from whale skeletons. Pieces of tan fabric were strung between bleached bones. The walls were constructed of rusted metal.
“What kinds of bones are those?” asked Ali.
“Nidhogg’s children,” said the draugr. “The wyrm reproduces on her own, without a mate.”
I stared at the bones. They were large, at least ten feet tall.
“How big are Nidhogg’s children?” asked Ali.
“Big.”
“And you kill them?”
“No, Nidhogg does. She’s not much into maternal care.”
“You know a lot about her.”
“Before I died,” the draugr leader said, “I was a professor of herpetology. Specialized in reptiles. Turns out that knowledge of snakes is a valued skill down here. When we found you, we were looking for wyrm eggs. But before we talk more of Nidhogg and her progeny, let me show you some hospitality.”
Within the skeletal structure, the draugr led us through a corridor. Here, the rust-colored walls were old car parts, but the roof was covered in a translucent, plastic-like substance I didn’t recognize.
“What is that?” I asked.
The lank-haired corpse laughed. “Snakeskin. When Nidhogg sheds, we collect the skin as it washes up on the shore. Makes a nearly waterproof roofing material.”
“And this is how we get to the wyrm?” asked Ali, looking uneasy.
The draugr shrugged. “Well, not exactly. We just wanted to show off a bit. We don’t get many visitors.”
Now, I was growing impatient, desperate to get to Loki’s wand. I could almost feel the magic from here, tingling over my skin. And I was starting to wonder if these draugr had any designs on eating Ali.
We crossed through an arch of interlocking vertebrae and into the hall. A table constructed from a long piece of driftwood ran down the middle of the room. Above the table hung chandeliers made from the skulls of massive snakes, presumably also Nidhogg’s children.
Soon, the draugr’s large mugs filled with red liquid—blood, by the smell of it. When all the stools were filled, their lank-haired leader stood.
“A toast to our new companions!” he shouted.
The draugr raised their mugs in a great gurgling cheer, then slammed them down.
Ali stiffened.
“Don’t worry, don’t worry,” he said. “I promise no one will lay a finger on you. Especially now that we’ve drunk. Is that not right, my dead brothers and sisters?”
“Where’s Nidhogg?” I asked, impatience roiling in my blood.
The draugr sighed. “She lives in the sea.” He gestured in the direction of the sea. “Where the water is deepest.”
“I don’t suppose you have a boat?” asked Ali.
“I do, as it happens.”
A plan began to form in my mind. “You said you sacrifice some of your kind to her?”
He nodded cheerfully. “Yes, at night we push them into the sea. In the morning, they are nothing but gnawed bones.”
“Perfect,” I said.
Chapter 48
Ali
The draugr leader led us along the beach again, and we walked silently under a sky that had turned dark.
I shivered, but not from cold. The draugr unnerved me. Not breathing, their eyes unblinking, quiet as ghosts. Even though I’d seen them drink blood, and their leader had promised they wouldn’t harm me, their dead eyes followed my every step. They still hungered for my flesh; I was certain of it.
They’d given Marroc a large rucksack, which he now wore slung over one shoulder. It bore the logo of an old human sports team—the New York Jets. It smelled terrible, but he refused to tell me what was inside of it.
We kept away from the sea, walking high on the shoreline. Though they hadn’t specifically stated it, I assumed the draugr were worried Nidhogg might come lunging up from the red water and drag them into the depths.
In front of me, smoke drifted off Marroc’s skin. His gaze was straight ahead.
The dunes rose higher, and Yggdrasill’s roots became more numerous. The draugr became ever more vigilant, and the smoke thickened over Marroc’s shoulders. I called Skalei to me.
“What is it?” I whispered to a gray-faced draugr walking next to me.
“We are near the home of the—”
The draugr never finished her sentence; we were interrupted by shrieking cries that sent a chill through my blood. I whirled, my knife ready. From the dunes, a mass of draugr charged toward us, screaming like banshees. Unlike our cohort in tattered clothes, these draugr wore slacks, leather shoes, and oxford shirts.
“Oath-breakers!” one of our draugr friend shouted. “Keep away from her!” He spun to face me. “You need to hurry. We won’t feast on your flesh, but the oath-breakers will. The boat is just over there. We’ll hold them off.”