Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard, Book 2: The Hammer of Thor

by Rick Riordan

  I’m not sure how he heard my pipsqueak voice through all the chaos, but he nodded in acknowledgment.

  “Magnus Chase!” he called out. “So glad you could make it!”

  The music died. At the bar, giants turned to look at us. Big Boy raised his fist as if offering me a microphone. Clasped in his fingers like G.I. Joe figures were Samirah and Hearthstone.

  Elvis Has Left the Bowling Bag

  “WE CLAIM guest rights!” I yelled. “Utgard-Loki, let our friends go!”

  I thought that was pretty brave of me, considering we were facing a heavily armed, badly-dressed Statue of Liberty convention.

  The assembled giants laughed.

  At the bar, one yelled, “What did you say? Speak up!”

  “I said—”

  The bartender turned “1999” back on and drowned me out. The giants howled with glee.

  I frowned at Blitzen. “You told me Taylor Swift’s songs were dwarf music…does this mean that Prince was a giant?”

  “Eh?” Blitzen kept his eyes locked on Hearthstone, who was still trapped and struggling in Utgard-Loki’s fist. “No, kid. This just means that giants have good taste in music. You think Jack could cut our friends out of the giant’s hand?”

  “Before Utgard-Loki crushes them? Unlikely.”

  Alex wrapped her garrote around her hand, though I didn’t see what good it would do unless she intended to give the giants a good flossing. “What’s the plan?”

  “I’m working on it.”

  Finally, Utgard-Loki made a cut it gesture with his finger across his throat. (Not my favorite gesture.) The music shut off again. The giants settled down.

  “Magnus Chase, we’ve been expecting you!” Utgard-Loki grinned. “As for your friends, they’re not captives. I was merely lifting them up so they could see that you’ve arrived! I’m sure they are delighted!”

  Sam did not look delighted. She twisted her shoulders, trying to break free. Her expression suggested she wanted to kill everyone wearing a bowling shirt and perhaps several people who were not.

  As for Hearth, I knew how much he hated having his hands pinned down. He couldn’t communicate, couldn’t do magic. The cold fury in his eyes reminded me of his father, Mr. Alderman, and that was not a similarity I enjoyed seeing.

  “Put them down now,” I said, “if they’re really not captives.”

  “As you wish!” Utgard-Loki set Sam and Hearth on the table, where they stood about as tall as the giant’s mead cup. “We’ve made them quite comfortable while we waited for you to arrive. Tiny mentioned that you would bring his bowling bag no later than this morning. I was beginning to think you wouldn’t make it!”

  The way he phrased that made it seem like this was a hostage exchange. A cold heavy feeling settled in my gut. I wondered what would’ve happened to Sam and Hearth if we’d failed to show up with the bag. We’d kept them waiting, trapped here for twenty-four hours, probably wondering if we were even still alive.

  “We’ve got the bag!” I said. “No worries.”

  I nudged Blitzen.

  “Right!” Blitz stepped forward and raised his creation. “Behold Emptyleather, soon to be famous among bowling bags, completed by Blitzen of Freya! And Jack helped!”

  Our old friend Tiny muscled his way through the crowd. Mead stains speckled his gray shirt. His grizzled man bun had unraveled. Just like he’d warned us, compared to the other giants in the room, he actually did look tiny.

  “What’d you do to my bag?” he cried. “Did you wash it on regular cycle? It’s minuscule!”

  “Like you!” another giant catcalled.

  “Shut up, Hugo!” Tiny yelled.

  “Not to fear!” Blitzen promised, his voice demonstrating what fear sounded like. “I can return the bag to its normal size! But first, I want assurances from your king that we have guest rights—the three of us, and our two friends on the table.”

  Utgard-Loki chuckled. “Well, Tiny, it seems like they did what you asked. They brought your bag.”

  Tiny gestured helplessly to his new extra-small carry case. “But…”

  “Tiny…” the king said, his tone hardening.

  Tiny glared at us. He did not look quite so easygoing now.

  “Yes,” he said through gritted teeth. “They have kept their part of their bargain. I vouch for them…in a very, very small way.”

  “There you have it!” Utgard-Loki beamed. “You are all officially guests in my bowling alley!” He plucked up Sam and Hearth and set them on the floor. Thankfully, the Skofnung Sword and Stone were still strapped across Sam’s back.

  The king turned to address the assembled giants. “My friends, if we entertain these guests in our present size, we’ll get eye-strain trying to avoid stepping on them. We’ll have to serve them food with tweezers and fill their teeny drinking glasses with eyedroppers. That’s no fun! Let’s take this party down a few notches, eh?”

  The giants grumbled and muttered, but nobody seemed anxious to contradict the king. Utgard-Loki snapped his fingers. The room spun. My stomach churned from disorientation.

  The bowling alley shrank from colossal to merely huge. The giants now averaged about seven feet tall. I could look at them without craning my neck or peering up their cavernous nostrils.

  Samirah and Hearthstone hurried over to join us.

  You okay? Blitz signed to Hearth.

  Where were you? Hearth asked.

  Samirah gave me a pained I-will-kill-you-later smile. “I thought you were dead. Also, what happened to your hair?”

  “Long story,” I told her.

  “Yeah, sorry we’re late,” Alex said. Her apology surprised me more than anything so far today. “What did we miss?”

  Sam stared at her like, If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.

  I couldn’t imagine that her story was any weirder than ours, but before we could compare notes, Tiny stumbled toward Blitzen. The giant grabbed his bowling bag, which was now just about the right size for him.

  He zipped it open and breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness! Elvis!”

  He pulled out his bowling ball and examined it for damage. Airbrushed across the surface was a 1970s Elvis Presley in his white rhinestone jumpsuit. “Oh, did they hurt you, baby?” Tiny kissed the ball and hugged it to his chest. He scowled at Blitzen. “You’re lucky you didn’t harm Elvis, little dwarf.”

  “I have no interest in harming Elvis.” Blitzen swiped the now-empty bag out of Tiny’s hands. “But I’m keeping Emptyleather for insurance! You can have it back when we leave here unharmed. If you try anything, I should warn you, the bag only changes sizes with the word of command, and you’ll never guess it on your own!”

  “What?” Tiny shrieked. “Is it Presley?”

  “No.”

  “Is it Graceland?”

  “No.”

  “Friends, friends!” Utgard-Loki walked toward us with his arms extended. “This is tournament day! We have special guests! Let’s not quibble. Let us feast and compete! Start the music! Drinks for everyone!”

  “Little Red Corvette” blasted over the speakers. Most of the giants dispersed, going back to their mead-swilling or their bowling or their Ms. Not-Quite-So-Large Pac-Man. Some of the jotuns—especially those in gray shirts like Tiny’s—looked like they wanted to kill us, guest rights or no, but I took comfort in knowing we had a doomsday option. If worse came to worst, we could always shout password and destroy the entire building in an avalanche of fine dwarven-embroidered leather.

  Utgard-Loki patted Tiny on the back. “That’s right! Go have a Jotun Juice!”

  Tiny cradled Elvis and headed for the bar, glowering at us over his shoulder.

  “Utgard-Loki,” I said, “we need information—”

  “Not now, you idiot.” He maintained his grin, but his tone was a desperate snarl. “Look happy. Look like we’re just joking around.”

  “What?”

  “Good one!” shouted the giant king. “Ha, ha, ha!”

/>   My friends tried to get into the act. “Yeah, ha, ha!” Sam said. Blitzen let out a good dwarvish belly laugh. “Hilarious!” Alex volunteered.

  H-A, H-A, Hearth signed.

  Utgard-Loki kept smiling at me, but his eyes were as sharp as daggers. “No giant here wants to help you except me,” he said under his breath. “If you don’t prove yourself worthy, you’ll never leave this bowling alley alive.”

  “What?” Blitzen hissed. “You promised guest rights. You’re the king!”

  “And I’ve used every last bit of my influence and credibility trying to help you! Otherwise you wouldn’t have made it this far alive!”

  “Help us?” I said. “By killing our goat?”

  “And infiltrating Valhalla?” Sam added. “And possessing an innocent flight instructor?”

  “All to dissuade you bungling mortals from falling into Loki’s trap. Which, so far, you’ve managed to do anyway.” He turned his head and shouted for the onlookers, “Well boasted, little mortal! But you will never beat the giants!”

  He lowered his voice again. “Not everyone here thinks Loki needs to be stopped. I’ll tell you what you need to know to thwart him, but you’ll have to play along. If you don’t prove your worth and earn the respect of my followers, I’ll be ousted and one of these morons will become the new king. Then we’re all dead.”

  Alex scanned the crowd as if trying to decide which moron to garrote first. “Look, Your Feathery Majesty, you could’ve just sent us this important information in a text or a phone call days ago. Why all the cloak-and-dagger and the inflatable Godzilla?”

  Utgard-Loki wrinkled his nose at her. “I could not text you, child of Loki, for several reasons. First and foremost, because your father has ways of finding things out. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Alex’s face mottled red, but she said nothing.

  “Now,” the king continued, “join the feast. I’ll show you to your table.”

  “And after that?” I asked. “How do we prove our worth?”

  Utgard-Loki’s eyes gleamed in a way I definitely didn’t like. “You entertain us with impressive feats. You best us in competition. Or you die trying.”

  Little Billy Totally Deserved It

  THE BOWLING alley breakfast of champions: peanuts, lukewarm hot dogs, and stale corn chips drizzled in orange goop that bore no resemblance to cheese. The mead was flat and tasted of Sweet’N Low. On the bright side, the portions were giant-size. I hadn’t eaten much since yesterday except for leftover falafel and chocolate. I courageously managed to eat.

  At each bowling lane, giants sat grouped by team—throwing food, cracking jokes, and boasting about their pin-destroying prowess.

  Sam, Hearthstone, Blitz, Alex, and I sat together on a wraparound plastic bench, picking through our food for the most edible bits and nervously surveying the crowd.

  Utgard-Loki had insisted we trade our regular footwear for bowling shoes—all of which were too big and Day-Glo orange and pink. When Blitzen saw his, I thought he was going to go into anaphylactic shock. Alex, however, seemed to like them. At least we didn’t have to wear matching team shirts.

  While we ate, we told Sam and Hearth what had happened to us in the woods.

  Sam shook her head in disgust. “Magnus, you always get the easy stuff.”

  I almost choked on a peanut. “Easy?”

  “Hearth and I have been here for a day trying to stay alive. We’ve almost died six times.”

  Hearth held up seven fingers.

  “Oh, right,” Sam said. “The thing with the toilets.”

  Blitzen tucked his feet under the bench, no doubt to avoid looking at his hideous shoes. “Didn’t the giants give you guest rights?”

  “That was the first thing we asked for,” Sam said. “But these mountain jotuns…they’ll try to twist your words and kill you with kindness.”

  “Like those sisters we met in January,” I said. “The ones who offered to raise our seat to table height and then tried to smash us against the ceiling in it.”

  Sam nodded. “Yesterday I asked for a drink? The bartender dropped me in a full beer mug. First, I’m Muslim. I don’t drink alcohol. Second, the sides were so slippery I couldn’t get out. If Hearth hadn’t cracked the glass with a rune…”

  Had to watch everything we said, Hearth signed. I asked for a place to sleep…He shuddered. Almost mangled to death in ball-return machine.

  Sam translated for Alex’s sake.

  “Ouch.” Alex winced. “No wonder you guys look so bad. No offense.”

  “That’s not the worst of it,” Sam said. “Trying to do my prayers with Hearthstone keeping guard? Impossible. And the giants kept challenging us to rigged feats of skill.”

  Illusions, Hearthstone signed, circling his palms at us simultaneously to represent two shifting images. Nothing here is what it seems.

  “Yep.” Blitz nodded gravely. “Same with Tiny and his bowling bag. Utgard-Loki and his people are infamous for their powers of illusion.”

  I glanced around, wondering how big the giants actually were and what they looked like without magic. Maybe the hideous bowling outfits were mirages meant to disorient us. “So how do you know what’s an illusion and what’s real?”

  “Most importantly…” Alex held up a tortilla chip soggy with orange goo. “Can I pretend this is really a burrito from Anna’s Taqueria?”

  “We have to stay sharp,” Sam warned. “Last night, after we phrased the request very carefully, they finally gave us sleeping bags, but we had to ‘prove our strength’ by spreading them out ourselves. We tried for about an hour. The bags wouldn’t budge. Utgard-Loki finally admitted they were made from curled shavings of titanium. The giants had a good laugh about that.”

  I shook my head. “How is that even funny?”

  Hearth signed: Tell about the cat.

  “Ugh,” Sam agreed. “Then there was the cat. As a ‘favor’ before we got dinner, we were supposed to pick up Utgard-Loki’s cat and put it outside.”

  I glanced around, but I saw no cat.

  “It’s around here somewhere,” Sam assured me. “Except we couldn’t move it, because the cat was actually a thirteen-thousand-pound African bush elephant. We weren’t even aware until the giants told us later—after we’d tried for hours and missed dinner. They love to humiliate their guests by making them feel weak and puny.”

  “It’s working,” Blitz muttered.

  I imagined trying to pick up an elephant and not realizing it was an elephant. That was usually the sort of thing I would notice.

  “How do we combat something like that?” I asked. “We’re supposed to impress them in a bunch of contests? Sorry, there’s not much I can do with titanium sleeping bags and African bush elephants.”

  Sam leaned across the table. “Whatever you think is going on, just remember it’s a ruse. Think outside the box. Do something unexpected. Break the rules.”

  “Oh,” Alex said. “You mean like every other day in my life.”

  “Then your experience should come in handy,” Sam said. “Also, that stuff Utgard-Loki told us about trying to help? I don’t believe a word—”

  “Hello, guests!”

  For a big guy in a feather bowling shirt, the giant king was stealthy. Utgard-Loki leaned over the railing behind our table, peering down at us, a corn dog in his hand. “We only have a minute or so. Then the games must begin.”

  “The games,” Sam said. “Like the ones we’ve been playing since yesterday?”

  Utgard-Loki’s eyes matched his eagle-feather shirt. He had that bird-of-prey gaze, like he was about to swoop down and grab a rodent—or perhaps a small human—for dinner. “Now, Samirah, you have to understand. My liege men are already upset that I invited you here. You must be good sports. Provide entertainment, give us a great show, prove that you’re worthy. Don’t expect any kindness from me during the contests. My men will turn on me if I show any preferential treatment.”

  “So you’re not much of a king, then
,” I noted.

  Utgard-Loki sneered. For the benefit of his followers, he shouted, “Is that all you can you eat, puny mortals? We have toddlers who can consume more nachos!” He pointed his corn-dog royal scepter at me and lowered his voice. “You know very little of leading, Magnus Chase. Kingship requires the right combination of iron and mead, fear and generosity. As great as I am at wielding magic, I cannot simply force my will upon my giants. They will always outnumber me. I must earn their respect every day. Now you must as well.”

  Alex leaned away from the king. “If it’s so dangerous for you, why would you help us get back Mjolnir?”

  “I care nothing about Thor’s hammer one way or the other! The Aesir have always relied too much on the fear it inspires. It is a mighty weapon, yes, but when Ragnarok comes, Thor will be outnumbered. The gods will die anyway. The hammer is a bluff, an illusion of overwhelming force. And believe a master sorcerer”—the giant grinned—“even the best illusions have their limits. What I care about is not the hammer. I want to stop Loki’s plan.”

  Blitzen scratched his beard. “To marry Sam and Thrym? You fear that alliance?”

  Utgard-Loki went into acting mode again, shouting for his audience: “Bah! These are the mightiest corn dogs in Jotunheim! None are their equal!” He took a savage bite, then threw the empty stick over his shoulder. “Blitzen, son of Freya, use your head. Of course I fear an alliance. That ugly toad Thrym and his sister, Thrynga, would love to lead Jotunheim into war. With a marriage alliance to Loki and the hammer of Thor in his possession, Thrym would become Thane of Thanes.”

  Sam’s eyes narrowed. “‘With Thor’s hammer in his possession’? You mean, even if I went through with this wedding—which I won’t—Thrym wouldn’t give back Mjolnir?”

  “Oh, wedding gifts will be exchanged! But perhaps not in the way you imagine.” Utgard-Loki reached over and flicked the pommel of the Skofnung Sword, still slung across Sam’s back. “Come, come, my friends. Before I can give you a solution, you must understand the problem. Do you truly not see Loki’s goal?”

  From across the room, one of the giants bellowed, “Our king, what of the contests? Why are you flirting with those mortals?”