I reached for my magic, clawing for it as sweat dripped down my temples. It thrashed inside me, then flared to life, an explosion of power inside my chest.
I stumbled, gasping, as the magic tore through me. It filled my body and my mind, an ephemeral thing that made no sense at all.
It felt like a trick.
Like it was there one moment and gone the next. It flitted around inside me.
Cunning, it whispered. Trickery.
“What?” I demanded, gasping.
Trick them. Fool them. Create the world as you would like. The voice hissed in my mind, power and strength and cunning and guile. Trick them.
“What does that mean?” I cried.
Magic glittered at my fingertips. In my mind, it was as if I could see it sparkling through my brain, weaving between synapses and firing up neural pathways.
I had to do this with my mind, I realized.
Cunning and guile and trickery.
Loki!
This was Loki’s power.
Holy fates, that was a big one.
How to trick a Fire Giant?
Beside me, Cade hurled his shield, time and again. But there were more and more giants, coming too fast for him to defeat.
What did they want more than us?
My mind raced, trying to remember what I’d read about Viking lore in the library. Thank fates for Florian and his books. And my long-banked desire to learn.
The Fire Giants hated the Ice Giants above all else.
That was it!
I imagined the Ice Giants as I’d seen them once before, when I’d fought with my friend Nix. Towering and angular, made of icicles and slabs of frozen water. I envisioned them appearing to the left, away from Cade and me. A whole group of them.
They appeared out of nowhere, towering as high as the Fire Giants and gleaming an icy blue in the red light of the lava.
And they didn’t melt.
Please don’t notice that, Fire Giants.
“Where did they come from?” Cade shouted.
I ignored him, unable to speak and also focus enough energy on keeping the ice giants visible. They shimmered occasionally, every time I lost a bit of control of my power.
But when the first Fire Giant noticed the Ice Giants, his roar ripped through the air like a victory song.
The Fire Giant spun on his heel and pounded away from us, racing for his greatest enemy. The others followed, their footsteps shaking the ground.
Oh crap!
The Ice Giants needed to run away. Else the Fire Giants would realize they were fake. I imagine the Ice Giants jumping with surprise, then turning and fleeing from the Fire Giants.
The result was a little weird looking—like a cartoon mouse spotting a cat—but the apparent fright seemed to excite the Fire Giants, who only roared louder.
“You’re doing this,” Cade said.
“Yep.” I gritted the word out through clenched teeth, keeping the magic going.
When the boat dropped into another lava tube, I lost hold of the magic. My heart jumped as we fell, but at least this time I knew what it was.
I dropped low and clung to the deck.
“Are you all right?” Cade asked.
“Yeah.”
But the boat started going faster and faster. By the time the river plowed back onto the glowing red plain, my stomach was turning.
The Fire Giants were still searching for the Ice Giants, who had disappeared, when my magic had faltered. Before I could light it up again, the boat accelerated.
“Brace yourself!” Cade shouted.
I turned, looking toward the bow. A shimmery dark stain on the air blocked the river.
A wall. A portal?
I had no idea. But I threw myself back to the deck alongside Cade.
Then the boat slammed into the wall, splintering into a thousand pieces and throwing us into the air.
I tumbled for what felt like days, hours. A half second. It was impossible to say.
Then I crashed to the ground. Pain flared. Cade sprawled next to me. Aching, I climbed to my feet.
It was brighter here, wherever this was.
Cade rose. “That was a portal.”
“Or a strange exit.” I spun in a circle.
We stood on rough ground that looked like giant bark. The light was bright, though I could see no sun, and giant leaves fluttered overhead in the breeze.
“We’re on one of Yggdrasil’s higher branches,” I said.
“Do you know which world we go to next?” he asked.
“No.” I pulled the scroll out of the bag on my back. It was now crumpled and bent, but still legible. I’d just started to read—and spotted the word Huginn—when a strange sound filled the air. Like the flapping of massive wings.
I looked up.
A huge raven landed on the branch next to us. It was easily three times as tall as Cade, with gleaming black feathers and shiny jet eyes. It cawed and dipped its head.
“Hello, Huginn,” I said. “You’re Odin’s raven, aren’t you?”
The bird cawed again.
“I think he’s here to give us a ride,” I said to Cade.
“You have the assistance of the Old Father?”
I nodded, recalling that Old Father was one of Odin’s nicknames.
Huginn cawed again, pointing his beak at me.
I glanced down at the scroll and caught the word for payment. And stone. I dug into my pocket for the remaining two stones, found the one with the bird on it, then handed it over. “For you.”
Huginn bowed his head and stuck out his giant clawed foot. I dropped the stone in, and his toes curled around it. Then he bent low enough for us to climb on.
“This is wild.” I grinned at Cade, then scrambled up onto the giant raven. It was a bit weird to sit on feathers, but cool.
Cade climbed up behind me.
I gripped the feathers and crouched low. “We’re ready!”
Huginn took off into the air, great wings carrying us high. The wind whipped my hair back from my face, and I laughed, joy filling me. I looked behind me at Cade and grinned. He looked happy, too.
Huginn carried us high up into the giant ash tree, gracefully dodging leaves and smaller branches, which were the size of great highways in huge cities.
Finally, Huginn landed on another branch, hopping to a stop. Once we were stable, I climbed off, hair windblown and cheeks cool from the breeze. Cade followed.
“Thank you, Huginn.”
The bird cawed and took off. I turned in a circle, trying to figure out where to go next. The branch was so wide that I couldn’t see over either end. It had to be miles across. In the distance, the tree trunk rose high into the air.
“Which way?” Cade asked.
I consulted the scroll once again, remembering something I’d read about a compass stone. Was this where I should use it?
I skimmed the text. Yep. Compass stone.
I pulled the last rock out of my pocket and held it flat in my palm. The carved arrow spun on the stone, which should be impossible since it wasn’t a separate piece of the rock—it was actually carved into the rock itself.
But I was also standing on Yggdrasil, the world tree of the Norse gods, so things were already beyond belief. This stone wasn’t nearly the weirdest thing that would happen here.
The arrow stopped spinning, facing toward the trunk. I pointed. “That way.”