9 From the Nine Worlds Read online

  Contents

  1. ASGARD: Home of the Aesir Just Another Decapitated Head by Odin

  2. MIDGARD: Home of Humans This Is Why I Hate Clothes Shopping by Amir Fadlan

  3. NIDAVELLIR: Home of the Dwarves This Little Light of Mine, I’m Going to Let It Shine by Blitzen

  4. ALFHEIM: Home of the Light Elves Speaking of Trolls … by Hearthstone

  5. JOTUNHEIM: Home of the Giants My Eighth-Grade Physics Actually Comes in Handy by Samirah al-Abbas

  6. HELHEIM: Home of Hel and the Dishonourable Dead Nice Doggy by Thomas ‘T.J.’ Jefferson Jr

  7. NIFLHEIM: World of Ice, Fog and Mist So’s Your Face! by Mallory Keen

  8. VANAHEIM: Home of the Vanir Well, That Was a Surprise by Halfborn Gunderson

  9. MUSPELLHEIM: Home of the Fire Giants and Demons I Play with Fire by Alex Fierro

  Goal Achieved! Sort of … by Thor

  Glossary

  Pronunciation Guide

  Runes (In Order of Mention)

  About the Book

  An all-new collection of short stories from the world of Magnus Chase!

  Travel the Nine Worlds with your favourite characters from the world of Magnus Chase in a brand-new series of adventures.

  Find out why Amir Fadlan hates clothes shopping in Midgard, see how Mallory Keen learns in icy Niflheim that insulting a dragon can be a good idea, and join Alex Fierro as they play with fire (and a disco sword) in the home of the fire giants, Muspellheim.

  But watch out for Thor, who is jogging through all Nine Worlds so he can log his million steps – and is raising quite a stink …

  About the Author

  RICK RIORDAN, dubbed ‘storyteller of the gods’ by Publishers Weekly, is the author of five New York Times number-one bestselling book series with millions of copies sold throughout the world: Percy Jackson, the Heroes of Olympus and the Trials of Apollo, based on Greek and Roman mythology; the Kane Chronicles, based on Egyptian mythology; and Magnus Chase, based on Norse mythology. Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief, Rick’s first novel featuring the heroic young demigod, won the Red House Children’s Book Award and is now a blockbuster film franchise starring Logan Lerman. He has also written two bestselling myth collections: Percy Jackson and the Greek Gods and Percy Jackson and the Greek Heroes.

  Rick lives in Boston, Massachusetts, with his wife and two sons. To learn more about Rick and his books, you can visit him at www.rickriordan.co.uk or follow him on Twitter @camphalfblood.

  Books by Rick Riordan

  The Percy Jackson series

  PERCY JACKSON AND THE LIGHTNING THIEF*

  PERCY JACKSON AND THE SEA OF MONSTERS*

  PERCY JACKSON AND THE TITAN’S CURSE*

  PERCY JACKSON AND THE BATTLE OF THE LABYRINTH*

  PERCY JACKSON AND THE LAST OLYMPIAN

  THE DEMIGOD FILES

  CAMP HALF-BLOOD CONFIDENTIAL

  PERCY JACKSON AND THE GREEK GODS

  PERCY JACKSON AND THE GREEK HEROES

  The Heroes of Olympus series

  THE LOST HERO*

  THE SON OF NEPTUNE*

  THE MARK OF ATHENA

  THE HOUSE OF HADES

  THE BLOOD OF OLYMPUS

  THE DEMIGOD DIARIES

  The Kane Chronicles series

  THE RED PYRAMID*

  THE THRONE OF FIRE*

  THE SERPENT’S SHADOW*

  BROOKLYN HOUSE: MAGICIAN’S MANUAL

  The Percy Jackson and Kane Chronicles Adventures

  DEMIGODS AND MAGICIANS: THE SON OF SOBEK,

  THE STAFF OF SERAPIS & THE CROWN OF PTOLEMY

  The Magnus Chase series

  MAGNUS CHASE AND THE SWORD OF SUMMER

  MAGNUS CHASE AND THE HAMMER OF THOR

  MAGNUS CHASE AND THE SHIP OF THE DEAD

  HOTEL VALHALLA: GUIDE TO THE NORSE WORLDS

  9 FROM THE NINE WORLDS

  The Trials of Apollo series

  THE HIDDEN ORACLE

  THE DARK PROPHECY

  THE BURNING MAZE

  www.rickriordan.co.uk

  * Also available as a graphic novel

  A special thank-you to Stephanie True Peters

  for her help with this book

  Just Another Decapitated Head

  BY ODIN

  My Einherjar have a saying: Some days you are the axe, some days you are the decapitated head. I like it so much, I’m having T-shirts made for the Hotel Valhalla gift shop.

  As the All-Father, god of wisdom, king of the Aesir and ruler of all Asgard, I am usually the axe. Strong. Powerful. In control.

  Usually. But one day not long ago … well, let’s just say things went awry.

  It started when Hunding, bellhop of Valhalla, informed me of a disturbance in the Feast Hall of the Slain.

  ‘Disturbance?’ I asked as I opened the hall door.

  Splat!

  ‘A food fight, Lord Odin.’

  I peeled a slab of uncooked Saehrimnir from my cheek. ‘So I see.’

  It wasn’t just any food fight. It was a Valkyrie food fight. Above me, a dozen or more airborne choosers of the slain swooped and dive-bombed while pelting one another with feast beast meat, potatoes, bread and other edibles.

  ‘Enough!’

  My voice sent a shock wave through the hall. All fighting stopped.

  ‘Drop your weapons.’

  Saehrimnir steaks and other food hit the floor.

  ‘Now clean up this mess and think about what you’ve done.’

  As the Valkyries moved to find mops, I beckoned to Hunding, who was cowering in a corner. ‘Walk with me.’

  We weaved our way through Hotel Valhalla, the eternal home of my einherjar – mortals who had died heroically. My noble Valkyries are responsible for whisking the deceased here, where the brave warriors train to fight on the gods’ side against the giants at Ragnarok, the Day of Doom. (If you wish to know more about this afterlife programme, refer to my informational pamphlet Dying to Fight.)

  I paused at the bottom of a stone staircase. ‘Since the death of Gunilla, captain of the Valkyries, some of my shield maidens have become … feisty.’ I touched my face where the raw meat had struck. ‘I had hoped the Valkyries would choose a new captain themselves. Since they have not, I must intervene.’

  Hunding looked relieved. ‘Do you have Gunilla’s replacement in mind, Lord Odin?’

  Sadly, I did not. My first choice, Samirah al-Abbas, had opted to become my Valkyrie in charge of special assignments instead. I had no second choice – yet.

  ‘Tell the thanes to bring candidates to the Thing Room in one hour. I’ll be scanning the Nine Worlds from Hlidskjalf if you need me. And, Hunding?’

  ‘Yes, Lord Odin?’

  ‘Don’t need me.’

  I mounted the stairs to my pavilion and sank onto Hlidskjalf, the magic throne from which I can peer into the Nine Worlds. The seat cradled my posterior with its ermine-lined softness. I took a few deep breaths to focus my concentration, then turned to the worlds beyond.

  I usually begin with a cursory look-see of my own realm, Asgard, then circle through the remaining eight: Midgard, realm of the humans; the elf kingdom of Alfheim; Vanaheim, the Vanir gods’ domain; Jotunheim, land of the giants; Niflheim, the world of ice, fog and mist; Helheim, realm of the dishonourable dead; Nidavellir, the gloomy world of the dwarves; and Muspellheim, home of the fire giants.

  This time I didn’t make it past Asgard. Because goats.

  Specifically, Thor’s goats, Marvin and Otis. They were on the Bifrost, the radioactive Rainbow Bridge that connects Asgard to Midgard, wearing onesies. But there was no sign of Thor, which was odd. He usually kept Marvin and Otis close. He killed and ate them every day, and they came back to life the next morni ng.

  More disturbing was Heimdall, guardian of the Bifrost. He was hopping around on all fours like a deranged lunatic. ‘So here’s what I want you guys to do,’ he said to Otis and Marvin between hops. ‘Cavort. Frolic. Frisk about. Okay?’

  I parted the clouds. ‘Heimdall! What the Helheim is going on down there?’

  ‘Oh, hey, Odin!’ Heimdall’s helium-squeaky voice set my teeth on edge. He waved his phablet at me. ‘I’m making a cute baby-goat video as my Snapchat story. Cute baby-goat videos are huge in Midgard. Huge!’ He spread his hands out wide to demonstrate.

  ‘I’m not a baby!’ Marvin snapped.

  ‘I’m cute?’ Otis wondered.

  ‘Put that phablet away and return to your duties at once!’

  According to prophecy, giants will one day storm across the Bifrost, a signal that Ragnarok is upon us. Heimdall’s job is to sound the alarm on his horn, Gjallar – a job he would not be able to perform if he were making Snapchat stories.

  ‘Can I finish my cute baby-goat video first?’ Heimdall pleaded.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Aw.’ He turned to Otis and Marvin. ‘I guess that’s a wrap, guys.’

  ‘Finally,’ Marvin said. ‘I’m going for a graze.’ He hopped off the bridge and plummeted to almost certain death and next-day resurrection. Otis sighed, saying something about the grass being greener on the other side, then jumped after him.

  ‘Heimdall,’ I said tightly, ‘need I remind you what could happen if even one jotun snuck into Asgard?’

  Heimdall hung his head. ‘Apologetic-face emoji.’

  I sighed. ‘Yes, all right. I –’

  A movement in Hotel Valhalla’s garden caught my eye. I looked closer. And immediately wished I hadn’t.

  Legs akimbo and wearing nothing but a pair of leather short-shorts, Thor was bending, twisting and squat-farting. Strapped to his ankle was a device shaped like a valknut, a design of three interlocking triangles.

  ‘What in the name of me is my son doing?’ I asked in bewilderment.

  ‘Who, Thor?’ Heimdall looked over his shoulder. ‘He’s warming up for a jog through the Nine Worlds.’

  ‘A jog. Through the Nine Worlds,’ I repeated.

  ‘Yep. If he logs ten million steps on his FitnessKnut – that thing around his ankle – he earns a cameo appearance on a Midgard television show. That’s why I had his goats. He said they’d slow him down.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous!’

  ‘Not really. Those goats aren’t exactly speedy. Unless they’re plummeting, that is.’

  ‘Not what I meant … Never mind.’ I cupped my hands around my mouth. ‘Thor! Thor!’

  Heimdall tapped his ears. ‘He’s listening to rock.’

  ‘Rock ’n’ roll?’

  ‘No, just rock. Boulders, gravel, stones.’ Heimdall paused. ‘Or did he say the Stones?’

  Thankfully, a messenger raven swooped into the pavilion just then to summon me to the thane meeting.

  ‘At last,’ I muttered as I headed to the Thing Room. ‘A moment of sanity.’

  I opened the conference-room door to find my trusted advisers twirling in their plush leather chairs.

  ‘Whoever spins the longest without being sick wins!’ one of the Eriks yelled.

  ‘Thanes!’ I roared. ‘Come to order!’

  My advisers quickly pulled their chairs to the table (except for Snorri Sturluson, who staggered to the nearest trash bin and threw up). I took my seat at the head and nodded at Hunding. ‘Bring forth the candidates.’

  The first nominee was Freydis, daughter of Erik the Red. Freydis had been a fine Valkyrie back in the day. But, judging from her hunched back, vacant smile and milky eyes, the years had not been kind to her.

  ‘Erik,’ I observed, ‘your daughter is literally ancient.’

  Erik pointed at me with double finger spears. ‘Ancient equals experience, am I right?’

  ‘Not in this case.’ I thanked Freydis for her past service and sent her hobbling on her way.

  Next was Kara, a well-meaning but clumsy oaf who giggled incessantly. She’d only become a Valkyrie because of her centuries-old relationship with Helgi, manager of Hotel Valhalla. A nice girl? Yes. Worthy of leading my female warriors?

  ‘Ah, no,’ I replied to Helgi’s hopeful look.

  Boudica, the fearsome queen of the Celts and a Valkyrie since the year 61, was Davy Crockett’s choice. She barged in brandishing her sword, swept the room with an impatient glance, then flung her head back and shrieked with rage.

  ‘I was told there would be snacks!’ She beheaded the nearest floor lamp and stormed out.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. ‘At least the next candidate can’t be any worse.’

  The next candidate was worse.

  A decrepit crone with stringy grey hair and filthy, ragged robes shambled into the room. Her body odour hit me the same time recognition did. I shot out of my seat and summoned Gungnir, my magic spear. ‘You!’

  The hag gave a phlegm-thick cackle. ‘Ooh, remember me, do you, ol’ One-Eye?’

  ‘I banished you from the Valkyries centuries ago!’ I glared at my thanes. ‘Who dares drag this witch before me?’

  ‘Oh, don’t yell at them,’ she chided. ‘When I heard you were choosing a new Valkyrie captain, I couldn’t resist showing up.’ She coughed up something nasty into her palm and wiped it on her robes.

  ‘Begging your pardon, Lord Odin,’ Hunding whispered, ‘but who is she?’

  ‘Hladgunnr,’ I growled. ‘Daughter of Hel, granddaughter of Loki. She plagued Valhalla with her tricks.’

  Hladgunnr whooped. ‘Remember that time I left a trail of nuts to lead Ratatosk to Laeradr?’

  ‘That was you?’ Snorri cried. ‘The squirrel’s insults soured Heidrun’s milk mead!’ He buried his face in his hands. ‘Dinner was ruined!’

  ‘What can I say?’ She winked at me. ‘Pranks are my thing.’ The air around her rippled, and she began to shrink.

  Alarm bells rang in my head. ‘Hladgunnr inherited Loki’s deceitful ways, not his power to shape-shift.’

  Screeching with laughter, the imposter transformed into a bald eagle.

  ‘Utgard-Loki.’ A current of fear spread through the thanes when I spoke the name of the king of the mountain giants. I thrust the business end of Gungnir at the bird. ‘How did you gain entrance to this world?’

  The eagle leered. ‘An unexpected opportunity presented itself. I took it.’

  I grimaced. ‘Heimdall and his baby-goat video.’

  ‘I’m not a baby!’ Marvin yelled from somewhere outside the hotel.

  ‘And Hladgunnr?’ I demanded.

  ‘She came to me when you banished her. Horrible BO, but a great source of intel, right up to the end. Her end, that is.’ Utgard-Loki drew a wing tip across his throat. ‘Impersonating her was a cinch. Embarrassing you in front of your thanes? That was an added bonus.’

  I’d heard enough. I reared back and threw my spear. It never misses, yet Gungnir sailed past the eagle. How …?

  Utgard-Loki crowed with laughter. ‘The mighty Odin, foiled by a bit of distortion magic? This is a good day!’

  I blinked and saw that the eagle was no longer on the table – perhaps it never had been – but by an open window. He saluted me with a wing, then soared off towards the distant mountains of Jotunheim.

  I sank into my chair. ‘Clear the room.’

  The thanes beat a hasty retreat. In the silence that followed, one thought rolled through my mind: Some days you are the axe, some days you are the decapitated head.

  I’d never felt more decapitated in my life. I didn’t like it. So I chose to become the axe.

  ‘Hunding, stop skulking in the hallway and get in here.’

  The bellhop poked his head round the doorway. ‘I wasn’t skulking,’ he said defensively. ‘I was lingering.’

  ‘Come in. I need you to do three things. One: find a way to track Thor’s FitnessKnut. Report his whereabouts at all times.’