The Sword of Summer

Could you do a glamour and turn into something smaller?" I asked it. "Preferably not a chain, since it's no longer the 1990s?" The sword didn't reply (duh), but I imagined it was humming at a more interrogative pitch, like, Such as what? "I dunno. Something pocket-size and innocuous. A pen, maybe?" The sword pulsed, almost like it was laughing. I imagined it saying, A pen sword. That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard.

Myths are simply stories about truths we've forgotten.

Hearthstone Passes Out Even More than Jason Grace (Though I Have No Idea Who That Is)

I hate this plan,” I said. “Let’s do it.

What kind of animal am I eating?' Sam wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. 'It's named Saehrimnir.' 'Okay, first of all, who names their dinner? I don't want to know my dinner's name. This potato--is this potato named Steve?' She rolled her eyes. 'No, stupid. That's Phil. The bread is Steve.

My name is Magnus Chase. I’m sixteen years old. This is the story of how my life went downhill after I got myself killed.

It was an annoying name to have. People tended to spell in Mangus, rhymes with Angus. I always corrected them: No, it's Magnus, rhymes with swagness. At which point they would stare at me blankly.

even if we can’t change the big picture, our choices can alter the details. That’s how we rebel against destiny,

I smiled. "So this horse is your nephew, Sam?" She glared at me. "Let's not go there." "How did your dad father a horse?" Blitzen coughed. "Actually, Loki was Sleipnir's mother." "What--?" "Let's definitely not go there," Sam warned.

I am Hel,” she agreed. “Sometimes called Hela, though most mortals dare not speak my name at all. No jokes, Magnus Chase? Who the Hel are you? What the Hel do you want? You look Hela bad. I was expecting more bravado.

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

They’re not dead,” I told the goat. “They both have pulses.” “Oh.” The goat sighed. “Well, give them a few more hours and they’ll probably be dead.” “What is wrong with you?” “Everything,” said the goat.

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.” “Say what now?

He likes to be noticed. He’s not exactly low-key.” “I get it,” I said. “Loki. Low-key.

I call it 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!

People said the towers looked like giant salt and pepper shakers, but I’d always thought they looked like Daleks from Doctor Who.

Another yap shook the room. Broken branches tumbled to the floor. “Wh-what’s up there?” I asked, my knees shaking. I thought about the Norns’ prophecy, naming me a harbinger of evil. “Is it—the Wolf?” “Oh, much worse,” Blitzen said. “It’s the Squirrel.

Well, yes, I call it the Expando-Duck. It's perfect if you need a small metal duck. Or a larger metal duck.

Such is human memory... you forget the truth and believe what makes you feel better.

Well, I live a double life. Tonight, I'll escort you to dinner. Then I have to rush home and finish my calculus homework.' 'You're not joking, are you?' 'I never joke about calculus homework.

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 thing about fate, Magnus: even if we can't change the big picture, our choices can alter the details.That's how we rebel against destiny, how we make our mark. What will you choose to do?

Somebody once told me that a hero's bravery has to be unplanned - a genuine response to a crisis. It has to come from the heart, without any thought of reward.

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

Back up,” I said. “What did Sam mean by again? You’ve lost your hammer before?” “Once,” Thor said. “Okay, twice. Three times if you count this time, which you shouldn’t, because I am not admitting that the hammer is missing.” “Right…” I said. “So how did you lose it?” “I don’t know!” Thor started to pace again, his long red hair sparking and popping. “It was just like…Poof! I tried retracing my steps. I tried the Find My Hammer app, but it doesn’t work!

One guy wore nothing but a Speedo. He’d painted himself blue and was armed only with a baseball bat. Across his chest were the words COME AT ME, BRO.

Let’s see, today is Thor’s Day the sixteenth.” “You mean Thursday?” “That’s what I said. The island will rise on the full moon six days from now, on the twenty-second, which is Woden’s Day.” “Wednesday?” I asked. “That’s what I said.

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!

Don't worry, kid." Blitz brought out the silken cord. "This rope can't be weakened. And Hearthstone's right. We might as well tie it to one another for safety." "That way if we fall," Sam said, "We'll fall together." "Sold," I said, trying to tamp down my anxiety. "I love dying with friends.

I don’t expend my energy trying to fight the change of seasons. I focus on making sure the days I have, and the season I oversee, are as joyful, rich, and plentiful as possible.