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

Blitz pulled the cord. A canvas tsunami engulfed the treasure, shuddering and shrinking until lying on the floor at our feet was a simple tote bag, suitable for grocery shopping or concealing several billion dollars’ worth of priceless objects. Blitz lifted the bag with just two fingers.

Against the back wall of the cave, underneath where the treasure had been piled, lay dozens of Alderman’s artifacts. Many had been crushed by the weight of the gold. Fortunately for us, rocks were pretty durable. I picked up the round gray whetstone I’d seen in my dream. Holding it did not fill me with ecstasy. Angels did not sing. I did not feel all-powerful, like I could defeat the mysterious invincible guardians of Kvasir’s Mead.

“Why this?” I asked. “Why is it worth…?” I couldn’t put into words the sacrifices we’d made. Especially Hearthstone.

Blitzen took off his pith helmet. He ran his fingers through his sticky hair. Despite the cave’s smell of death and decay, he looked relieved to be out of the sun.

“I don’t know, kid,” he said. “I can only assume we’ll need the stone to sharpen some blades.”

I looked around at Alderman’s other artifacts. “Anything else we should take while we’re here? Because I really don’t want to come back.”

“Hope not, because I’m in complete agreement.” With obvious reluctance, he put his helmet back on. “Let’s go. I don’t want to leave Hearthstone alone too long.”


As it turned out, Hearth was not alone.

Somehow, he had freed Jack from the dragon’s chest. Now the sword, being a contrary weapon, was diving right back into the dragon’s carcass, wrenching the chest apart through a chink like he was performing an autopsy. Hearth seemed to be directing him.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I said. “What are you guys doing?”

“Oh, hey, se?or!” Jack floated over. He sounded cheerful for a gore-covered blade. “The elf asked me to open the rib cage. At least I’m pretty sure that’s what he was asking. I figured since he used his magic to pull me free, it was the least I could do! Oh, and I already chopped off the ring. It’s right there, ready to go!”

I looked down. Sure enough, a few inches from my bare foot, Andvari’s ring glittered on the swollen severed toe of the dragon. I swallowed down a surge of bile. “Ready to go? What are we doing with it?”

Hearth signed, Put it with the treasure. Take it back to river and return it to Andvari.

Blitz scooped up the dragon toe and dropped it in his magical tote. “We’d best do this quick, kid, before the ring starts tempting us to use it.”

“Okay, but…” I pointed to the partially dissected dragon. I’d never been a hunter, but one time my mom dated a guy who hunted. He’d taken us into the woods and tried to impress my mom by teaching me how to gut a carcass. (That hadn’t gone so well. Neither had their relationship.)

Anyway, looking at the dragon, I was sure Jack was trying to cut out Mr. Alderman’s no-longer-vital organs.

“Why?” I managed.

Jack laughed. “Oh, come on, se?or, I thought you knew! After killing a ring dragon, you have to cut out its heart, roast it, and eat it!”

That’s when I lost my lunch.





SO FAR on our quest, I’d done well not puking. I was on my way to being a not-puking professional.

But the idea of eating a dragon’s heart—Alderman’s disgusting evil excuse for a heart—nope. That was too much.

I staggered into the woods and retched for so long I almost passed out. At last, Blitz clamped his hand on my shoulder and steered me away from the clearing. “Okay, kid. I know. Come on.”

By the time I was somewhat coherent again, I realized Blitzen was leading me toward the river where we’d met Andvari. I didn’t trust myself to speak, except for the occasional “Ow!” when I stepped barefoot on a rock or a branch or a nest of Alfheim fire ants.

Finally, we reached the water. Standing at the edge of a little waterfall, I peered down into Andvari’s pool. It hadn’t changed much since last time. It was impossible to tell if the slimy old dwarf still lived down there, disguised as a slimy old fish. Maybe after we robbed him, he’d given up, moved to Key West, and retired. If so, I was tempted to join him.

“You ready?” Blitz’s voice was strained. “I’m going to need your help.”

I squinted at him through the yellow film in my eyes. Blitz held the tote bag over the edge, ready to drop it into the pool, but his arm trembled. He yanked the bag back, as if to save the treasure from its fate, then extended his arm again with difficulty, like he was bench-pressing the entire weight of the gold.

“Going—to—fight—me,” Blitz grumbled. “Dwarves—throwing away—treasure. Not—easy.”

Somehow I managed to get my head out of eat-dragon-heart?-what-the-Helheim? mode. I grabbed the bag’s other strap. Immediately I felt what Blitz was talking about. My mind was flooded with glorious ideas about what I could do with all this treasure—buy a mansion! (But wait…I already had Uncle Randolph’s mansion, and I didn’t even want it.) Get a yacht! (I already had a big yellow boat. No thanks.) Save for retirement! (I was dead.) Send my kids to college! (Einherjar can’t have kids. We’re dead.)

The bag shuddered and kicked. It seemed to be rethinking its strategy. Okay, it whispered in my thoughts, how about helping the homeless? Think of all the good you could do with the gold, and this bagful is just the down payment! Put on that lovely ring, and you’ll get infinite wealth! You could build housing! Provide meals! Job-training!

These possibilities were more tempting….But I knew it was a trick. This treasure would never do anyone any good. I looked down at my bare legs, scraped and muddy. I remembered the suffocating smell of dragon belly. I recalled Hearthstone’s miserable expression as he said good-bye to his father.

I muttered, “Stupid treasure.”

“Yeah,” said Blitz. “On three? One, two—”

We tossed the bag into the pool. I resisted the urge to jump in after it.

“There you go, Andvari,” I said. “Enjoy.”

Or maybe Andvari was gone. In which case, we’d just made a family of trout billionaires.

Blitz sighed with relief. “Okay, that’s one burden gone. Now…the other thing.”

My stomach rebelled all over again. “I’m not really supposed to—?”

“Eat the dragon’s heart? You?” Blitz shook his head. “Well, you are the one who killed him….But in this case, no. You don’t eat the heart.”

“Thank the gods.”

“Hearth has to do that.”

“What?”

Blitz’s shoulders slumped. “The dragon was Hearth’s kin, Magnus. When you kill a ring dragon, you can put its spirit to rest by destroying its heart. You can either burn it up—”

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

“—or you can consume it, in which case you inherit all the dragon’s memories and wisdom.”

I tried to imagine why Hearthstone would want any of his father’s memories or so-called wisdom. For that matter, why would he even feel obliged to put Alderman’s evil spirit to rest? Andiron had told him not to waste a minute longer worrying about dead old Dad, and that sounded like excellent brotherly advice.