by Rick Riordan
can’t trust anyone else, can I?”
His wife, Sigyn, tilted her head ever so slightly, but Loki didn’t seem to notice.
“At least I’m honest about it!” Loki continued. “And to answer your question, I’m a giant! But here’s the thing, Magnus. The Aesir are just a different generation of giants. So they’re giants, too! This whole gods-versus-giants thing is ridiculous. We’re one big unhappy family. That’s something you should understand, you dysfunctional little human. You say you choose your family. You say you’ve got a new group of brothers and sisters in Valhalla, and isn’t that sweet? Stop lying to yourself. You’re never free of your blood. You are just like your real family. As weak and love-besotted as Frey. As desperate and spineless as old Uncle Randolph. And as stupidly optimistic and as dead as your mother. Poor kid. You’ve got the worst of both sides, Frey and Chase. You’re a mess!”
The crowd laughed. They seemed to grow larger, drowning me in their shadows.
Loki loomed over me. “Stop lying to yourself, Magnus. You’re nobody. You’re a mistake, one of Frey’s many bastards. He left your mom, forgot you completely until you recovered his sword.”
“That’s not true.”
“But it is! You know it! At least I claim my children. Sam and Alex here—they’ve known me since they were little kids! But you? You’re not even worth Frey sending a birthday card. And who does your hair?”
He howled. “Oh, right. Alex cut it, didn’t she? You didn’t think that meant anything, did you? She doesn’t care about Magnus Chase. She just needed to use you. She’s her mother’s child. I’m so proud.”
Alex’s face was livid, but she didn’t speak. None of my friends moved or made a sound. This was my fight. They couldn’t interfere.
Where was the magic of Kvasir’s Mead? Why couldn’t I come up with a decent zinger? Did I really think the mead could compensate for my complete lack of skill?
Wait…those were Loki’s words, burrowing into my brain. I couldn’t let him define me.
“You’re evil,” I said. Even that sounded halfhearted.
“Oh, come on!” Loki grinned. “Don’t throw that good-and-evil stuff at me. That’s not even a Norse concept. Are you good because you kill your enemies, but your enemies are bad because they kill you? What sort of logic is that?”
He leaned in close. He was definitely taller than I was now. The top of my head barely reached his shoulders. “A little secret, Magnus. There is no good and evil. There’s only capable and incapable. I am capable. You…are not.”
He didn’t push me, not physically, but I stumbled back. I was literally withering under the laughter of the crowd. Even Blitzen was taller than me now. Behind Loki, Sigyn watched me with interest, her red tears glistening down her cheeks.
“Aww.” Loki pouted with fake sympathy. “What are you going to do now, Magnus? Complain that I’m mean? Criticize me for murder and deceit? Go right ahead! Sing my greatest hits! You just wish you were so capable. You can’t fight. You can’t think on your feet. You can’t even express yourself in front of your so-called friends! What chance do you have against me?”
I continued to shrink. A few more lines from Loki and I would be two feet tall. Around my boots, the deck began to scritch and shift, finger- and toenails curling upward like hungry plant shoots.
“Give it your best shot!” Loki challenged. “No? Still tongue-tied? Then I guess I’ll tell you what I really think of you!”
I looked at the leering faces of giants, and the grim faces of my friends, all forming a ring around me, and I knew this was a well I would never climb out of.
I DESPERATELY tried to think of my best insults: You’re a meinfretr. You’re dumb. You’re ugly.
Yeah…my best really wasn’t that impressive, especially coming from a guy who was literally shrinking under Loki’s onslaught.
Hoping for inspiration, I glanced again at my friends. Sam looked stern and determined, somehow still believing in me. Alex Fierro looked angry and defiant, somehow still believing that if I messed this up, she would kill me. Blitz had developed a tic in his eye like he was watching me ruin a beautiful tailoring job. Hearthstone seemed sad and weary, scrutinizing my face as if searching for a lost rune. T.J., Mallory, and Halfborn were all tense, scanning the giants around them, probably trying to formulate a Plan B in which the B stood for Bad Magnus.
Then my gaze rested on Sigyn, standing discreetly behind her husband, her hands laced, her strange red eyes fixed on me as if she were waiting.
Waiting for what? She had stood by her husband’s side when everyone else abandoned him. For centuries, she had tended to him, keeping the snake’s venom from his face as much as she could, despite the fact that Loki had cheated on her, verbally abused her, ignored her. Even now, he barely looked at her.
Sigyn was loyal beyond belief. Yet back in Loki’s cave, during the giant’s wedding ceremony, I was almost positive she had helped us, distracting her husband at a critical time to keep him from killing me and my friends.
Why would she resist her husband like that? What did she want? It was almost as if she was subtly working to undermine him, as if she wanted to delay Ragnarok and see her husband back in his cave, lashed to the rocks and suffering.
Maybe Loki was right. Maybe he couldn’t trust anyone, not even Sigyn.
Then I thought about what Percy Jackson had told me back on the deck of the USS Constitution: that my biggest strength wasn’t my training. It was the team around me.
A flyting was supposed to cut people down to size, to insult them into nothingness. But I was a healer. I didn’t cut people. I put them back together. I couldn’t play by Loki’s rules and hope to win. I had to play by my rules.
I took a deep breath. “Let me tell you about Mallory Keen.”
Loki’s smile wavered. “Who is that and why should I care?”
“I’m so glad you asked.” I projected my voice into the crowd with as much volume and confidence as my tiny little lungs would allow. “Mallory Keen sacrificed her life to correct her own mistake and saved the lives of a bunch of schoolkids! Now she is the fiercest fighter and the best curser in Valhalla. She holds floor nineteen together as a team, even when we want to kill each other! Can any of you claim the same level of camaraderie?”
The giants shifted uncomfortably. The draugr eyed each other like I’ve been wanting to kill this guy forever, but he’s already dead.
“Mallory opened the doors of Suttung’s cave with just two daggers!” I continued. “She defeated the nine thralls of Baugi with nothing but trickery and a rock! And when she found out she was the daughter of Frigg, she refrained from attacking the goddess!”
“Ooh.” The giants nodded appreciatively.
Loki waved aside my words. “I don’t think you understand how a flyting works, little man. Those aren’t even insults—”
“Let me tell you about Halfborn Gunderson!” I shouted over him. “Berserker extraordinaire, the glory of Fläm! He conquered kingdoms with Ivar the Boneless. He singlehandedly slew the giant Baugi, saving his hometown and making his mother proud! He has steered our boat straight and true across the Nine Worlds, his battle-ax doing more damage than most battalions, and he’s done all this while wearing no shirt!”
“He pulls it off pretty well, too,” muttered another giant, poking the berserker’s abs. Halfborn slapped his hand away.
“And the deeds of Thomas Jefferson Junior!” I yelled. “Those are worthy of any Viking hall! He charged into enemy gunfire to meet his nemesis, Jeffrey Toussaint, face-to-face. He died taking up an impossible challenge, like a worthy son of Tyr! He is the heart and soul of our fellowship, a driving force that never fails. He defeated the giant Hrungnir with his trusty Springfield 1861, and wears the flint shard from the giant’s heart above his eye as a badge of honor. It can also light matches!”
“Mmmm.” The giants nodded, no doubt thinking how handy this would be for lighting their pipes in the cold winds of Niflheim.
; “And Blitzen, son of Freya!” I smiled at my dwarf friend, whose eyes were getting dewy. “He bested Eitri Junior, at the forges of Nidavellir. He makes the best cutting-edge fashions in the Nine Worlds. He sewed the magical bowling bag of Tiny! He stood face-to-face, empty-handed against the dragon Alderman and forced the monster to back down. His patented stainless-steel neckties and expand-o-ducks are the stuff of jotun nightmares!”
Several giants wailed in terrified agreement.
“Stop this!” Loki spat. “This is ridiculous! What’s all this—this positivity? Magnus Chase, your hair is still horrible and your clothes—”
“Hearthstone!” I roared. Was it my imagination, or was I getting taller again? It seemed I could look my opponent in the eyes now without straining my neck. “The greatest rune magician in the Nine Worlds! His bravery is legendary! He is willing to sacrifice anything for his friends. He has overcome the most horrible challenges—the death of his brother, the scorn of his family…” My voice cracked with emotion, but Loki did not speak into the void. The crowd stared at me expectantly, some with tears in their eyes.
“His own father turned into a dragon,” I said. “Yet Hearthstone faced him, faced his worst nightmares and emerged victorious, breaking a curse, destroying hatred with compassion. Without him, we would not be here. He is the mightiest and most beloved elf I know. He is my brother.”
Hearthstone placed his hand on his heart. His face was as pink as the scarf Alex had given him.
Captain Hrym sniffled. It seemed like he wanted to give Hearthstone a hug but was afraid that might not look good in front of his crew.
“Samirah al-Abbas,” I said. “Daughter of Loki, but better than Loki!”
Loki laughed. “I beg your pardon? This girl is not even—”
“A Valkyrie, sworn to Odin’s most important tasks!” My words were coming easily now. I could feel a rhythm to them, an unstoppable cadence and certainty. Maybe that was because of Kvasir’s Mead. Or maybe it was because I was speaking the truest things I knew. “You have felt her spear of light scorch your forces in combat! Her stamina is steel. Her faith is unwavering. She has overcome her father’s sway! She saved our ship from the dreaded vatnavaettir! She outflew the great Baugi in his eagle form, delivering Kvasir’s Mead to our crew! And she has done all of this while fasting for Ramadan.”
Several giants gasped. Some put their hands to their throats as if just realizing how thirsty they were.
“Samirah,” Loki growled, “turn into a lizard and scuttle away, my dear.”
Sam frowned at him. “No, Father, I don’t think I will. Why don’t you?”
“Oooh!” Some of the giants even clapped.
I was definitely taller than usual now. Or wait…Loki was getting shorter.
But I needed more. I turned to Alex. “Let me tell you all about Alex Fierro!”
“Saving the best for last?” Alex asked, a hint of challenge in her voice.
“She is our secret weapon!” I said. “The Terror of Jorvik! The creator of Pottery Barn, ceramic warrior!”
“I got some lovely place mats at Pottery Barn,” one of the giants muttered to a friend.
“At the House of Chase, he decapitated a wolf with nothing more than a wire, then drank guava juice from the horn of my ancestors!”
“He?” asked a giant.
“Just go with it,” said another.
“She once decapitated Grimwolf the elder lindworm!” I continued. “She defeated the sorcery of Utgard-Loki in a bowling tournament of horrors! She won the trust and affection of the goddess Sif! She kept me alive across the frozen sea of Niflheim, and when she kissed me under that blanket yesterday…” I met Alex’s two-color eyes. “Well, that was just about the best thing that ever happened to me.”
I turned toward Loki. My face was burning. I’d spoken maybe just a wee bit more truth than I’d intended, but I couldn’t let that break my momentum.
“Loki, you asked me who I am? I’m part of this team. I’m Magnus Chase from floor nineteen, Hotel Valhalla. I’m the son of Frey, son of Natalie, friend of Mallory, Halfborn, T.J., Blitzen, Hearthstone, Samirah, and Alex. This is my family! This is my othala. I know they will always support me, which is why I’m standing here, triumphant, on your ship, surrounded by my family, and you…even in the midst of thousands, you. Are. Still. Alone.”
Loki hissed. He backed into a wall of scowling draugr. “I am not alone! Sigyn! Dear wife!”
Sigyn had vanished. At some point during the flyting, she must have retreated into the crowd. That silent act spoke louder than centuries of verbal abuse.
“Alex! Samirah!” Loki tried for a confident smile. “Come on, my dears. You know I love you! Don’t be difficult. Kill your friends for me and all will be forgiven.”
Alex adjusted her shaggy green fur cloak over her sweater vest. “Sorry, Mom. I’m afraid I gotta say no.”
Loki dashed toward Samirah, who pushed him back at spear point. The trickster was about three feet tall now. He tried changing form. Fur sprouted across his brow. Fishy scales appeared on the backs of his hands. Nothing seemed to stick.
“You can’t hide from yourself, Loki,” I said. “No matter what form you take, you’re still you—alone, scorned, bitter, faithless. Your insults are hollow and desperate. You don’t stand a chance against us, because you don’t have an us. You are Loki, always alone.”
“I hate you all!” the god screamed, spittle flying. Acid oozed from his pores, hissing against the deck. “None of you are worthy of my company, much less my leadership!”
As Loki shrank, his scarred face rippled, contorting with rage. Acid steamed in puddles all around him. I wondered if this was all the venom that Skadi’s viper had dripped on him over the centuries, or if it was simply part of Loki’s essence. Perhaps Sigyn had tried to shield Loki from the snake because she knew her husband was already full of poison. He could barely keep his human form from liquefying into the stuff.
“You think your happy friendship speech means anything?” he snarled. “Is it time for a group hug now? You make me sick!”
“You’ll have to speak up,” I said. “It’s hard to hear you from way down there.”
Loki paced and ranted, no more than a few inches tall now, wading through puddles of his own venom. “I will kill you slowly! I will have Hel torture the spirits of everyone you love! I will—”
“Escape?” Samirah asked, blocking Loki with her spear point as he darted left. He ran to the right, but Alex put down her pink ski boot to stop him.
“I don’t think so, Mom,” said Alex. “I like you down there. And now, Mallory Keen has a lovely parting gift for you.”
Mallory hopped forward and brought out the walnut.
“No!” Loki squeaked. “No, you wouldn’t dare! I will never—”
Mallory tossed the nut toward the miniature god. The shell opened, inhaling Loki with a vicious sucking noise, then snapped shut again. The walnut rattled and quivered on the deck. A little voice was shouting obscenities from inside, but the shell remained sealed.
The giants frowned down at the walnut.
Captain Hrym cleared his throat. “Well, that was interesting.” He turned to me. “Congratulations, Magnus Chase! You won that flyting fair and square. I am impressed! I hope you’ll accept my apology for having to kill you all now.”
I DID NOT accept his apology.
Neither did my friends. They formed a protective ring around me and began slashing through the enemy ranks, slowly shuffling toward the starboard side of the ship.
Still hopping on one leg, Mallory Keen scooped up her evil walnut and dropped it into her pocket, then demonstrated her dual-knife-wielding prowess by stabbing her blades into Captain Hrym’s crotch.
Halfborn and T.J. fought like killing machines. I didn’t want to give myself credit for their gusto, but the way they plowed through troops of draugr was awe-inspiring, almost as if they were determined to be as good as I’d described them—as if my words had made them l
arger while making Loki smaller.
“Follow me!” Sam yelled, her spear of light blasting a path to starboard. Alex swung her garrote like a whip, lopping off the heads of any giants who came too close.
I was afraid Blitzen might get trampled in the crush, but Hearthstone knelt and let the dwarf climb onto his shoulders. Okay, that was a new one. I didn’t think Hearth had the physical strength to carry Blitz, who was short but stout and hardly a little kid. Yet Hearth managed, and from the unquestioning way Blitz accepted the ride, I got the feeling they’d done this before.
Blitz threw neckties and expand-o-ducks like Mardi Gras beads, sowing terror in the enemy’s ranks. Meanwhile Hearth lobbed a familiar rune toward the foredeck:
Ehwaz, the rune of the steed, exploded with golden light. Suddenly, floating in the air above us, was our old friend Stanley the eight-legged horse.
Stanley surveyed the chaos, whinnied as if to say Fight scene cameo? Okay. Then he leaped into the fray, fly-galloping on the skulls of jotuns and generally causing havoc.
Jack, buzzing angrily, flew to my side. “I have a blade to grind with you, señor.”
“What?” I ducked as a spear flew over my head.
“You give this beautiful speech,” Jack said. “And who do you leave out? Really?”
Jack hilt-punched a giant so hard the poor guy flew backward, domino-toppling a line of zombie cavalry.
I gulped down my mortification. How could I have forgotten my sword? Jack hated being forgotten.
“Jack, you were my secret weapon!” I said.
“You said that about Alex!”
“Uh, I mean you were my ace in the hole! I was saving the best for, you know, emergency poetry!”
“A likely story!” He chopped through the nearest clump of draugr like a Vitamix.
“I—I’ll get Bragi the god of poetry to personally write an epic about you!” I blurted out, regretting the promise as soon as I made it. “You’re the best sword ever! Honestly!”
“An epic, huh?” He glowed a brighter shade of red, or maybe that was all the gore dripping from his blade. “By Bragi, huh?”
“Absolutely!” I said. “Now let’s get out of here. Show me your best stuff so, you know, I can describe it to Bragi later.”
“Hmph.” Jack whirled toward a metropolitan giant, snicker-snacking him into natty pieces. “I suppose I can do that.”
He went to work, slashing our enemies like a frantic Black Friday shopper rifling through clothes racks. “No, no, no!” Jack yelled. “I don’t like you! Get out of my way! You’re ugly!”
Soon our little cluster of heroes reached the starboard rail. Unfortunately, the drop over the side was four hundred feet at least, straight into the icy gray waters. My stomach twisted. This was twice as long a fall as the one I’d flubbed from the mainmast of Old Ironsides.
“We’ll die if we jump,” Mallory noted.
The enemy horde pressed us against the rail. No matter how well we fought, our enemies wouldn’t even have to hit us to kill us now. Their sheer numbers would flatten us or push us overboard.
I pulled out my yellow handkerchief. “I can summon Mikillgulr, the way we did in Aegir’s hall.”
“Except we’re falling down now,” Alex said. “Not floating up. And there’s no Njord to protect us.”
“She’s right,” Blitz yelled, throwing a generous handful of neckties to his admirers. “Even if the ship doesn’t break apart on impact, all our bones will.”
Sam peered over the side. “And even if we survived, those guns would blow our ship out of the water.”
“Guns?” I followed her gaze. I hadn’t noticed them before, probably because the ports had been closed, but now the side of Naglfar’s hull bristled with rows of cannon muzzles.
“That’s not fair,” I said. “Vikings didn’t have cannons. How come Naglfar gets cannons?”
T.J. jabbed a zombie with his bayonet. “I’ll be sure to lodge a complaint with the Ragnarok Rules Committee. But right now, whatever we’re going to do, we need to do it!”
“Agreed!” Halfborn shouted, his ax slicing through a pack of skeletal wolves.
“I’ve got a plan,” Sam announced. “You’re not going to like it.”
“I love it!” Blitz cried. “What is it?”
“Jump,” Sam said.
Alex ducked a javelin. “But the whole breaking-every-bone-in-our-bodies thing…?”
“No time to explain,” Sam said. “Jump!”
When your Valkyrie tells you to jump, you jump. I was the first one over the side. I tried to remember what Percy had told me—skydiver, eagle, arrow, butt—though I knew that falling from this height, none of it would matter.
I hit the water with a mighty floom. I had died enough times to know what to expect—a sudden overwhelming surge of pain followed by complete darkness. But that didn’t happen. Instead, I bobbed to the surface, gasping and shivering but completely unharmed. I realized something was buoying me up.