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

Frigg pointed out the window on our right. My vision telescoped, zooming across the valley. If I hadn’t been sitting down, I would have fallen. I guessed Frigg was enhancing my sight, giving me Heimdall-level clarity for just a moment.

At the base of a mountain, a waterfall split against a granite promontory as if it were the prow of a ship. In the center of the rock, between twin white curtains of water, stood a massive set of iron doors. And spread out before those doors, on a strip of land between the two rivers, was a field of ripe wheat. Nine burly men, wearing only iron neck collars and loincloths, worked the field, swinging their scythes like a squadron of grim reapers.

My vision snapped back to normal. Looking across the valley, I could now just make out the spot where the waterfall split on the rock—maybe ten miles away.

“That is the place,” Frigg said. “And there is the path you must use to reach it.”

She pointed to the base of the railroad tracks. Just out the window, a streak of rubble zigzagged down the side of the cliff. Calling it a path was generous. I would’ve called it a landslide.

“Today, Mallory,” the goddess announced, “you will need those daggers, and your wits. You are the key to retrieving Kvasir’s Mead.”

Mallory and Sam both looked queasy. I guessed they’d also gotten a free trial of Heimdall-Vision.

“I don’t suppose you could be any vaguer?” Mallory asked.

Frigg gave her a sad smile. “You have your father’s fierce spirit, my dear. I hope you can master it and use it, as he could not. You have everything you need to retrieve the mead, but there is one last gift I can give you—something that will help you when you finally face Loki. As I learned when I underestimated mistletoe…even the smallest thing can make a vast difference.”

She reached into her knitting bag and pulled out a small wrinkled brown orb….A chestnut? Walnut? One of those big nuts. She pulled apart the two halves, showing that the shell was empty, then fit them back together. “If Magnus defeats Loki in the flyting, you will have to imprison the trickster in this shell.”

“Wait, if?” I asked. “Can’t you see my future?”

The goddess fixed me with her strange white gaze. “The future is a brittle thing, Magnus Chase. Sometimes merely revealing someone’s destiny can cause that destiny to shatter.”

I gulped. I felt like a high-pitched tone was reverberating through my bones, ready to crack them like glass. “Okay. Let’s not shatter anything, then.”

“If you defeat Loki,” Frigg continued, “bring him back to the Aesir, and we will deal with him.”

From the tone of Frigg’s voice, I doubted the Aesir planned on throwing Loki a welcome-back party.

She threw the nut.

Mallory caught it in her fingertips. “Bit small for a god, isn’t it?”

“It won’t be if Magnus succeeds,” Frigg said. “The ship Naglfar has not yet sailed. You have at least twenty-four hours. Perhaps even forty-eight. After that…”

Blood roared in my ears. I didn’t see how we could do everything we needed to do in a day—or even two. I definitely didn’t see how I could insult Loki down to the size of a walnut.

The train’s whistle blew—a plaintive sound like a bird calling for its dead mate. (And you can trust me on that, because I understood birdcalls.) Tourists began piling back onto the train.

“I must go,” Frigg said. “And so must you.”

“You just got here.” Mallory’s scowl deepened. Her expression hardened. “But fine. Whatever. Leave.”

“Oh, my dear.” Frigg’s eyes misted over, the light dimming in her golden pupils. “I am never far, even if you do not see me. We will meet again….” A new tear trickled down the scarred path of her left cheek. “Until then, trust your friends. You are right: they are more important than any magic items. And whatever happens, whether you choose to believe me or not, I love you.”

The goddess dissolved, knitting bag and all, leaving a sheen of condensation on the seat.

The tourists piled back into the train car. Mallory stared at the moist impression left by her godly mother, as if hoping the water droplets might reconstitute into something that made sense: a target, an enemy, even a bomb. A mother who showed up out of nowhere and proclaimed I love you—that was something no knives, no wits, no walnut shell could help her conquer.

I wondered if I could say anything to make her feel better. I doubted it. Mallory was about action, not talk.

Apparently, Sam reached the same conclusion. “We should go,” she said, “before—”

The train lurched into motion. Unfortunately, tourists were still shuffling to their seats, blocking the aisles. We’d never be able to muscle our way to the door before the train got back up to full speed and left the mountainside trail far behind.

Sam glanced at the open window on our right. “Another exit?”

“That’s suicidal,” I said.

“That’s typical,” Mallory corrected.

She led the way, leaping out the window of the moving train.





DON’T GET me wrong.

If you’re going to fall down the side of a mountain, Norway is a beautiful place to do it. We skidded past lovely creeks, bounced off majestic trees, fell from imposing cliffs, and tumbled through fields of fragrant wildflowers. Somewhere off to my left, Mallory Keen cursed in Gaelic. Somewhere behind me, Samirah kept yelling, “Magnus, take my hand! Magnus!”

I couldn’t see her, so I couldn’t comply. Nor did I understand why she wanted to hold hands as we fell to our demise.

I shot from the side of a ridge, pinballed off a spruce, and finally rolled to a stop on a more level slope, my head coming to rest against something fuzzy and warm. Through a haze of pain, I found myself staring up at the brown-and-white face of a goat.

“Otis?” I mumbled.

Baaaaaa, said the goat.

I could understand his meaning, not because he was Thor’s talking goat Otis, but because regular goat bleats now made as much sense to me as bird chirps. He’d said No, stupid. I’m Theodore. And my belly is not a pillow.

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

The goat got to his feet and capered off, depriving me of my comfy headrest.

I sat up, groaning. I did a self-check and found nothing broken. Amazing. Frigg really knew how to suggest the safest trails to hurtle down at life-threatening speeds.

Samirah swooped down from the sky, her green hijab rippling around her face. “Magnus, didn’t you hear me calling? You didn’t have to fall! I was going to fly you both down here.”

“Ah.” That awkward moment when you jump out a window because your friend jumped out a window, then you remember that your other friend can fly. “When you say it like that, it does make more sense. Where’s Mallory?”

“Cailleach!” she shouted from somewhere nearby.