Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard, Book 2: The Hammer of Thor

by Rick Riordan

  Hearthstone apparently caught that. He stuffed the rune bag into his pocket and signed, Sif is wise and good. Goddess of growing things. You— He pointed at Sam, then made two okay signs with his hands, flicking one across the other as if tearing a piece of paper—the sign for unfair.

  “Hey, elf?” Alex said. “I’m guessing at your meaning, but if you’re defending Sif, I gotta say I’m with Samirah on this one.”

  “Thank you,” said Sam.

  Hearthstone scowled and crossed his arms, the deaf equivalent of I can’t even talk to you right now.

  Blitz grunted. “Well, I think you’re nuts to be bad-mouthing Thor’s wife in Thor’s own house when we’re about to see—”

  Ding.

  The elevator doors slid open.

  “Holy man cave,” I said.

  We stepped out of the elevator into a sort of garage area. Suspended on a hydraulic lift was Thor’s chariot, the wheels off and what looked like a broken transaxle hanging from the undercarriage. Lining a Peg-Board against one wall were dozens of wrenches, saws, screwdrivers, and rubber mallets. I briefly considered picking up one of the mallets and yelling, I found your hammer! But I thought the joke might not go over well.

  Past the garage area, the basement opened up into a full-fledged man cavern. Stalactites hung from the ceiling high above, filling the room with a Nidavellir-like glow. The back half of the cave was an IMAX theater with two full-size screens and a line of smaller plasma monitors across the bottom, so Thor could watch two feature films while keeping track of a dozen different sporting events. Because, you know, relaxing. The theater chairs were leather-and-fur recliners fitted with drink tables fashioned from moose antlers.

  To our left was a galley kitchen: five stainless steel Sub-Zero refrigerators, an oven, three microwaves, a row of high-end blenders, and a butchering station that was probably not his goats’ favorite place. At the end of a short hallway, a stuffed ram’s head pointed the way to the restrooms with a placard hanging from either horn:

  VALKYRIES

  BERSERKERS

  The right half of the cavern was mostly arcade games—pretty much the last thing I wanted to see after Utgard Lanes. Fortunately, there was no bowling alley. Judging from the oversize table that took place of honor in the middle of the cave, Thor was more of an air-hockey man.

  The place was so huge I didn’t even see Thor until he marched out from behind the Dance Dance Revolution machine. He looked lost in thought, pacing and muttering while knocking two air-hockey paddles together, as if preparing to defibrillate someone’s heart. Behind him trailed his goats, Otis and Marvin, but they weren’t very nimble on their hooves. Every time Thor turned, he collided with them and had to shove them out of the way.

  “Hammers,” he was grumbling. “Stupid, stupid hammers. Hammers.”

  Finally, he noticed us. “Aha!”

  He stormed over, his eyes bloodshot and furious, his face as red as his bushy beard. His battle armor consisted of a ragged Metallica T-shirt and gym shorts that showed off his pale hairy legs. His bare feet were in dire need of a gentlemen’s pedicure. For some reason, his scraggly scarlet hair was in pigtails, but on Thor the look was more terrifying than funny. It was almost as if he wanted us to know I can wear my hair like a six-year-old girl and still murder you!

  “What news?” he demanded.

  “Hey, Thor,” I said, in a voice about as manly as his pigtails. “Uh, Sumarbrander has something to tell you.”

  I pulled off my pendant and summoned Jack. Was it cowardly of me to hide behind a magical talking sword? I prefer to think of it as strategically wise. I wouldn’t be able to do Thor any favors if he smashed my face in with an air-hockey paddle.

  “Hi, Thor!” Jack glowed cheerfully. “Hi, goats! Ooh, air hockey! Sweet chill pad, Thunder Man!”

  Thor scratched his beard with a paddle. The name of his son Modi was tattooed in blue across his knuckles. I really hoped I didn’t get a closer look at that name.

  “Yes, yes, hello, Sumarbrander,” Thor grumbled. “But where is my hammer? Where is Mjolnir?”

  “Oh.” Jack glowed a darker shade of orange. He wasn’t able to glare, but he definitely turned a sharp edge in my direction. “So…good news on that front. We know who has the hammer, and we know where he is keeping it.”

  “Excellent!”

  Jack hovered back a few inches. “But there is some bad news…”

  Otis sighed to his brother Marvin. “I have a feeling we’re about to be killed.”

  “Stop that!” Marvin snapped. “Don’t give the boss ideas!”

  “The hammer was stolen by a giant named Thrym,” Jack continued. “He’s buried it eight miles under the earth.”

  “Not excellent!” Thor smashed his air-hockey paddles together. Thunder rolled through the room. Plasma-screen TVs toppled. Microwaves flickered. The goats stumbled back and forth like they were on the deck of a ship.

  “I hate Thrym!” the god roared. “I hate earth giants!”

  “So do we!” Jack agreed. “And here’s Magnus to tell you about our brilliant plan to get the hammer back!”

  Jack flew behind me and hovered there with great strategic wisdom. Otis and Marvin backed away from their master and hid behind the Dance Dance Revolution machine.

  At least Alex, Sam, Blitz, and Hearth didn’t hide, but Alex gave me a look like, Hey, he’s your thunder god.

  So I told Thor the whole story: how we’d been tricked into going to the wight’s tomb for the Skofnung Sword, then we’d rushed to Alfheim for the Skofnung Stone, we’d climbed the Bifrost for a selfie with Heimdall, and we’d gone bowling for information with Utgard-Loki. I explained about Thrym’s demands for a marriage alliance with Loki.

  Every so often I had to pause so Thor could process the news by storming around, throwing power tools, and punching the walls.

  He needed a lot of processing time.

  When I was done, Thor announced his well-reasoned conclusion. “We must kill them all!”

  Blitz raised his hand. “Ah, Mr. Thor, even if we could get you close enough to Thrym, killing him wouldn’t help. He’s the only one who knows exactly where the hammer is.”

  “So we torture him for the information and then kill him! Then I will retrieve the hammer myself!”

  Alex muttered, “Nice guy.”

  “Sir,” Sam said, “even if we did that—and torture isn’t very effective, or, you know, ethical—even if Thrym told you exactly where the hammer was, how would you get it back from eight miles under the earth?”

  “I would break through the earth! With my hammer!”

  We waited for Thor’s mental gears to turn.

  “Oh,” said the god. “I see the problem. Curses! Follow me!”

  He marched into the garage, tossed aside his hockey paddles, and started rummaging through his tools. “There must be something in here that can drill through eight miles of solid rock.”

  He considered a hand drill, a tape measure, a corkscrew, and the iron staff we’d almost died retrieving from Geirrod’s fortress. He threw them all to the floor.

  “Nothing!” he said in disgust. “Useless junk!”

  Perhaps you could use your head, Hearthstone signed. That is very hard.

  “Oh, don’t try to console me, Mr. Elf,” said Thor. “It’s hopeless, isn’t it? You have to have hammers to get hammers. And this…” He picked up a rubber mallet and sighed. “This won’t do. I’m ruined! All the giants will soon know I’m defenseless. They’ll invade Midgard, destroy the television industry, and I will never be able to watch my shows again!”

  “There might be a way to get the hammer.” The words came out of my mouth before I considered what I was saying.

  Thor’s eyes lit up. “You have a large bomb?”

  “Uh, no. But Thrym is expecting to marry someone tomorrow, right? We can pretend to go along with it and—”

  “Forget it,” Thor growled. “I know what you’re going to suggest. There’s no way! Thry
m’s grandfather humiliated me enough when he stole my hammer. I will not do that again!”

  “Do what?” I asked.

  “Wear a wedding dress!” Thor said. “Pretend to be the giant’s bride, Freya, who refused to marry Thrym. Selfish woman! I was disgraced, humiliated, and—What are you smirking about?”

  This last comment was directed at Alex, who quickly put on her serious face.

  “Nothing,” she said. “Just…you in a wedding dress.”

  Hovering behind my shoulder, Jack whispered, “He looked a-MAZ-ing.”

  Thor grunted. “It was all Loki’s idea, of course. It worked. I infiltrated the wedding, got my hammer back, and killed the giants—well, except for those little kids, Thrym the Third and Thrynga. But when I got back to Asgard, Loki told the story so many times he made me a laughingstock. No one took me seriously for ages!” Thor frowned as if he’d just had a thought, which must have been a painful experience. “You know, I bet that was Loki’s plan all along. I bet he arranged the theft and the solution to make me look bad!”

  “That’s terrible,” Alex said. “What was your bridal dress like?”

  “Oh, it was white with a high lace appliqué neckline and these lovely scalloped—” Thor’s beard sparked with electricity. “THAT’S NOT IMPORTANT!”

  “Anyway…” I stepped in. “This Thrym—Thrym the Third or whatever—he’s expecting you to try that trick again. He’s got some kind of security precautions in place. No gods are getting through the front door unnoticed. We’ll need a different bride.”

  “Well, that’s a relief!” He grinned at Samirah. “And I do thank you for stepping up, girl! I’m glad you’re not as selfish as Freya. I owe you a gift. I’ll have Sif make you a trophy. Or perhaps you’d like a Hot Pocket? I have some in the freezer—”

  “No, Lord Thor,” Sam said. “I’m not marrying a giant for you.”

  Thor winked slyly. “Right….You’re only pretending to marry him. Then once he brings out the hammer—”

  “I’m not even pretending,” Sam said.

  “I am,” Alex said.

  Here Comes the Bride and/or the Assassin

  ALEX KNEW how to get our attention. Hearth and Blitz gawped at her. Jack gasped and glowed bright yellow. Thor’s eyebrows furrowed, sparking like jumper cables. Even the goats trotted over to get a closer look at the crazy girl.

  “What?” Alex demanded. “Sam and I discussed it. She vowed to Amir that she wouldn’t even fake-marry this giant, right? The charade doesn’t bother me at all. I’ll dress up, say the vows, kill my new husband, whatever. Sam and I are close to the same size. We’re both children of Loki. She can pose as my maid of honor. It’s our best option.”

  I stared at Sam. “That’s what you and Alex have been talking about?”

  Samirah fingered the keys on her belt ring. “Alex thinks she can resist Loki…unlike what happened to me in Provincetown.”

  It was the first time she’d talked about the incident so openly. I remembered Loki snapping his fingers, Sam collapsing in a heap, all the air expelled from her lungs. Sam was a Valkyrie. She had the strongest willpower and discipline of anyone I knew. If she couldn’t resist Loki’s control…

  “Alex, are you sure?” I tried not to let doubt creep into my voice. “I mean, have you ever tried to resist Loki before?”

  Alex’s expression hardened. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “No,” I said hastily. “I just—”

  “The larger point,” Thor butted in, “is that you’re not even a proper girl! You’re an argr!”

  The air became still, like the moment before a thunderclap. I wasn’t sure which possibility scared me more, Thor attacking Alex, or Alex attacking Thor. The look in her eyes made me wonder if we shouldn’t just put her on the borders of Jotunheim to scare away the giants rather than bothering with Thor and his hammer.

  “I’m a child of Loki,” she said in an even tone. “That’s what Thrym is expecting. Like my parent, I’m gender fluid. And when I’m female, I am female. I can definitely pull off a lace appliqué wedding gown better than you!”

  Thor fumed. “Well, there’s no need to be mean about it.”

  “Besides,” Alex said, “I will not let Loki control me. I never have. I never will. I also don’t see anyone else volunteering for this suicidal bridal mission.”

  “Suicidal bridal,” Jack said. “Hey, that rhymes!”

  Otis clopped forward and sighed. “Well, if you need a volunteer to die, I suppose I can do it. I’ve always loved weddings—”

  “Shut up, dummy!” Marvin said. “You’re a goat!”

  Thor picked up his iron staff. He leaned against it thoughtfully, tapping his fingers and making different images flicker across the surface—a soccer match, the Home Shopping Network, Gilligan’s Island.

  “Well,” he said at last, “I still don’t trust an argr to do this job—”

  “A gender-fluid person,” Alex corrected.

  “A gender…whatever you said,” Thor amended. “But I suppose, respect-wise, you have the least to lose.”

  Alex bared her teeth. “I get now why Loki loves you so much.”

  “Guys,” I said. “We have other problems to discuss, and not much time. Thrym is expecting his bride to arrive tomorrow.”

  Alex folded her arms. “It’s decided, then. I get to marry the big ugly guy.”

  Yes, you marry him, Hearthstone signed. Many happy years and fine children.

  Alex narrowed her eyes. “I can see I’m going to have to learn sign language. In the meantime, I will assume you said, Yes, Alex. Thank you, Alex, for being so brave and heroic.”

  Close enough, Hearth signed.

  I still wasn’t loving the idea of Alex as a decoy bride, but I figured I’d better move things along. Keeping this group focused was like driving a chariot with no goats and a broken transaxle.

  “So anyway,” I said, “we have to assume we can’t sneak Thor in with the wedding party.”

  “And he can’t simply bust into an earth giant’s lair,” Blitz added.

  Thor harrumphed. “I’ve tried, believe me. The stupid giants are buried too deep in rock too dense.”

  “You’re an expert on density,” Alex guessed.

  I gave her a shut up look. “So we have to use the front door. I’m guessing they won’t tell us where that is until the last minute to avoid an ambush or unwelcome tagalongs.”

  “What does the invitation say?” Sam asked.

  I took it out and showed them. The time slot now read: TOMORROW MORNING!!! The location slot still said: WE’LL GET BACK TO YOU.

  “That’s okay,” I said. “I think I may know where the entrance will appear.”

  I explained to Thor about the photo of Bridal Veil Falls.

  The thunder god did not look overjoyed. “So either you’re wrong and this is a random photograph, or you’re right and you’re choosing to believe information from your treacherous uncle?”

  “Well…yeah. But if it is the entrance—”

  “I could scout it out,” Thor said. “I could have a team of gods in place, undercover, ready to follow the wedding party inside all stealthy-like.”

  “A team of gods sounds excellent,” I agreed.

  “Depending on the gods,” Blitz murmured.

  “We also have some einherjar standing by,” Sam suggested. “Good warriors. Trustworthy.”

  She said trustworthy like it was a word Thor might not have heard before.

  “Hmm.” Thor twirled one of his pigtails. “I suppose this could work. And once Thrym summons the hammer—”

  “If he summons it,” Alex said. “He’s using it as the, er, morning after gift.”

  Thor looked aghast. “Regardless, he must summon it for the ceremony! The bride has the right to insist. The symbol of my hammer is always used to bless a wedding. If Thrym has the real thing, he must use it if you request it. And once he does, we’ll move in and kill everyone!”

  Except us, Hearthsto
ne said.

  “Exactly, Mr. Elf! It will be a glorious bloodbath!”

  “Lord Thor,” Sam said, “how will you know when the time is right to charge in?”

  “That’s easy.” He turned and patted Marvin’s and Otis’s heads. “You’ll ride my chariot into the wedding hall. That’s a common enough practice for lords and ladies. With a little concentration, I can see and hear what my goats see and hear.”

  “Yes,” Otis said. “It gives me a tingling feeling right behind my eyeballs.”

  “Be quiet,” Marvin said. “Nobody wants to hear about your tingling eyeballs.”

  “When the hammer appears”—Thor grinned evilly—“we move in, gods and einherjar. We slaughter the giants, and all will be well. I feel better already!”

  “Yay!” Jack cheered, clinking against Thor’s staff in a high five…or a high just-one.

  Samirah raised her index finger like, one moment. “There’s something else. Loki wants the Skofnung Sword so he can cut himself free. How do we make sure he doesn’t get it?”

  “That will never happen!” Thor said. “Loki’s place of punishment is in a completely different location, sealed long ago by the gods. Loki is bound even better than Fenris Wolf.”

  And we saw how well that worked out, Hearth signed.

  “The elf speaks wisely,” Thor agreed. “There is nothing to worry about. Loki can’t be at the wedding in the flesh. Even if Thrym gets hold of the Skofnung Sword, he won’t have time to find Loki or free him—not before we swoop in and kill the big oaf!”

  Thor swung his iron staff to demonstrate his ninja moves. His left pigtail came loose in the process, which only added to the intimidating effect.

  A cold feeling spread through my gut. “I don’t know about this plan. It still feels like we’re missing something important.”

  “My hammer!” Thor said. “But we’ll get that back soon enough. Mr. Elf and Mr. Dwarf, why don’t you go to Valhalla and alert the einherjar?”

  “Sir, we would…” Blitz adjusted his pith helmet. “But we’re not technically allowed in Valhalla, not being, you know, dead.”

  “I can fix that!”