The Sword of Summer (Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard, #1)

by Rick Riordan

If you’re driving a new BMW and you park it in a handicapped spot without a disabled placard, then yeah, I’ve got no problem jimmying your window and taking some change from your cup holder.

If you’re coming out of Barneys with your bag of silk handkerchiefs, so busy talking on your phone and pushing people out of your way that you’re not paying attention, I am there for you, ready to pickpocket your wallet. If you can afford five thousand dollars to blow your nose, you can afford to buy me dinner.

With your grades, you could easily get into Harvard. That had been back when she was still alive, I was still in school, and I might have had a future that extended past finding my next meal.

“Myths are simply stories about truths we’ve forgotten.”

I spotted a crumpled flyer skittering across the sidewalk: it had the word MISSING and an old picture of me. One of the tourists stepped on it.

“On my life, Magnus, I swear this is the truth: your father is a Norse god. Now, hurry. We’re in a twenty-minute parking spot.”

Surt!”

Surt In Norse mythology, Surtr (Old Norse "black", "the swarthy one", Surtur in modern Icelandic), also sometimes written Surt in English, is a jötunn. Surtr is attested in the Poetic Edda, compiled in the 13th century from earlier traditional sources, and the Prose Edda, written in the 13th century by Snorri Sturluson. In both sources, Surtr is foretold as being a major figure during the events of Ragnarök; carrying his bright sword, he will go to battle against the Æsir, he will battle the major god Freyr, and afterward the flames that he brings forth will engulf the Earth. In a book from the Prose Edda additional information is given about Surtr, including that he is stationed guarding the frontier of the fiery realm Múspell, that he will lead "Múspell's sons" to Ragnarök, and that he will defeat Freyr.

GROVE OF GLASIR.

In Norse mythology, Glasir (Old Norse "gleaming") is a tree or grove, described as "the most beautiful among gods and men", bearing golden red leaves located in the realm of Asgard, outside the doors of Valhalla. Glasir is attested in the 13th century Prose Edda book Skáldskaparmál where it receives three mentions, one of which mentions its location and all of which focus on the golden leaves of the tree.

HUNDING,

The Hundings (Old English: Hundingas, the "hound-clan") are a legendary tribe or clan in early Germanic sources, mostly mentioned due to their feud with the Wulfings (the "wolf-clan"). In the Poetic Edda, Hunding is a king of the Saxons, slain by Helgi Hundingsbane. The Gesta Danorum mentions a Danish king Helgo who slew Hundingus, king of Saxony, in single combat. The historical core of the story is likely a conflict between the Eastern Geats (the wolf-clan) and the Lombards (the hound-clan). Hunding itself is a patronymic translating to "son of a hound", while the Hundings as a clan would be the descendants of Hunding. Being named a "hound" or "dog" was by no means an insult in pre-Christian Germanic culture, but that the animal was rather a symbol of the warrior, while in Christian Germanic culture, it became associated with heathendom, "heathen hounds" being an appellation especially of the pagan Vikings.

SINGLE COMBAT TO THE DEATH!—OSLO ROOM, 10 A.M. GROUP COMBAT TO THE DEATH!—STOCKHOLM ROOM, 11 A.M. BUFFET LUNCH TO THE DEATH!—DINING HALL, 12 P.M. FULL ARMY COMBAT TO THE DEATH!—MAIN COURTYARD, 1 P.M. BIKRAM YOGA TO THE DEATH!—COPENHAGEN ROOM, BRING YOUR OWN MAT, 4 P.M.

HELGI,

Helgi appears to be the son of Sigmund and Borghild, and only fifteen years old he avenges his father by slaying Hunding, the king of the Saxons. This gives him the cognomen Hunding's bane. He continues with his warlike feats and one day, as he stands aboard his longship, he is visited by a valkyrie named Sigrún, who can ride through the air and over the sea and who knows well about his feats. She embraces him and kisses him, and he immediately falls in love with her.

“749…what is C.E.?” “Common Era,” said the manager. “What you might call A.D.” “Then why don’t you just say A.D.?” “Because Anno Domini, in the Year of Our Lord, is fine for Christians, but Thor gets a little upset. He still holds a grudge that Jesus never showed up for that duel he challenged him to.”

einherjar

In Norse mythology, the einherjar (singular einheri; literally "army of one", "those who fight alone") are those who have died in battle and are brought to Valhalla by valkyries. In Valhalla, the einherjar eat their fill of the nightly resurrecting beast Sæhrímnir, and valkyries bring them mead from the udder of the goat Heiðrún. The einherjar prepare daily for the events of Ragnarök, when they will advance for an immense battle at the field of Vígríðr. An etymological connection exists between the einherjar and the Harii, a Germanic people or figures from early Germanic folklore attested in the 1st century AD, and scholars have connected the einherjar to the eternal battle of Hjaðningavíg and the Wild Hunt. The einherjar have been the subject of works of art and poetry.

HALFBORN GUNDERSON

MALLORY KEEN.

THOMAS JEFFERSON, JR

dagaz,” Hunding said. “Nothing to be afraid of. It symbolizes new beginnings, transformations. It also opens your door. Only you have access.”

I threw the guest services book into the fireplace. As it burned, a new copy appeared on the coffee table. Stupid magical hotel wouldn’t even allow me to properly vandalize things.

Magnus Chase. I couldn’t tell which Norn had spoken. The soft disembodied voice resonated through the hall, seeping into my head, turning my skull into an icebox. Harbinger of the Wolf.

Wrongly chosen, wrongly slain, A hero Valhalla cannot contain. Nine days hence the sun must go east, Ere Sword of Summer unbinds the beast.

“The son of Frey…” She looked around the room desperately. “Einherjar, don’t you see? This is the son of Frey! Surt himself was on that bridge! That means the sword…” She turned to the thanes’ table. “Gunilla, you must see what that means. We have to find that sword! A quest, immediately—”

Frey was the god of spring and summer! read the caption. He was the god of wealth, abundance, and fertility. His twin sister, Freya, the goddess of love, was very pretty! She had cats!

Frey didn’t even have his own cats. He had to borrow his sister’s.

“Alf seidr,”

Elf magic? elves are frequently mentioned in the alliterating phrase Æsir ok Álfar ('Æsir and elves') and its variants. This was a well-established poetic formula, indicating a strong tradition of associating elves with the group of gods known as the Æsir, or even suggesting that the elves and Æsir were one and the same. Moreover, in Skaldic verse the word elf is used in the same way as words for gods. Sigvatr Þórðarson's skaldic travelogue Austrfaravísur, composed around 1020, mentions an álfablót ('elves' sacrifice') in Edskogen in what is now southern Sweden. There does not seem to have been any clear-cut distinction between humans and gods; like the Æsir, then, elves were presumably thought of as being humanlike and existing in opposition to the giants. Many commentators have also (or instead) argued for conceptual overlap between elves and dwarves in Old Norse mythology, which may fit with trends in the medieval German evidence. There are hints that the god Freyr was associated with elves. In particular, Álfheimr (literally "elf-world") is mentioned as being given to Freyr in Grímnismál. Snorri Sturluson identified Freyr as one of the Vanir. However, the term Vanir is rare in Eddaic verse, very rare in Skaldic verse, and is not generally thought to appear in other Germanic languages. Given the link between Freyr and the elves, it has therefore long been posited that álfar and Vanir are, more or less, different words for the same group of beings.

“The throne’s magic can be a terrible curse. I certainly would never risk it if this weren’t an illusion. But your father did. It was his one moment of rebellion.” Loki took another bite of purple Pop-Tart. “I always admired him for that.” “And?” “And instead of seeing what he was looking for, he saw what he most desired. It ruined his life. It’s the reason he lost his sword.

“A fart elf?” “Gah! Clean your ears, kid. A svartalf. It means dark elf. I’m from Svartalfheim.” “Um, I thought you just said you’re a dwarf.” “Dark elves aren’t actually elves, kid. It’s…what do you call it? A misnomer. We’re a subset of dwarves.”

walking and talking in sign language don’t mix. Nor could Hearth read lips very well on the move. I kind of liked that, actually. You couldn’t multitask while talking to him. The dialogue required one hundred percent focus. If all conversations were like that, I imagined people wouldn’t say so much stupid garbage.

walking and talking in sign language don’t mix. Nor could Hearth read lips very well on the move. I kind of liked that, actually. You couldn’t multitask while talking to him. The dialogue required one hundred percent focus. If all conversations were like that, I imagined people wouldn’t say so much stupid garbage.

both worlds have changed. Elves spend most of their time staring at screens, watching funny pixie videos when they are supposed to be working.

I was tempted to pick up the pen and write the first entry: Thanks for coming to my funeral!—Magnus.

“Elves.” Blitz shrugged. “They have a low tolerance for anything that isn’t perfect—music, art, appearances. Their own children.” I wanted to protest how messed up that was. Then I thought about humans, and I decided we weren’t much better.

Ratatosk makes sure the two monsters stay angry and in competition with each other, to see which one can destroy their end of Yggdrasil faster.” “But that’s…crazy. The squirrel lives in the tree.” Blitz grimaced. “We all do, kid. People have destructive impulses. Some of us want to see the world in ruins just for the fun of it…even if we’re ruined along with it.”

couldn’t imagine her in a place like this. There was too much lounging around, not enough action. My mom would’ve rousted these warriors to their feet, led them on a ten-mile hike, then insisted they set up their own campsites if they wanted any dinner.

“Dwarves are craftsmen,” said Blitzen. “We’re serious about the things we make. You humans—you make a thousand crappy chairs that all look alike and all break within a year. When we make a chair, we make one chair to last a lifetime, a chair unlike any other in the world. Cups, furniture, weapons…every crafted item has a soul and a name. You can’t appreciate something unless it’s good enough for a name.”

“You want to make clothing, right? So make clothing.” “Kid, this is a forge, not a haberdashery. Besides, fashion is not a recognized craft.” “What about armor?” Blitz hesitated. “Well, yeah, but—” “What about fashionable clothing that doubles as armor?”

If at first you don't succeed, attack it from a different angle.

I considered how the sword either hummed or stayed silent, either guided my hand or lay heavy and inert. If it had a soul and emotions—then I hadn’t given it enough credit. I’d been treating it like a dangerous object. I should be treating it like a person.

Paradox ingredients are very difficult to craft with, very dangerous. Gleipnir contained the footfall of a cat, the spittle of a bird, the breath of a fish, the beard of a woman.”

Andskoti, the Adversary. It is woven with the most powerful paradoxes in the Nine Worlds—Wi-Fi with no lag, a politician’s sincerity, a printer that prints, healthy deep-fried food, and an interesting grammar lecture!”

“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.”

I hope you wake up, because if you kick the bucket now, your death will be meaningless and nothing you’ve done will matter.”

One bond will snap and they’ll all start going—unraveling like one huge tapestry.”

The goat’s horns curved outward like the top half of an hourglass.

Why does your breath smell so bad? Have you been eating spare change?

“What is wrong with you?” “Everything,” said the goat. “My whole life is one big—” “Never mind,” I said. “Just be quiet.” The goat brayed. “Sure, I understand. You don’t want to know my problems. No one does. I’ll be over here, weeping or whatever. Just ignore me.”

“Oh, sure. I’m basically a talking meal on four hooves. My therapist says that’s why I’m so down all the time, but I don’t know. I think it goes way back to when I was a kid—”

I thought about my dream. I could still smell the bitter almonds on Loki’s breath.

He pointed upstream and led us through the foggy morning, with spotty snow flurries and a forty percent chance of death.

“he told me part of his story. I don’t know all the details, but…his parents…” She struggled to find words. Otis the goat bleated. “Go on. I love depressing stories.”

“Hearth had a brother—Andiron—who died very young. It wasn’t Hearthstone’s fault, but his parents took out their bitterness on him. They always told him the wrong brother had died. To them, Hearth was a disappointment, a disabled elf, a punishment from the gods. He could do no right.”

“Perthro symbolizes an empty cup lying sideways,” Sam said. “It could be spilled drink, or a cup waiting to be filled, or a cup for throwing dice, like fate.”

was offered a choice between two futures. If he took the first path, Mimir would grant him speech and hearing and send him back to Alfheim to live a normal life, but he would have to give up his dream of magic. If he chose the second path—”