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Rick Riordan - 9 From the Nine Worlds

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Rick Riordan 9 From the Nine Worlds

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Copyright 2018 by Rick Riordan Illustrations by James Firnhaber Jim Madsen - photo 1
Copyright 2018 by Rick Riordan Illustrations by James Firnhaber Jim Madsen - photo 2

Copyright 2018 by Rick Riordan

Illustrations by James Firnhaber, Jim Madsen, and Yori Elita Narpati

Designed by Beth Meyers

Rune and symbol art by Michelle Gengaro-Kokmen

Cover art by James Firnhaber

Cover design by Joann Hill

Copyright 2018 by Disney Enterprises, Inc.

All rights reserved. Published by DisneyHyperion, an imprint of Disney Book Group. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. For information address DisneyHyperion, 125 West End Avenue, New York, New York 10023.

ISBN 978-1-368-04189-8

Visit www.DisneyBooks.com

Follow @ReadRiordan

A special thank-you to Stephanie True Peters for her help with this book

CONTENTS
MY EINHERJAR have a sa - photo 3
MY EINHERJAR have a saying Some days you are the ax some days you are the - photo 4
MY EINHERJAR have a saying Some days you are the ax some days you are the - photo 5
MY EINHERJAR have a saying Some days you are the ax some days you are the - photo 6

MY EINHERJAR have a saying: Some days you are the ax, some days you are the decapitated head. I like it so much, Im 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 ax. Strong. Powerful. In control.

Usually. But one day not long ago... well, lets 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 wasnt 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 foods hit the floor.

Now clean up this mess and think about what youve done.

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

We wove our way through Hotel Valhalla, the eternal home of my einherjarmortals 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 program, 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 handmaidens 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 Gunillas 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 choiceyet.

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

Yes, Lord Odin?

Dont 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 dishonorable dead; Nidavellir, the gloomy world of the dwarves; and Muspellheim, home of the fire giants.

This time, I didnt make it past Asgard. Because goats.

Specifically, Thors goats, Marvin and Otis. They were on the Bifrost, the radioactive Rainbow Bridge that connects Asgard to Midgard, wearing footy pajamas. 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 morning.

More disturbing was Heimdall, guardian of the Bifrost. He was hopping around on all fours like a deranged lunatic. So heres 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! Heimdalls helium-squeaky voice set my teeth on edge. He waved his phablet at me. Im 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.

Im not a baby! Marvin snapped.

Im 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. Heimdalls job is to sound the alarm on his horn, Gjallara 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 thats a wrap, guys.

Finally, Marvin said. Im going for a graze. He hopped off the bridge and plummeted to almost certain death and next-day resurrection. Otis sighed 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 Valhallas garden caught my eye. I looked closer. And immediately wished I hadnt.

Legs spraddled 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. Hes 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 FitnessKnutthat thing around his anklehe earns a cameo appearance on a Midgard television show. Thats why I had his goats. He said theyd slow him down.

Thats ridiculous!

Not really. Those goats arent exactly speedy. Unless theyre plummeting, that is.

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

Heimdall tapped his ears. Hes listening to rock.

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