by Marvel Press
© 2013 MARVEL
All rights reserved. Published by Marvel Press, an imprint of Disney Book Group. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. For information, address Marvel Press, 1101 Flower Street, Glendale, California 91201.
ISBN 978-1-4231-8869-8
marvelbooks.com
Contents
Prologue
Part One
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Part Two
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Part Three
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Epilogue
Photos from the Film
PROLOGUE
BAM! The black-and-white soccer ball bounced down a flight of stairs, ricocheted off a nearby wall, then rocketed back toward the hard concrete steps. Racing down the staircase to catch up with the ball were two eight-year-old kids, Maddie and Navid. They were having the best time in the world, playing ball where they weren’t supposed to, in an abandoned industrial complex on the south side of London. But nothing in the world could prepare them for what was about to happen next.
The soccer ball rolled back toward the first step, bounced, and then magically—unbelievably—rolled up the wall, defying gravity. Maddie and Navid stopped dead in their tracks. Did that just happen? They looked at each other in amazement. Smiles instantly stretched across their faces as the kids gave chase, more determined than ever to catch up with the magical ball.
As they ran down a long corridor, they passed yet another oddity: a window, with its glass seemingly broken and shattered, but somehow frozen in place. The kids looked closer and their smiles widened. In front of them were hundreds of shards of glass hanging in midair, as if by magic. A dripping sound then caught their attention, but when they searched for the puddle, they were shocked to see that it was above them. The water was dripping in reverse—down from the floor and up to the ceiling. All around them, oddities of unexplainable proportion unfolded before their very eyes. Astounded, the kids kept on chasing their ball.
Finally, Maddie and Navid located their ball in a large room. There, in the center of the room, was their soccer ball. But instead of lying on the floor, it was floating in midair, surrounded by dust and debris. As they entered, they felt a sudden charge of static electricity through the air, and the debris began to swirl. Navid grabbed the ball out of the air. He spun it in his hands for a few seconds, then smiled. Pulling back his arm he threw it as hard as he could. But before it could get farther than a few feet, the soccer ball simply disappeared. A moment later, the ball burst through a skylight, breaking the glass. The young children shielded their faces from the falling debris, but the shards of the skylight slowed and froze, like the window. Peeking through her fingers, Maddie gasped in delight and then belted out with laughter! Soon both kids were laughing until Maddie, eyes widened, pointed to Navid, as the boy’s hair began to stand up on end. But the best part was yet to come. The children heard cranking and clinging coming from behind them. Racing to another larger, half-open room, they saw an old cement truck. But this cement truck was floating inches above the ground and slowly starting to rotate. Navid raced over to the truck and stopped inches from it, looking up at the massive piece of spinning, metal machinery. Then, he gently laid his fingers on the metal bumper and gave it a tiny push. The truck flew back and started to spin faster. Navid smiled a mischievous, happy grin at Maddie.
This was the start of something big.…
CHAPTER ONE
IN THE FAR reaches of space, light-years from Earth and the Milky Way galaxy, a dark planet rotated in silence, illuminated only by the sparkling stars that surrounded it. This was the planet Svartalfheim: once the home to a race of ancient Dark Elves, it was now a burned out, darkened husk of a world, barely even inhabitable. But that would soon change.…
As if by magic, or perhaps science, the stars around this desolate world began to warp and ripple as a large, ominous form emerged from the never-ending blackness of space. The stars gave light to this flying monstrosity and revealed its true form: a massive spacecraft, seemingly lifeless and adrift. But the closer it got to Svartalfheim, the more the ship began to come to life.
Ominous, black energy began to glow from the center of the ship, causing it to seem even more frightening and more intimidating than it already was. Inside this ship, which seemed more like a twisted haunted house in space than a high-tech spacecraft, a projection of a star map flickered to life. Inside a dark chamber, a countdown clock ticked toward zero.
Within the chamber, high above the floor, a large, dark figure hung from the ceiling. His arms wide, the elf was held suspended by tubes that were attached to his high-tech environment suit. The countdown ticked and ticked, closer and closer. And then finally it struck. Zero hour…
The Dark Elf’s eyes opened with a start, their black centers a sign of keen determination, infinite sadness, and undiscovered cruelty. This was Malekith, leader of the Dark Elves of Svartalfheim.
Malekith descended to the floor, staggered, then slowly began to detach the support tubes. A strange ooze now flowed from the conduits onto the ground, spreading in every direction. His breathing shallow, the Dark Elf felt the air enter his lungs. Then, upon seeing his battle mask, he picked it up and regarded himself in its pearl-like reflection. Malekith was a horrifying vision: pale, with hairless skin and pointed ears. And his battle mask, with its featureless appearance, only made him more terrifying to behold.
Still holding on to the mask, Malekith slowly made his way to the ship’s massive amphitheater. The Dark Elf peered out at the thousands of elves who were held there in suspended animation. They looked like six-foot, wingless, armored bats, all hanging perfectly still, just waiting for the call back to life, back to battle. But one other elf had already awoken: a large, muscled elf with a mask similar to Malekith’s stood behind his leader. This was Algrim, Malekith’s second in command.
“How many of us remain?” Malekith asked.
“Enough,” replied Algrim, his head bowed slightly toward his master.
“Send out the scouts,” Malekith commanded. “Let us see what has become of this poisoned universe.”
Outside the ship, which was now crackling with more and more dark energy, small scout ships rocketed off in every direction. The Dark Elves had returned.
CHAPTER TWO
BEAUTIFUL golden sunlight shined down through the lush, vibrant forests of Vanaheim. Unlike Svartalfheim, the realm of Vanaheim was much more pleasant an environment. It was home to beautiful lakes and mountains, with vast fields of green spread out as far as the eye could see. But today, it was filled with danger and destruction.
The people of Vanaheim—known throughout the Nine Realms as the Vanir—raced through the forests as fast as they could. They were being chased by the Marauders, a race of space pirates—brutal invaders who were armed to the teeth and out for blood. Their sole purpose in life was to take what was not theirs, and destroy anything—and anyone—that stood in their way.
A frightened Vanir woman ran for her life but stumbled, falling down a riverbank just as a Marauder fired a massive fireball. It streaked above her head, impacting a nearby tree and causing it to burst into flames. As the woman regained her footing, she was confronted by a towering Marauder. He raised his razor-sharp ax, ready to strike, when suddenly a steel mace smashed the villain in the face, knocking him down, and knocking him out.
Standing over the fr
ightened woman was her savior—Hogun the Grim, of the famous Warriors Three. Hogun did not wait for a thank you, nor did he want one. The Marauders were running rampant across his home world, and Hogun was determined to stop them.
As more Vanir ran to safety, Hogun stood his ground—the only barrier between the fierce oncoming Marauders and the peaceful Vanir. The Asgardian warrior gripped his mace tightly and steeled himself, ready for what just might be the last battle of his life. With a skull-shattering roar, the Marauders charged, determined to crush Hogun and the rest of the Vanir people.
The lead Marauder raised his broadsword and swung, but his blade was deflected by another sword—the sword belonging to Fandral the Dashing, the second member of the mighty Warriors Three! Fandral, still handsome as ever despite the battle, rode through the charging Marauders on his white horse, knocking down one intruder after another until he was able to make his way to Hogun, flashing a smile the entire way.
“Do we have a plan?” Fandral asked his fellow Warrior as he flipped the lead Marauder off his horse and tossed his broadsword to one of the Vanir guards.
“We stand and fight!” Hogun the Grim yelled.
Fandral rolled his eyes at his friend’s single-minded determination to fight. Then a loud Boom, Boom, Boom echoed throughout the trees. Fandral, Hogun, and the rest of the Vanir stopped in their tracks and turned their attention toward the deafening noise. It was coming from beyond the woods, and whatever was making the noise was big. Very big. The ground shook and trees fell with each sound as the unseen threat got closer and closer. The Vanir did not follow Hogun’s orders to stay and fight, but instead quickly retreated into the woods. The idea also crossed Fandral’s mind.
“Have you considered ‘turn and run’?” Fandral asked, but Hogun only frowned in response. Then the grim warrior looked up and over the tree line and began to back away as well. Finding a Marauder’s horse without its rider, Hogun swung up into the saddle and galloped away. Fandral was close behind as explosions rang out throughout the woods. There would be time enough to fight later.
The two warriors quickly rode their horses into a clearing where the Marauders were fighting with a few of Asgard’s elite guards, the Einherjar, who had come to help the Vanir. Hogun and Fandral stopped before one of their Asgardian compatriots, the strong and beautiful Lady Sif, who was just as brave and tough as the Warriors Three. Sif was on horseback, locked in furious battle with a dozen or so Marauders. Sif spun her bladed spear high over her head, taking down several of the barbarians, then split the spear in two, forming a magnificent blade for each hand. Sif fought with fierce determination against the horde, but despite her resolve, she was gravely outnumbered. With all her might, she flipped off of her horse and delivered a powerful kick to one of the Marauders, sending him flying back past the third member of the Warriors Three, Volstagg the Voluminous.
“Volstagg—on your left!” Sif cried. Without missing a beat, Volstagg swung his battle-ax at his attacker, striking him down with one fell swoop. And when another Marauder tried to attack him with a club, the voluminous one merely took the hit, then turned, broke the club in two, and backhanded the Marauder, sending him flying through the air. But all of this nonstop battling was beginning to take its toll on the excessively large warrior. Now out of breath, Volstagg made his way to a giant pile of timber where he could take a momentary break.
“What are you doing?” Sif yelled. She couldn’t believe her eyes. Here they were in a heated battle with villains known for decimating anything in their path, and one of the legendary Warriors Three was taking a breather.
“Giving them a moment…to regroup…only fair…” Volstagg said between long, labored breaths. But no sooner did Volstagg stop to catch his breath than another horde of Marauders set their sights on the large warrior. They ran at him with their weapons drawn, but Volstagg merely kicked out the timber, causing it to collapse on and crush the approaching horde.
Volstagg gave himself a congratulatory grin, but it was short-lived, for just as he did, he was slashed across the back by a Marauder. He wasn’t as unstoppable or impenetrable as he thought.
Nearby, Lady Sif wasn’t faring too much better. She was surrounded, and a Marauder from across the battlefield was aiming his crossbow at her head.
Just as the snickering Marauder was about to squeeze the trigger, a huge thunderclap echoed throughout the land, and with a bright, blinding light, the Bifrost—the way in which Asgardians traveled between the realms—fired down from the heavens into the center of the battlefield—and directly on top of the Marauder with the crossbow. Lady Sif raised her arm to shield her eyes from the spectacular blinding light and was just barely able to make out two Einherjar on horseback bursting from the glowing white column and charging into battle. One of the Marauders used this commotion to sneak up behind Volstagg. He raised his sword high above his head, preparing to strike down the warrior, when a whizzing sound echoed from within the Bifrost. As the light died down and the smoke began to clear, the sound intensified. Suddenly, an object rocketed out of the Bifrost, sliced across the battlefield at supersonic speed, and slammed into its target: the Marauder who was about to strike down Volstagg. The Marauder flew through the air and kept on flying. And flying. Volstagg turned, and upon investigation made out the object that had saved his life. It was the most famous weapon in all the Nine Realms. It was Mjolnir.
The powerful hammer, which was forged in the heart of a dying star and used by only he who is worthy, hovered in midair before speeding back across the battlefield to the hand of its wielder—the mighty Thor!
Thor, Prince of Asgard and son of Odin Allfather, emerged from the light of the Bifrost looking battle-worn but still majestic, and the sight of him instantly gave the Warriors Three, the Einherjar, and the Vanir a renewed sense of hope. Now that Thor was here, they were sure to defeat the Marauders. But Lady Sif felt that she didn’t need Thor’s help to win the day.
“Shouldn’t you be battling trolls in Nornheim?” Sif said with a scowl.
“I ran out of trolls,” Thor said with a charming smile. “Heimdall said these Marauders were giving you trouble,” he added.
“I have this completely under control,” Sif retorted.
Thor surveyed the battlefield. “Is that why everything is on fire?”
“You think you can do better?” Sif challenged with a smile.
“It would be a challenge to do worse,” Thor said dryly before being surprise-attacked by two extra-big and extra-tough Marauders. Sif rolled her eyes in response, then joined her friend in battle.
Soon, Thor and Sif were joined by Fandral, Hogun, and Volstagg. As the battle raged on, Thor used Mjolnir to take out multiple Marauders at once. And when one Marauder thought he might be able to seize the hammer by grabbing on to it, the hammer simply pulled the invader through the air, right to Thor’s waiting fist.
Thor, Lady Sif, and the Warriors Three fought bravely against the menacing Marauders, each one helping their fellow Asgardians. When one Marauder shot an arrow at Thor’s head, Sif jumped into the air and raised her shield to block the attack. And when another fired a rocket launcher–like device, Thor valiantly deflected the blast with his mighty hammer, the impact from which knocked them all to the ground—hard.
As the Asgardians got back to their feet, they heard the same Boom, Boom, Boom sound that Fandral and Hogun had heard earlier. Whatever it was that was making that sound was much closer now. And the Marauders were getting ready for it. They parted the battlefield to make way, and the heroes looked up over the tree line and finally saw the cause of the sound.
A giant Kronan stone monster, made entirely of rock and standing fifteen feet tall, loomed before Thor and the Warriors Three. He held a massive metal club and looked down upon the Asgardians with contempt. The monster was about to crush their bones into dust.
“All yours,” Sif said to Thor as she and the Warriors Three began to back away. The Marauders cheered. This was the fight they had been waiti
ng for! Surely nothing could stop their stone man, not even the Mighty Thor. The rock monster smashed his club into the ground and let out a thunderous roar, signaling the start of the battle.
“I accept your surrender,” Thor said, but the monster only raised its club higher, preparing to strike. But Thor was ready. Holding Mjolnir by the strap, Thor began to spin his hammer. It spun faster and faster and faster until it was nothing but a blur and Thor was rocketed off the ground in flight. The monster roared again as Thor, flying with his arm outstretched and all the might of Mjolnir in front of him, launched himself directly at the great beast. There was a deafening CHOOM as the hammer connected with the creature, then a blinding explosion. The Marauders looked up in disbelief and their cheering stopped. Chunks of rock rained from the sky as the monster’s feet stumbled backward, disconnected from its body, which no longer existed. The upper half of the stone man had been completely obliterated by Thor.
The Son of Odin gripped Mjolnir tightly and turned with a scowl toward the rest of the Marauders. Almost in union, the remaining Marauders dropped their weapons and raised their hands in surrender. The battle was over.
“Next time we should just start with the big one,” Fandral said with a smile.
In the aftermath of the battle, the Marauders had all been shackled together and lined up for their trip back to Asgard, and to prison. Escorted by the Einherjar, they made their way over to where Heimdall would open the Bifrost. All the while the Vanir watched, thankful that their realm was now free from danger. The Vanir sighed. Yes, their campground and village had been destroyed and mostly burned down in the fierce battle, but they would rebuild. They were a strong race, and this is what made them a part of the Nine Realms.
Hogun the Grim was talking to a Vanir woman and her child, but broke off his conversation to rejoin Thor. “I am ready,” the warrior said, his mace at his side.