We took off like a rocket ship. I just barely managed to keep the third law of motion from sending me through the windshield by catching ahold of the pole and swinging myself into the front seat next to Skander.

"So, who're we escaping from this time, chief?" Seeger asked cheerfully, twirling the wheel as he cut across five lanes and a median stripe to get to the road he wanted.

"Just airport security I hope," I answered, "and don't call me 'chief'. I'm not a Red Indian!"

"The politically correct term is 'Native American'," said Brenda from the seat behind us.

"Ask me do I care?" I turned around to take stock. The usual crowd was all present and accounted for. "Everybody this is Skander Half-Alfar from Skye." I announced to the bus at large.

"Skander, meet Brenda Thorsdottir," she nodded her mop of red hair in a friendly sort of way. "Alfred Freyrsson," Alf's a skinny, undersized fifteen. Freyr's kids always get their growth late. "Craig and Eric Grahame sons of Freyja," and trust me, the Northern goddess of love and beauty is nothing like the Roman Venus. "Ivor Waylandsson," he frowned at the kid, dark browed and massive of shoulder and arm like his father the divine smith. "Joe Eisenhower son of Skuld," another redhead but with a lean and hungry look, he has the bad luck of being able to foresee the future thanks to having a Norn for his mother. "And the Buffy types over there are the three Hildes; Brynhilde, Swanhilde and Ragnhilde."

Skander found his voice; "You've got to be kidding me!"

The girls laughed. "Our mothers are Valkyries," Ragnhilde explained and they all named us 'Hilda' -"

"Which was kind of confusing when we got to camp," Brynhilde continued, "so we got our prefixes, 'Brynhilde' means 'mail coat' Hilde."

"'Ragnhilde' means 'smart' Hilde," that Hilde added smugly.

"And the meaning of Swanhild is pretty obvious," the third of the trio finished.

The bus jolted under us as it took another shortcut over a median. I sighed; "And the guy behind the wheel trying to get us all killed is Seeger Son of the Waves."

"You are such a worrier, boss," he said cheerfully, grinding gears. I tried not to wince.

"Son of the Waves, you mean the sea god?" Skander asked uncertainly.

"Nope, his daughters the Nine Waves," Seeger answered keeping his eyes on the road for a change.

"Which one?"

"All of 'em."

Skander opened his mouth. I shook my head at him. "Don't ask." Exactly how the nine sister goddesses manage to produce one baby between them is a mystery best left unsolved in my opinion.

"Hudson River coming up," Seeger observed casually. "Brace yourselves, folks."

"For what -" Skander began just before the ground fell out from under us.

The bus morphed into a longship in the split second before we hit the water. "For that," I said rather unnecessarily. Skander and I were now sitting on a rowing bench with a long oar magically working itself next to us. The other kids were distributed around the ship about the same as they'd been on the bus except for Seeger who was now standing at the steering oar in the stern.

Skander closed his eyes and looked ever so slightly green. "I know," I said sympathetically. "The shift takes a little getting used to."

"A little?" he echoed disbelievingly then took a deep breath and started looking around. Longships are low slung with sides just a few feet above the water line. Twenty shields lined the gunwales above the oarlocks, ten to a side and painted pinwheel style in red and white. A carved and gilded dragon's head reared proudly in the prow and its tail curled over the stern.

"Nice," he said at last.

I gave him an approving grin. "You're going to do fine."

"Hey, boss," Seeger called from the back, and he sounded worried which was not like him at all.

"'Scuse me," I went to see what was wrong. Alf slipped into the seat I'd just vacated. Like me he could sense trouble in the air.

'Trouble' was putting it mildly. There was a longship following us, a huge longship roughly the size of the QEII and surrounded by clouds of steam which was a new one on me.

"Fire giants," said Seeger. I looked at him in surprise. I'd had more experience of Frost giants than I cared to remember but I'd never so much as seen the Muspelheim variety. Fine, I'm always up for new experiences.

"Battle stations!" I shouted. "Alf, I need a good fireproofing spell now. Skander, grab a shield and get back here."

The Hildes swarmed up the mast, straddled the yardarm and pulled out their bows. Alf started drawing glowy runes in midair with his staff while Brenda and the rest of the guys lined up amidships forward of the mast.

Skander came trotting up eclipsed behind a shield three feet across. "Right," I said to him. "Kid, I need you to cover Seeger. We can't lose our steersman." Then I headed forward twisting a rune engraved iron ring on my finger. Gram, formerly the sword of Sigurd now my sword, manifested itself settling in my hand like a natural extension of my right arm.

The giant ship pulled alongside and its crew peered over the side at us waving fiery axes and swords. Forget Jack and the Beanstalk, a real giant is only half again as big as a big human being, say ten feet tall tops. These guys were burnt black by the fierce heat of their homeland with shaggy red air and beards and red glowing eyes – oh joy.

A few of those eyes were promptly put out by our archers in the rigging before their comrades vaulted the side of their ship to drop into ours. The biggest landed right in front of me and somehow I didn't think that was just a coincidence.

"Name yourself, Chief of Warriors," he roared in a voice like an open flame. "I would know who I kill!" modest much?

I replied in the traditional manner – far be it from any hero to give a straight answer to a straight question: "I am Grim the Binder, Jotun's Bane; Son of Grimnir the Wise; I am the great wolf, lord of the North Wood; Chief and best of the Ulfednar; I am the glutter of ravens who follows Gungnir's flight; The Irongrip of the Dwarves."

My giant opponent broke into a broad white grin. "Well met, Dane Wodensson!"

I've got to work on my kennings. They're not supposed to be that easy to guess. The flaming axe came for my head and I settled down to business. Understand this; I love to fight. Suddenly everything becomes simple; no ambiguities and no uncertainties; him or you; Midgard or Vahalla. Fighting is easy. Dying, when I come to do it, will be easier still. It's living, strategizing, leading that's tough.

The Muspelheimer smelled like gasoline and radiated so much heat I was running with sweat in seconds. On the other hand nothing was catching fire so I guessed Alf's spell was working. Thanks to the Jotnar I know all about fighting oversized, axe-wielding opponents. It didn't take Mr. I-would-know-who-I-killed long to make number two of the four fatal mistakes that get giants offed.

War axes have a this long, evil spike on top that can be used to stab which was exactly what my Muspelheimer decided to do when his swinging strokes kept getting blocked. The split second distraction as he adjusted his grip was just the opening I needed.

Gram went in under the short ribs and I cut upward slicing through his big barrel of a chest. Flames spouted out instead of blood, spreading over his body until he went up like a torch.

"Still glad you met me?" I asked. The ashes didn't answer they just blew away. I looked around taking stock. No heroes were down and there were little dust-devils of gray ash all over the place. Seeger had somehow managed to disengage and outdistance the giant longship as it was nowhere to be seen.

Then Joe shouted; "Firedrake coming in at four o'clock!"

Brenda squeed, no I swear she really did, "Dibs on the dragon!"

"Greedy," said Alf shifting his grip on his staff.

"That fire retardant spell still working?" I asked him.

"Gods I hope so!" he answered fervently

Up in the rigging the Hildes let fly with another volley but their arrows flamed and disappeared inches from the firedrake's glittering scales.

"Hey! Stop shooting at my dragon!" Brenda shouted waving her two bladed axe threateningly – at the Hildes not the dragon.

"Please tell me it's not going to try to land on us," I groaned to the Grahame brothers who'd come up on either side of me, getting closer to the action.

It wasn't. It barreled down swooping low and forcing everybody to kiss the deck, except for Brenda who made a wild pinwheeling slash at it – and missed – as it breathed fire over us all. Luckily Alf's spell was still working.

The firedrake's wings cupped, grabbing air as it gained altitude and turned for another run,

Brenda jumped up on a rowing bench waving her axe wildly. "Hey! hey you, hot and ugly, over here!"

Craig and Eric shared an eye-roll across me and I silently agreed with them. Thor's kids are not exactly famous for their good sense. On the other hand they are known for killing dragons which was one good reason for staying down and letting Brenda sort it. The fact that she'd take her axe to us if we went for 'her' dragon was the other.

The firedrake passed overhead with a roar of heat, like when you throw gasoline on fire, and I heard a solid 'thunk' as Brenda's axe connected. Risking a look I saw the dragon flying unsteadily off our starboard bow, sort of staggering in midair as gouts of flame leapt from a deep cut just where shoulder and neck met. It attempted a third run but couldn't keep altitude and crashed against the side of our longship, almost capsizing us, before going up in a ball of fire.

"Yah!" Brenda did a little victory dance. "Just call me Brenda Dragon-bane!"

"Watch the axe!" I snapped, then; "casualties?"

"No."

"Nope."

"Fine here."

"Wow!" that last was from Skandar. The kid looked hyped rather than scared, yup definitely one of us.

I tilted my head back for a view of the Hildes on the yardarm. "You girls stay up there and keep an eye open for any more nasties. Seeger, camp - best possible speed!"