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

Also, my mind stuck on Mallory’s words: pray Magnus can beat Loki in a flyting. I didn’t have Sam’s faith in prayer, especially when it was a prayer about me.

Blitz sighed. “I’m going to wash up. I smell like a troll. Then I’m going to sleep for a very long time.”

“Good idea,” Halfborn said. “Magnus and Hearth, you should, too.”

I could get behind that plan. Jack had returned to runestone form on my neck chain, which meant my arms and shoulders now ached like I’d spent the day sawing through dragon hide. My skin itched all over, as if my anti-acid finish had been sorely tested.

T.J. rubbed his hands with excitement. “Tomorrow morning, we should enter the fjords of Norway. I can’t wait to see what we get to kill there!”



I slept without dreams, which was a nice change, until eventually Samirah shook me awake. She was grinning way too much for someone on a fast. “You really should see this.”

I struggled out of my sleeping bag. When I got to my feet and looked over the railing, I lost the ability to breathe.

On either side of the ship, so close I could almost touch them, sheer cliffs rose out of the water—thousand-foot-high walls of rock marbled with waterfalls. White rivulets of snowmelt coursed down the ridges, bursting into mist that fractured the sunlight into rainbows. The sky had been reduced to a jagged ravine of deep blue directly above. Around the hull, the water was so green it might have been algae puree.

In the shadow of those cliffs, I felt so small I could only think of one place we might be. “Jotunheim?”

T.J. laughed. “No, it’s just Norway. Pretty, huh?”

Pretty didn’t do it justice. I felt like we’d sailed into a world meant for much larger beings, a place where gods and monsters roamed freely. Of course, I knew gods and monsters roamed freely all over Midgard. Heimdall was fond of a certain bagel place near Fenway. Giants often strolled through the marshes in Longview. But Norway seemed like a proper stomping ground for them.

I got a little ache in my heart, thinking how much my mom would’ve loved this place. I wished I could share it with her. I could picture her hiking along those cliff-tops, relishing the sun and the crisp, clean air.

At the prow stood Alex and Mallory, both silent in amazement. Hearth and Blitz must have still been asleep below. Halfborn sat at the rudder, a sour look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” I asked him.

The berserker eyed the cliffs as if they might collapse on us if he made a bad comment. “Nah. It’s beautiful. Hasn’t really changed since I was a boy.”

“Fl?m was your hometown?” I guessed.

He let out a bitter laugh. “Well, wasn’t much of a town. And it wasn’t called Fl?m back then. Just a nameless fishing village at the end of the fjord. You’ll see the spot in a minute.”

His knuckles whitened on the rudder. “As a boy, I couldn’t get out of here fast enough. Joined Ivar the Boneless when I was twelve and went a-Viking. I told my mom…” He grew silent. “I told her I wouldn’t come back until the skalds were singing about my heroic deeds. I never saw her again.”

The boat glided onward, the soft applause of the waterfalls echoing through the fjord. I remembered what Halfborn had told me about not liking to go backward, not revisiting his past. I wondered if he felt guilty about leaving his mom, or disappointed that the skalds hadn’t made him a great hero. Or maybe they had sung about his deeds. From what I’d seen, fame rarely lasted longer than a few years, much less centuries. Some einherjar in Valhalla got bitter when they realized nobody born after the Middle Ages had a clue as to who they were.

“You’re famous to us,” I offered.

Halfborn grunted.

“I could ask Jack to write a song about you.”

“Gods forbid!” His brow remained furrowed, but his mustache quirked like he was trying not to smile. “Enough of that. We’ll be docking soon. Keen, Fierro, stop gawking at the scenery and help! Trim the sail! Ready the mooring lines!”

“We’re not your pirate wenches, Gunderson,” Mallory grumbled, but she and Alex did as he asked.

We rounded a curve, and again I caught my breath. At the end of the fjord, a narrow valley split the mountains—layer upon layer of green hills and forests zigzagging into the distance like an infinite reflection. At the rocky shore, shadowed by cliffs, a few dozen red, ochre, and blue houses clustered together as if for protection. Parked at the dock was a giant white cruise ship bigger than the entire town—a twenty-story floating hotel.

“Well, that wasn’t here before,” Halfborn grumbled.

“Tourists,” Mallory said. “What do you think, T.J.? Are they exciting enough for you to fight?”

T.J. tilted his head as if considering the idea.

I decided it might be a good time to refocus the conversation.

“So, back in York,” I said, “Hrungnir told us to take the train in Fl?m, then we’d find what we were looking for. Anybody see a train?”

T.J. frowned. “How could anybody lay tracks across terrain like that?”

It did seem improbable. Then I glanced off our port side. A car zipped along the base of a cliff. It made a hairpin turn and disappeared into a tunnel, straight through the side of the mountain. If Norwegians were crazy enough to build and drive on highways like that, maybe they were crazy enough to lay train tracks the same way.

“Let’s go ashore and find out,” Alex suggested. “I recommend we dock as far as possible from that cruise ship.”

“You don’t like tourists?” Sam asked.

“That’s not it,” said Alex. “I’m afraid they’ll notice this bright yellow Viking boat and think we’re a local attraction. You want to give rides around the fjord all day?”

Sam shuddered. “Good point.”

We slipped into the dock farthest from the cruise ship. Our only neighbors were a couple of fishing boats and a Jet Ski with the dubious name Odin II painted on the side. I considered one Odin quite enough. I wasn’t anxious for a sequel.

As Mallory and Alex tied the mooring lines, I scanned the town of Fl?m. It was small, yes, but more convoluted than it had appeared from a distance. Streets wound up and down hills, through pockets of houses and shops, stretching out about half a mile along the shore of the fjord. I would have thought a train station would be easy to spot, but I didn’t see one from the dock.

“We could split up,” Mallory suggested. “Cover more ground that way.”

I frowned. “That never works in horror movies.”

“Then you come with me, Magnus,” Mallory said. “I’ll keep you safe.” She frowned at Halfborn Gunderson. “But I refuse to be stuck with this lout again. Samirah, you’re useful in a pinch. How about it?”

The invitation seemed to surprise Sam, although Mallory had been treating her with a lot more deference since the incident with the water horses. “Uh, sure.”

Halfborn scowled. “Fine by me! I’ll take Alex and T.J.”

Mallory arched her eyebrows. “You’re going ashore? I thought you wouldn’t set foot—”