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

“W-walk for it,” Blitz suggested. Even he was starting to stutter. “We pair up for warmth. G-get across the ice to the shore. Maybe we find shelter.”

It wasn’t so much a “survival plan” as a plan for dying in a different place, but we grimly went to work. We shouldered all the supplies we couldn’t live without—some food, water, the canteen of Kvasir’s Mead, our weapons. Then we climbed onto the ice and I folded the Big Banana into a handkerchief, because dragging the ship along behind us would’ve been, well, a drag.

Jack volunteered to float in front of us and test the ice with his blade. I wasn’t sure whether that would make things more or less dangerous for us, but he refused to go back into pendant form, because the aftereffects of his extra exertion would’ve killed me. (He’s thoughtful that way.)

As we paired up, somebody’s arm curled around my waist. Alex Fierro wedged herself next to me, wrapping a blanket around our heads and shoulders. I looked at her in amazement. A pink wool scarf covered her head and mouth, so all I could see were her two-toned eyes and some wisps of green hair.

“Sh-shut up,” she stammered. “You’re w-warm and s-summery.”

Jack led the way across the ice. Behind him, Blitzen did his best to prop up Hearthstone, who stumbled along with the rune of kenaz above him, though its heat was now more like a candle’s than a bonfire’s.

Sam and Mallory followed, then T.J. and Halfborn, and finally Alex and me. We trudged across the frozen sea, making our way toward that outcropping of rock, but our destination seemed to get farther away with every step. Could the cliff be a mirage? Maybe distance was fluid on the borders of Niflheim and Jotunheim. Once, in the hall of Utgard-Loki, Alex and I had rolled a bowling ball all the way to the White Mountains in New Hampshire, so I supposed anything was possible.

I couldn’t feel my face anymore. My feet had turned to one-gallon boxes of squishy ice cream. I thought how sad it would be to come as far as we had, facing so many gods, giants, and monsters, only to keel over and freeze to death in the middle of nowhere.

I clung to Alex. She clung to me. Her breath rattled. I wished she still had her walrus blubber, because she was all skin and bone, as wiry as her garrote. I wanted to chide her, Eat, eat! You’re wasting away.

I appreciated her warmth, though. Under any other circumstances, she would’ve killed me for getting this close. Also, I would’ve freaked out from so much physical contact. I considered it a personal triumph that I’d learned to hug my friends once in a while, but I wasn’t usually good with closeness. The need for warmth, and maybe the fact that this was Alex, made it okay somehow. I concentrated on her scent, a sort of citrusy fragrance that made me think of orange groves in a sunny valley in Mexico—not that I’d ever been to a place like that, but it smelled nice.

“Guava juice,” Alex croaked.

“Wh-what?” I asked.

“Roof d-deck. B-back B-bay. That was nice.”

She’s clinging to good memories, I realized. Trying to stay alive.

“Y-yeah,” I agreed.

“York,” she said. “Mr. Ch-chippy. You d-didn’t know what t-takeaway meant.”

“I hate you,” I said. “Keep t-talking.”

Her laugh sounded more like a smoker’s cough. “Wh-when you returned from Alfheim. The look—the look on your f-face when I t-took b-back m-my pink glasses.”

“B-but you were glad to see me?”

“Eh. Y-you have some entertainment v-value.”

Struggling to walk on the ice, our heads so close together, I could almost imagine Alex and I were a clay warrior with two faces, a twin being. The thought was comforting.

Maybe fifty yards from the cliff, the kenaz rune sputtered out. Hearth stumbled against Blitz. The temperature plummeted further, which I didn’t think was possible. My lungs expelled their last bit of warmth. They screamed when I tried to inhale.

“Keep going!” Blitz yelled back to us hoarsely. “I am not dying in this outfit!”

We obliged, marching step by step toward the narrow gravel beach, where at least we could die on solid ground.

Blitz and Hearth were almost at the shore when Alex stopped abruptly.

I didn’t have any energy left either, but I thought I should try to sound encouraging. “We—we have to k-keep going.” I looked over. We were nose-to-nose under the blankets. Her eyes glinted, amber and brown. Her scarf had dipped below her chin. Her breath was like limes.

Then, before I even knew what was happening, she kissed me. She could have bitten off my mouth and I would have been less surprised. Her lips were cracked and rough from the cold. Her nose fit perfectly next to mine. Our faces aligned, our breath mixed. Then she pulled away.

“I wasn’t going to die without doing that,” she said.

The world of primordial ice must not have frozen me completely, because my chest burned like a coal furnace.

“Well?” She frowned. “Stop gaping and let’s move.”

We trudged toward the shore. My mind wasn’t working properly. I wondered if Alex had kissed me just to inspire me to keep going, or to distract me from our imminent deaths. It didn’t seem possible she’d actually wanted to kiss me. Whatever the case, that kiss was the only reason I made it to shore.

Our friends were already there, huddled against the rocks. They hadn’t seemed to notice the kiss between Alex and me. Why would they? Everyone was too busy freezing to death.

“I—I have g-gunpowder,” T.J. stuttered. “C-could make a f-fire?”

Unfortunately, we had nothing to burn except our clothes, and we needed those.

Blitz looked miserably at the cliff face, which was sheer and unforgiving.

“I—I’ll try to shape the rock,” he said. “Maybe I can dig us a cave.”

I’d seen Blitz mold solid rock before, but it took a lot of energy and concentration. Even then, he’d only been making simple handholds. I didn’t see how he’d have the strength to dig an entire cave. Nor was that going to save us. But I appreciated his stubborn optimism.

He’d just dug his fingers into the stone when the entire cliff rumbled. A line of blazing light etched the shape of a door, twenty feet square, that swung inward with a deep grinding noise.

In the opening stood a giantess as terrible and beautiful as the Niflheim landscape. She was ten feet tall, dressed in white and gray furs, her brown eyes cold and angry, her dark hair braided in multiple strands like a cat-o’-nine-tails whip.

“Who dares rock-shape my front door?” she asked.

Blitz gulped. “Uh, I—”

“Why should I not kill you all?” the giantess demanded. “Or perhaps, since you look half-dead already, I’ll just close my door and let you freeze!”

“W-wait!” I croaked. “Sk-skadi…You’re Skadi, right?”

Gods of Asgard, I thought, please let this be Skadi and not some random giantess named Gertrude the Unfriendly.

“I—I’m M-magnus Chase,” I continued. “Njord is my grandfather. H-he sent me to f-find you.”