فصل 45

I Get to Know Jack

I’M PRETTY GOOD at multitasking, so I figured I could flee in terror and argue at the same time.

“A horsefly?” I yelled at Sam. “You can turn into a horsefly?”

She ducked as a steam-powered dart buzzed over her head. “Now is not the time!”

“Oh, excuse me. I should wait for the designated talk-about-turning-into-horseflies time.”

Hearthstone and Blitzen led the way. Behind us, a mob of thirty dwarves was closing fast. I didn’t like their murderous expressions or their fine assortment of handcrafted weapons.

“This way!” Blitzen ducked down an alley.

Unfortunately, Hearthstone wasn’t watching. The elf barreled straight ahead.

“Mother!” Blitz cursed—at least, I thought it was a curse until Sam and I reached the corner and faltered.

A few steps down the alley, Blitz was trapped in a net of light. He squirmed and cussed as the glowing web lifted him into the air. “It’s my mother!” he yelped. “She wants her damnable earrings. Go! Catch up with Hearthstone! I’ll meet you—”

POP! Our dwarf disappeared in a flash.

I glanced at Sam. “Did that just happen?”

“We’ve got other problems.” She pulled out her ax.

The mob had caught up with us. They fanned out in an angry semicircle of beards, scowls, baseball bats, and broadswords. I wasn’t sure what they were waiting for. Then I heard Junior’s voice somewhere behind them. “Hold on!” he wheezed. “I—” Wheeze. “Kill—” Wheeze. “First!”

The mob parted. Flanked by his bodyguards, the old dwarf pushed his walker toward us.

He eyed me, then Sam.

“Where are Blitzen and the elf?” Junior muttered. “Well, no matter. We’ll find them. You, boy, I don’t care about so much. Run now and I might let you live. The girl is obviously a daughter of Loki. She bit me and ruined my crafting! She dies.”

I pulled off my pendant. The Sword of Summer grew to full length. The crowd of dwarves edged backward. I guess they knew a dangerous blade when they saw one.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I said. “You’ll have to take on both of us.”

The sword hummed for attention.

“Correction,” I said. “You’ll have to take on all three of us. This is Sumarbrander, the Sword of Summer, crafted by…actually I’m not sure, but it is definitely famous among swords, and it is about to kick your collective butts.”

“Thank you,” said the sword.

Sam made a squeaking noise. The dwarves’ shocked expressions told me I hadn’t imagined hearing the sword’s voice.

I held up the blade. “You can talk? I mean…of course you can talk. You have many, uh, incredible abilities.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying.” The sword’s voice was definitely male. It emanated from the runes along the blade, which vibrated and glowed with every word like the lights on a stereo equalizer.

I gave the dwarves an arrogant look, like, Yeah, that’s right. I’ve got a talking disco sword and you don’t.

“Sumarbrander,” I said, “how do you feel about taking on this mob?”

“Sure,” said the sword. “You want them dead or…?”

The mob shuffled backward in alarm.

“Nah,” I decided. “Just make them go away.”

“You’re no fun,” the sword said. “Okay, then, let go.”

I hesitated. I didn’t particularly want to hold a flashing talking humming sword, but dropping my weapon didn’t seem like the natural first step toward victory.

Junior must’ve sensed my reluctance.

“We can take him!” he yelled. “He’s one boy with a sword he doesn’t know how to use!”

Sam snarled. “And a former Valkyrie with an ax she very much does know how to use.”

“Bah!” Junior said. “Let’s get ’em, boys! Granny Shuffler, activate!”

Rows of dagger blades extended from the front of his walker. Two miniature rocket engines fired in the back, propelling Junior toward us at a mind-boggling one mile an hour. His comrades roared and charged.

I let go of my sword. It hovered in the air for a split second. Then it flew into action. Faster than you could say son of Edna, every dwarf was disarmed. Their weapons were cut in half, split down the middle, knocked to the ground, or diced into hors d’oeuvre-size cubes. The daggers and rockets were sheared off Junior’s walker. The severed ends of thirty beards fluttered to the pavement, leaving thirty shocked dwarves with fifty percent less facial hair.

The Sword of Summer hovered between the mob and me.

“Anybody want more?” the sword asked.

The dwarves turned and fled.

Junior yelled over his shoulder as he hobbled away, following his bodyguards, who were already a block ahead of him. “This isn’t over, boy! I’ll be back with reinforcements!”

Sam lowered her ax. “That was…Wow.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Thank you, Sumarbrander.”

“De nada,” said the sword. “But you know, Sumarbrander is a really long name, and I’ve never liked it much.”

“Okay.” I wasn’t sure where to look when addressing the sword—the glowing runes? The tip of the blade? “What would you like us to call you?”

The sword hummed thoughtfully. “What is your name?”

“Magnus.”

“That’s a good name. Call me Magnus.”

“You can’t be Magnus. I’m Magnus.”

“Then what is her name?”

“Sam. You can’t be Sam, either. It would be too confusing.”

The blade swished from side to side. “Well, what is a good name? Something that fits my personality and my many talents.”

“But I don’t really know you as well as I’d like to.” I looked at Samirah, who just shook her head like, Hey, it’s your disco sword.

“Honestly,” I said. “I don’t know jack—”

“Jack!” the sword cried. “Perfect!”

The thing about talking swords…it’s hard to tell when they’re kidding. They have no facial expressions. Or faces.

“So…you want me to call you Jack.”

“It is a noble name,” said the sword. “Fit for kings and sharp carving implements!”

“Okay,” I said. “Well, then, Jack, thanks for the save. You mind if…?” I reached for the hilt, but Jack floated away from me.

“I wouldn’t do that yet,” he warned. “The price of my amazing abilities: as soon as you sheathe me, or turn me into a pendant, or whatever, you will feel just as exhausted as if you had performed all my actions yourself.”

My shoulder muscles tightened. I considered how tired I would feel if I had just destroyed all those weapons and cut all those beards. “Oh. I didn’t notice that earlier.”

“Because you hadn’t used me for anything amazing yet.”

“Right.”

In the distance, an air raid horn howled. I doubted they got many air raids in an underground world, so I figured the alarm had to do with us.

“We need to go,” Sam urged. “We have to find Hearthstone. I doubt Junior was joking about reinforcements.”

Finding Hearthstone was the easy part. Two blocks away, we ran into him as he was coming back to find us.

What the H-e-l-h-e-i-m? he signed. Where is Blitzen?

I told him about Freya’s gold net. “We’ll find him. Right now, Junior is calling up the Dwarven National Guard.”

Your sword is floating, Hearth noted.

“Your elf is deaf,” Jack noted.

I turned to the sword. “I know that. Sorry, introductions. Jack, Hearth. Hearth, Jack.”

Hearth signed, Is it talking? I don’t read sword lips.

“What is he saying?” Jack asked. “I don’t read elf hands.”

“Guys.” Sam pointed behind us. A few blocks away, an iron-plated vehicle with caterpillar treads and a mounted turret was turning slowly onto our street.

“That’s a tank,” I said. “Junior has a tank?”

“We should leave,” Jack said. “I am awesome, but if I try to destroy a tank, the strain might kill you.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “How do we get out of Nidavellir?”

Hearthstone clapped for my attention. This way.

We sprinted after him, zigzagging through alleys, knocking over carefully handcrafted garbage cans that probably had names and souls.

From somewhere behind us, a deep BOOM! rattled windows and made pebbles rain from above.

“Is the tank shaking the sky?” I yelled. “That can’t be good.”

Hearthstone led us down another street of clapboard row houses. Dwarves sat on stoops, clapping and cheering as we ran by. A few of them recorded videos of us on uniquely crafted smartphones. I figured our attempted getaway would go viral on the Dwarven Internet, famous among Internets.

Finally we reached what would’ve been the southern edge of South Boston. On the far side of the avenue, instead of the M Street Beach, the ground dropped off into a chasm.

“Oh, this is very helpful,” Sam said.

Behind us in the gloom, Junior’s voice shouted, “Bazookas, take the right flank!”

Hearthstone led us to the rim of the canyon. Far below, a river roared.

He signed: We jump in.

“Are you serious?” I asked.

Blitzen and I did this before. River washes out of Nidavellir.

“To where?”

Depends, Hearthstone signed.

“That’s not reassuring,” said Sam.

Hearthstone pointed back toward the avenue. The dwarven mob was gathering, tanks and jeeps and RPGs and a whole bunch of really angry geriatric dwarves in armor-plated walkers.

“We jump,” I decided.

Jack the Sword hovered next to me. “Better hold me now, boss. Otherwise I might get lost again.”

“But you said the exhaustion—”

“Might make you pass out,” the sword agreed. “On the bright side, it looks like you’re going to die anyway.”

He had a point. (Oh, sorry. That was bad.) I took the sword and willed it back into pendant form. I just had time to attach it to the chain before my legs buckled.

Sam caught me. “Hearthstone! Take his other arm!”

As my vision went dark, Sam and Hearth helped me leap off the cliff. Because, you know, what are friends for?