Fifty-eight What the Hel?

I stood alone in a snowstorm on Bunker Hill.

My exhaustion was gone. Jack had returned to pendant form around my neck. None of that made sense, but I didn’t seem to be dreaming.

I felt like I was really in Charlestown, just across the river from Boston, standing right where my fourth-grade school bus had dropped us off for a class trip. Gauzy curtains of snow swept across the brownstones. The park itself wasn’t much more than a white field dotted with bare trees. In the centre, a grey obelisk rose into the winter sky. After my time in Geirrod’s fortress, the monument looked small and sad.

Thor had said I’d be sent where I needed to go. Why did I need to be here, and where were my friends?

A voice at my shoulder said, ‘Tragic, isn’t it?’

I hardly flinched. I supposed I was getting used to strange Norse entities popping up in my personal space.

Standing next to me, gazing at the monument, was a woman with elven-pale skin and long dark hair.

In profile, she looked heart-achingly beautiful, about twenty-five years old. Her ermine cloak shimmered like a snowdrift rippling in the wind.

Then she turned towards me, and my lungs flattened against the back of my ribcage.

The right side of the woman’s face was a nightmare – withered skin, patches of blue ice covering decayed flesh, membrane-thin lips over rotten teeth, a milky-white eye and tufts of desiccated hair like black spiderwebs.

I tried to tell myself, Okay, this isn’t so bad. She’s just like that guy Two-Face from Batman. But Two-Face had always struck me as kind of comical, like, come on, nobody with that much facial damage could be alive.

The woman in front of me was very real. She looked like someone who’d been stuck halfway through a door when a devastating blizzard struck. Or worse … some hideous ghoul who’d tried to transform into a human, only to get interrupted in the middle of the process.

‘You’re Hel.’ My voice sounded like I was five years old again.

She lifted her skeletal right hand, brushing a tuft of hair behind her ear … or the stub of frostbitten flesh that might once have been an ear.

‘I am Hel,’ she agreed. ‘Sometimes called Hela, though most mortals dare not speak my name at all. No jokes, Magnus Chase? Who the Hel are you? What the Hel do you want? You look Hela bad. I was expecting more bravado.’

I was fresh out of bravado. The best I could manage was not running away shrieking. Wind gusted around Hel, lifting a few flakes of blackened skin from her zombie forearm and swirling them into the snow.

‘Wh-what do you want?’ I asked. ‘I’m already dead. I’m an einherji.’

‘I know that, young hero. I don’t want your soul. I have plenty of those already. I called you here to talk.’

‘You brought me? I thought Thor –’

‘Thor.’ The goddess scoffed. ‘If you want someone who can navigate one hundred and seventy channels of HD content, go to Thor. If you want someone who can accurately send people through the Nine Worlds, he’s not your guy.’

‘So –’

‘So I thought it was high time we talked. My father did mention I’d be seeking you out, yes? He gave you an exit strategy, Magnus: surrender the sword to your uncle. Remove it from play. This is your last opportunity. Perhaps you can take a lesson from this place.’

‘Bunker Hill?’

She turned towards the monument so only her mortal side was visible. ‘Sad and meaningless.

Another hopeless battle, like the one you’re about to engage in …’

Granted, my American history was a little rusty, but I was pretty sure they didn’t build monuments at the site of sad and meaningless events.

‘Wasn’t Bunker Hill a victory? Americans holding off the British at the top of the hill? Don’t fire until you see …’

She fixed me with her milky zombie gaze, and I couldn’t make myself say the whites of their eyes. ‘For every hero, a thousand cowards,’ said Hel. ‘For every brave death, a thousand senseless ones.

For every einherji … a thousand souls who enter my realm.’

She pointed with her withered hand. ‘Right over there, a British boy of your age died behind a hay bale, crying for his mother. He was the youngest of his regiment. His own commander shot him for cowardice. Do you think he appreciates this lovely monument? And there, at the top of the hill, after their ammunition ran out, your ancestors threw rocks at the British, fighting like cavemen. Some fled. Some stayed and were butchered with bayonets. Which were smarter?’

She smiled. I wasn’t sure which side of her mouth was more ghastly – the living zombie, or the beautiful woman who was amused by massacres.

‘No one ever said the whites of their eyes,’ she continued. ‘That’s a myth, made up years later.

This isn’t even Bunker Hill. It’s Breed’s Hill. And, though the battle was costly to the British, it was an American defeat, not a victory. Such is human memory … you forget the truth and believe what makes you feel better.’

Snow melted against my neck, dampening my collar. ‘What’s your point? I shouldn’t fight? I should just let Surt free your brother the Big Bad Wolf?’

‘I merely point out options,’ Hel said. ‘Did Bunker Hill really affect the outcome of your Revolution? If you face Surt tonight, will you delay Ragnarok or hasten it? Charging into battle is what the hero would do – the sort of person who ends up in Valhalla. But what of the millions of

souls who lived more careful lives and died peacefully in their beds at an old age? They ended up in my realm. Were they not wiser? Do you really belong in Valhalla, Magnus?’

The words of the Norns seemed to spiral around me in the cold. Wrongly chosen, wrongly slain; a hero Valhalla cannot contain.

I thought about my hallmate T.J., still carrying his rifle and wearing his Civil War coat, charging up hills day after day in a series of endless battles, waiting for his final death at Ragnarok. I thought about Halfborn Gunderson, trying to stay sane by earning PhDs in literature when he wasn’t going berserk and smashing skulls. Did I belong with those guys?

‘Take the sword to your uncle,’ Hel urged. ‘Let events unfold without you. This is the safer course.

If you do so … my father Loki has asked me to reward you.’

The skin on my face burned. I had an irrational fear that I might be decaying from frostbite, becoming like Hel. ‘Reward me?’

‘Helheim is not such a terrible place,’ said the goddess. ‘My hall has many fine chambers for my favoured guests. A reunion could be arranged.’

‘A reunion …’ I could barely speak the words. ‘With my mother? You have her?’

The goddess seemed to consider the question, tilting her head from the living side to the dead. ‘I

could have her. The status of her soul, of everything that she was, is still in flux.’ ‘How …? I don’t –’

‘The prayers and wishes of the living often affect the dead, Magnus. Mortals have always known that.’ She bared her teeth – rotten on one side, pristine white on the other. ‘I cannot return Natalie Chase to life, but I can unite you both in Helheim if you wish it. I can bind your souls there so that you will never be separated. You could be a family again.’

I tried to imagine that. My tongue froze in my mouth.

‘You need not speak,’ Hel said. ‘Only give me an indication. Cry for your mother. Let your tears fall, and I will know you agree. But you must decide now. If you reject my offer, if you insist on fighting your own Bunker Hill tonight, I promise you will never see your mother again in this life or any other.’

I thought about my mother skipping stones with me at Houghton’s Pond, her green eyes sparkling with humour. She spread her arms in the sunlight, trying to explain what my father was like. That’s why I bring you here, Magnus. Can’t you feel it? He’s all around us.

Then I imagined my mother in a cold, dark palace, her soul bound for eternity. I remembered my own corpse in the funeral home – an embalmed relic, dressed up for display. I thought about the faces of the drowned souls swirling in Ran’s net.

‘You are crying,’ Hel noted with satisfaction. ‘Then we have a deal?’

‘You don’t understand.’ I looked at the goddess. ‘I’m crying because I know what my mother would want. She’d want me to remember her as she was. That’s the only monument she needs. She wouldn’t want to be trapped, preserved, forced to live as a ghost in some cold-storage underworld.’

Hel scowled, the right side of her face wrinkling and crackling. ‘You dare?’

‘You want bravado?’ I pulled my pendant from its chain. Jack the sword stretched to full length, his blade steaming in the cold. ‘Leave me alone. Tell Loki we have no deal. If I see you again, I’ll cut

you right down the dotted line.’ I raised my blade.

The goddess dissolved into snow. My surroundings faded. Suddenly I found myself balanced at the edge of a rooftop, five storeys above a stretch of asphalt.

Fifty-nine

The Terror That Is Middle School

Before I could plummet to my death, someone grabbed me and pulled me back. ‘Whoa, there, cowboy,’ Sam said.

She was dressed in a new peacoat – navy blue this time – with dark jeans and boots. Blue wasn’t my favourite colour, but it made her look dignified and serious, like an air-force officer. Her headscarf was freckled with snow. Her axe wasn’t at her side; I guessed it was tucked in the backpack over her shoulder.

She didn’t look surprised to see me. Then again, her expression was preoccupied, her gaze stuck somewhere in the distance.

My senses started to adjust. Jack was still in my hand. For some reason, I didn’t feel any exhaustion from his recent slaying of the giant sisters.

Below us, the patch of asphalt was not exactly a playground – more like a holding area between school buildings. Inside the chain-link fence, a few dozen students huddled in cliques, chatting in doorways or pushing each other around the icy ground. They looked like seventh-graders, though it was hard to be sure with everybody in their dark winter coats.

I willed my sword back into pendant form and returned it to its chain. I figured I shouldn’t be walking on the roof of a school with a broadsword.

‘Where are we?’ I asked Sam.

‘My old stomping ground.’ Her voice had a bitter edge. ‘Malcolm X Middle School.’

I tried to imagine Sam down in that courtyard, mingling with those cliques of girls, her headscarf the only splash of colour in the crowd.

‘Why did Thor send you back to middle school?’ I asked. ‘That seems especially cruel.’

She smirked. ‘He actually transported me home. I appeared in my bedroom, just in time for Jid and Bibi to barge in and demand to know where I’d been. That conversation was worse than middle school.’

My heart sank. I’d been so focused on my own problems I’d forgotten that Sam was trying to balance a normal life on top of everything else. ‘What did you tell them?’

‘That I’d been staying with friends. They’ll assume I meant Marianne Shaw.’ ‘Rather than three strange guys.’

She hugged her arms. ‘I told Bibi I tried to text her, which is true. She’ll assume it was her fault. Bibi is hopeless with phones. Actually, Jotunheim just has no reception. I – I try not to actually lie, but I hate misleading them. After everything they’ve done for me, they worry I’m going to get in trouble, turn out like my mom.’

‘You mean a successful doctor who liked to help people? Gee, that would be terrible.’

She gave me an eye roll. ‘You know what I mean – a rebel, an embarrassment. They locked me in my room, told me I was grounded until Doomsday. I didn’t have the heart to tell them that might be tonight.’

The wind picked up, spinning the old metal roof fans like pinwheels. ‘How did you sneak out?’ I asked.

‘I didn’t. I just appeared here.’ She gazed down into the courtyard. ‘Maybe I needed a reminder of how it all started.’

My brain felt as rusty as the roof fans, but one thought gained traction and started to spin. ‘This is where you became a Valkyrie.’

Sam nodded. ‘A frost giant … he’d got into the school somehow. Maybe looking for me, maybe hunting some other demigod. He wrecked a few classrooms, caused a panic. He didn’t seem to care if there were mortal casualties. The school went on lockdown. They didn’t know what they were dealing with. They thought some crazy human was making a scene. They called the police, but there was no time …’

She slipped her hands into her coat pockets. ‘I taunted the giant – insulted his mom, that kind of thing. I lured him up here to the roof and …’ She looked below us. ‘The giant couldn’t fly. He landed right there on the asphalt and shattered into a million shards of ice.’

She sounded strangely embarrassed.

‘You took on a giant single-handed,’ I said. ‘You saved your school.’

‘I suppose,’ she said. ‘The staff, the police … they never figured out what happened. They thought the guy must’ve fled the scene. In the confusion, nobody noticed what I’d done … except Odin. After the giant died, the All-Father appeared in front of me, right where you’re standing. He offered me a job as a Valkyrie. I accepted.’

After my conversation with Hel, I didn’t think it was possible for me to feel worse. The loss of my mother still stung as painfully as the night she’d died. But Sam’s story made me feel bad in a different way. Sam had brought me to Valhalla. She’d lost her place among the Valkyries because she believed I was a hero – a hero like her. And, despite all that had happened since, she didn’t seem to blame me.

‘Do you regret it?’ I asked. ‘Taking my soul when I fell?’

She laughed under her breath. ‘You don’t get it, Magnus. I was told to bring you to Valhalla. And not by Loki. By Odin himself.’

My pendant heated up against my collarbone. For an instant, I smelled warm roses and strawberries, as if I’d stepped through a pocket of summer.

‘Odin,’ I said. ‘I thought he was missing … hadn’t appeared since you became a Valkyrie.’

‘He told me to say nothing.’ Sam shivered. ‘I guess I failed in that, too. The night before your fight with Surt, Odin met me outside my grandparents’ house. He was disguised as a homeless guy – a ratty beard, an old blue coat, a broad-brimmed hat. But I knew who he was. The eye patch, the voice … He told me to watch for you and, if you fought well, to bring you to Valhalla.’

Down in the courtyard, a period bell rang. The students headed inside, jostling and laughing. For them, it was a normal school day – the kind of day I could hardly remember.

‘I was wrongly chosen,’ I said. ‘The Norns told me I wasn’t supposed to be in Valhalla.’

‘Yet you were,’ Sam said. ‘Odin foresaw it. I don’t know why the contradiction, but we have to finish this quest. We have to reach that island tonight.’

I watched the snow erase footprints in the empty yard. Soon there’d be no more trace of the students than there was of the frost giant’s impact from two years ago.

I wasn’t sure what to think about Odin choosing me for Valhalla. I suppose I should’ve felt honoured. The All-Father himself thought I was important. He had chosen me, no matter what the Norns said. But, if that was true, why hadn’t Odin bothered to meet me in person? Loki was bound on a slab for eternity. He’d found a way to talk to me. Mimir was a severed head. He’d made the trip.

But the All-Father, the great sorcerer who could supposedly bend reality just by speaking a rune – he couldn’t find the time for a quick check-in?

Hel’s voice echoed in my head: Do you really belong in Valhalla, Magnus?

‘I just came from Bunker Hill,’ I told Sam. ‘Hel offered me a reunion with my mother.’ I managed to tell her the story.

Samirah reached out as if to touch my arm, then apparently changed her mind. ‘I’m so sorry, Magnus. But Hel lies. You can’t trust her. She’s just like my father, only colder. You made the right choice.’

‘Yeah … still. You ever do the right thing, and you know it’s the right thing, but it leaves you feeling horrible?’

‘You’ve just described most days of my life.’ Sam pulled up her hood. ‘When I became a Valkyrie

… I’m still not sure why I fought that frost giant. The kids at Malcolm X were terrible to me. The usual garbage: they asked me if I was a terrorist. They yanked off my hijab. They slipped disgusting notes and pictures into my locker. When that giant attacked … I could’ve pretended to be just another mortal and got myself to safety. But I didn’t even think about running away. Why did I risk my life for those kids?’

I smiled.

‘What?’ she demanded.

‘Somebody once told me that a hero’s bravery has to be unplanned – a genuine response to a crisis.

It has to come from the heart, without any thought of reward.’ Sam huffed. ‘That somebody sounds pretty smug.’

‘Maybe you didn’t need to come here,’ I decided. ‘Maybe I did. To understand why we’re a good team.’

‘Oh?’ She arched an eyebrow. ‘Are we a good team now?’

‘We’re about to find out.’ I gazed north into the snowstorm. Somewhere in that direction lay downtown Boston and Long Wharf. ‘Let’s find Blitzen and Hearthstone. We’ve got a fire giant to extinguish.’

Sixty

A Lovely Homicidal Sunset Cruise

Blitz and Hearth were waiting for us outside the New England Aquarium.

Blitz had scored a new outfit, of course: olive-coloured fatigues, a yellow ascot necktie and a matching yellow pith helmet with yellow sun-proof netting. ‘My wolf-hunting clothes!’ he told us cheerfully.

He explained how Thor’s magic had transported him where he most needed to be: the best department store in Nidavellir. He’d used his Svartalf Express Card to charge a number of expeditionary supplies, including several spare outfits and a retractable bone-steel harpoon.

‘Not only that,’ Blitz said, ‘but the contest scandal with Junior? It backfired on the old maggot! Word got around about how badly he failed. Nobody is blaming me any more, or the horsefly, or anything! People started talking about my stylish armour designs, and now they’re clamouring for product. If I live through tonight, I might get to start my own clothing line after all!’

Sam and I both congratulated him, though living through the night did seem like a pretty big if.

Nevertheless, Blitz was so happy I didn’t want to bring him down. He started bouncing on his heels, singing ‘Sharp Dressed Dwarf’ under his breath.

As for Hearth, he’d done a different kind of shopping. He was now carrying a polished staff of white oak. At the top, the staff split into a Y like a slingshot. I got the feeling – I don’t know how – that a piece was missing between the two prongs.

With his staff in hand, Hearth looked like a proper sword-and-sorcery elf – except that he was still wearing black jeans, a leather jacket over a HOUSE OF BLUES T-shirt and a candy-striped scarf.

Hearth rested the staff in the crook of his arm and explained in signs how he’d ended up at Mimir’s Well. The Capo had pronounced him a full master of alf seidr, ready to use a sorcerer’s staff.

‘Isn’t that awesome?’ Blitzen clapped him on the back. ‘I knew he could do it!’ Hearthstone pursed his lips. I don’t feel like a master.

‘I’ve got something that might help.’ I reached in my pocket and pulled out the runestone perthro. ‘A couple of hours ago I had a conversation with Hel. She reminded me of everything I’ve lost.’

I told them what the half-zombie goddess had offered me.

‘Ah, kid …’ Blitzen shook his head. ‘Here I’ve been going on about my new clothing line and you had to deal with that.’

‘It’s okay,’ I assured him. Strangely, it did feel okay. ‘The thing is, when I appeared on Bunker Hill, I’d just used my sword to kill two giantesses. I should’ve passed out or died from exhaustion. I didn’t. I think I know why.’

I turned the runestone between my fingers. ‘The longer I’m with you guys, the easier it gets to use

my sword, or heal, or do anything, really. I’m no magic expert, but I think … somehow, we’re sharing the cost.’

I held out the rune for Hearthstone. ‘I know what it feels like to be an empty cup, to have everything taken away from you. But you’re not alone. However much magic you need to use, it’s okay. We’ve got you. We’re your family.’

Hearth’s eyes rimmed with green water. He signed to us, and this time I think he actually meant I love you and not the giantesses are drunk.

He took the rune and set it between the prongs of his new staff. The stone snapped into place the same way my pendant did on its chain. The symbol perthro glowed with a gentle gold light.

My sign, he announced. My family’s sign.

Blitzen sniffled. ‘I like that. A family of four empty cups!’ Sam wiped her eyes. ‘Suddenly I feel thirsty.’

‘Al-Abbas,’ I said, ‘I nominate you for the role of annoying sister.’

‘Shut up, Magnus.’ She straightened her coat, shouldered her backpack and took a deep breath. ‘All right. If we’re done with the family bonding, I don’t suppose anyone knows where we can find two dwarves with a boat?’

‘I do.’ Blitzen fluffed his ascot. ‘Hearth and I scouted it out before you got here. Come on!’

He led the way down the pier. I think he just wanted us to appreciate how well he swaggered in his new yellow pith helmet.

At the end of Long Wharf, across from the closed-for-the-season kiosk for whale-watching tours, another kiosk had been cobbled together from plywood scraps and cardboard appliance boxes.

Above the service window, a sloppily finger-painted sign read: WOLF-WATCHING CRUISE. TONIGHT ONLY! ONE RED GOLD PER PERSON! CHILDREN UNDER FIVE FREE!

Sitting in the booth was a dwarf who was definitely less svartalf and more maggot. About two feet tall, he had so much facial hair it was impossible to tell if he had eyes or a mouth. He was dressed in a yellow raincoat and a captain’s hat, which no doubt protected him from the dim daylight and also made him look like the mascot for a gnomish lobster-restaurant franchise.

‘Hello, there!’ said the dwarf. ‘Fjalar, at your service. Care to take the cruise? Lovely wolf- spotting weather!’

‘Fjalar?’ Blitzen’s face sagged. ‘You wouldn’t happen to have a brother named Gjalar?’ ‘Right over there.’

I wasn’t sure how I’d missed it, but docked a few feet away was a Viking longship fitted with an outboard motor. At the stern, chewing on a piece of jerky, sat another dwarf who looked exactly like Fjalar except he wore grease-stained overalls and a floppy-brimmed felt hat.

‘I can see you’ve heard about our exceptional service,’ Fjalar continued. ‘So can I put you down for four tickets? Once-a-year opportunity!’

‘Excuse us a moment.’ Blitzen steered us out of earshot. ‘Those are Fjalar and Gjalar,’ he whispered. ‘They’re notorious.’

‘Thor warned us,’ Sam said. ‘We don’t have much choice.’

‘I know, but –’ Blitzen wrung his hands – ‘Fjalar and Gjalar? They’ve been robbing and murdering

people for over a thousand years! They’ll try to kill us if we give them any opportunity.’ ‘So basically,’ I summed up, ‘they’re like pretty much everyone else we’ve met.’

‘They’ll stab us in the back,’ Blitz fretted, ‘or strand us on a desert island, or shove us overboard into the mouth of a shark.’

Hearth pointed to himself then tapped a finger to his palm. I’m sold.

We marched back to the kiosk.

I smiled at the homicidal lobster mascot. ‘We’d love four tickets, please.’

Sixty-one

Heather Is My New Least Favourite Flower

I didn’t think anything could be worse than our fishing expedition with Harald. I was wrong.

As soon as we left the harbour, the sky darkened. The water turned as black as squid ink. Through the haze of snow, the shoreline of Boston morphed into something primeval – the way it might have looked when Skirnir’s descendant first sailed his longship up the Charles.

Downtown was reduced to a few grey hills. The runways at Logan Airport turned to sheets of ice floating on open water. Islands sank and rose around us like a time-lapse video of the last two millennia.

It occurred to me that I might be looking at the future rather than the past – the way Boston would appear after Ragnarok. I decided to keep that thought to myself.

In the quiet of the bay, Gjalar’s outboard motor made an obscene amount of noise – rattling, growling and coughing smoke as our boat cut through the water. Any monsters within a five-mile radius would know where to find us.

At the prow, Fjalar kept watch, occasionally shouting warnings to his brother, ‘Rocks to port!

Iceberg to starboard! Kraken at two o’clock!’

None of that helped calm my nerves. Surt had promised we would meet tonight. He planned on burning my friends and me alive and destroying the Nine Worlds. But in the back of my mind lurked an even deeper fear. I was about to meet the Wolf at last. That realization dredged up every nightmare I’d ever had about glowing blue eyes, white fangs, feral snarls in the darkness.

Sitting next to me, Sam kept her axe across her lap, where the dwarves could see it. Blitzen fussed with his yellow ascot, as if he could intimidate our hosts with his wardrobe. Hearthstone practised making his new staff appear and disappear. If he did it right, the staff shot into his hand out of nowhere, like a bouquet of flowers spring-loaded in a magician’s sleeve. If he did it wrong, he goosed Blitzen or whopped me upside the back of the head.

After a few hours and a dozen staff-induced concussions, the boat shuddered like we’d hit a cross- current. From the bow, Fjalar announced, ‘It won’t be long now. We’ve entered Amsvartnir – Pitch- Black Bay.’

‘Gee –’ I looked at the inky waves – ‘why do they call it that?’

The clouds broke. The full moon, pale and silver, peered down at us from a starless void. In front of us, fog and moonlight wove together, forming a coastline. I’d never hated the full moon so much.

‘Lyngvi,’ Fjalar announced. ‘The Isle of Heather, prison of the Wolf.’

The island looked like the caldera of an ancient volcano – a flattened cone maybe fifty feet above sea level. I’d always thought of heather as purple, but the rocky slopes were carpeted with ghostly

white flowers.

‘If that’s heather,’ I said, ‘there sure is a lot of it.’

Fjalar cackled. ‘It’s a magical plant, my friend – used to ward off evil and keep ghosts at bay.

What better prison for Fenris Wolf than an island entirely ringed with the stuff?’

Sam rose. ‘If Fenris is as big as I’ve heard, shouldn’t we be able to see him by now?’

‘Oh, no,’ Fjalar said. ‘You have to go ashore for that. Fenris lies bound in the centre of the island like a runestone in a bowl.’

I glanced at Hearthstone. I doubted he could read Fjalar’s lips behind that bushy beard, but I didn’t like the reference to a runestone in a bowl. I remembered the other meaning of perthro: a dice-rolling cup. I didn’t want to run blindly into that caldera and hope for Yahtzee.

When we were about ten feet from the beach, the keel of the boat ground against a sandbar. The sound reminded me unpleasantly of the night my mother died – our apartment door creaking just before it burst open.

‘Out you go!’ Fjalar said cheerfully. ‘Enjoy your walking tour. Just head over the ridge there. I think you’ll find the Wolf well worth the trip!’

Maybe it was my imagination, but my nostrils filled with the smell of smoke and wet animal fur.

My new einherji heart was testing the limits of how fast it could beat.

If it hadn’t been for my friends, I’m not sure I would’ve had the courage to disembark. Hearthstone leaped over the side first. Sam and Blitzen followed. Not wanting to be stuck on the boat with lobster dwarf and his jerky-eating brother, I swung my legs overboard. The waist-deep water was so cold I imagined I would be singing soprano for the rest of the week.

I slogged onto the beach, and a wolf’s howl split my eardrums.

Now, sure … I’d been expecting a wolf. Ever since childhood, wolves had terrified me, so I’d tried my best to gather my courage. But Fenris’s howl was unlike anything I’d ever heard – a note of pure rage so deep it seemed to shake me apart, breaking my molecules into random amino acids and icy Ginnungagap run-off.

Safe in their boat, the two dwarves cackled with glee.

‘I should have mentioned,’ Fjalar called to us, ‘the ride back is a little more expensive. All your valuables, please. Gather them together in one of your bags. Toss them to me. Otherwise, we’ll leave you here.’

Blitzen cursed. ‘They’ll leave us here anyway. That’s what they do.’

At the moment, heading inland to confront Fenris Wolf was very low on my wish list. At the top of my wish list was: Cry and Plead for the Treacherous Dwarves to Take Me Back to Boston.

My voice quavered, but I tried to act more courageous than I felt. ‘Get lost,’ I told the dwarves. ‘We don’t need you any more.’

Fjalar and Gjalar exchanged looks. Already their boat was drifting further away.

‘Didn’t you hear the Wolf?’ Fjalar spoke more slowly, as if he’d overestimated my intelligence. ‘You’re stuck on that island. With Fenris. That’s a bad thing.’

‘Yeah, we know,’ I said.

‘The Wolf will eat you!’ Fjalar cried. ‘Bound or not, he will eat you. At dawn the island will

disappear and take you with it!’

‘Thanks for the lift,’ I said. ‘Pleasant trip back.’

Fjalar flung up his hands. ‘Idiots! Suit yourself. We’ll collect your valuables from your skeletal remains next year! Come on, Gjalar, back to the docks. We might have time to pick up another load of tourists.’

Gjalar revved the motor. The longship turned and disappeared into the darkness.

I faced my friends. I got the feeling they wouldn’t mind another rousing speech like, We’re a family of empty cups and we will dominate!

‘Well,’ I said, ‘after running from an army of dwarves, facing a monster squirrel, killing three giant sisters and butchering a pair of talking goats … how bad can Fenris Wolf be?’

‘Very bad,’ Sam and Blitz said in unison.

Hearthstone made two OK signs, crossed them at the wrists and flicked them apart – the sign for

awful.

‘Right.’ I pulled my sword from pendant form. The blade’s glow made the heather look even paler and more ghostly. ‘Jack, you ready?’

‘Dude,’ said the sword, ‘I was forged ready. Still, I get the feeling we’re walking into a trap here.’ ‘Show of hands,’ I asked my friends, ‘is anybody surprised by that?’

Nobody raised their hand.

‘Okay, cool,’ said Jack. ‘As long as you realize you’ll probably all die in agony and start Ragnarok, I’m down. Let’s do this!’

Sixty-two

The Small Bad Wolf

I remember the first time I saw Plymouth Rock.

My reaction was, ‘That’s it?’

Same with the Liberty Bell in Philadelphia and the Empire State Building in New York – up close and personal, they seemed smaller than I’d imagined, not worth the hype.

That’s how I felt when I saw Fenris Wolf.

I’d heard all these terrible stories about him: the gods were too scared to feed him; he could break the strongest chains; he’d eaten Tyr’s hand; he was going to swallow the sun on Doomsday; he was going to devour Odin in a single bite. I’d expected a wolf bigger than King Kong with flamethrower breath, death-ray eyes and laser nostrils.

What I got instead was a Wolf the size of a wolf.

We stood at the top of the ledge, looking down into the valley where Fenris sat calmly on his haunches. He was larger than an average Labrador retriever, but definitely no bigger than me. His legs were long and muscular, built for running. His shaggy grey coat swirled with tufts of black.

Nobody would’ve called him cute – not with those gleaming white fangs, or the bones littering the ground around his paws – but he was a handsome animal.

I’d been hoping to find the Wolf lying on his side, hog-tied and fastened to the ground with nails, staples, duct tape and Krazy Glue. Instead, the golden rope Gleipnir restrained him more like the leg irons used to transport criminals. The glimmering cord was tied around all four of his ankle joints, allowing enough slack for the Wolf to shuffle around. Part of the rope had apparently once been tied around the Wolf’s snout like a muzzle. That section now fell across his chest in a loose loop. The rope didn’t even appear to be anchored to the ground. I wasn’t sure what was keeping Fenris from leaving the island unless there was one of those doggy no-no invisible fences around the perimeter.

All in all, if I were the god Tyr, getting my hand bitten off so the other gods would have time to bind the Wolf, I would’ve been pretty torqued off at this shoddy work. Didn’t the Aesir have one decent god of knots?

I glanced at my friends. ‘Where’s the real Fenris? That has to be a decoy, right?’ ‘No.’ Sam’s knuckles whitened on the handle of her axe. ‘That’s him. I can sense it.’

The Wolf turned towards the sound of our voices. His eyes shone with a familiar blue light that sent a xylophone mallet down the back of my ribcage.

‘Well.’ His voice was deep and rich. His black lips curled in a very human sneer. ‘Who do we have here? Have the gods sent me a snack?’

I revised my impression of the Wolf. Maybe his size was ordinary. Maybe he didn’t sneeze laser

beams. But his eyes were colder and more intelligent than any predator I’d ever encountered – animal or human. His snout quivered as if he could smell the fear on my breath. And his voice … his voice flowed over me like molasses, dangerously smooth and sweet. I remembered my first feast in Valhalla, when the thanes didn’t want Sam to speak in her defence because they feared the silver tongue of Loki’s children. Now I understood.

The last thing I wanted to do was approach the Wolf. Yet his tone said, Come on down. We’re all friends here.

The entire caldera was maybe a hundred yards across, which meant the Wolf was much closer than I would’ve liked. The ground sloped gently, but the heather was slick under my feet. I was terrified I might slip and slide right between the Wolf’s paws.

‘I’m Magnus Chase.’ My voice was not as smooth as molasses. I forced myself to meet Fenris’s gaze. ‘We have an appointment.’

The Wolf bared his teeth. ‘We do indeed, son of Frey. Vanir-spawn have such an interesting scent.

Normally I only get to devour the children of Thor, or Odin, or my old friend Tyr.’ ‘Sorry to disappoint.’

‘Oh, not at all.’ The wolf paced, the rope gleaming between his feet, barely slowing his gait. ‘I’m quite pleased. I’ve been waiting a long time for this.’

On my left, Hearthstone banged his white oak staff against the rocks. The heather plants glowed brighter, a fine silvery mist rising from them like a lawn-sprinkler system. With his free hand, Hearth signed to me, Flowers make the prison. Stay within.

Fenris Wolf chuckled. ‘The elf is wise. Not powerful enough – not nearly powerful enough to face me – but he is right about the heather. I can’t stand the stuff. Funny, though … how many brave mortals choose to leave its safety and come within my reach. They want to test their skill against me, or perhaps they simply want to make sure I am still bound.’ The Wolf leered at Blitzen. ‘Your father was one of those. A noble dwarf with the best of intentions. He approached me. He died. His bones are around here somewhere.’

Blitzen let loose a guttural scream. Sam and I had to restrain him to keep him from charging the Wolf with his new harpoon.

‘Quite sad, really,’ the Wolf mused. ‘Bilì was his name? He was right, of course. This ridiculous rope has been loosening for ages. At one time, I was completely unable to walk. After a few centuries, I managed to hobble. I still can’t cross the heather. The further I move from the centre of the island, the more the rope tightens and the more pain I endure. But it’s progress! The real breakthrough came … oh, a little over two years ago, when I finally managed to shake that cursed muzzle off my snout!’

Sam faltered. ‘Two years ago …’

The Wolf tilted his head. ‘That’s right, little sister. Surely you knew. I began whispering in the dreams of Odin – what a fine idea it would be to make you, the daughter of Loki, a Valkyrie! What a fine way to turn a potential enemy into a valuable friend.’

‘No,’ Sam said. ‘Odin would never listen to you.’

‘Would he not?’ The Wolf snarled with pleasure. ‘That’s the wonderful thing about you so-called

good folk. You hear what you want to believe. You think your conscience is whispering to you when it is, perhaps, the Wolf instead. Oh, you have done very well, little sister, bringing Magnus to me –’

‘I didn’t bring him to you!’ Sam shouted. ‘And I’m not your little sister!’

‘No? I smell the changeling blood in your veins. You could be powerful. You could make our father proud. Why do you fight it?’

The Wolf’s teeth were as sharp as ever, his leer just as vicious, but his voice filled with sympathy, disappointment, melancholy. His tone said, I could help you. I am your brother.

Sam took a step forward. I grabbed her arm.

‘Fenris,’ I said, ‘you sent those wolves … the night my mother died.’ ‘Of course.’

‘You wanted to kill me –’

‘Now, why would I want that?’ His blue eyes were worse than mirrors. They seemed to reflect back at me all my failures – my cowardice, my weakness, my selfishness in running away when my mother needed me most. ‘You were valuable to me, Magnus. But you needed … seasoning. Hardship is wonderful for cultivating power. And look! You have succeeded – the first child of Frey strong enough to find the Sword of Summer. You have brought me the means to escape these bonds at last.’

The world spun beneath me. I felt like I was back on Stanley the horse – plummeting with no reins, no saddle, no control. All this time, I’d assumed Fenris wanted me dead. That’s why his wolves had attacked our apartment. But his real target had been my mother. He’d killed her to affect me. That idea was even worse than believing my mom had died to protect me. She’d died so this monster could forge me into his harbinger – a demigod capable of attaining the Sword of Summer.

I was filled with so much rage I couldn’t focus.

In my hand, the sword began to hum. I realized how long Jack had been silent. He pulled at my arm, tugging me forward.

‘Jack,’ I muttered. ‘Jack, what are you –?’

The Wolf laughed. ‘You see? The Sword of Summer is destined to cut these bonds. You cannot stop it. The children of Frey have never been fighters, Magnus Chase. You can’t hope to control the blade, much less fight me with it. Your usefulness is at an end. Surt will arrive soon. The blade will fly to his hands.’

‘Mistake …’ Jack murmured, tugging to escape my grip. ‘Mistake to bring me here.’

‘Yes,’ the Wolf purred. ‘Yes, it was, my fine blade. Surt thinks all of this was his idea, you understand. He’s an imperfect tool. Like most fire giants, he’s a lot of hot air, more bluster than brains, but he will serve his purpose. He’ll be very happy to take possession of you.’

‘Jack, you’re my sword now,’ I said, though I could barely hold on with both hands. ‘Cut the cord …’ Jack hummed insistently. ‘Cut the cord.’

‘Do it, Magnus Chase,’ said Fenris. ‘Why wait for Surt? Cut me loose of your own free will and I will be grateful. Perhaps I would even spare you and your friends.’

Blitzen growled even better than the Wolf. From his pack, he pulled out the new string, Andskoti. ‘I was ready to bind this mutt. Now I think I might just strangle him.’

‘I agree,’ Samirah said. ‘He dies.’

I wanted more than anything to join them. I wanted to charge the beast and run him through. The Sword of Summer was supposed to be the sharpest blade in the Nine Worlds. Surely it could cut wolf hide.

I think we would’ve done it, but Hearthstone swept his staff in front of us. The runestone perthro flared with gold light.

Look. The command was more a tremor than a sound. I turned and stared in amazement at Hearthstone.

The bones. He didn’t use sign language. He didn’t speak. His thought was simply there, clearing my mind like wind through fog.

I looked again at the skeletons littering the ground. All of them had been heroes – the children of Odin, Thor or Tyr. Dwarves, humans, elves. They’d all been tricked, enraged, enchanted by Fenris. They’d all died.

Hearthstone was the only one of us who couldn’t hear the Wolf’s voice. He was the only one thinking clearly.

Suddenly the sword was easier to control. It didn’t stop fighting me, but I felt the balance shift slightly in my favour.

‘I’m not freeing you,’ I told the Wolf. ‘And I don’t need to fight you. We’ll wait for Surt. We’ll stop him.’

The Wolf sniffed the air. ‘Oh … too late for that. You don’t need to fight me? Poor mortal … I don’t need to fight you, either. There are others to do that for me. As I said, good folk are so easy to manipulate, so ready to do my work for me. Here are some now!’

Across the island, a voice yelled, ‘STOP!’

At the opposite side of the ridge stood our old friend Gunilla with a Valkyrie on either side of her. Fanning out to her left and right were my old hallmates: T.J., Halfborn, Mallory and X the half-troll.

‘Caught in the act of aiding the enemy,’ Gunilla said. ‘You’ve signed your own death warrants!’

Sixty-three

I Hate Signing My Own Death Warrant

‘Well, well,’ said the Wolf. ‘I haven’t had this much company since my binding party.’

Gunilla gripped her spear. She didn’t look at the Wolf, as if ignoring him might make him go away. ‘Thomas Jefferson Jr,’ she said, ‘you and your hallmates take the prisoners. Go around the edges,

obviously. Slow and careful.’

T.J. didn’t look happy about it, but he nodded. His army jacket was buttoned up tight. His bayonet gleamed in the moonlight. Mallory Keen gave me the stink eye, but that could have been her version of a happy greeting. The two of them went left, picking their way across the rim of the crater while the three Valkyries kept their spears pointed at Fenris.

X lumbered to the right, followed by Halfborn, who was twirling his battleaxes and whistling under his breath, as if this was a pleasant stroll through a field of fallen enemies.

‘Sam,’ I muttered, ‘if we’re taken –’ ‘I know.’

‘No one will be here to stop Surt.’ ‘I know.’

‘We can take them,’ Blitz said. ‘They’re not wearing armour, much less fashionable armour.’ ‘No,’ I said. ‘These are my shield bro – my shield siblings. Let me try talking to them.’ Hearth signed, Crazy. You?

The beauty of sign language. He could’ve meant Are you crazy? Or I’m crazy. Just like you! I decided to interpret it as a show of support.

Fenris Wolf sat on his haunches and tried to scratch his ear, which wasn’t possible with the cord binding his legs.

He sniffed the air and grinned at me. ‘Interesting company you keep, Magnus Chase. Someone is hiding, but I can smell him. Which one is he, eh? Perhaps I will get a feast today after all!’

I glanced at Sam. She looked just as mystified as I felt. ‘Sorry, fuzzball,’ I said. ‘No idea what you’re talking about.’

Fenris laughed. ‘We shall see. I wonder if he will dare to show his true face.’

‘Chase!’ Gunilla plucked a hammer from her bandolier. ‘Do not speak with the Wolf again or I will cave in your skull.’

‘Gunilla,’ I said, ‘great to see you again, too. Surt is on his way right now. We don’t have time for this.’

‘Oh? Have you made common cause with the fire lord who killed you? Or perhaps that was part of the plan from the beginning – to get you into Valhalla.’

Sam sighed. ‘For a child of Thor, you think too much.’

‘And you, daughter of Loki, listen too little. Jefferson, hurry it up!’ My hallmates got to either side of us.

Mallory made a tsk-tsk sound. ‘You led us on quite a chase, Chase.’ ‘Clever,’ I said. ‘How long have you been waiting to use that line?’ Mallory smirked.

Next to her, X wiped beads of green sweat from his forehead. ‘Wolf’s rope is loose. This is not good.’

From across the valley, Gunilla yelled, ‘No fraternizing! I want them in chains!’

T.J. dangled four sets of handcuffs from his finger. ‘Here’s the thing, Magnus: Gunilla made it clear that if we don’t prove our loyalty to Valhalla by apprehending you we will spend the next hundred years in the boiler room shovelling coal. So consider yourself under arrest, blah, blah, blah.’

Halfborn grinned. ‘But the other thing is: we’re Vikings. We’re pretty bad at following orders. So consider yourself free again.’

T.J. let the handcuffs slip from his finger. ‘Oops.’ My spirits lifted. ‘You mean –’

‘He means, you idiot,’ Mallory said, ‘that we’re here to help.’ ‘I love you guys.’

‘What do you need us to do?’ T.J. asked.

Sam nodded to Blitzen. ‘Our dwarf has a rope to rebind the Wolf. If we can –’

‘Enough!’ Gunilla shouted. On either side, her Valkyrie lieutenants readied their spears. ‘I will take you all back in chains if I must!’

Fenris howled with pleasure. ‘That would be delightful to watch. Unfortunately, Valkyrie, you are too slow. My other friends have arrived, and they won’t be taking any prisoners.’

X gazed towards the south, his neck muscles rippling like freshly poured cement. ‘There.’

At the same moment, Hearthstone pointed with his staff, the whole length of white oak suddenly burning with gold fire.

On the ridge to the right, between the Valkyries and us, a dozen fire giants marched into view. Each stood about ten feet tall. They wore leather-scale armour, carried swords the size of plough blades, and had various axes and knives hanging from their belts. Their complexions were an assortment of volcanic colours – ash, lava, pumice, obsidian. The fields of heather may have been noxious to the Wolf, but the stuff didn’t seem to bother the fire giants. Wherever they stepped, the plants burned and smoked.

In the middle of their line stood Satan’s fashion consultant himself, the fire lord Surt, wearing a trim-cut three-piece suit of chain mail, a tie and a shirt that appeared to be woven from flame – elegantly accessorized with a burning scimitar in his hand. He looked pretty good, despite the fact that his nose was still cut off. That fact, at least, made me happy.

Blitzen clenched his teeth. ‘That’s my design. He stole my design.’

‘Magnus Chase!’ Surt’s voice boomed. ‘I see you have brought my new sword. Excellent!’

Jack almost leaped out of my hands. I must have looked ridiculous trying to keep him under control,

like a fireman wrestling a high-pressure hose.

‘My master …’ Jack said. ‘He shall be my master.’

Surt laughed. ‘Surrender the sword and I will kill you quickly.’ He sneered at Gunilla and her two lieutenants. ‘As for Odin’s wenches, I make no promises.’

Fenris Wolf rose and stretched. ‘Lord Surt, as much as I love posturing and threats, can we move things along? Moonlight is a-wasting.’

‘T.J.,’ I said. ‘Yeah?’

‘You asked how you could help. My friends and I need to rebind Fenris Wolf. Can you keep those fire giants busy?’

T.J. smiled. ‘I charged uphill against seventeen hundred Confederates. I think I can handle a dozen fire giants.’

He called across the valley, ‘Captain Gunilla, are you with us? Because I’d rather not fight another Civil War.’

Gunilla scanned the army of fire giants. Her expression soured, as if she found them even more repugnant than she found me. She raised her spear. ‘Death to Surt! Death to the enemies of Asgard!’

She and her lieutenants charged at the giants.

‘I guess we’re in business,’ T.J. said. ‘Fix bayonets!’

Sixty-four

Whose Idea Was It to Make This Wolf Unkillable?

Valhalla’s daily combat training finally made sense to me. After the terror and chaos of war in the hotel courtyard, I was more prepared to face Fenris Wolf and the fire giants, even if they didn’t have AK-47s or chests painted with COME AT ME, BRO!

I was still having trouble controlling the sword, though. The only thing that helped: Jack now seemed divided between wanting to fly to Surt’s hand or flying towards the Wolf. Lucky for me, I needed to approach the Wolf.

Sam knocked a giant’s thrown axe out of the air. ‘Rebinding Fenris – any idea how we’re doing that?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Maybe. Not really.’

A fire giant charged in our direction. Blitzen was so angry – between the Wolf gloating about his dad’s death and Surt stealing his fashion ideas – that he howled like Crazy Alice in Chinatown and rammed his harpoon right through the giant’s gut. The fire giant stumbled off, belching flames and taking the harpoon with him.

Hearthstone pointed to the Wolf. Idea, he signed. Follow me.

‘I thought we needed to stay in the heather,’ I recalled.

Hearthstone raised his staff. Across the ground at his feet, a rune spread like a shadow:

Heather bloomed around it, sprouting new tendrils.

‘Algiz,’ Sam marvelled. ‘The rune of shielding. I’ve never seen it used.’

I felt as if I were seeing Hearthstone for the first time. He didn’t stumble. He didn’t faint. He strode confidently forward, the flowers expanding before him like an unrolling carpet. Not only was Hearth immune to the wolf’s voice, his rune magic was literally redrawing the boundaries of Fenris’s prison.

We inched into the valley, following Hearthstone. On the right side of the island, my einherjar friends clashed with Surt’s forces. Halfborn Gunderson buried his axe in the breastplate of a giant. X picked up another fire-breather and tossed him off the side of the ridge. Mallory and T.J. fought back- to-back, jabbing and slashing and dodging blasts of flame.

Gunilla and her two Valkyrie lieutenants were fighting Surt himself. Between the shining white spears and the flaming sword, their combat was almost too bright to watch.

My friends fought valiantly, but they were outnumbered two-to-one. The fire giants didn’t want to die. Even the one Blitzen had harpooned was still staggering around, trying to blowtorch the einherjar

with his bad breath.

‘We have to hurry,’ I said.

‘Open to suggestions, kid,’ Blitzen said.

Fenris paced expectantly. He didn’t seem concerned to see us shuffling towards him on a carpet of heather, collectively armed with an axe, a glowing white staff, an uncooperative sword and a ball of string.

‘By all means, come down,’ he said. ‘Bring that blade closer.’

Blitzen huffed. ‘I’ll tie him up. Hearth can guard me. Magnus and Sam – you two keep him from biting off my head for a few minutes.’

‘Terrible idea,’ Sam said. ‘Got a better one?’ Blitz asked.

‘I do!’ Fenris lunged. He could’ve torn my throat out, but that wasn’t his plan. His front paws passed on either side of my sword. Jack cheerfully cooperated, slicing the rope in half.

Sam brought down her axe between the Wolf’s ears, but Fenris leaped out of the way. His back legs were still hobbled, but his front paws were free. The Wolf’s coat steamed from contact with the heather. Blisters swelled all over his legs, but he sounded too delighted to care.

‘Oh, that’s wonderful,’ he crowed. ‘Just the back legs now, please. Then we can get Ragnarok under way!’

All the rage that had built inside me for two years boiled to the surface.

‘Blitz,’ I said, ‘do what you need to do. I’m going to knock this mutt’s teeth out.’ I ran at the Wolf – possibly my worst idea ever. Sam charged in next to me.

Fenris might have been the size of a normal wolf, but, even with his back legs hobbled, his speed and strength were impossible to match.

As soon as I stepped from the edge of the heather, he became a blur of claws and teeth. I stumbled and fell, a line of deep cuts across my chest. Fenris would’ve torn me open if Sam’s axe hadn’t slammed him aside.

The Wolf snarled. ‘You can’t hurt me. The gods couldn’t hurt me. Don’t you think they would’ve slit my throat if they could have? My destiny is fixed. Until Ragnarok, I am unkillable!’

‘Must be nice.’ I stumbled to my feet. ‘But it won’t keep me from trying.’

Unfortunately, Jack wasn’t helping. Every time I tried to attack, the sword turned and swerved, doing its best to cut the rope around the Wolf’s back legs. My fight with the Wolf was more like a game of piggy-in-the-middle.

Blitzen lunged forward, the end of Andskoti tied in a noose. He tried to snare the Wolf’s hindquarters, but he might as well have been moving in slow motion. Fenris stepped aside, dodging another strike from Sam’s axe. The Wolf slashed Blitzen across the throat and the dwarf fell face down. The string rolled away.

‘NO!’ I yelled.

I moved towards Blitzen, but Hearthstone was faster.

He slammed his staff across Fenris’s skull. Golden fire blazed. The Wolf clambered away, whining in pain. A rune mark now steamed on his forehead – a simple arrow seared into the grey fur:

‘Tiwaz?’ The Wolf snarled. ‘You dare attack me with the rune of Tyr?’ The wolf lunged at Hearthstone but seemed to hit an invisible barrier. He stumbled and howled.

Sam appeared next to me. Her axe was gone. Her left eye was swollen shut and her hijab had been cut to shreds. ‘Hearth used the rune of sacrifice,’ she said, her voice quavering. ‘To save Blitz.’

‘What does that mean?’ I asked.

Hearth collapsed to his knees, leaning against his staff. Still he managed to put himself between the dwarf and the Wolf.

‘You sacrifice your strength to shield your friend?’ The Wolf laughed. ‘Fine. Enjoy your spellwork. The dwarf is already dead. Your own rune magic has doomed you. You can watch while I deal with my other tasty prey.’

He bared his fangs at us.

Across the field, the battle was not going well.

One of Gunilla’s Valkyries sprawled lifeless on the rocks. The other one fell, her armour burning from Surt’s sword. Gunilla faced the fire lord alone, swinging her spear like a whip of light, but she couldn’t last. Her clothes smouldered. Her shield was charred and cracked.

The einherjar were surrounded. Halfborn had lost one of his axes. He was covered with so many burns and gashes I didn’t understand how he could still be alive, but he just kept fighting, laughing as he charged the giants. Mallory was on one knee, cursing as she parried attacks from three giants at once. T.J. swung his rifle wildly. Even X looked tiny compared to the enemies now looming over him.

My head throbbed. I could feel my einherji powers at work, trying to close the cuts on my chest, but I knew Fenris could kill me faster than I could possibly heal.

The Wolf sniffed, no doubt smelling my weakness.

‘Ah, well,’ he chuckled. ‘A good try, Magnus, but the sons of Frey never were fighters. All that’s left for me to do now is devour my enemies. I love this part!’

Sixty-five

I Hate This Part

The strangest things can save your life. Like lions. Or bulletproof ascots.

Fenris lunged at my face. I cleverly escaped by falling on my butt. A blurred shape launched itself at the Wolf and knocked him aside.

Two animals tumbled across the bone yard in a whirl of fangs and claws. When they separated, I realized Fenris was facing a she-lion with a swollen eye.

‘Sam?’ I yelped.

‘Get the rope.’ She kept her gaze on her enemy. ‘I need to have a talk with my brother.’

The fact that she could speak in lion form freaked me out even more than the fact that she had a lion form. Her lips moved in a very human way. Her eyes were the same colour. Her voice was still Sam’s voice.

Fenris’s fur stood up on the back of his neck. ‘So you accept your birthright as you are about to die, little sister?’

‘I accept who I am,’ Sam said. ‘But not the way you mean. I am Samirah al-Abbas. Samirah of the Lion.’ She leaped at the Wolf. They clawed, bit, kicked and howled. I’d heard the term fur flying, but I’d never realized what a horrific thing it could be. The two beasts literally tried to tear each other apart. And one of those beasts was a friend of mine.

My first instinct was to charge into battle. But that wouldn’t work. Freya had told me that killing was the least of the sword’s powers. The sons of Frey have never been fighters, the Wolf had said.

So what was I?

Blitzen rolled over, groaning. Hearthstone frantically checked the dwarf’s neck.

The ascot glittered. Somehow, it had turned from yellow silk to woven metal, saving Blitzen’s throat in the process. It was honest-to-Frigg bulletproof neckwear.

I couldn’t help grinning. Blitz was alive. He had played to his strength.

He wasn’t a fighter. Neither was I. But there were other ways to win a battle.

I snatched up the ball of string. It felt like woven snow – impossibly soft and cold. In my other hand, the sword became still.

‘What are we doing?’ Jack asked. ‘Figuring stuff out.’

‘Oh, cool.’ The blade quivered as if stretching after a nap. ‘How’s that going?’

‘Better.’ I stabbed the end of the blade into the ground. Jack did not try to fly away. ‘Surt may get you someday,’ I said, ‘but he doesn’t understand your power. I do now. We’re a team.’

I looped the string’s noose around Jack’s hilt and pulled it tight. The battle seemed to fade around me. I stopped thinking about how to fight the Wolf. He couldn’t be killed – at least not now, not by me.

Instead, I focused on the warmth I felt whenever I healed someone: the power of growth and life – the power of Frey. The Norns had told me nine days ago: The sun must go east.

This place was all about night, winter and silver moonlight. I needed to be the summer sun.

Fenris Wolf noticed the change in the air. He swiped at Sam and sent her tumbling across the lawn of bones. His snout was shredded with claw marks. The rune of Tyr glistened ugly and black on his forehead.

‘What are you up to, Magnus? None of that!’ He lunged, but before he could reach me he fell out of the air, twisting and howling in pain.

Light surrounded me – the same golden aura as when I’d healed Sam and Hearthstone in Jotunheim.

It wasn’t hot like the fires of Muspellheim. It wasn’t particularly bright, but it obviously pained the Wolf. He snarled and paced, squinting at me like I’d become a spotlight.

‘Stop that!’ he howled. ‘Are you trying to annoy me to death?’

Sam the lion struggled to her feet. She had a nasty cut on her flank. Her face looked like she’d rear- ended a tractor-trailer. ‘Magnus, what are you doing?’

‘Bringing the summer.’

The cuts on my chest mended. My strength returned. My father was the god of light and warmth.

Wolves were creatures of darkness. The power of Frey could constrain Fenris just as it constrained the extremes of fire and ice.

Sticking up from the ground, Jack hummed with satisfaction. ‘Summer. Yeah, I remember summer.’ I rolled out Andskoti until it trailed Jack like a kite string.

I faced the Wolf. ‘An old dwarf once told me that the most powerful crafting materials are paradoxes. This rope is made of them. But I’ve got one more – the final paradox that will bind you: the Sword of Summer, a weapon that wasn’t designed to be a weapon, a blade that is best used by letting go of it.’

I willed Jack to fly, trusting he would do the rest.

He could have sliced the last of the Wolf’s bonds. He could have flown across the battlefield straight into Surt’s hands, but he didn’t. He zipped under the Wolf’s belly, threading the cord Andskoti around his legs faster than Fenris could react, binding him and toppling him.

Fenris’s howl shook the island. ‘No! I will not –!’

The sword zipped around his snout. Jack tied off the rope in an aerial pirouette then floated back to me, his blade glowing with pride. ‘How’d I do, boss?’

‘Jack,’ I said, ‘you are one awesome sword.’

‘Well, I know that,’ he said. ‘But how about that rope-work, huh? That’s a perfect stevedore’s knot right there, and I don’t even have hands.’

Sam stumbled towards us. ‘You did it! You – ugh.’

Her lion form melted into regular old Sam – badly injured, face battered, her side soaked with blood. Before she could fall, I grabbed her and dragged her away from the Wolf. Even fully bound, he

thrashed and frothed at the mouth. I didn’t want to be any closer to him than I had to be.

Hearthstone staggered after me, holding up Blitzen. The four of us fell together on a bed of heather. ‘Alive,’ I said. ‘I wasn’t expecting that.’

Our moment of triumph lasted about … well, one moment.

Then the sounds of battle became louder and clearer around us, as if a curtain had been ripped away. Hearthstone’s shielding magic may have given us extra protection against the Wolf, but it had also sealed us off from the fight with the fire giants … and my einherjar friends weren’t doing well.

‘To the Valkyrie!’ T.J. shouted. ‘Hurry!’

He stumbled across the ridge, bayoneting a fire giant and trying to reach Gunilla. All this time, while we’d been dealing with the Wolf, the Valkyrie captain had been holding off Surt. Now she was on the ground, her spear held weakly above her as Surt raise

Date: 2016-01-05; view: 880