Underworlds #4: The Ice Dragon by Tony Abbott Read Free Book Online Page B

Beyond the pier stood a bridge with a gold roof.
    “The port of the dead,” said Sydney, reading from Dana’s notes.
    “It is,” whispered Baldur. “And that’s the infamous Gjoll Bridge. The gold roof is made of the shields of the dead whose souls were not chosen by my sisters tojoin Odin. Not many of the living have ever seen it. This is Niflheim.”
    The bridge was frightening in its own way, but nothing like the immensity in the distance behind it. There was a tree whose trunk must have measured miles from side to side. It reached to a height far beyond anything I could see.
    “The giant ash tree is the axis of all three worlds,” said Baldur. “Niflheim, Midgard, and Asgard.”
    I tried to imagine how everything was connected to everything else. Norse mythology was one thing, but how did all the other branches of mythology fit in? It was all too much. Besides, I had plenty of other things to worry about.
    As our ship mysteriously drifted to the pier, a troop of ghostly Draugs emerged from the darkness in a slow procession. They carried a portable platform — and I knew right away what it was for.
    “Uh-oh,” I said. “They’re coming for you, Baldur.”
    He grumbled under his breath. “To get into the castle, we must fool the keepers of the dead,” he whispered. “It seems a shame to let my funeral go to waste.I’ll play dead. You should, too. Everyone, quietly, get under my shroud!” Baldur lay flat on the funeral platform and pulled the heavy cloth over him. Without any other option, we ducked underneath and clung to the underside of the platform. “Psst,” Baldur said. “When we get inside the castle, you three sneak off to find Dana. I’ll play dead until the Draugs get wise. Now, shhh!”
    Frozen in place, we heard the grumbling of the ghostly Draug warriors walking down the pier toward the ship. They smelled bad, as usual, but there was another smell on them we all recognized — the sour stink of Fenrir. He was definitely in Niflheim.
    We were carried inland to where the ground was mostly frozen swamp, black with stubbly growth. The Draugs marched silently past all kinds of wailing, which I figured must have been coming from souls of the dead. They were angry, or sad, or both.
    But it was about to get worse.
    The Draugs paused, set down the platform, and strode away. I lifted the shroud for a moment to peek out. We were alone.
    “There,” Sydney whispered. A huge, ugly building made of mismatched iron, stone, and wood rose up on a hill in front of the giant tree.
    “I bet Dana’s in there,” I said. “Her parents, too. They have to be.”
    “There’s supposed to be a monster dog, Garm, guarding Niflheim’s fortress,” Baldur whispered. “I don’t sense him nearby.”
    “Maybe he’s being walked by … what’s Loki’s daughter’s name?” Jon asked.
    “Hela,” I said, shivering a little. “Dana told me once. It’s a name you don’t forget.”
    Clang! The chains fell and the gate squealed open. After a minute, the Draugs hauled us across the threshold.
    The Draugs set us down again so they could close the gate behind them. That’s when Baldur whispered, “Now!” We slipped out from under the shroud and darted into the shadows. I wished Baldur a silent “good luck.” We would all need it.
    Hela’s fortress was a city of pointed arches and tall pinnacles, stone bridges and cobbled streets. Therewere narrow passageways everywhere, low-roofed houses, and plumes of smoke rising from what looked like shops, though I couldn’t imagine what they sold there. In the middle of the city stood a crazy structure made of crumbling stone and rotting wooden beams piled up to impossible heights. It was surrounded by a bad-smelling swamp of black reeds and vines.
    Sydney breathed out. “If I was keeping people prisoner, which I would never do, that ugly place is where I’d put them. Dana and her parents must be in there.”
    I plucked the strings of the lyre one by one. They barely