The Hammer of Thor

The Aesir really needed to work on their timing.

We still had no godly backup. We had a hammer, but no one to wield it. And Loki stood unchained before us in all his mutilated glory, ice clinging to his hair, poison dripping from his face.

“Ah, yes.” He smiled. “For my first act…”

He lashed out with more speed and strength than should have been possible for a guy who’d been chained up for a thousand years. He grabbed the snake that had been dripping venom on him, yanked it off its stalactite, and snapped it like a whip.

Its spine cracked with a sound like Bubble Wrap popping. Loki dropped it, as lifeless as a garden hose, and turned toward us.

“I really hated that snake,” he said. “Who’s next?”

Jack lay heavy in my hand. Alex could barely stand. Sam had her spear ready, but she seemed reluctant to charge, probably because she didn’t want to be to be frozen by her father again…or worse.

My other friends closed ranks around me: three strong einherjar, Blitzen in his fashionable chain mail, Hearthstone with his rowan-wood runes clacking in their bag as his fingers shifted through them.

“We can take him,” T.J. said, his bayonet wet with giant blood. “All at once. Ready?”

Loki spread his arms in a welcoming gesture. Randolph knelt at his feet, silent in agony as the blue vapor spread up his arm, eating away at his flesh. Against the far wall, Sigyn stood very still, her pure red eyes impossible to read, her empty poison bowl clasped to her chest.

“Come on, then, warriors of Odin,” Loki taunted. “I’m unarmed and weak. You can do it!”

That’s when I knew in my heart that we couldn’t. We would charge in and die. We’d end up lying on the floor with our spines snapped, just like that snake.

But we had no choice. We had to try.

Then, from the wall behind us came a cracking sound, followed by a familiar voice. “We’re through! Yes, Heimdall. I’m sure this time. Probably.”

The end of an iron staff poked through the rock and wriggled around. The wall began to crumble.

Loki lowered his arms and sighed. He looked more annoyed than terrified.

“Ah, well.” He winked at me, or maybe his face was just convulsing from centuries of poison damage. “Next time?”

The ground crumbled underneath him. The entire back half of the cavern fell away. Stalagmites and stalactites imploded. Pools of boiling liquid turned into steaming waterfalls before disappearing into the void. Loki and Sigyn fell into nothingness. My uncle, who had been kneeling at the edge of the break, also slipped into the chasm.

“Randolph!” I scrambled to the edge.

About fifty feet below, Randolph crouched on a wet and steaming slope of rock, trying to keep his balance. His right arm was gone, the blue vapor now crawling up his shoulder. He looked up at me, his skull grinning through his translucent face.

“Randolph, hold on!” I said.

“No, Magnus.” He spoke softly, as if he didn’t want to wake anyone. “My family—”

“I am your family, you old idiot!”

Maybe that wasn’t the most endearing thing to say. Maybe I should’ve thought good riddance and let him fall. But Annabeth was right. Randolph was family. The whole Chase clan attracted the gods’ attention, and Randolph had borne that curse more heavily than most of us. Despite everything, I still wanted to help him.

He shook his head, sadness and pain fighting for dominance in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I want to see them.”

He slipped sideways into the darkness without a sound.

I had no time to grieve, no time even to process what had happened, before three gods in tactical armor burst into the cave.

They all wore helmets, infrared goggles, jackboots, and full Kevlar body armor with the letters GRRM across the chest. I might have mistaken them for a regular SWAT team except for the excessive facial hair and the non-standard-issue weapons.

Thor stormed in first, holding his iron staff like a rifle, pointing it in every direction.

“Check your corners!” he yelled.

The next god through was Heimdall, grinning like he was having an excellent time. He also held his massive sword like a gun, his Phablet of Doomsday stuck to the end. He swept the room, taking pictures of himself from every angle.

The third guy I didn’t recognize. He stepped into the cavern with a CLANG because his right foot was encased in the most grotesque oversize shoe I had ever seen. It was cobbled together from scraps of leather and metal, pieces of neon athletic shoes, Velcro straps, and old brass buckles. It even had half a dozen stiletto heels sticking up from the toe like porcupine quills.

The three gods scampered around looking for threats.

With incredibly bad timing, the giant king Thrym began to regain consciousness. The god with the weird shoe rushed over and raised his right foot. His boot grew to the size of a Lincoln Town Car—a junkyard wedge of old shoe parts and scrap metal all compacted together into a huge death-stomper. Thrym didn’t even have time to scream before Shoe Man stepped on him.

SPLAT. No more threat.

“Good one, Vidar!” Heimdall called. “Could you do that again so I can snap a picture?”

Vidar frowned and pointed at the mess. In perfect ASL, he signed, He is flat now.

Across the room, Thor gasped. “My baby!”

He ran past his goats and snatched up the hammer Mjolnir. “At last! Are you okay, Mee-Mee? Did those nasty giants reprogram your channels?”

Marvin jingled the bells on his collar. “We’re fine, boss,” he muttered. “Thanks for asking.”

I looked at Sam. “Did he just call his hammer Mee-Mee?”

Alex growled, “Hey, Aesir idiots!” She pointed to the newly formed abyss. “Loki went that way.”

“Loki?” Thor turned. “Where?” Lightning flickered through his beard, which probably rendered his infrared goggles useless.

With even worse timing than Thrym, the giantess Thrynga chose that moment to show she was still alive. She launched herself from the nearest cesspool like a breaching whale and landed at Heimdall’s feet, gasping and steaming.

“Kill you all!” she croaked, which wasn’t the smartest thing to say when facing three gods in tactical armor.

Thor pointed his hammer at Thrynga as casually as if he were channel surfing. Tendrils of lightning shot from the runes engraved in the metal. The giantess burst into a million bits of rubble.

“Dude!” Heimdall complained. “What did I tell you about lightning so close to my phablet? You want to fry the motherboard?”

Thor grunted. “Well, mortals, it’s a good thing we arrived when we did, or that giantess might have hurt someone! Now, what were you saying about Loki?”

The thing about gods is, you can’t really slap them when they’re acting stupid.

They’ll just slap you back and kill you.

Besides, I was too exhausted, shocked, boiled, and grief-stricken to complain much, even though the Aesir had let Loki get away.

No, I corrected myself. We let Loki get away.

While Thor murmured sweet nothings to his hammer, Heimdall stood at the edge of the chasm and peered into the darkness. “Goes all the way to Helheim. No sign of Loki.”

“My uncle?” I asked.

Heimdall’s white irises turned toward me. For once, he wasn’t smiling. “You know, Magnus…sometimes it’s best not to look as far as you’re able to look, or to listen to everything you’re able to hear.”

He patted me on the shoulder and walked away, leaving me to wonder what the heck he meant.

Vidar, the god with the shoe, went around checking for wounded, but everybody seemed more or less okay—everybody aside from the giants, that is. All of them were now dead. Halfborn had pulled his groin trying to pick up Thor’s hammer. Mallory had given herself a stomachache laughing at him, but both those problems were easily fixed. T.J. had come through without a scratch, though he was worried how to get earth-giant blood off the stock of

his rifle.

Hearthstone was fine, though he kept signing othala, the name of his missing runestone. He signed to Blitz that he could have stopped Loki if he’d had it. I suspected he was just being too hard on himself, but I wasn’t sure. As for Blitz, he leaned against the cave wall and sipped from a canteen, looking tired after stone-sculpting all the way into Loki’s cavern.

As soon as the gods had arrived, Jack had turned back into a pendant, muttering something about not wanting to see Heimdall’s diva sword. In truth, I think he mostly felt guilty that he hadn’t been more help to us, and sorry that Skofnung had turned out not to be the blade of his dreams. Now Jack hung around my neck again, snoozing fitfully. Fortunately, he hadn’t suffered any damage. And he’d been so stunned throughout most of the fight that I’d hardly absorbed any fatigue from him at all. He would live to fight (and sing top-forty songs) another day.

Sam, Alex, and I sat at the edge of the chasm, listening to the echoes in the darkness. Vidar wrapped my ribs, then dabbed some salve on my arms and face and told me in sign language that I wouldn’t die. He also bandaged Alex’s ear and signed, Minor concussion. Stay awake.

Sam herself had no major physical injuries, but I could sense the emotional pain radiating from her. She sat with her spear across her lap like a kayak paddle, looking as though she were ready to navigate straight to Helheim. I think Alex and I both knew instinctively that we shouldn’t leave her alone.

“I was helpless again,” she said miserably. “He just…he controlled me.”

Alex patted her leg. “Not entirely true. You’re alive.”

I looked back and forth between them. “What do you mean?”

Alex’s darker eye was more dilated than the lighter one—probably because of the concussion. It made her stare look even more hollow and shell-shocked.

“When things went bad during the fight,” she said, “Loki just…willed us to die. He told my heart to stop beating, my lungs to stop breathing. I assume he did the same to Sam.”

Samirah nodded, her knuckles whitening on the shaft of her spear.