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

The absurdity of it might have made me feel hopeless. Instead, it made me angry.

I didn’t feel poetic, exactly, but I did feel a burning in my throat—the desire to tell Loki exactly what I thought of him. Some choice colorful metaphors sprang to mind.

“I’m ready,” I said, hoping I was right. “How do we find Loki without getting killed?”

“Frontal charge?” T.J. suggested.

“Uh—”

“I’m kidding,” T.J. said. “Clearly, this calls for diversionary tactics. Most of us should find a way to the front of the vessel and attack. We cause a disturbance, draw as many of those baddies as we can away from the gangplanks, give Magnus a chance to get aboard and challenge Loki.”

“Wait a second—”

“I agree with Union Boy,” said Mallory.

“Yep.” Halfborn hefted his battle-ax. “Battle-Ax is thirsty for jotun blood!”

“Hold on!” I said. “That’s suicide.”

“Nah,” Blitz said. “Kid, we’ve been talking about this, and we’ve got a plan. I brought some dwarven ropes. Mallory’s got grappling hooks. Hearth’s got his runestones. With luck, we can scale the prow of that ship and start making chaos.”

He patted one of the supply bags he’d carried from the Big Banana. “Don’t worry, I’ve got some surprises in store for those undead warriors. You sneak up the aft gangway, find Loki, and demand a duel. Then the fighting should stop. We’ll be fine.”

“Yeah,” Halfborn said. “Then we’ll come watch you beat that meinfretr at insults.”

“And I’ll throw a walnut at him,” Mallory finished. “Give us thirty minutes or so to get in position. Sam, Alex—take good care of our boy.”

“We will,” Sam said.

Even Alex did not complain. I realized I’d been completely outmaneuvered. My friends had united on a plan to maximize my chances, regardless of how dangerous it might be for them.

“Guys—”

Hearth signed, Time is wasting. Here. For you.

From his pouch, he handed me othala—the same runestone we’d taken from Andiron’s cairn. Lying in my palm, it brought back the smell of rotting reptile flesh and burnt brownies.

“Thanks,” I said, “but…why this particular rune?”

Does not just mean inheritance, Hearth signed. Othala symbolizes aid on a journey. Use it once we are gone. It should protect you.

“How?”

He shrugged. Don’t ask me. I’m just the sorcerer.

“All right, then,” T.J. said. “Alex, Sam, Magnus—we’ll see you on that ship.”

Before I could object, or even thank them, the rest of the group trundled off through the snow. In their jotunish white clothes, they quickly disappeared into the terrain.

I turned to Alex and Sam. “How long have you all been planning this?”

Despite her cracked and bleeding lips, Alex grinned. “About as long as you’ve been clueless. So, a while.”

“We should get going,” Sam said. “Shall we try your rune?”

I looked down at othala. I wondered if there was some connection between inheritance and aid on a journey. I couldn’t think of any. I didn’t like where this rune came from or what it stood for, but I supposed it made sense that I’d have to use it. We’d earned it with a lot of pain and suffering, the same way we’d earned the mead.

“Do I just throw it in the air?” I wondered.

“I imagine Hearth would say…” Alex continued in sign language: Yes, you idiot.

I was pretty sure that wasn’t what Hearth would say.

I tossed the rune. The othala dissolved in a wisp of snow. I hoped it would reappear in Hearth’s rune bag after a day or two, the way runes usually did after he used them. I definitely didn’t want to buy him a replacement.

“Nothing happened,” I noted. Then I glanced to either side of me. Alex and Sam had disappeared. “Oh, gods, I vaporized you!” I tried to stand up, but unseen hands grabbed me from either side and dragged me back down.

“I’m right here,” Alex said. “Sam?”

“Here,” Sam confirmed. “It seems the rune made us invisible. I can see myself, but not you guys.”

I glanced down. Sam was right. I could see myself just fine, but the only sign of my two friends was their impressions where they sat in the snow.

I wondered why othala had chosen invisibility. Was it drawing on my personal experience, feeling invisible when I was homeless? Or maybe the magic was shaped by Hearthstone’s family experience. I imagined he’d wished he were invisible to his father for most of his childhood. Whatever the case, I didn’t intend to waste this chance.

“Let’s get moving,” I said.

“Hold hands,” Alex ordered.

She took my left hand with no particular affection, as if I were a walking stick. Sam did not take my other hand, but I suspected it wasn’t for religious reasons. She just liked the idea of Alex and me holding hands. I could almost hear Sam smiling.

“Okay,” she said, “let’s go.”

We trudged along the stone ridge, heading for the shore. I worried about leaving a trail of footprints, but the snow and wind quickly blew away all traces of our passage.

The temperature and wind were as bitter as the day before, but Skadi’s apple cider must have been working. My breathing didn’t feel like I was inhaling glass. I didn’t have the need to check my face every few seconds to make sure my nose hadn’t fallen off.

Over the howl of the wind and the boom of glaciers calving into the bay, other sounds reached us from the deck of Naglfar—chains clanking, beams creaking, giants barking orders, and the boots of last-minute arrivals tromping across the fingernail deck. The ship must have been very close to sailing.

We were about a hundred yards from the dock when Alex yanked on my hand. “Down, you idiot!”

I dropped in place, though I didn’t see how we could hide much better than being invisible.

Emerging from the wind and snow, passing within ten feet of us, a troop of ghoulish soldiers marched toward Naglfar. I hadn’t seen them coming, and Alex was right: I didn’t want to trust that invisibility would keep me hidden from these guys.

Their tattered leather armor was glazed with ice. Their bodies were nothing but desiccated bits of flesh clinging to bones. Blue spectral light flickered inside their rib cages and skulls, making me think of birthday candles parading across the worst birthday cake ever.

As the undead tromped past, I noticed that the soles of their boots were studded with nails, like cleats. I remembered something Halfborn Gunderson had once told me: because the road to Helheim was icy, the dishonored dead were buried with nailed shoes to keep them from slipping along the way. Now those boots were marching their owners back to the world of the living.

Alex’s hand shivered in mine. Or maybe I was the one shivering. At last the dead passed us, heading for the docks and the Ship of the Dead.

I got unsteadily to my feet.

“Allah defend us,” Sam muttered.

I desperately hoped that if the Big Guy was real, Sam had some pull with him. We were going to need defending.