فصل 18

I Need to Learn Many, Many More Cusswords in Sign Language

I HOWLED with rage.

I slashed upward, and the Skofnung Sword flew out of Randolph’s grip, along with—ew, you might want to skip this part—a couple of pink things that looked like fingers.

Randolph stumbled back, cradling his fist against his chest. The Skofnung Sword clanged to the floor.

“Oh.” Blitzen’s eyes widened. The sword had gone straight through his chain mail vest. Blood seeped between his fingers.

He stumbled. Hearthstone caught him and dragged him away from Randolph and Loki.

I wheeled around on Loki. I raised Jack’s blade again and sliced through the god’s smug face, but his form just shimmered like a projection.

“He swings! He misses!” Loki shook his head. “Really, Magnus, we both know you can’t hurt me. I’m not fully here! Besides, fighting isn’t your strong suit. If you need to take out your anger on someone, go ahead and kill Randolph, but do it quickly. We have a lot to talk about, and your dwarf is bleeding out.”

I couldn’t breathe. I felt like someone was pouring pure hate right down my throat. I wanted to cut down my own uncle. I wanted to pull this tomb apart stone by stone. Suddenly I understood Ratatosk, the squirrel who only spoke malice and wanted to destroy the very tree he lived in.

It wasn’t easy, but I pushed down the anger. Saving Blitz was more important than getting revenge.

“Jack,” I said, “watch these meinfretrs. If they try to hurt Sam or take the Skofnung Sword, go into Cuisinart mode.”

“You got it.” Jack spoke in a deeper voice than usual, probably to impress the Skofnung Sword. “I’ll protect the hot lady blade with my life! Oh, and also Sam.”

I ran to Blitzen’s side.

“That’s it!” Loki cheered. “There’s the Magnus Chase I know and love! Always thinking of others. Always the healer!”

I put my hands on Blitzen’s gut, then glanced up at Hearthstone. “You got any runes that might help?”

Hearth shook his head. His own Ratatosk-level hatred smoldered in his eyes. I could see how desperately he wanted to do something, anything, but he’d already used two runes this morning. Any more would probably kill him.

Blitzen coughed. His face turned the color of putty. “I—I’m good, guys. Just need…a minute.”

“Hold on, Blitz.” Again, I summoned the power of Frey. My hands heated like the coils of an electric blanket, sending warmth into every cell of Blitzen’s body. I slowed his circulation. I eased his pain. But the wound itself refused to heal. I felt it fighting me, tearing open tissue and capillaries faster than I could mend them, gnawing at Blitzen with malicious hunger.

I remembered Hearthstone’s prophecy: Blitzen. Bloodshed. Cannot be stopped.

This was my fault. I should have seen it coming. I should’ve insisted that Blitz stay in Mimir’s safe house eating delivery pizza. I should have listened to that stupid Back Bay goat-assassin.

“You’re going to be fine,” I said. “Stay with me.”

Blitz’s eyes were starting to lose focus. “Got…sewing kit in my vest pocket…if that helps.”

I wanted to scream. It’s a good thing Jack was no longer in my hands, because I would’ve pulled a full-on Kylo Ren temper tantrum.

I rose and faced Loki and Randolph. My expression must have been pretty frightening. Randolph backed all the way into a zombie niche, leaving a trail of blood from his wounded hand. I probably could’ve healed that for him, but I wasn’t even tempted.

“Loki, what do you want?” I demanded. “How do I help Blitzen?”

The god spread his arms. “I am so glad you asked. Happily, those two questions have the same answer!”

“The stone,” Blitz gasped. “He wants…the stone.”

“Exactly!” Loki agreed. “You see, Magnus, wounds from the Skofnung Sword never heal. They just keep bleeding forever…or until death, whichever comes first. The only way to close that wound is with the Skofnung Stone. That’s why the two are such an important set.”

Hearthstone launched into a bout of sign language cursing so impressive it would’ve made a beautiful piece of performance art. Even if you didn’t know ASL, his gestures conveyed his anger better than any amount of yelling.

“Dear me,” Loki said. “I haven’t been called some of those names since my last flyting with the Aesir! I’m sorry you feel that way, my elfish friend, but you’re the only one who can get that stone. You know it’s the only solution. You’d better run along home!”

“Home?” My mind moved at the speed of cold syrup. “You mean…Alfheim?”

Blitzen groaned. “Don’t make Hearth go. Not worth it, kid.”

I glared at Uncle Randolph, who was making himself at home in his zombie niche. With his ratty suit and scarred face, his eyes glazed from pain and blood loss, Randolph was already halfway to being undead.

“What is Loki after?” I asked him. “What does any of this have to do with Thor’s hammer?”

He gave me the same desolate expression he’d worn in my dream, when he’d turned to his family on the storm-tossed yacht and said I’ll bring us home. “Magnus, I—I’m so—”

“Sorry?” Loki supplied. “Yes, you’re very sorry, Randolph. We know. But really, Magnus, do you not see the connection? Maybe I need to be clearer. Sometimes I forget how slow you mortals can be. A—giant—has—the—hammer.”

He illustrated each word with exaggerated sign language. “Giant—gives—hammer—back—for—Samirah. We—exchange—gifts—at—wedding. Hammer—for—S-K-O-F-N-U-N-G.”

“Stop that!” I snarled.

“You understand, then?” Loki shook his hands out. “Good, because my fingers were getting tired. Now, I can’t give half a bride-price, can I? Thrym will never accept that. I need the blade and the stone. Fortunately, your friend Hearthstone knows exactly where the stone can be found!”

“That’s why you arranged all this? Why you…?” I gestured at Blitz, who lay in an expanding pool of red.

“Call it incentive,” Loki said. “I wasn’t sure you’d get me the stone merely for the purpose of Samirah’s wedding, but you’ll do it to save your friend. And, I’ll remind you, this is all so I can help you get back what’s-his-name’s stupid hammer. It’s a win-win. Unless, you know, your dwarf dies. They are such small, pitiful creatures. Randolph, come along now!”

My uncle shuffled toward Loki like a dog expecting a beating. I didn’t feel much love for my uncle at the moment, but I also hated the way Loki treated him. I remembered the connection I’d had to Randolph during my dreams…feeling the overwhelming grief that motivated him.

“Randolph,” I said, “you don’t have to go with him.”

He glanced at me, and I saw how wrong I was. When he stabbed Blitzen, something inside him had broken. He’d been drawn so far into this evil bargain now, given up so much to get back his dead wife and children, he couldn’t imagine any other way.

Loki pointed to the Skofnung blade. “The sword, Randolph. Get the sword.”

Jack’s runes pulsed an angry purple. “Try it, compadre, and you’ll lose more than a couple of fingers.”

Randolph hesitated, as people tend to do when they are threatened by talking glowing swords.

Loki’s smug confidence wavered. His eyes darkened. His scarred lips curled. I saw how badly he wanted that sword. He needed it for something much more important than a wedding gift.

I put my foot over the Skofnung blade. “Jack’s right. This isn’t going anywhere.”

The veins in Loki’s neck looked like they might explode. I was afraid he would kill Samirah and paint the walls with abstract swaths of dwarf, elf, and einherji.

I stared him down anyway. I didn’t understand his plan, but I was starting to realize that he needed us alive…at least for now.

In the space of a nanosecond, the god regained his composure.

“Fine, Magnus,” he said breezily. “Bring the sword and the stone with you when you bring the bride. Four days. I’ll let you know where. And do get a proper tuxedo. Randolph, come along. Chop-chop!”

My uncle winced.

Loki laughed. “Oh, sorry.” He wriggled his pinky and ring finger. “Too soon?”

He grabbed Randolph’s sleeve. The two men shot backward into the coffin portal like they were being sucked out of a moving jet plane. The sarcophagus imploded behind them.

Sam stirred. She sat up abruptly, as though her alarm had gone off. Her hijab slipped over her right eye like a pirate’s patch. “What—what’s going on?”

I felt too numb to explain. I was kneeling next to Blitzen, doing what I could to keep him stable. My hands glowed with enough Frey-power to cause a nuclear meltdown, but it wasn’t helping. My friend was slipping away.

Hearth’s eyes brimmed with tears. He sat next to Blitz, his polka-dot scarf trailing in blood. Every once in a while he smacked a V sign against his own forehead: Stupid. Stupid.

Sam’s shadow fell across us. “No! No, no, no. What happened?”

Hearthstone flew into another sign language tirade: Told you! Too dangerous! Your fault we—

“Buddy…” Blitzen pulled weakly at Hearthstone’s hands. “Not Sam’s…fault. Not yours. Was…my idea.”

Hearthstone shook his head. Stupid Valkyrie. Stupid me, also. Must be a way to heal you.

He looked to me, desperate for a miracle.

I hated being a healer. Frey’s Fripperies, I wished I were a warrior. Or a shape-shifter like Alex Fierro, or a rune caster like Hearthstone, or even a berserker like Halfborn, charging into battle in my underwear. Having my friends’ lives depend on my abilities, watching the light go out of Blitzen’s eyes and knowing there was nothing I could do about it…that was unbearable.

“Loki wouldn’t leave us another choice,” I said. “We have to find the Skofnung Stone.”

Hearthstone grunted in frustration. I would do it. For Blitz. But no time. Would take a day at least. He will die.

Blitzen tried to say something. No words came out. His head lolled sideways.

“No!” Sam sobbed. “No, he can’t die. Where’s this stone? I’ll go get it myself!”

I scanned the tomb, frantic for ideas. My eyes fixed on the only source of light—Samirah’s spear, lying in dust.

Light. Sunlight.

There was one last miracle I could try—a lame, bottom-shelf miracle, but it was all I had.

“We need more time,” I said, “so we’ll make more time.” I wasn’t sure Blitzen was still lucid, but I squeezed his shoulder. “We’ll bring you back, buddy. I promise.”

I stood. I raised my face toward the domed ceiling and imagined the sun overhead. I called on my father—the god of warmth and fertility, the god of living things that broke through the earth to reach the light.

The tomb rumbled. Dust rained down. Directly above me, the domed ceiling cracked like an eggshell and a jagged canyon of sunlight spilled through the darkness, illuminating Blitzen’s face.

As I watched, one of my best friends in the Nine Worlds turned to solid rock.