarled.

‘Youcannotdefeatme,MagnusChase.Thatswordwillbemine!’‘Nottoday.’Ithrewtheblade.ItspiralledtowardsSurt,passingoverthegiant’shead.Surtgrabbedforitand

missed.‘Whatwasthat?’Thegiantlaughed.‘Anattack?’‘No,’Isaid.‘Thatwasyourexit.’BehindSurt,Jackslashedtheair,rippingthefabricbetweentheworlds.Azigzagoffireburnedon

theridge.Myearspopped.Asifsomeonehadshotoutofthewindowinanaeroplane’spressurizedcabin,Surtandtheotherfiregiantsweresuckedscreamingintotherift,whichclosedbehindthem.‘Bye!’Jackcalled.‘Catchyoulater!’ExceptfortheoutragedsnarlingoftheWolf,theislandwassilent.Istumbledacrossthefield.IfelltomykneesinfrontofGunilla.Icouldtellimmediatelythatthe

Valkyriecaptainwasgone.Herblueeyesstaredintothedark.Herbandolierwasemptyofhammers.Herwhitespearlaybrokenacrossherchest.Myeyesstung.‘I’msorry.’Forfivehundredyearsshe’dbeeninValhalla,collectingthesoulsofthedead,preparingforthe

finalbattle.Irememberedhowshe’dscoldedme:EvengazinguponAsgard,youhavenosenseofreverence.Indeath,herfaceseemedfullofwonderandawe.IhopedshewasgazinguponAsgardthewayshe

wantedittobe–filledwithAesir,allthelightsburninginherfather ’smansion.‘Magnus,’calledT.J.,‘wehavetogo.’HeandMallorywerestrugglingtocarryHalfbornGunderson.Xhadmanagedtodighiswayout

fromunderthefire-giantcorpsepileandwasnowcarryingthetwootherfallenValkyries.BlitzandHearthstonestumbledalongtogether,Samclosebehind.IpickedupthebodyoftheValkyriecaptain.Shewasnotlight,andmystrengthwasfadingagain.‘Wehavetohurry.’T.J.spokeasgentlyashecould,butIheardtheurgencyinhistone.Thegroundwasshiftingundermyfeet.Irealizedmyglowingaurahaddonemorethanblindthe

wolf.Thesunlighthadaffectedthetextureoftheisland.Theislandwassupposedtodisappearatdawn.Mymagichadhastenedtheprocess,causingthegroundtodissolveintospongymist.‘Onlyseconds,’Samgasped.‘Go.’ThelastthingIfeltcapableofwasaburstofspeed,butsomehow,carryingGunilla,IfollowedT.J.

asheledthewaytotheshore.

S IXTY-SEVEN

OneMore,foraFriend

‘We’vegotafreyboat!’yelledT.J.IhadnoideawhataFreyboatwas.Ididn’tseeanyboatonthebeach,butIwastoostunnedand

exhaustedtoaskquestions.IfeltliketheextremesofheatandcoldI’dtoleratedmyentirelifewerenowtakingrevenge.Myforeheadburnedwithfever.Myeyesfeltclosetoboiling.Mychestfeltlikeablockofice.Iploddedalong.Thegroundbecamesofterundermyfeet.Thebeachsank.Thewavesrushedin.

MyarmmusclesscreamedundertheweightoftheValkyriecaptain.Istartedveeringsideways.Samgrabbedmyarm.‘Justalittlefurther,Magnus.Staywithme.’Wegottothebeach.T.J.pulledoutapieceofclothlikeahandkerchiefandtosseditintothesurf.

Immediatelytheclothexpanded,unfolding.Bythecountoften,afull-sizeVikingwarshipbobbedinthesurfwithtwooversizedoars,afigureheadcarvedlikeawildboarandagreensailemblazonedwiththeHotelValhallalogo.Alongthesideoftheprow,letteredinwhite,werethewords:HOTELVALHALLACOURTESYVEHICLE.‘In!’T.J.jumpedaboardfirstandreachedouttotakeGunillafromme.Thewetsandpulledatmyfeet,butsomehowImanagedtogetovertherail.Sammadesure

everyoneelsegotinsafely.Thensheclimbedaboard.Adeephumreverberatedacrosstheisland,likeabassampturnedtomaximum.TheIsleofHeather

sankbeneaththeblackwaves.Theship’ssailtackedbyitself.Theoarsbegantorow,andtheshipturnedwest.BlitzenandHearthstonecollapsedatthebow.Theystartedarguingwitheachotheraboutwhichof

themhadtakenthestupiderrisks,buttheyweresotiredthedebatedeterioratedintoahalf-heartedpokingcontest,likeacoupleofsecond-graders.SamkneltnexttoGunilla.ShefoldedtheValkyriecaptain’sarmsacrossherchestandgentlyclosed

Gunilla’sblueeyes.‘Theothers?’Iasked.Xloweredhishead.HehadsetthetwoValkyriesinthestern,butitwascleartheyweregone.Hefoldedtheirarmslike

Gunilla’s.‘Bravewarriors.’Hetouchedtheirforeheadswithtenderness.‘Ididn’tknowthem,’Isaid.‘MargaretandIrene.’Sam’svoicewasunsteady.‘They–theyneverlikedmemuch,but…good

Valkyries.’‘Magnus,’T.J.calledfromamidships,‘weneedyou.’

HeandMallorywerekneelingnexttoHalfbornGunderson,whoseberserkerstrengthhadfinallyfailedhim.Hischestwasanightmarishpatchworkofcutsandburns.Hisleftarmhungatanunnaturalangle.Hisbeardandhairweresprinkledwithbloodandsmallbitsofheather.‘Good–fight,’hewheezed.‘Don’ttalk,youbigidiot!’Mallorysobbed.‘Howdareyougetyourselfhurtlikethis?’Hegrinnedsleepily.‘Sorry…Mother.’‘Hanginthere,’T.J.said.‘WecangetyoubacktoVahalla.Then,if–ifanythinghappens,youcan

bereborn.’IputmyhandonHalfborn’sshoulder.IsenseddamagesosevereIalmostpulledaway.Itwaslike

forcingmyselftoexploreabowlofglassshards.‘There’snotime,’Isaid.‘We’relosinghim.’Mallorychokedontears.‘Notanoption.No.HalfbornGunderson,Ihateyousomuch.’Hecoughed.Bloodfleckedhislips.‘Ihateyoutoo,MalloryKeen.’‘Holdhimstill,’Isaid.‘I’lldowhatIcan.’‘Kid,thinkaboutthis,’Blitzsaid.‘You’realreadyweak.’‘Ihaveto.’Iextendedmysenses,takinginHalfborn’sbrokenbones,hisinternalbleeding,his

bruisedorgans.Fearwashedoverme.Itwastoomuch,tooclosetodeath.Ineededhelp.‘Jack,’Icalled.Theswordhoveredtomyside.‘Boss?’‘Halfbornisdying.I’llneedyourstrengthtohelphealhim.Youcandothat?’Theswordhummednervously.‘Yeah.But,boss,thesecondyoutakeholdofme–’‘Iknow.I’llbeevenmoreexhausted.’‘It’snotjustbindingtheWolf,’Jackwarned.‘Ialsohelpedwiththeauraofgoldenlight,whichwas

prettycoolifIdosaysomyself.AndthentherewasthePeaceofFrey.’‘Thepeace…’Irealizedhemeanttheshockwavethathaddisarmedeveryone,butIdidn’thave

timetoworryaboutthat.‘Fine.Yes.Wehavetoactnow.’Igrabbedthesword.Myeyesightdimmed.IfIhadn’tbeensittingalready,Iwould’vefallendown.I

foughtagainstthenauseaanddizzinessandplacedtheswordflatagainstHalfborn’schest.Warmthfloodedthroughme.LightturnedHalfborn’sbeardtoredgold.Isentthelastofmy

strengthcoursingthroughhisveins,repairingdamage,closingruptures.ThenextthingIremember,Iwaslyingfaceuponthedeck,staringatagreensailripplinginthe

windasmyfriendsshookmeandshoutedmyname.ThenIwasstandinginasunlitmeadowattheedgeofalakewithblueskyaboveme.Awarm

breezeruffledmyhair.Somewherebehindme,aman’svoicesaid,‘Welcome.’

S IXTY-EIGHT

Don’tBeaNo-Bro,Bro

HelookedlikeaHollywoodViking.HelookedmorelikeThorfromthemoviesthanThordid.Blondhairfelltohisshoulders.Histannedface,blueeyes,hawkishnoseandstubblybeard

would’veworkedequallywellontheredcarpetorthebeachesofMalibu.Hereclinedonathroneoflivingtreebranches,theseatdrapedwithdeerhide.Acrosshislaplaya

sortofsceptre–astag’santlerfittedwithaleathergrip.Whenhesmiled,Isawmyownself-conscioussmirk,thesamecrookedchin.Heevenhadthesame

cowlickIalwaysgotabovemyrightear.Iunderstoodwhymymomwould’vefalleninlovewithhim.Itwasn’tjustbecausehewas

handsome,orbecausehisfadedjeans,flannelshirtandhikingbootswereexactlyherstyle.Heradiatedwarmthandtranquility.EverytimeI’dhealedsomeone,everytimeI’dcalledonthepowerofFrey,I’dcapturedafragmentofthisguy’saura.‘Dad,’Isaid.‘Magnus.’Freyrose.Hiseyestwinkled,buthedidn’tseemsurewhattodowithhisarms.‘I’mso

gladtoseeyouatlast.I’d–I’dgiveyouahug,butIimaginethatwouldnotbewelcome.Iunderstandyouneedmoretime–’Ichargedinandgavehimabearhug.Thatwasn’tlikeme.I’mnotahugger,especiallynotwithstrangers.Buthewasn’tastranger.IknewhimaswellasIknewmymother.Forthefirsttime,Iunderstood

whymymomhadbeensoinsistentontakingmehikingandcamping.Everytimewewereinthewoodsonasummerday,everytimethesuncameoutfrombehindtheclouds,Freyhadbeenthere.MaybeIshouldhaveresentedhim,butIdidn’t.Afterlosingmymother,Ididn’thavepatiencefor

grudges.Myyearsonthestreethadtaughtmethatitwaspointlesstowhineandmoanaboutwhatyoucould’vehad–whatyoudeserved,whatwasfair.Iwasjusthappytohavethismoment.Hecuppedhishandgentlyonthebackofmyhead.Hesmelledofcampfiresmoke,pineneedles

andtoasteds’mores.Didtheyhaves’moresinVanaheim?ItoccurredtomewhyImustbehere.Iwasdead.Oratleastdyingagain.Ipulledaway.‘Myfriends–’‘Aresafe,’Freyassuredme.‘Youpushedyourselftothevergeofdeathhealingtheberserker,but

hewilllive.Sowillyou.Youhavedonewell,Magnus.’Hispraisemademeuncomfortable.‘ThreeValkyriesdied.IalmostlosteveryfriendIhad.AllIdid

wasbindthewolfwithanewropeandsendSurtbacktoMuspellheim–andJackdidallthatwork.Itdoesn’treallychangeanything.’

Freylaughed.‘Magnus,youhavechangedeverything.You,thewielderofthesword,areshapingthedestinyoftheNineWorlds.AsforthedeathsoftheValkyries–thatwasasacrificetheywillinglymade.Donotdishonourthembyfeelingguilt.Youcannotpreventeverydeath,anymorethanIcanpreventeachsummerfrombecomingautumn…oranymorethanIcanpreventmyownfateatRagnarok.’‘Yourfate…’Iclosedmyfingersaroundtherunestone,nowbackonitschain.‘Ihaveyoursword.

Couldn’tyou…?’Freyshookhishead.‘No,son.AsyourAuntFreyatoldyou,IcanneverwieldtheSwordof

Summeragain.Askthesword,ifyouwanttobesure.’Ipulledoffthependant.Jacksprangtolife,spewingatiradeofinsultsIcan’treallyrepeat.‘Andanotherthing!’heyelled.‘Givingmeawaysoyoucouldmarryagiantess?Dude,whatwas

that?Bladesbeforebabes,youknowwhatI’msaying?’Freysmiledsadly.‘Hello,oldfriend.’‘Oh,we’refriendsagain?’thesworddemanded.‘Nah.Nuh-uh.We’redone.’Jackpaused.‘Your

son’sokay,though.Ilikehim.Aslongashe’snotplanningtotrademeforagiantess’shandinmarriage.’‘That’snotonmyto-dolist,’Ipromised.‘Thenwe’recool.Butasforthissorryfatherofyours,thistraitorousno-bro–’Iwilledtheswordbacktopendantform.‘No-bro?’Freyshrugged.‘Imademychoicelongago.Isurrenderedthebladeforthesakeoflove.’‘ButonRagnarokyou’lldiebecauseyoudon’thaveit.’Heheldupthedeerantler.‘Iwillfightwiththis.’‘Ananimalhorn?’‘Knowingyourfateisonething.Acceptingitisanother.Iwilldomyduty.WiththisantlerIwill

slaymanygiants,evenBeli,oneoftheirgreatgenerals.Butyou’reright.Itwon’tbeenoughtobringdownSurt.Intheend,Iwilldie.’‘Howcanyoubesocalmaboutit?’‘Magnus…evengodscan’tlastforever.Idon’texpendmyenergytryingtofightthechangeof

seasons.IfocusonmakingsurethedaysIhave,andtheseasonIoversee,areasjoyful,richandplentifulaspossible.’Hetouchedmyface.‘Butyoualreadyunderstandthis.NochildofThororOdinorevennobleTyrcouldhavewithstoodHel’spromises,Loki’ssilverwords.Youdid.OnlyasonofFrey,withtheSwordofSummer,couldchoosetoletgoasyoudid.’‘Lettinggo…Mymom…’‘Yes.’Freyretrievedsomethingfromhisthrone–asealedceramicjaraboutthesizeofaheart.He

placeditinmyhands.‘Youknowwhatshewouldwant?’Icouldn’tspeak.Inodded,hopingmyexpressiontoldFreyhowgratefulIwas.‘You,myson,willbringhopetotheNineWorlds.YouhaveheardthetermIndiansummer?You

willbeourlastsuchseason–achanceforwarmth,lightandgrowthbeforethelongwinterofRagnarok.’‘But…’Iclearedmythroat.‘Butnopressure.’

Freyflashedhisbrilliantwhiteteeth.‘Exactly.Muchneedstobedone.TheAesirandVanirarescattered.Lokigrowsstronger.Eveninhisbonds,hehasplayedusagainsteachother,distractedus,madeuslosefocus.Iamguiltyofbecomingdistractedaswell.FortoolongIhavebeenremovedfromtheworldofmen.Onlyyourmothermanagedto…’Hefocusedonthejarinmyhands.‘Well,aftermybigspeechaboutnotholdingontothepast…’Hesmiledruefully.‘Shewasavibrantsoul.Shewouldbeproudofyou.’‘Dad…’Iwasn’tsurewhatelsetosay.MaybeIjustwantedtotryoutthewordagain.I’dneverhad

muchexperienceusingit.‘Idon’tknowifI’muptothis.’Fromthepocketofhisflannelshirt,hepulledatatteredpieceofpaper–theMISSINGflyerAnnabeth

andherdadhadbeendistributingonthedayIdied.Freyhandedittome.‘Youwillnotbealone.Fornow,rest,myson.Ipromiseitwon’tbeanothersixteenyearsbeforewemeetagain.Inthemeantime,youshouldcallyourcousin.Youshouldtalk.Youwillneedherhelpbeforeallissaidanddone.’Thatsoundedominous,butIdidn’tgetthechancetoaskaboutit.IblinkedandFreywasgone.Iwas

sittinginthelongshipagain,holdingtheflyerandtheceramicjar.NexttomesatHalfbornGunderson,sippingfromacupofmead.‘Well.’Hegavemeabloodygrin.Mostofhiswoundshadfadedtoscartissue.‘Ioweyoumylife.

HowaboutIbuyyoudinner?’Iblinkedandlookedaroundus.OurshiphaddockedinValhalla,ononeoftheriversthatran

throughthelobby.Howwe’dgotthere,Ihadnoidea.Myotherfriendsstoodonthewharf,speakingwithHelgithehotelmanager–grimfacesallaroundastheyregardedtheoff-loadedbodiesofthethreedeadValkyries.‘What’sgoingon?’Iasked.Halfborndrainedhiscup.‘We’vebeensummonedtothefeasthalltoexplainourselvesbeforethe

thanesandthehostofeinherjar.Ihopetheyletuseatbeforetheykillusagain.I’mstarving.’

S IXTY-NINE

Oh…SoThat’sWhoFenrisSmelledinChapterSixty-Three

WemusthavelostanentiredayreturningtoValhalla,becausedinnerwasunderwayintheFeastHalloftheSlain.Valkyriesflewaroundwithmeadpitchers.EinherjarthrewbreadandroastedSaehrimnirateachother.Clustersofmusiciansjammedoutallovertheroom.Thefiestaslowlyquietenedasourprocessionmadeitswaytowardsthethanes’table.Anhonour

guardofValkyriescarriedthebodiesofGunilla,IreneandMargaret,coveredwithwhitelinen,onstretchers.IhadhopedthefallenmightcomebacktolifewhentheyreachedValhalla.Couldn’tValkyriesbecomeeinherjar?Butitdidn’thappen.Mallory,X,T.J.andHalfbornfollowedthelitters.Sam,Blitzen,HearthandIbroughtupthe

caboose.Warriorsglaredatusaswepassed.TheValkyries’expressionswereevenworse.Iwassurprised

weweren’tkilledbeforewereachedthethanes.Isupposethecrowdwantedtoseeuspubliclyhumiliated.Theydidn’tknowwhatwe’ddone.Theyjustknewwewereescapedroguesbroughtbackforjudgement,followingthebodiesofthreeValkyries.Weweren’tshackled,butIstillshuffledalongasiftheropeAndskotiwaswrappedaroundmyankles.Icradledtheceramicjarinthecrookofmyarm.Whateverelsehappened,Icouldn’tlosethat.Westoppedinfrontofthethanes’table.Erik,Helgi,LeifandalltheotherErikslookedgrim.Even

myoldbuddyHundingthebellhopstaredatmewithshockanddisappointment,asifI’dtakenawayhischocolate.Helgifinallyspoke.‘Explain.’Isawnoreasontoholdanythingback.Ididn’tspeakloudly,butmywordsechoedthroughthehall.

WhenIgottothefightwithFenris,myvoicefailedme.Sampickedupthestory.Whenshewasdone,thethanessatsilently.Icouldn’treadtheirmood.Perhapstheyweremore

unsurenowthanangry,butitdidn’tmatter.Despitemytalkwithmyfather,Ididn’tfeelproudofwhatwe’daccomplished.IwasonlyalivebecausethethreeValkyriesinfrontofmehadkeptthefiregiantsatbaywhilewechainedthewolf.Nopunishmentfromthethanescouldmakemefeelworsethanthat.FinallyHelgirose.‘Thisisthemostseriousmattertocomebeforethistableinmanyyears.Ifyou

speaktruly,youhavedonedeedsworthyofwarriors.YouhavestoppedFenrisWolffrombreakingfree.YouhavesentSurtbacktoMuspellheim.Butyouactedasrogues–withouttheleaveofthethanesandin…questionablecompany.’HeglanceddistastefullyatHearth,BlitzandSam.‘Loyalty,MagnusChase…loyaltytoValhallaiseverything.Thethanesmustdiscussallthisinprivatebeforepassingjudgement,unlessOdinwishestointercede.’Heglancedatthevacantwoodenthrone,whichofcoursestayedempty.Perchedonthebackrest,the

ravensfixedmewiththeirglitteringblackeyes.‘Verywell,’Helgisighed.‘We–’

Tomyleft,aboomingvoicesaid,‘Odinwishestointercede.’Nervousmurmursrippledthroughthefeasthall.Xraisedhisstone-greyfacetowardsthethanes.‘X,’T.J.whispered,‘thisisnotimeforjokes.’‘Odinwishestointercede,’saidthehalf-trollstubbornly.Hisappearancechanged.Hishugetrollishshapedroppedawaylikecamouflagefabric.InX’splace

stoodamanwholookedlikearetireddrillsergeant.Hewasbarrel-chested,withmassivearmsstuffedinashort-sleeveHotelValhallapoloshirt.Hisgreyhairwasclose-cropped,hisbeardcutsquaretoaccentuatehishardened,weatheredface.Ablackpatchcoveredhislefteye.Hisrighteyewasdarkblue,thecolourofveinblood.AthissidehungaswordsomassiveitmadeJackthependanttrembleonhischain.Theman’snametagread:ODIN,ALL-FATHER,OWNERANDFOUNDER.‘Odin.’Samdroppedtooneknee.Thegodsmileddownather.ThenhegavemewhatIthoughtwasaconspiratorialwink,thoughit

washardtotell,sincehehadonlyoneeye.Hisnamerippledthroughthefeasthall.Theeinherjargottotheirfeet.Thethanesroseandbowed

deeply.Odin,formerlythehalf-trollknownasX,marchedaroundthetableandtookhisplaceonthe

throne.Thetworavenslandedonhisshouldersandpeckedaffectionatelyathisears.‘Well!’Odin’svoiceboomed.‘Whatdoesagodhavetodotogetacupofmeadaroundhere?’

SEVENTY

WeAreSubjectedtothePowerPointofDoom

Odingothisdrink,offeredsometoasts,thenbeganpacinginfrontofhisthrone,talkingaboutwherehe’dbeenandwhathe’dbeendoingthepastfewdecades.IwastooshockedtoregistermuchofOdin’sspeech.Ithinkmostoftheeinherjarfeltthesameway.TheroomonlybegantounfreezewhenOdinsummoneduptheglowingValkyrie-Visionscreens.

Einherjarblinkedandstirredasifcomingoutofmasshypnosis.‘Iamaseekerofknowledge!’Odinannounced.‘Thishasalwaysbeentrue.IhungfromtheWorld

Treeforninedaysandnights,rackedwithpain,inordertodiscoverthesecretofrunes.Istoodinlineinablizzardforsixdaystodiscoverthesorceryofthesmartphone.’‘What?’Imuttered.Blitzencoughed.‘Justrollwithit.’‘Andmorerecently,’Odinannounced,‘Ienduredsevenweeksofmotivational-speakertrainingata

hotelinPeoriatodiscover…this!’Aclickerappearedinhishand.Onallthemagicalscreens,aPowerPointtitleslideglowed,witha

whirlingemblemthatread:ODIN’SPLAN:HOWTOHAVEAHIGHLYSUCCESSFULAFTERLIFE!

‘Whatisgoingon?’IwhisperedtoSam.‘Odinisalwaystryingdifferentthings,’shesaid.‘Lookinginnewplacesforknowledge.Heisvery

wise,but…’Hearthstonesignedasdiscreetlyaspossible:ThisiswhyIworkforMimir.‘Soyousee,’Odincontinued,pacingbackandforth,hisravensflappingtheirwingsforbalance,

‘everythingtheseheroeshavedone,theydidwithmyknowledgeandmypermission.Ihavebeenwiththemtheentiretime–eitherinpersonorinspirit.’Thescreenchanged.Odinstartedlecturingthroughsomebulletpoints.Myeyeskindofglazed

over,buthetalkedaboutwhyhe’dhiddeninValhallaasXthehalf-troll:‘Toseehowyouwouldwelcomesuchawarriorandhowyouwouldcarryoutyourdutieswhen

youdidn’tthinkIwasaround.Youallneedtoworkonyourpositiveempowermentandself-actualization.’Heexplainedwhyhe’dchosenSamirahal-AbbasasaValkyrie:‘IfthedaughterofLokicanshowsuchbravery,whycan’tweall?Samirahdemonstratestheseven

heroicqualitiesI’llbehighlightinginmyupcomingbook,SevenHeroicQualities,whichwillbeavailableintheValhallagiftshop.’HeexplainedwhytheNorns’prophecydidn’tmeanwhatwethoughtitdid:‘Wronglychosen,wronglyslain,’herecited.‘MagnusChasewaswronglychosenbyLoki–who

thoughtthisboycouldbeeasilyinfluenced.Instead,MagnusChaseprovedhimselfatruehero!’

Despitethecompliment,IlikedOdinbetterasataciturnhalf-trollthanasamotivationalspeaker.Thedinnercrowddidn’tseemsurewhattomakeofhimeither,thoughsomeofthethanesweredutifullytakingnotes.‘Whichbringsustotheaffirmationsportionofthispresentation.’Odinadvancedhisslideshow.A

photographofBlitzenpoppedup.IthadobviouslybeentakenduringthecraftingcontestwithJunior.SweatstreameddownBlitzen’sface.Hisexpressionwasagonized,asifsomebodyhadjustdroppedahammeronhisfoot.‘Blitzen,sonofFreya!’Odinsaid.‘ThisnobledwarfwontheropeAndskoti,whichreboundFenris

Wolf.Hefollowedhisheart,masteredhisfearsandservedmyoldfriendMimirfaithfully.Foryourheroism,Blitzen,youshallbereleasedfromMimir ’sserviceandgivenfundingtoopentheshopyouhavealwayswanted.BecauseIhavetosay…’Odinwavedhishandoverhishotelpoloshirt.Suddenlyhewaswearingachain-mailwaistcoat.‘Ipickedupyourprototypeafterthecontest,andit’saveryfinefashionstatement.Anywarriorwouldbewisetoacquireone!’Theeinherjarmurmuredinapproval.Someoohedandahhed.Blitzenboweddeeply.‘Thankyou,LordOdin.Iam–Ican’tbeginto–CouldIusethat

endorsementformyproductline?’Odinsmiledbenevolently.‘Ofcourse.AndnextwehaveHearthstonetheelf!’Hearth’sphotoappearedonthescreens.HewasslumpedinthewindowofGeirrod’spalace.Hehad

asillygrinonhisface.Hishandsweremakingthesignforwashingmachine.‘Thisnoblecreatureriskedeverythingtorediscoverrunemagic.Heisthefirsttruesorcererto

appearfromthemortalrealmsincenturies.Withouthim,thequesttorestraintheWolfwouldhavefailedmanytimesover.’Odinbeameddownattheelf.‘Myfriend,youalsoshallbereleasedfromMimir ’sservice.IwillpersonallybringyoutoAsgard,whereIwillteachyoutherunesinaninety-minuteone-on-onefreetutoringsession,accompaniedbyaDVDandsignedcopyofmybookRuneMagicwiththeAll-Father.’Politeclapping.Hearthstonelookedstunned.Hemanagedtosign,Thankyou.Thescreenchanged.InSam’sphoto,shewasstandingnervouslyatthecounterofFadlan’sFalafel,

herfaceturnedaside,blushingfuriouslyasAmirleanedtowardsher,grinning.‘Ooooooo,’saidthecrowdofeinherjar,followedbyafairamountofsnickering.‘Killmenow,’Sammuttered.‘Please.’‘Samirahal-Abbas!’Odinsaid.‘IpersonallychoseyoutobeaValkyriebecauseofyourcourage,

yourresilience,yourpotentialgreatness.Manyheremistrustedyou,butyourosetothechallenge.Youfollowedmyorders.Youdidyourdutyevenwhenyouwerereviledandexiled.Toyou,Igiveachoice.’OdinregardedthefallenValkyrieswholaybeforethethanes’table.Heallowedarespectfulsilence

tofallacrosstheroom.‘Gunilla,Margaret,Irene–allknewtherisksofbeingaValkyrie.Allgavetheirlivestomake

today’svictorypossible.Intheend,theysawyourtrueworth,andtheyfoughtatyourside.IbelievetheywouldagreeyoushouldbereinstatedasaValkyrie.’Sam’skneesalmostgaveout.ShehadtoleanonMalloryKeenforsupport.

‘Iofferyouachoiceofjobs,’Odincontinued.‘IneedacaptainformyValkyries.Icanthinkofnoonebetterthanyou.Thiswouldallowyoumoretimetospendinthemortalworld,perhapsachancetorestafteryourharrowingquest.Or–’hisblueeyegleamed–‘youcouldchooseamuchmoredangerousassignment,workingdirectlyformeastheneedarisesonother,shallwesay,high-risk,high-rewardmissions.’Sambowed.‘All-Father,youhonourme.IcouldneverreplaceGunilla.AllIaskforisthechance

toprovemyself,asmanytimesasnecessary,untilnooneherehasanydoubtofmyloyaltiestoValhalla.Iwilltakethemoredangerousassignment.Commandme,andIwillnotfail.’Thiswentdownprettywellwiththecrowd.Theeinherjarapplauded.Someshoutedapproval.Even

theotherValkyriesregardedSamwithlesshostileexpressions.‘Verywell,’Odinsaid.‘Onceagain,Samirah,youproveyourwisdom.Wewillspeaklaterofyour

duties.Andnow…MagnusChase.’Thescreenschanged.ThereIwas:frozenmid-screamasIfellfromtheLongfellowBridge.‘Son

ofFrey,youretrievedtheSwordofSummer.YoukeptitfromthegripofSurt.Youhaveprovenyourself…well,perhapsnotagreatwarrior–’‘Thanks,’Imuttered.‘–butcertainlyagreateinherji.Ithinkweareinagreement–allofushereatthethanes’table–

thatyou,too,deserveareward.’Odinglancedtohisleftandright.Thethanesstirred,hastilymuttering,‘Yes.Um.Absolutely.’‘Idonotofferthislightly,’Odinsaid.‘ButifyoustillfeelthatValhallaisnotyourplaceIwillsend

youtoFolkvanger,whereyourauntholdscourt.AsachildoftheVanir,perhapsthatwouldbemoretoyourliking.Or–’hisblueeyeseemedtopiercerightthroughme–‘ifyouwish,Iwillevenallowyoutoreturntothemortalworldandbereleasedfromyourdutiesasaneinherji.’Theroomfilledwithmurmuringandtension.Fromthefacesofthecrowd,Icouldtellthiswasan

unusualoffer.Odinwastakingarisk.Ifhesetaprecedentoflettingeinherjarreturntotheworld,wouldn’totherswanttogotoo?IlookedatSamandBlitzenandHearthstone.Ilookedatmyhallmatesfromfloornineteen–T.J.,

Halfborn,Mallory.Forthefirsttimeinyears,Ididn’tfeelhomeless.IbowedtoOdin.‘Thankyou,All-Father.Butwhereverthesefriendsofmineare–that’smyhome.

Iamoneoftheeinherjar.Iamoneofyourwarriors.Thatisrewardenough.’Thewholedininghalleruptedincheering.Gobletsbangedontables.Swordsclatteredagainst

shields.Myfriendssurroundedme,huggingmeandclappingmeontheshoulders.Mallorykissedmycheekandsaid,‘Youareahugeidiot.’Thenshewhisperedinmyear,‘Thankyou.’Halfbornruffledmyhair.‘We’llmakeyouawarrioryet,Frey-son.’Whenthecheeringdieddown,Odinraisedhishand.Hisclickerelongatedintoaglowingwhite

spear.‘ByGungnir,thehallowedweaponoftheAll-Father,Ideclarethatthesesevenheroesshallhave

fullrightsofpassagethroughtheNineWorlds,includingValhalla.Wherevertheygo,theyshallgoinmyname,servingthewillofAsgard.Letnooneinterfereonpainofdeath!’Heloweredhisspear.‘Tonight,wefeastintheirhonour.Tomorrow,ourfallencomradesshallbegiventowaterandflame!’

SEVENTY-ONE

WeBurnaSwanBoat,WhichI’mPrettySureIsIllegal

ThefuneralwasheldonthepondinthePublicGarden.Somehow,theeinherjarhadgotpossessionofaswanboat–thekindthatnormallydon’tplythewatersduringthewinter.They’dmodifiedtheboat,turningitintoafloatingfuneralpyreforthethreeValkyries.Thebodieswerewrappedinwhiteandlaidonabedofwood,withweaponsandarmourandgoldheapedaroundthem.Thepondwasfrozenover.Thereshouldn’thavebeenanywaytolaunchtheboat,buttheeinherjar

hadbroughtalongafriend–afifteen-foot-tallgiantessnamedHyrokkin.Despitetheweather,Hyrokkinwasdressedincut-offshortsandanXXXXLT-shirtfromtheBoston

RowingClub.Beforetheceremony,shestompedbarefootalloverthepond,breakingtheiceandscaringtheducks.Thenshecamebackandwaitedrespectfullyattheshore,hershinsglazedwithfreezingwater,whileeinherjarcameforwardtosaytheirgoodbyestothefallen.Manyleftweapons,coinsorotherkeepsakesonthefuneralpyres.SomespokeabouthowGunilla,MargaretorIrenehadbeenresponsibleforbringingthemtoValhalla.FinallyHelgilitthefire.Hyrokkinpushedtheboatintothepond.TherewerenopedestriansinthePublicGarden.Maybemagickeptthemaway.Ifanyhadbeen

around,maybesomeglamourwould’vekeptthemfromseeingthecrowdofundeadwarriorswatchingashipburn.MyeyesdriftedtothespotunderthebridgewheretwoweeksagoI’dbeenalive,homelessand

miserable.OnlynowcouldIadmithowterrifiedI’dfeltallthetime.Theboatroaredintoacolumnoffire,obscuringthebodiesoftheValkyries.Thentheflames

vanishedasifsomebodyhadturnedoffthegas,leavingnotraceoftheboat–justasteamingcircleinthepond.Mournersturnedanddriftedthroughthepark,headingtowardstheHotelValhallaonBeacon

Street.T.J.grippedmyshoulder.‘Youcoming,Magnus?’‘Inabit.’Asmyhallmatesheadedbackhome,IwashappytoseeHalfbornGundersonsliphisarmaround

MalloryKeen’swaist.Shedidn’tevencuthishandofffordoingso.Blitzen,Hearth,SamandIstayedbehind,watchingsteamcurloffthepond.FinallyHearthsigned,IamgoingtoAsgard.Thankyou,Magnus.I’dseentheenviouslookssomeoftheeinherjarhadgivenhim.Fordecades,maybecenturies,no

mortalhadbeenallowedtovisitthecityofthegods.NowOdinhadagreedtoteachanelf.‘That’sawesome,man,’Isaid.‘Butlisten–don’tforgettocomebackandvisit,huh?You’vegota

familynow.’

Hearthstonesmiled.Hesigned,Ihearyou.‘Oh,he’llvisit,allright,’Blitzensaid.‘He’spromisedtohelpmemoveintomynewstore.I’mnot

luggingallthoseboxeswithoutsomemagicassistance!’IfelthappyforBlitz,thoughitwashardtothinkaboutyetanotheroneofmyfriendsgoingaway.

‘I’msureyou’llhavethebestshopinNidavellir.’Blitzensnorted.‘Nidavellir?Bah.Dwarvesdon’tdeservemyfashionbrilliance.Thatredgoldfrom

OdinwillbuymeanicestorefrontonNewburyStreet.Blitzen’sBestwillbeopeninthespring,soyouhaveabsolutelynoexcusenottocomebyandgetfittedforoneofthese.’Hebrushedasidehisovercoat,revealingaglittering,stylishbulletproofwaistcoat.Icouldn’thelpit.IgaveBlitzenahug.‘Allright,kid,allright.’Hepattedmeontheback.‘Let’snotwrinklethefabric.’Samgrinned.‘Maybeyoucanmakeanewhijabforme.Theoldonegotkindofrippedtoshreds.’‘I’llmakeitforyouatcost,withmoremagicalproperties!’Blitzenpromised.‘AndIhavesome

ideasforcolours.’‘You’retheexpert,’Samsaid.‘Asforme,I’vegottogethome.I’mgrounded.Ihaveapileof

make-upworkfromschool.’‘Andyouhaveaboyfriendtodealwith,’Isaid.Sheblushed,whichwaskindofcute.‘He’snot…Allright,fine.Yes,Ishouldprobablydealwith

that,whateverthatmeans.’Shepokedmeinthechest.‘Thankstoyou,Icanflyagain.That’sthemainthing.TrynottodietoooftenuntilIseeyouagain.’‘Whenwillthatbe?’‘Soon,’Sampromised.‘Odinwasn’tkiddingaboutthehigh-riskassignments.Thegoodnewsis–’

sheputafingertoherlips–‘Icanpickmyownstrikeforce.Soallofyou…consideryourselveswarned.’Iwantedtohugher,totellherhowmuchIappreciatedeverythingshe’ddone,butIknewSam

wouldn’tbecomfortablewiththat.Isettledforasmile.‘Anytime,al-Abbas.NowthatOdinhasgivenuspermissiontotraveltheworlds,maybeIcancomevisityouinDorchester.’‘That,’shesaid,‘isatrulymortifyingidea.Mygrandparentswouldkillme.Amirwould–’‘Okay,jeez,’Isaid.‘Justremember:you’renotinthisalone.’‘Noted.’Shebumpedmewithherelbow.‘Andwhataboutyou,Magnus–backtoValhallaforthe

feast?Yourhallmateshavebeensingingyourpraises.IevenheardafewValkyriesspeculatingthatyoumightbemadeathaneoneofthesecenturies.’Ismiled,butIwasn’treadytothinkaboutoneofthesecenturies.IgazedacrossthePublicGarden.

AtaxiwasjustpullingupinfrontoftheCheersbaronthecornerofBeaconandBrimmer.Theceramicjarweighedheavilyinsidemywintercoat.‘FirstIhaveanappointment,’Isaid.‘Ihavetokeepapromise.’Isaidgoodbyetomyfriends.ThenIwenttomeetmycousin.

SEVENTY-TWO

ILoseaBet

‘ThisiswaybetterthanthelastmemorialIattended,’Annabethsaid.‘Yours.’WestoodonaridgeintheBlueHills,watchingmymother ’sashesdriftacrossthesnowytrees.Far

below,thesunglitteredonHoughton’sPond.Thedaywascold,butIdidn’tfeeluncomfortable.Ifeltwarmandcalm–morerightthanI’dfeltinyears.Ituckedtheemptyceramicjarundermyarm.‘Thanksforcomingwithme,’Isaid.Annabeth’sgreyeyesstudiedme,thesamewaysheseemedtostudyeverything–assessingnotjust

myappearance,butmycomposition,mystresspoints,mypotentialforrenovation.Thiswasagirl,afterall,whohadmadeParthenonmodelsoutofrunestoneswhenshewassixyearsold.‘Gladto,’shesaid.‘Yourmom…fromwhatIremember,shewasgreat.’‘Shewould’velikedthefactthatyou’rehere.’Annabethgazedacrossthetreeline.Herfacelookedsunburnedfromthewind.‘Theycrematedyou,

too,youknow.Imeanthatotherbody…whateverthatwas.Yourasheswereplacedinthefamilymausoleum.Ididn’tevenknowwehadafamilymausoleum.’Ishuddered,imaginingthoseashesinaporcelainvaseinadankstonecubbyhole.Muchbettertobe

here,inthefreshairandthefrigidsunlight.‘PretendingIwasdeadcouldn’thavebeeneasyforyou,’Isaid.Shebrushedastrandofhairfromherface.‘TheservicewasharderonRandolph,Ithink.He

seemedprettyshakenup,considering,youknow…’‘Thathenevercaredaboutme?’‘Oranyofus.Mydad,though…Magnus,thatwasdifficult.HeandIhavehadarockyhistory,but

I’mtryingtobehonestwithhimnow.Idon’tlikehidingthings.’‘Sorry.’Ispreadmyhands.‘IthoughtitwasbetterifIdidn’tdragyouintomyproblems.Forthe

lastfewdays,Iwasn’tsureifIwasgoingtomakeit.Some…somedangerousthingswerehappening.Ithadtodowithmyfather ’s,uh,sideofthefamily.’‘Magnus,ImightunderstandmorethanyouthinkIdo.’Ithoughtaboutthat.Annabethdidseemmoreattuned,moregroundedthanmostpeopleItalkedto–

evenmostofthepeopleinValhalla.Ontheotherhand,Ididn’twanttoputheratrisk,orthreatenthetenuousrelationshipwewerestartingtoreconstruct.‘I’mokaynow,’Iassuredher.‘I’mstayingwithfriends.It’sagoodplace,butit’snotthekindof

arrangementmostpeoplewouldunderstand.UncleRandolphcan’tknowaboutit.I’dappreciateitifyoudidn’ttellanyone,notevenyourdad.’‘Hmm,’shesaid.‘Idon’tsupposeIgetdetails?’

IthoughtaboutwhatFreyhadtoldme:Youshouldtalk.Youwillneedherhelpbeforeallissaidanddone.IrememberedwhatSamhadsaidaboutherownfamily–howthey’dattractedtheattentionofthegodsforgenerations.Randolphhadhintedthatourfamilywasthesameway.‘Ijustdon’twanttoputyouindanger,’Isaid.‘Ikindofhopedyoucouldbemyoneconnectionto

theregularworld.’Annabethstaredatme.Shesnortedandbegantolaugh.‘Wow.Youhavenoideahowfunnythatis.’

Shetookadeepbreath.‘Magnus,ifyouhadanyclueabouthowweirdmylifeis–’‘Okay,butbeingherewithyou?’Isaid.‘ThisisthemostnormalI’vefeltinyears.Afterallthe

crazyfightingbetweenourparents,thestupidgrudgesandyearsofnotspeakingtoeachother,Iwashopingwecouldmakeourgenerationofthefamilynotsomessedup.’Annabeth’sexpressionturnedserious.‘ThatkindofnormalIlike.’Sheextendedherhand.‘Tous,

theChasecousins.Here’stobeinglessmessedup.’Weshookonit.‘Nowspill,’shecommanded.‘Tellmewhat’sbeengoingon.IpromiseIwon’ttell.Imightevenbe

abletohelp.Ialsopromisethat,whatever ’sbeengoingonwithyou,mylifeisweirder.It’llmakeyourslookdownrightsuburban.’IconsideredeverythingI’dbeenthrough–deathandresurrection,fishingfortheWorldSerpent,

fightingwithgiants,runningfrommonstersquirrels,bindingawolfonadisappearingisland.‘Howmuchyouwanttobet?’Isaid.‘Bringiton,cousin.’‘Lunch?’Isuggested.‘Iknowagreatfalafelplace.’‘You’vegotabet,’shesaid.‘Let’shearwhatyou’vebeenupto.’‘Oh,no,’Isaid.‘Yourstoryissoamazing?Yougofirst.’

Epilogue

Randolphhadn’tsleptsincehisnephew’sfuneralservice.Everydayhevisitedthemausoleum,hopingforsomesign,somemiracle.Hecriedrealtears,but

notforyoungMagnus.Heweptforeverythinghe’dlost–everythingthatmightneverberecoverednow.Hecameinthroughthebackdoorofthetownhouse,hishandsshakingsobadlyhecouldbarely

workthelock.Heremovedhissnowbootsandhisheavycoat,thenpaddedupstairs,goingoverwhathe’dsaidtoMagnusonthebridgeforthemillionthtime,wonderingwhathecouldhavedonedifferently.Hefrozeinthedoorwayofhisoffice.Amaninapriest’sfrockwassittingonhisdesk,dangling

hisfeet.‘Visitingthegravesiteagain?’Lokigrinned.‘Honestly,Ithoughttheserviceprovidedsome

excellentclosure.’‘Youwerethepriest?’Randolphsighed.‘Ofcourseyouwerethepriest.’Lokichuckled.‘Ayounglifecutshort,butletuscelebratehisgiftsandtheimpacthehaduponus

…Iwasimprovising,ofcourse.Butthat’swhatIdobest.’Randolphhadseenthegodofliesadozentimesbefore–whenLokihadchosentosendhisessence

toMidgard–butitwasalwaysashock–thosebrillianteyes,thehairlikeflames,theruinedlipsandthescarsacrosshisnose.Hewasunnaturallyhandsomeandunnaturallyterrifyinginequalmeasure.‘You’vecometokillme,Iexpect.’Randolphtriedtoremaincalm,buthisheartbeatstillpulsedin

hisears.‘Whydidyouwaitthislong?’Lokispreadhishandsmagnanimously.‘Ididn’twanttobehasty.Ineededtoseehowthingsplayed

out.It’strueyoufailed.Icouldkillyou,butyoumightstillbeuseful.Afterall,Istillhavesomethingyouwant.’Thegodrosefromthedeskandopenedhishand.Abovehispalm,flamesflickered,consolidating

intotheminiatureshapesofawomanandtwogirls.Theywrithedinthefire,reachingouttoRandolph,silentlypleading.OnlyRandolph’scanekepthimfromcollapsing.‘Please.Itried.Ididn’t–Ididn’tanticipatethe

dwarfandtheelf.OrthatcursedValkyrie.Youdidn’ttellme–’‘Randolph,mydearfriend…’Lokiclosedhishand,extinguishingthefire.‘Ihopeyou’renot

makingexcuses?’‘No,but–’‘I’mthemasterofexcuses.You’dhavetotryreallyhardtoimpressme.Justtellme,doyoustill

wantyourfamilyreturned?’

‘Of–ofcourse.’‘Oh,good.Hownice.BecauseI’mnotdonewithyou.NoramIdonewiththatlittleboyMagnus.’‘Buthehasthesword.Hestoppedyourplan.’‘Hestoppedonefacetofmyplan.Yes,itwasveryeducational.’Lokisteppedforward.Hecupped

hishandonRandolph’scheek–analmosttendergesture.‘Imustsay,yournephewisimpressive.Idon’tseethefamilyresemblanceatall.’Randolphsmelledthepoisonbeforehefeltit.Acridsteamcurledintohisnostrils.Thesideofhis

faceeruptedinwhite-hotpain.Hefelltohisknees,histhroatseizingupinshock.Hetriedtopullaway,butLoki’shandstayedstuckinplace.‘There,there,’Lokisaidsoothingly.‘It’sjustalittletasteofmylife–thesnakevenomthatis

splashedinmyfaceeveryday.Perhapsyoucanunderstandwhyitmakesmeatadgrumpy.’Randolphscreameduntilhisthroatwasraw.‘Iwon’tkillyou,oldfriend,’Lokisaid.‘ButIdopunishfailure.Absolutely!’Hetookthehandaway.Randolphcrumpled,weeping,thesmellofburnedfleshinhisnose.‘Why…’hecroaked.‘Why…?’Lokiraisedhiseyebrowsinmocksurprise.‘Whywhat?Tortureyou?Continuetouseyou?Fight

againstthegods?Itismynature,Randolph!Now,don’tfuss.I’msureyou’llfindawaytoexplainthehorriblehand-shapedscaronyourface.Ithinkitlendsyouacertain…gravitas.TheVikingswillbemostimpressed.’LokistrolledtoRandolph’sdisplaycases.HeranhisfingersalongRandolph’scollectionof

trinketsandtalismans.‘Ragnarokhasmanytriggers,myfriend.TheSwordofSummerisnottheonlyweaponinplay.’Hepluckedanecklacefromthedisplay.Hiseyesgleamedasthesmallsilverhammerpendant

swungbetweenhisfingers.‘Oh,yes,Randolph.’Lokigrinned.‘YouandIaregoingtohavelotsoffun.’

Glossary

AEGIR–lordofthewavesAESIR–godsofwar,closetohumansALFSEIDR–elfmagicANDSKOTI–theAdversary;thenew,magic-infusedropebindingFenrisWolfBALDER–godoflight;thesecondsonofOdinandFrigg,andtwinbrotherofHod.Friggmadeallearthlythingssweartoneverharmherson,butsheforgotaboutmistletoe.LokitrickedHodintokillingBalderwithadartmadeofmistletoe.

BIFROST–therainbowbridgeleadingfromAsgardtoMidgardDRAUGR–NorsezombiesEIKTHRYMIR–astagintheTreeofLaeradrwhosehornsspraywaternon-stopthatfeedseveryriverineveryworldEINHERJAR(EINHERJI,sing.)–greatheroeswhohavediedwithbraveryonEarthandbecomesoldiersinOdin’seternalarmy;theytraininValhallaforRagnarok,whenthebravestofthemwilljoinOdinagainstLokiandthegiantsinthebattleattheendoftheworld

FENRISWOLF–aninvulnerablewolfbornofLoki’saffairwithagiantess;hismightystrengthstrikesfeareveninthegods,whokeephimtiedtoarockonanisland.HeisdestinedtobreakfreeonthedayofRagnarok.

FOLKVANGER–theVanirafterlifeforslainheroes,ruledbythegoddessFreyaFREY–thegodofspringandsummer,ofthesun,therainandtheharvest,andofabundanceandfertility¸growthandvitality.FreyisthetwinbrotherofFreyaand,likehissister,isassociatedwithgreatbeauty.HeislordofAlfheim.

FREYA–thegoddessoflove;twinsisterofFrey;rulerofFolkvangerFRIGG–goddessofmarriageandmotherhood;Odin’swifeandthequeenofAsgard;motherofBalderandHodGINNUNGAGAP–theprimordialvoid;amistthatobscuresappearancesGLEIPNIR–agoldenropemadebydwarvestokeepFenrisWolfinbondageHEIDRUN–thegoatintheTreeofLaeradrwhosemilkisbrewedforthemagicalmeadofValhallaHEIMDALL–godofvigilanceandtheguardianofBifrost,thegatewaytoAsgardHEL–goddessofthedishonourabledead;bornofLoki’saffairwithagiantessHELHEIM–theunderworld,ruledbyHelandinhabitedbythosewhodiedinwickness,oldageorillnessHLIDSKJALF–theHighSeatofOdinHOD–Balder’sblindbrotherHONIR–anAesirgodwho,alongwithMimir,tradedplaceswithVanirgodsFreyandNjordattheendofthewarbetweentheAesirandtheVanir

IDUN–shedistributestheapplesofimmortalitythatkeepthegodsyoungandspryJORMUNGAND–theWorldSerpent,bornofLoki’saffairwithagiantess;hisbodyissolongitwrapsaroundtheearthJOTUN–NorsewordforgiantLOKI–godofmischief,magicandartifice;thesonoftwogiants;adeptatmagicandshape-shifting.HeisalternatelymaliciousandheroictotheAsgardiangodsandtohumankind.BecauseofhisroleinthedeathofBalder,LokiwaschainedbyOdintothreegiantboulderswithapoisonousserpentcoiledoverhishead.ThevenomofthesnakeoccasionallyirritatesLoki’sface,andhiswrithingisthecauseofearthquakes.

LYNGVI–theIsleofHeather,whereFenrisWolfisbound;theisland’slocationshiftseveryyearasthebranchesofYggdrasilswayinthewindsofthevoid.Itonlysurfacesduringthefirstfullmoonofeachyear.

MAGNIANDMODI–Thor’sfavouritesons,fatedtosurviveRagnarokMIMIR–anAesirgodwho,alongwithHonir,tradedplaceswithVanirgodsFreyandNjordattheendofthewarbetweentheAesirandtheVanir.WhentheVanirdidn’tlikehiscounsel,theycutoffhisheadandsentittoOdin.Odinplacedtheheadinamagicalwell,wherethewaterbroughtitbacktolife,andMimirsoakedupalltheknowledgeoftheWorldTree.

MJOLNIR–Thor’shammerMUSPELL–fireNAGLFAR–theShipofNailsNARVI–oneofLoki’ssons,disembowelledbyhisbrotherVali,whowasturnedintoawolfafterLokikilledBalder

NIDHOGG–thedragonthatlivesatthebottomoftheWorldTreeandchewsonitsrootsNJORD–godofships,sailorsandfishermen;fatherofFreyandFreyaNORNS–threesisterswhocontrolthedestiniesofbothgodsandhumansNORUMBEGA–alostNorsesettlementintheirfurthestpointofexplorationODIN–the‘All-Father’andkingofthegods;thegodofwaranddeath,butalsopoetryandwisdom.BytradingoneeyeforadrinkfromtheWellofWisdom,Odingainedunparallelledknowledge.HehastheabilitytoobservealltheNineWorldsfromhisthroneinAsgard;inadditiontohisgreathall,healsoresidesinValhallawiththebravestofthoseslaininbattle.

RAGNAROK–theDayofDoomorJudgement,whenthebravestoftheeinherjarwilljoinOdinagainstLokiandthegiantsinthebattleattheendoftheworld

RAN–goddessofthesea;wifeofAegirRATATOSK–aninvulnerablesquirrelthatconstantlyrunsupanddowntheWorldTreecarryinginsultsbetweentheeaglethatlivesatthetopandNidhogg,thedragonthatlivesattheroots

REDGOLD–thecurrencyofAsgardandValhallaSAEHRIMNIR–themagicalbeastofValhalla;everydayitiskilledandcookedfordinnerandeverymorningitisresurrected;ittasteslikewhateverthedinerwants

SESSRUMNIR–theHallofManySeats;Freya’smansioninFolkvangerSKIRNIR–agod;Frey’sservantandmessengerSLEIPNIR–Odin’seight-leggedsteed;oneofLoki’schildren.OnlyOdincansummonhimSUMARBRANDER–theSwordofSummerSURT–lordofMuspellheimSVARTALF–adarkelf;asubsetofdwarvesTHANE–alordofValhallaTHOR–godofthunder;sonofOdin.ThunderstormsaretheearthlyeffectsofThor’smightychariotridesacrossthesky,andlightningiscausedbyhimhurlinghisgreathammer,Mjolnir.

TREEOFLAERADR–atreeinthecentreoftheFeastHalloftheSlaininValhallacontainingimmortalanimalsthathaveparticularjobsTYR–godofcourage,law,andtrialbycombat;helostahandtoFenris’sbitewhentheWolfwasrestrainedbythegodsULLER–thegodofsnowshoesandarcheryUTGARD-LOKI–themostpowerfulsorcererofJotunheim;kingofthemountaingiantsVALA–aseerVALHALLA–paradiseforwarriorsintheserviceofOdinVALI–Loki’sson,whowasturnedintoawolfafterLokikilledBalder;asawolfhedisembowelledhisbrotherNarvibeforehewasguttedhimself

VALKYRIE–Odin’shandmaidens,whochooseslainheroestobringtoValhallaVANIR–godsofnature;closetoelvesYGGDRASIL–theWorldTreeYMIR–thelargestofthegiants;fathertoboththegiantsandthegods.HewaskilledbyOdinandhisbrothers,whousedhisfleshtocreateMidgard.Thisactwasthegenesisofthecosmichatredbetweenthegodsandthegiants.

THENINEWORLDS

ASGARD–thehomeoftheAesir

VANAHEIM–thehomeoftheVanir

ALFHEIM–thehomeofthelightelves

MIDGARD–thehomeofhumans

JOTUNHEIM–thehomeofthegiants

NIDAVELLIR–thehomeofthedwarves

NIFLHEIM–theworldofice,fogandmist

MUSPELLHEIM–thehomeofthefiregiantsanddemons

HELHEIM–thehomeofHelandthedishonourabledead

RUNES(INORDEROFAPPEARANCE)

DAGAZ–newbeginnings,transformations

THURISAZ–theruneofThor

FEHU–theruneofFrey

RAIDHO–thewheel,thejourney

PERTHRO–theemptycup

EHWAZ–horse,transportation

ALGIZ–shielding

TIWAZ–theruneofTyr

COMINGAUTUMN2016

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THEADVENTURENEVERSTOPS…

THEGREEKGODSAREALIVEANDKICKING!

Theystillfallinlovewithmortalsandbearchildrenwithimmortalbloodintheirveins.ThosekidswholearnthetruthabouttheirparentagemusttraveltoCampHalf-Blood–asecretbasededicatedtothetrainingofdemigods.Fromthere,youngheroeslikePercyJackson,thesonof

Poseidon,embarkondangerousqueststoprovetheirbravery.

ThePercyJacksonseries:PERCYJACKSONANDTHELIGHTNINGTHIEF

PERCYJACKSONANDTHESEAOFMONSTERS

PERCYJACKSONANDTHETITAN’SCURSE

PERCYJACKSONANDTHEBATTLEOFTHELABYRINTH

PERCYJACKSONANDTHELASTOLYMPIAN

THEDEMIGODFILES

PERCYJACKSONANDTHEGREEKGODS

PERCYJACKSONANDTHEGREEKHEROES

THEGODSOFEGYPTAWAKEN!

WhenanexplosionshatterstheancientRosettaStoneandunleashesSet,theEgyptiangodofchaos,onlyCarterandSadieKanecansavetheday.Theirterrifyingquesttakesthepairaroundtheglobeinsearchofthetruthabouttheirfamily’smagicalconnectiontothegodsofAncient

Egypt.

TheKaneChroniclesseries:THEREDPYRAMID

THETHRONEOFFIRE

THESERPENT’SSHADOW

PERCYJACKSONISBACK!

JoinPercyandhisfriendsfromCampHalf-BloodastheyfaceoffagainstrivalRomandemigodsofCampJupiter,andsetoutonadeadlynewmission:topreventtheall-powerfulEarthMother,

Gaia,fromawakeningfromhermillennia-longsleeptobringabouttheendoftheworld.

TheHeroesofOlympusseries:THELOSTHERO

THESONOFNEPTUNE

THEMARKOFATHENA

THEHOUSEOFHADES

THEBLOODOFOLYMPUS

THEDEMIGODDIARIES

THEGODSOFASGARDARISE!

MagnusChasehasalwaysrunawayfromtrouble,buttroublehasawayoffindinghim.Afterbeingkilledinbattlewithafiregiant,MagnusfindshimselfresurrectedinValhallaasoneofthechosenwarriorsoftheNorsegodOdin.Butnowisn’tagoodtimetobejoiningOdin’sarmy.ThegodsofAsgardarepreparingforRagnarok–theNorsedoomsday–andMagnushasaleading

role…

TheMagnusChaseseries:

THESWORDOFSUMMER

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