waves would push us back onto the beach.
“We need to get this boat moving,” I said. “Have you ever sailed before?”
Ali shook her head. “I grew up in a cave, remember?”
“Not a problem. Before Ragnarok, I used to sail in Boston Harbor.”
“That was a thousand years ago. You might be a bit rusty.”
“It’s like riding a bike,” I said, turning to study the boat. Built like a traditional Viking longship, it had a single mast, wooden oarlocks along the side, and rows of oars. Both ends were pointed and carved in the shape of bird beaks. Rows of circular shields lined each side. It looked ready to ferry a Viking raiding party across the North Sea.
There was only one thing that seemed out of place. The hull wasn’t built of wood. Instead, it appeared to be constructed from a plastic-like material.
“What is this thing made of?” said Ali, as if reading my mind.
I bent down to inspect the hull. It was rougher than I’d expected. As I ran my hand along the side, little pieces flaked off under my fingers. I blew out a long breath as I realized what the boat was.
“This isn’t just any boat, Ali. This was Loki’s ship, the Naglfar.”
Ali grimaced, pulling her hand quickly away from the hull. “The one that was built from the fingernails of the dead?”
“Yes.”
Ali hopped up onto one of the wooden seats, looking disturbed. “I’ve heard the story about how when a person dies, their fingernails keep growing. And that you should cut them, unless you want them to end up on the Naglfar… but I never thought it was real.”
“I think that a lot of things we believe are legends have a foundation in truth.”
Already, we’d drifted closer to the beach, and I sat down to grip a pair of oars.
“I don’t want us to run aground,” I said. “I’m going to row a bit.”
“I’ll help.” Ali sat in front of me, gripping another pair of oars. Her silver hair draped down her back, and I realized it was almost gleaming in the moonlight. We rowed in tandem, and I watched the muscles in her back move under her black shirt.
All remained silent around us.
Our oars cut into the sea like knives, and slowly, the boat began to move until it was picking up speed. I watched with a growing sense of relief as the dock grew small in the distance.
Already, I could feel that we were closing in on Nidhogg’s domain, where the water was deepest.
Chapter 50
Ali
I stole a glance behind me at Marroc, at his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows, showing off his muscular forearms. White had not been the best choice for this journey, as the shirt was now streaked in mud.
Wisps of smoke rose off his skin as he rowed. He gripped the oars tightly, and with each stroke, his shoulders squared. He might be dead, but he nevertheless exuded a powerful masculinity. His wood-smoke scent curled around me.
“You can stop rowing if you like,” he said as he pulled on the oars in an even rhythm. “I’m not even remotely tired.”
Right, of course. I’d forgotten how he was basically indefatigable. I put down my oars and turned to face him.
Beneath us, the longboat cut through the waves. As he rowed, he studied me. In the darkness, his eyes were a deep indigo color, like sapphires held up against a night sky. Fiery runes gleamed on his chest, visible through the open collar of his shirt.
“So, how are we going to find Nidhogg?” I asked.
“Bait,” Marroc said as he prepared to take another stroke.
I frowned. “With what?”
“We’ll use that.” He nodded at the rucksack he’d been carrying since we left the hall. “And now that you mention it,” he continued, “can you open it for me?”
I poked the bag with my foot instead. “Tell me what’s inside it.”
“Well, I wanted a bull’s head, but they didn’t have one. This is something that washed up on the beach. The draugr leader thought it would work.”
I poked the bag with my foot again but didn’t open it.
“Look, you’re going to have to open it.” He pulled on the oars. “My hands are occupied.”
Slowly I unzipped the bag. Inside were three human heads. Nausea rose in my throat. “Nope, no thanks. These are the bait?”
Marroc let the boat coast again as he spoke. “Once, when Thor fought Nidhogg, he used the head of a bull tied to a rope to lure in the wyrm. Except we