The Ship of the Dead (Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard #3)

I had to figure out how to separate my friends from the giantesses. Then we might be able to collapse part of the feast hall on top of the nine sisters while we made our getaway. I doubted that would hurt our enemies, but it might at least surprise them and slow them down. The problem was, I didn’t know how to break up the fight. I doubted I could blow a whistle and call for a jump ball.

Jack flew back and forth, harassing giantesses with his deadly blade and his even deadlier rendition of a 70s disco classic. Kolga blasted sheets of ice across the carpet, causing Halfborn Gunderson to wipe out. Bylgya fought with T.J., red coral sword against bayonet. Grasping Wave finally managed to pull Mallory off her back. The giantess would have ripped her apart, but Blitzen tossed a dinner plate that smashed the giantess in the face.

(One of Blitz’s unsung skills: he was killer at dwarven Ultimate Frisbee.)

Himminglaeva lunged for Samirah. She caught Sam’s legs, but Alex lashed out with his garrote. The giantess suddenly lost several inches around her waistline—actually her entire waistline. She crumpled to the floor, neatly bisected, and dissolved into sea foam.

Hearthstone caught my eye. When the rune?

I wished I had an answer. My friends couldn’t keep up the fight forever. I considered summoning the Peace of Frey—my super time out power that blasts everybody’s weapons out of their hands—but the giantesses weren’t really using weapons, and I didn’t think my friends would appreciate being disarmed.

I needed help. Desperately. So, I did something that didn’t come easy for me. I looked toward the watery ceiling and prayed earnestly, not snarkily: “Okay, Frey, Dad, please. I know I sounded ungrateful earlier about the bright yellow ship. But we’re about to die down here, so if you’ve got any help you could send me, I’d really appreciate it. Amen. Love, Magnus. Magnus Chase, in case you were wondering.”

I winced. I really sucked at praying. I also wasn’t sure what help a god of summer could send me at the bottom of Massachusetts Bay.

“Hello,” said a voice right next to me.

I leaped about a foot into the air, which I thought was pretty restrained under the circumstances.

Standing at my side was a man in his late fifties, stout, and sun-weathered as if he’d spent decades as a lifeguard. He wore a pale blue polo shirt and cargo shorts, and his feet were bare. His feathery hair and close-cropped beard were the color of honey, flecked with gray. He smiled like we were old friends, though I was sure I’d never seen him before.

“Uh, hi?” I said.

Living in Valhalla, you get used to strange entities popping up out of nowhere. Still, this seemed like an odd time for a casual encounter.

“I’m your grandfather,” he offered.

“Right,” I said. Because what was I supposed to say? The guy looked nothing like Grandpa (or Grandma) Chase, but I figured he was talking about the other side of my family tree. The Vanir side. Now if I could just remember the name of Frey’s dad, I would’ve been all set. “Hi…Grandpa.”

“Your father can’t do much in the ocean,” said Grandpa Frey-Dad. “But I can. Want some help?”

“Yes,” I said, which perhaps was foolish. I couldn’t be sure this guy was who he said he was, and accepting help from a powerful being always puts you in their debt.

“Great!” He patted me on the arm. “I’ll meet you on the surface when this is all done, okay?”

I nodded. “Mm-hmm.”

My newfound grandfather strode into the midst of the battle. “Hello, girls! How’s it going?”

The fighting fizzled to a stop. The giantesses retreated warily toward the dinner table. My friends staggered and stumbled in my direction.

Blod bared her red-stained teeth. “Njord, you are not welcome here!”

Njord! That’s his name! I made a mental note to send him a card on Grandparents’ Day. Was Grandparents’ Day a thing with Vikings?

“Oh, come now, Blodughadda,” the god said cheerfully. “Can’t an old friend get a cup of mead? Let’s talk like civilized sea deities.”

“These mortals are ours!” growled Grasping Wave. “You have no right!”

“Ah, but you see, they are under my protection now. Which means we’re back to our old conflict of interests, eh?”

The giantesses hissed and snarled. Clearly, they wanted to tear Njord to pieces but were afraid to try.

“Besides,” Njord said, “one of my friends here has a trick to show you. Don’t you, Hearthstone?”

Hearthstone locked eyes with me. I nodded.

Hearth tossed the lagaz rune straight up, past the lost-soul chandelier. I didn’t see how it could reach the ceiling a hundred feet above, but the stone seemed to get lighter and faster as it ascended. It hit the peak of the rafters, exploding into a blazing golden , and the watery roof crashed inward, burying the giantesses and Njord in a million-gallon shower.

“Now!” I yelled to my friends.

We plowed together in a desperate group hug as the wave hit us. My handkerchief expanded around us. The collapsing hall squirted us into the deep like toothpaste from a tube, and we shot toward the surface on our bright yellow Viking warship.





THERE’S NOTHING like erupting from the depths of the ocean on a magical Viking ship!

It sucks. A lot.

My eyes felt like grapes that had been lagaz-ed. My ears popped with such force I thought I’d been shot in the back of the head. I gripped the rail, shivering and disoriented, as the Big Banana landed on the waves—WHOMMMM!—and knocked my jaw out of alignment.

The sail unfurled on its own. The oars unlocked, pushed into the water, and began to row by themselves. We sailed under starry skies, the waves calm and glittering, no land to be seen in any direction.

“The ship…is self-driving,” I noted.

Next to me, Njord popped into existence, looking no worse for being caught in the collapse of Aegir’s hall.

Njord chuckled. “Well, yes, Magnus, of course the ship is self-driving. Were you trying to row it the old-fashioned way?”

I ignored my friends glaring at me. “Um, maybe.”

“All you have to do is will the ship to take you where you want to go,” Njord told me. “Nothing else is required.”

I thought about all that time I’d spent with Percy Jackson learning bowlines and mizzenmasts, only to find out the Viking gods had invented Google-boats. I bet the ship would even magically assist me if I needed to fall off the mast.

“Magnus?” Alex spat a clump of sea giantess hair out of his mouth. Wait. Her mouth. I wasn’t sure when it had happened, but I was pretty certain Alex had shifted gender. “Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?”

“Right,” I said. “Everybody, this is Frey-Dad. I mean Njord.”

Blitzen scowled. He muttered under his breath, “Might have known.”

Halfborn Gunderson’s eyes widened. “Njord? God of ships? The Njord?” Then the berserker turned and vomited over the railing.

T.J. stepped forward, hands raised like We come in peace. “Halfborn wasn’t making an editorial comment, great Njord. We appreciate your help! He just has a head injury.”