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

“Not well,” she admitted. “There’s no lock. No hinges. No keyhole. Jack refuses to try cutting through the iron—”

“Hey,” Jack said. “These doors are a masterpiece. Look at that craftsmanship! Besides, I’m pretty sure they’re magic.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “If we had a drill, maybe we could make a hole in the iron and I could slither through as a snake. But since we don’t have a drill—”

From the other side of the doors, a woman’s voice called, “Have you tried prying apart the seam?”

We all jumped back. The voice had sounded very close to the door, as if the woman had been listening with her ear pressed to the metal.

Jack quivered and glowed. “She speaks! Oh, beautiful door, speak again!”

“I’m not the door,” said the voice. “I am Gunlod, daughter of Suttung.”

“Oh,” Jack said. “That’s disappointing.”

Mallory put her mouth to the door. “You’re Suttung’s daughter? Are you guarding the prisoner?”

“No,” Gunlod said. “I am the prisoner. I’ve been locked in here all by myself for…Actually, I’ve lost track of time. Centuries? Years? Which is longer?”

I turned to my friends and used sign language, which was helpful even when there wasn’t a Hearthstone around. Trap?

Mallory made a V and whacked the back of her hand against her forehead, meaning stupid. Or duh.

Not much choice, Sam signed. Then she called through the doors, “Miss Gunlod, I don’t suppose there’s a latch on the inside? Or a bolt you could turn?”

“Well, it wouldn’t be a very good prison if my father put a latch or a bolt where I could reach it. He usually just yanks the doors open with my Uncle Baugi. It takes both of them with their super giant strength. You don’t have two people out there with super giant strength, by chance?”

Sam sized me up. “I’m afraid not.”

I stuck out my tongue at her. “Miss Gunlod, is Kvasir’s Mead in there with you, by chance?”

“A little,” she said. “Most of it was stolen by Odin a long time ago.” She sighed. “What a charmer he was! I let him get away, which of course is why my father locked me up. But there’s still some left at the bottom of the last vat. It’s my father’s most prized possession. I suppose you want it?”

“That would be great,” I admitted.

Mallory elbowed me in the ribs. “If you could help us, Miss Gunlod, we’d be happy to free you, too.”

“How sweet!” said Gunlod. “But I’m afraid my freedom is impossible. My father and my uncle have bound my life force to this cave. That’s part of my punishment. I would die if I tried to leave.”

Sam winced. “That seems a bit harsh.”

“Yes.” Gunlod sighed. “Though I did give the most valuable elixir in the Nine Worlds to our greatest enemy, so…there’s that. My son tried to undo the spell on the cave, but even he failed. And he’s the god Bragi!”

Mallory’s eyes widened. “Your son is Bragi, god of poetry?”

“That’s him.” Gunlod’s voice filled with pride. “He was born here, nine months after Odin visited me. I may have mentioned, Odin was a charmer.”

“Bragi,” I said. “Is he braggy?”

Mallory signed, Don’t ruin things, idiot. “Magnus is only kidding. Of course he knows that brag literally means to recite poetry. Which is why Bragi is a lovely name. Bragging is a fantastic skill.”

I blinked. “Right, I knew that. So anyway, Miss Gunlod, you said something about prying the seam?”

“Yes, I think it might be possible,” she said. “With two blades, you might be able to wedge the doors apart just enough for me to get a glimpse of your faces, have a breath of fresh air, maybe see sunlight again. That would be quite enough for me. Do you still have sunlight?”

“For now, yeah,” I said, “though Ragnarok may be coming up soon. We’re hoping to use the mead to stop it.”

“I see,” Gunlod said. “I think my son Bragi would approve of that.”

“Then if we manage to pry the doors apart,” I said, “do you think you could pass us the mead through the opening?”

“Hmm, yes. I have an old garden hose here. I could siphon the mead from the vat, as long as you have a container to put it in.”

I wasn’t sure why Gunlod would have an old garden hose lying around in her cave. Maybe she grew mushrooms in there, or maybe the hose was to activate her Slip ’N Slide.

Sam pulled a canteen from her belt. Of course the fasting girl was the only one who had remembered to bring water. “I’ve got a container, Gunlod.”

“Wonderful!” Gunlod said. “Now you’ll need two blades—thin and very strong. Otherwise they’ll break.”

“Don’t look at me!” Jack said. “I’m one thick blade, and I’m too young to break!”

Mallory sighed. She unsheathed her knives. “Miss Gunlod, it so happens I have two thin, supposedly unbreakable daggers. You might want to step back from the doors now.” Mallory jammed the points of her weapons into the seam. They were just narrow enough to wedge inside, almost up to the hilts. Then Mallory pushed the grips away from each other, prying the doors apart.

With a vast creaking sound, the doors parted, forming a V-shaped crack no more than an inch wide where the knives crossed. Mallory’s arms trembled. She must have been using all her einherji strength to keep the seam open. Beads of perspiration dotted her forehead.

“Hurry,” she grunted.

On the other side of the doors, Gunlod’s face appeared—pale but beautiful icy blue eyes framed by wisps of golden hair. She inhaled deeply. “Oh, fresh air! And sunlight! Thank you so much.”

“No problem,” I said. “So, about that old hose…”

“Yes! I’ve got it ready.” Through the crack, she fed the end of an old black rubber hose. Sam fit it into the mouth of her canteen, and liquid began gurgling into the metal container. After so many challenges trying to win the Mead of Kvasir, I hadn’t expected the sound of victory to make me want to find a urinal.

“Okay, that’s it,” Gunlod said. The hose retracted. Her face reappeared. “Good luck stopping Ragnarok. I hope you become wonderful braggers!”

“Thanks,” I said. “Are you sure we can’t try to free you? We’ve got a friend back at our ship who’s good with magic.”

“Oh, you’d never have time,” Gunlod said. “Baugi and Suttung will be here any minute.”

Sam squeaked, “What?”

“Didn’t I mention the silent alarm?” Gunlod asked. “It triggers as soon as you start messing with the doors. I imagine you have two, maybe three minutes before my father and uncle swoop down on you. You should hurry. Nice meeting you!”

Mallory pulled her knives out of the seam. The doors clunked together once more.

“And that,” she said, wiping her brow, “is why I don’t trust nice people.”

“Guys.” I pointed north, toward the tops of the mountains. Gleaming in the Norwegian sunlight, growing larger by the second, were the forms of two massive eagles.





“WELP,” I SAID, which was usually how I started conversations about ways to save our butts from certain destruction. “Any ideas?”

“Drink the mead?” Mallory suggested.