by Rick Riordan
“I’m not entirely sure,” Utgard-Loki admitted. “Nor am I sure how Loki would get the sword to his true location or use it. But I’ve heard Loki’s bonds are quite hard to break, being iron-hardened guts—strong, sticky, and corrosive. They will dull any sword, even the sharpest. You could perhaps cut one bond with Sumarbrander, but after that the blade would be useless.”
Jack’s pendant buzzed unhappily.
Calm down, buddy, I thought. Nobody’s going to make you cut iron-hardened guts.
“Same with Skofnung…” Blitzen cursed. “Of course! The blade has a magical whetstone. It can be sharpened as many times as necessary. That’s why Loki needed both sword and stone.”
The giant king slow-clapped. “Ah, with only a little help, you put it together. Well done!”
Blitz and Hearth glanced at each other like, Now that we’ve put it together, can we please take it apart again?
“So we find another way to get the hammer,” I said.
The giant snickered. “Good luck. It’s buried somewhere eight miles under the earth, where even Thor can’t reach it. The only way to retrieve it is to convince Thrym to do so.”
Alex crossed her arms. “I’ve heard a lot of bad news from you, giant. I still haven’t heard anything I would call helpful.”
“Knowledge is always helpful!” Utgard-Loki said. “But as I see it, there are two options going forward to thwart Loki. First option: I kill you all and take the Skofnung Sword, thus preventing it from falling into Loki’s hands.”
Sam’s hand crept to her ax. “I’m not liking option one.”
The giant shrugged. “Well, it’s simple, effective, and relatively foolproof. It doesn’t get you the hammer back, but as I said, I don’t care about that. My main concern is keeping Loki in captivity. If he gets free, he starts Ragnarok right now, and I, for one, am not ready. We have ladies’ night at the bowling alley on Friday. Doomsday would completely mess that up.”
“If you wanted to kill us,” I said, “you could’ve done it already.”
Utgard-Loki grinned. “I know! I’ve been on pins and needles! But, my tiny friends, there’s a riskier option with a higher payoff. I was waiting to see if you were capable of pulling it off. After your performance in the contests, I think you are.”
“All those challenges,” Sam said. “You were testing us to see whether or not we were worth keeping alive?”
Hearthstone made a few hand signs I decided not to translate, though the meaning seemed clear enough to Utgard-Loki.
“Now, now, pinball wizard,” the giant said. “No need to get testy. If I let you go, and if you can beat Loki at his own game, then I get the same rewards, plus the satisfaction of knowing the upstart god of mischief has been humiliated with my help. As I may have mentioned, we mountain giants love humiliating our enemies.”
“And for engineering that humiliation,” Alex said, “you gain respect from your followers.”
Utgard-Loki bowed modestly. “Maybe in the process you get Thor’s hammer back. Maybe you don’t. I don’t really care. In my opinion, Thor’s hammer is nothing but an Asgardian boondoggle, and you can tell Thor I said so.”
“I wouldn’t,” I said, “even if I knew what that meant.”
“Make me proud!” Utgard-Loki said. “Find a way to change the rules of Loki’s game, the way you did today at our feast. Surely you can come up with a plan.”
“That’s option two?” Alex demanded. “‘Do it yourself’? That’s the extent of your help?”
Utgard-Loki clasped his hands to his chest. “I’m hurt. I’ve given you a lot! Besides, our five minutes is up.”
A BOOM reverberated through the woods—the sound of barroom doors being thrown open—followed by the roar of infuriated giants.
“Hurry along now, little ones!” Utgard-Loki urged. “Go find Thor and tell him what you’ve learned. If my liege men catch you…well, I’m afraid they are big fans of option one!”
We Are Honored with Runes and Coupons
I’D BEEN CHASED by Valkyries. I’d been chased by elves with firearms. I’d been chased by dwarves with a tank. Now, lucky me, I got to be chased by giants with giant bowling balls.
One of these days, I would love to exit a world without being pursued by an angry mob.
“Run!” Blitz yelled, like this idea hadn’t occurred to us.
The five of us raced through the woods, jumping over fallen trees and tangled roots. Behind us, the giants grew with every step. One moment they were twelve feet tall. The next they were twenty feet tall.
I felt like I was being pursued by a tidal wave. Their shadows overtook us, and I realized there was no hope.
Blitzen bought us a few seconds. With a curse, he tossed the bag Emptyleather behind us and yelled, “Password!” The mob of giants abruptly found their path blocked by the appearance of Mount Bowling Bag, but they quickly grew tall enough to step right over it. Soon we would be trampled. Even Jack couldn’t help against so many.
Hearthstone sprinted ahead, frantically gesturing Come on! He pointed to a tree with slender branches, clusters of red berries just ripening in their green foliage. The ground beneath was strewn with white flower petals. The tree definitely stood out among the huge pines of Jotunheim, but I didn’t understand why Hearth was so anxious to die in that particular location.
Then the trunk of the tree opened like a door. A lady stepped out and called, “Here, my heroes!”
She had fine elfish features and long hair of red gold, rich and warm and lustrous. Her orange-red dress was clasped at the shoulder with a green-and-silver brooch.
My first thought: It’s a trap. My experience with Yggdrasil had given me a healthy fear of jumping through doorways in trees. Second thought: The lady looked like one of the dryad tree spirits my cousin Annabeth had described, though I didn’t know what one would be doing in Jotunheim.
Sam didn’t hesitate. She sprinted after Hearthstone as the red-gold woman stretched out her hand and cried, “Hurry, hurry!”
That also seemed like pretty obvious advice to me.
The sky above turned midnight black. I glanced up and saw the yacht-size sole of a giant’s bowling shoe ready to stomp us flat. The red-gold lady pulled Hearth inside the tree. Sam leaped through next, followed by Alex. Blitz was struggling with his shorter stride, so I grabbed him and jumped. Just as the giant’s boot came down, the world was snuffed out in absolute, silent darkness.
I blinked. I seemed to be not dead. Blitzen was struggling to get out from under my arm, so I deduced he wasn’t dead either.
Suddenly, I was blinded by a dazzling light. Blitz grunted in alarm. I got him to his feet as he scrambled to put on his pith helmet. Only when he was safely covered up did I scan our surroundings.
We stood in a lavish room that was definitely not a bowling alley. Above us, a nine-sided glass pyramid let in the daylight. Floor-to-ceiling windows surrounded the chamber, giving us a penthouse-level view over the rooftops of Asgard. In the distance, I could make out Valhalla’s main dome. Hammered from a hundred thousand gold shields, it looked like the shell of the world’s fanciest armadillo.
The chamber we were in seemed to be an interior atrium. Ringing the circumference were nine trees, each like the one we’d stepped through in Jotunheim. In the center, in front of a raised dais, a fire crackled cheerfully and smokelessly in the hearth. And on the dais was a chair elaborately carved from white wood.
The woman with the red-gold hair climbed the steps and seated herself on the throne.
Like her hair, everything about her was graceful, flowing, and bright. The movement of her dress reminded me of a field of red poppies swaying in a warm summer breeze.
“Welcome, heroes,” said the goddess. (Oh, yeah. SPOILER ALERT. By this point, I was pretty sure she was a goddess.)
Hearthstone rushed forward. He knelt at the foot of the throne. I hadn’t seen him so awestruck since…well, ever—not even when he was facing Odin himself.
He finger-sp
elled: S-I-F.
“Yes, my dear Hearthstone,” said the goddess. “I am Sif.”
Blitz scrambled to Hearth’s side and also knelt. I wasn’t much of a kneeler, but I gave the lady a bow and managed not to fall over in the process. Alex and Sam just stood there looking mildly disgruntled.
“My lady,” Sam said with obvious reluctance, “why have you brought us to Asgard?”
Sif wrinkled her delicate nose. “Samirah al-Abbas, the Valkyrie. And this one is Alex Fierro, the…new einherji.” Even Officers Sunspot and Wildflower would have approved of her look of distaste. “I saved your lives. Is that not cause to be grateful?”
Blitz cleared his throat. “My lady, Sam just meant—”
“I can speak for myself,” Sam said. “Yes, I appreciate the rescue, but it was awfully convenient timing. Have you been watching us?”
The goddess’s eyes flashed like coins underwater. “Of course I have been watching you, Samirah. But obviously I couldn’t retrieve you until you had the information to help my husband.”
I looked around. “Your husband…is Thor?”
I couldn’t imagine the thunder god living in a place so clean and pretty, with an unbroken glass ceiling and windows. Sif seemed so refined, so graceful, so unlikely to fart or belch in public.
“Yes, Magnus Chase.” Sif spread her arms. “Welcome to our home, Bilskirnir—the renowned palace Bright Crack!”
All around us, a heavenly chorus sang Ahhhhhhhh! then shut off as abruptly as it had begun.
Blitzen helped Hearthstone to his feet. I didn’t know godly etiquette, but I guessed once the heavenly chorus sounded, you were allowed to get up.
“The largest mansion in Asgard!” Blitzen marveled. “I have heard stories of this place. And such a fine name, Bilskirnir!”
Another chorus rang out. Ahhhhhhhh!
“Bright Crack?” Alex didn’t even wait for the angels to finish before asking, “Do you live next door to Plumber’s Crack?”
Sif frowned. “I do not like this one. I may send it back to Jotunheim.”
“Call me it again,” Alex snarled. “Just try.”
I put my arm in front of her like a guardrail, though I knew I was risking amputation by clay-cutter. “Um, Sif, so maybe you could tell us why we’re here?”
Sif’s eyes settled on me. “Yes, of course, son of Frey. I’ve always liked Frey. He’s quite handsome.” She fluffed her hair. Somehow I got the feeling that by handsome Sif meant likely to make my husband jealous.
“As I said,” she continued, “I am Thor’s wife. That’s all most people know about me, sadly, but I am also a goddess of the earth. It was a simple matter for me to track your movements across the Nine Worlds whenever you passed through a forest, or tread on living grass or moss.”
“Moss?” I said.
“Yes, my dear. There is even a moss called Sif’s hair, named after my luxurious golden locks.”
She looked smug, though I wasn’t sure I would be so excited about having a moss named after me.
Hearth pointed at the trees around the courtyard and signed, r-o-w-a-n.
Sif brightened. “You know much, Hearthstone! The rowan is indeed my sacred tree. I can pass from one to another across the Nine Worlds, which is how I brought you to my palace. The rowan is the source of so many blessings. Did you know my son Uller made the first bow and the first skis from rowan wood? I was so proud.”
“Oh, yeah.” I recalled a conversation I’d once had with a goat in Jotunheim. (It’s depressing I can even use that sentence.) “Otis mentioned something about Uller. I didn’t know he was Thor’s son.”
Sif put a finger to her lips. “Actually, Uller is my son by my first husband. Thor’s a little sensitive about that.” This fact seemed to please her. “But speaking of rowan trees, I have a gift for our elfish sorcerer!”
From the sleeves of her elegant dress, she brought out a leather pouch.
Hearth almost fell over. He made some wild hand gestures that didn’t really mean anything, but seemed to convey the idea GASP!
Blitzen grabbed his arm to steady him. “Is—is that a bag of runes, milady?”
Sif smiled. “That’s correct, my well-dressed dwarven friend. Runes written on wood carry a very different power than runes written on stone. They are full of life, full of suppleness. Their magic is softer and more malleable. And rowan is the best wood for runes.”
She beckoned Hearth forward. She pressed the leather pouch into his trembling hands.
“You will need these in the struggle to come,” she told him. “But be warned—one rune is missing, just as with your other set. When any letter is absent, the entire language of magic is weakened. Someday you will have to reclaim that symbol to reach your full potential. When you do, come see me again.”
I remembered the inheritance rune Hearthstone had left behind on his brother’s cairn. If Sif could jump through trees and telepathically communicate with moss, I didn’t understand why she couldn’t just hand Hearthstone a new othala. Then again, I wasn’t a graduate of Rune Magic with the All-Father: A Weekend Seminar.
Hearthstone bowed his head in gratitude. He stepped away from the dais, cradling his new pouch o’ power like it was a swaddled baby.
Sam shifted, gripping her ax. She eyed Sif as if the goddess might be Little Billy in disguise. “Lady Sif, that’s very kind. But you were going to tell us why you brought us here?”
“To help my husband!” Sif said. “I assume you now have the information necessary to find and retrieve his hammer?”
I glanced at my friends, wondering if anyone had a diplomatic way of saying sort of, kind of, not really.
Sif sighed with the slightest hint of disdain. “Oh, yes, I see. First you want to discuss the matter of payment.”
“Um,” I said, “that wasn’t really—”
“Just a moment.” Sif ran her fingers through her long hair like she was working a loom. Red-yellow strands fell into her lap and began weaving themselves into some sort of shape, like a 3-D printer spitting out solid gold.
I turned to Sam and whispered, “Is she like Rapunzel?”
Sam arched her eyebrow. “Where do you think that fairy tale came from?”
In moments, with no visible loss of integrity to Sif’s hairdo, the goddess was holding a small golden trophy. She held it up proudly. “You’ll each get one of these!”
At the top of the trophy was a tiny golden replica of the hammer Mjolnir. On the pedestal at the bottom was engraved: AWARD OF VALOR FOR RETRIEVING THOR’S HAMMER. And in smaller letters I had to squint to read: BEARER IS ENTITLED TO ONE FREE ENTRÉE WITH PURCHASE OF AN ENTRÉE OF EQUAL VALUE AT PARTICIPATING ASGARD RESTAURANTS.
Blitzen made a squeak sound. “That’s amazing! Such workmanship! How…?”
Sif smiled, obviously pleased. “Well, since my original hair was replaced with solid-gold magical hair after that horrible trick Loki played on me”—her smile soured as she glanced at Alex and Sam—“one benefit is that I can weave my extra hair into any number of solid-gold items. I am responsible for paying the house staff, including heroes such as yourselves, with tokens like this. Thor is so sweet. He appreciates my abilities so much he calls me his trophy wife.”
I blinked. “Wow.”
“I know!” Sif actually blushed. “At any rate, when your job is done, you’ll each get a trophy.”
Blitzen reached longingly for the sample. “A free entrée at—at any participating restaurant?” I was afraid he might weep for joy.
“Yes, dear,” said the goddess. “Now, how do you plan to retrieve the hammer?”
Alex coughed. “Um, actually—”
“Never mind, don’t tell me!” Sif raised her hand like she wanted to block out Alex’s face. “I prefer to leave details to the help.”
“The help,” Alex said.
“Yes. Now, your first task will be tricky. Whatever news you have, you will need to deliver it to my husband. The elevator is just there. You’ll find him in his—wh
at does he call it?—his man cave. Just be warned, he has been in a very bad mood.”
Sam drummed her fingers on the head of her ax. “I don’t suppose you could just give him a message for us?”
Sif’s smile hardened. “Why, no, I couldn’t. Now run along. And try not to send Thor into a murderous rage. I don’t have time to hire another group of heroes.”
Pigtails Have Never Looked So Frightening
“SIF SUCKS,” Alex muttered as soon as the elevator doors closed.
“Maybe this isn’t the time to say that,” I suggested, “when we’re in her elevator.”
“If the legends are true,” Blitz added, “this mansion has over six hundred floors. I’d rather not fall all the way to the basement.”
“Whatever,” Alex grumbled. “Also, what kind of name is Bright Crack?”
A two-second chorus of heavenly bliss sounded from the overhead speakers.
“It’s a kenning!” Blitzen said. “You know, like Blood River for the Skofnung Sword guy. Bright Crack—”
Ahhhhhhhh!
“—is just a poetic way of saying lightning, since Thor’s the thunder god and all.”
“Hmpf,” said Alex. “There is nothing poetic about Bright Crack.”
Ahhhhhhhh!
Since getting his new rune bag, Hearthstone had been even more withdrawn than usual. He leaned in the corner of the elevator, tugging at the string on the leather pouch. I tried to get his attention, to ask if he was okay, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes.
As for Sam, she kept running her fingertips down the edge of her ax as if she anticipated using it soon.
“You don’t like Sif, either,” I noted.
Sam shrugged. “Why should I? She’s a vain goddess. I don’t often agree with my father’s pranks, but cutting off Sif’s original golden hair—that I understood. He was making a point. She cares about her appearance above everything else. The ability to weave things with her new precious-metal hair, the whole thing about her being a trophy wife? I’m sure my dad planned that, too. It’s his idea of a joke. Sif and Thor are just too dense to pick up on it.”