The Ship of the Dead by Rick Riordan

SAM LUNGED. I guess she was the least surprised that Loki would pull a sleazeball move like refusing my challenge.

Before her spear could hit her father’s chest, a loud voice roared, “STOP!”

Sam stopped.

My mind was still fuzzy. For a second, I thought Loki had shouted the order, and Sam had been forced to obey. All Sam’s training and practice, her fasting and confidence, had been for nothing.

Then I realized Loki hadn’t given the order at all. In fact, he looked quite annoyed. Sam had stopped of her own free will. Crowds of draugr and giants parted as Captain Hrym limped toward us. His ax was missing. His fancy rib-cage shield was dented with an impression that might have been made by a very large duck’s bill.

His ancient face wasn’t any prettier up close. Wisps of icicle-white beard clung to his chin. His pale blue eyes gleamed deep in their sockets like they were melting their way into his brain. His leathery mouth made it difficult to tell if he was glowering at us or about to spit out a watermelon seed.

And the captain’s smell: yeesh. Hrym’s moldy white furs made me nostalgic for the regular “old man” odors of Uncle Randolph’s closet.

“Who called for a challenge?” Hrym boomed.

“I did,” I said. “A flyting against Loki, unless he is too scared to face me.”

The crowd murmured, “Ooooohhhhh.”

Loki snarled. “Oh, please. You can’t bait me, Magnus Chase. Hrym, we don’t have time for this. The ice has melted. The way is clear. Smash these trespassers and let’s sail!”

“Now wait a minute!” Hrym said. “This is my ship! I am captain!”

Loki sighed. He took off his admiral’s hat and punched the inside, obviously trying to control his temper.

“My dear friend.” He smiled up at the captain. “We’ve been through this. We share command of Naglfar.”

“Your troops,” Hrym said. “My ship. And when we are in disagreement, all ties must be broken by Surt.”

“Surt?”I gulped down another mouthful of blood. I wasn’t thrilled to hear the name of my least favorite fire giant—the dude who’d blasted a hole in my chest and knocked my flaming corpse off the Longfellow Bridge. “Is, uh, Surt here, too?”

Loki snorted. “A fire giant in Niflheim? Not likely. You see, my dense young einherji, Surt technically owns this ship—but that’s just because Naglfar is registered in Muspellheim. More favorable tax laws.”

“That’s not the point!” yelled Hrym. “Since Surt is not here, final command is mine!”

“No,” Loki said with strained patience. “Final command is ours. And I say our troops need to get moving!”

“And I say a properly issued challenge must be accepted! Those are standard rules of engagement. Unless you are too cowardly, as the boy claims.”

Loki laughed. “Cowardly? Of facing a child like this? Oh, please! He’s nothing.”

“Well, then,” I said. “Show us your silver tongue—unless that got burned along with the rest of your face.”

“Ooooohhhhh!” said the crowd.

Alex raised an eyebrow at me. Her expression seemed to say That was not as lame as I might have expected.

Loki gazed at the heavens. “Father Farbauti, Mother Laufey, why me? My talents are wasted on this audience!”

Hrym turned to me. “Will you and your allies abide by a cease-fire until the flyting is done?”

Alex responded, “Magnus is our flyter, not our leader. But, yes, we will hold off our attacks.”

“Even the ducks?” Hrym asked gravely.

Alex frowned, as if this was a serious request indeed. “Very well. Even the ducks.”

“Then it is agreed!” Hrym bellowed. “Loki, you have been challenged! By ancient custom, you must accept!”

Loki bit back whatever insult he was going to fling at the captain, probably because Hrym was twice as tall as he was. “Very well. I will insult Magnus Chase into the deck boards and smear his remains under my shoe. Then we will sail! Samirah, dear, hold my hat.”

He tossed his admiral’s cap. Samirah let it fall at her feet.

She smiled at him coldly. “Hold your own hat, Father.”

“Ooooohhhhh!” said the crowd.

Anger rippled across Loki’s face. I could almost see the ideas churning in his head—all the wonderful ways he could torture us to death—but he said nothing.

“A FLYTING!” Hrym announced. “Until it is over, let no more blows be struck! Let no more ducks be thrown! Allow those enemy warriors forward to see the contest!”

With some jostling and cursing, our friends made their way through the crowd. Considering what they’d been through, they looked all right. Halfborn had indeed taken off his shirt. Written across his chest in what looked like giant’s blood was FLÄM with a big heart around it.

T.J.’s rifle muzzle steamed in the cold from so many discharges. His bayonet dripped zombie slime, and his bugle had been twisted into a brass pretzel. (I couldn’t really blame our enemies for doing that.)

Hearthstone looked unharmed but drained, which was understandable after destroying so many enemies with ice and lightning. At his side strode Blitzen, and giants ten times the dwarf’s size scrambled to get out of his way. Some muttered fearfully, calling him Duck Master. Others clawed at their necks, which Blitzen had somehow collared with tight-fitting chain mail neckties. Giants live in fear of neckties.

Mallory Keen was hopping, apparently having re-broken the same foot she’d broken in Norway. But she hopped fiercely, like a true warrior and daughter of Frigg. She sheathed her knives and signed to me, I have the walnut.

That would have made a great code phrase if we were spies talking about a nuclear weapon or something. Unfortunately, she just meant that she had the walnut. Now it was up to me to get Loki into it. I wondered if Mallory could open it and suck him inside without me first beating him in insult combat. Probably not. Nothing so far had been that simple. I doubted easy mode would start now.

Finally, Jack came floating back to me, grumbling, “Peace-of-Freying me? Not cool, señor.” Then he settled next to Samirah to watch the action.

The crowd made a rough circle maybe thirty feet in diameter around Loki and me. Surrounded by giants, I felt like I was at the bottom of a well. In the sudden quiet, I could hear the rumble of snow thunder in the distance, the crackle of melting glacial ice, the quiver and whine of Naglfar’s iron mooring cables straining to break free.

My head throbbed. My busted mouth oozed blood. The hole where my tooth used to be had started to hurt, and I did not feel poetic.

Loki grinned. He spread his arms as if to welcome me with an embrace.

“Well, Magnus, look at you—flyting in the big leagues like a grown-up! Or whatever you call an einherji who can’t age but is learning to be not quite so much of a whiny brat. If you weren’t such a useless piece of fluff, I might be impressed!”

The words stung. I mean they literally stung. They seemed to splash into my ear canals like acid, trickling down my eustachian tubes and into my throat. I tried to reply, but Loki thrust his scarred face into mine.

“Little son of Frey,” he said. “Walking into a battle he can’t win, with no clue, no planning—just a little mead in his stomach! Did you really think that would compensate for your complete lack of skill? I suppose it makes sense. You’re so used to relying on your friends to do all your fighting. Now it’s your turn! Sad! A no-talent loser! Do you even know what you are, Magnus Chase? Should I tell you?”

The crowd laughed and jostled each other. I didn’t dare look at my friends. Shame washed through me.

“Y-you’re one to talk,” I managed. “Are you a giant masquerading as a god, or a god masquerading as a giant? Are you on anybody’s side but your own?”

“Of course not!” Loki laughed. “We’re all free agents on this ship, aren’t we, gang? We look out for ourselves!”

The giants roared. The zombies shifted and hissed, their icy blue auras crackling in their skulls.

“Loki looks out for Loki.” He drummed his fingers on his admiralty medals. “I 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.