Contents
   Cover
   About the Book
   Title Page
   Dedication
   Maps
   Foreword
   Characters
   Runes
   Book 1: World’s End
   Chapter 1
   Chapter 2
   Chapter 3
   Chapter 4
   Chapter 5
   Chapter 6
   Chapter 7
   Chapter 8
   Chapter 9
   Chapter 10
   Chapter 11
   Chapter 12
   Book 2: Thor’s Hammer
   Chapter 1
   Chapter 2
   Chapter 3
   Chapter 4
   Chapter 5
   Chapter 6
   Chapter 7
   Chapter 8
   Chapter 9
   Chapter 10
   Chapter 11
   Chapter 12
   Book 3: Odin’s Horse
   Chapter 1
   Chapter 2
   Chapter 3
   Chapter 4
   Chapter 5
   Chapter 6
   Chapter 7
   Chapter 8
   Chapter 9
   Chapter 10
   Chapter 11
   Chapter 12
   Chapter 13
   Chapter 14
   Book 4: The Old Man of the Wilderlands
   Chapter 1
   Chapter 2
   Chapter 3
   Chapter 4
   Chapter 5
   Chapter 6
   Chapter 7
   Chapter 8
   Chapter 9
   Chapter 10
   Book 5: The Pan-daemonium Circus
   Chapter 1
   Chapter 2
   Chapter 3
   Chapter 4
   Chapter 5
   Chapter 6
   Chapter 7
   Chapter 8
   Chapter 9
   Book 6: Brimstone and Bridey Cake
   Chapter 1
   Chapter 2
   Chapter 3
   Chapter 4
   Chapter 5
   Chapter 6
   Chapter 7
   Book 7: The Rider of Carnage
   Chapter 1
   Chapter 2
   Chapter 3
   Chapter 4
   Chapter 5
   Chapter 6
   Chapter 7
   Chapter 8
   Chapter 9
   Chapter 10
   Book 8: Bif-rost
   Chapter 1
   Chapter 2
   Chapter 3
   Chapter 4
   Chapter 5
   Chapter 6
   Chapter 7
   Chapter 8
   Chapter 9
   Book 9: Asgard
   Chapter 1
   Chapter 2
   Chapter 3
   Chapter 4
   Chapter 5
   Chapter 6
   Chapter 7
   Chapter 8
   Chapter 9
   Chapter 10
   Chapter 11
   Chapter 12
   Chapter 13
   Chapter 14
   Chapter 15
   Acknowledgements
   About the Author
   Also by Joanne Harris
   Copyright
   About the Book
   Six hundred miles apart, two girls each bear on their skin a runemark: a symbol of the Old Days when the known Worlds were ruled by the gods from their sky citadel, Asgard.
   Now Asgard lies in ruins, and the power of the gods has long since been destroyed.
   Or so everyone thinks.
   But nothing is lost for ever, and the gods haven’t given up yet (nor stopped squabbling!) and they want the power of the runes borne by Maddy and Maggie – these new runes, which carry huge potential, their runelight shining out as a portent to the future.
   Soon both girls are swept into a maelstrom of cataclysmic events that are to draw them closer and closer to each other, and nearer and nearer to a horrific struggle where each must prove where their loyalty lies …
   Filled with inventive and humorous detail, trickery and treachery, carnage and lunacy, Runelight is the second title – following Runemarks – in a series of gloriously imaginative and dramatic tales about the Norse gods.
   To Anouchka
   Shine on.
   Foreword
   I’m hoping you’ve read Runemarks, in which case you can skip this bit, because you already know what happens. If not, there are just a few things you should be aware of before you begin.
   We’re in a place called Inland, a part of one of the Nine Worlds existing in the branches of Yggdrasil, the World Tree.
   The Worlds have ended several times, and will almost certainly do so again.
   The forces of Order and Chaos keep these Worlds in precarious balance.
   Gods and demons (which are almost but not quite the same thing) exist here in bewildering numbers, although they tend to get on rather badly with each other, which explains the End-of-the-World thing (see above).
   Originally there were two tribes of gods – the Æsir and the Vanir. After years of civil war, they decided to team up (under Odin, the leader of the Æsir) to fight their common enemies and generally keep Order in the Worlds. Odin acquired magical runes (a nice way of saying he stole them), which he used to keep the gods (and himself) in power. With the help of his blood-brother Loki, a renegade from Chaos, he created Asgard, the citadel of the gods, where Æsir and Vanir lived, reigned, had adventures, fell in love, made a number of foolish mistakes, played needlessly rude and cruel tricks on each other (well, Loki did, anyway) and finally fell out with Loki over a silly misunderstanding (his interpretation, not theirs), which resulted in a chain of events that finally ended in Ragnarók, a titanic battle against their enemies (everyone else), where all the gods were meant to have died, fighting the forces of Chaos.
   In Runemarks, Ragnarók has come and gone, and five hundred years have since gone by. The world has changed. We meet Maddy Smith, a fourteen-year-old misfit living in Malbry, a village of northern Inland. Maddy has a runemark – or ruinmark – on the palm of her hand that gives her special powers as well as making her an outsider, a throwback from the Bad Old Days before the End of the World and the coming of the Order, a religious group based in World’s End and devoted to the eradication of all things Chaotic, including magic, Faëries, old gods, stories, and anything else that might give the folk of Inland dangerous ideas – or, worse (Laws protect us), dreams.
   But Maddy does have one good friend: One-Eye of the Wilderlands, soon to be revealed as one of the old gods – Odin, leader of the Æsir, no less, thought to have fallen at Ragnarók, but surviving, his powers diminished, as a shadow of his former Aspect. He befriends Maddy, recognizing in her a potential ally, and enlists her in a personal quest, which doesn’t work out quite as he intended.
   Maddy befriends a renegade goblin (with the unfortunate name of Sugar-and-Sack) and embarks on a quest of her own, with a number of unforeseen consequences, leading ultimately to a final, disastrous confrontation on the shores of the river Dream, where the forces of the Order are massed to wipe out all of the Nine Worlds.
   The gods are wholly outnumbered, of course, but thanks to some unusual allies – including Jormungand, the World Serpent, and Hel, the ruler of the Dead –
   The Order is completely wiped out.
   Odin falls.
   The World ends (again).
   And Maddy turns out to be Modi, one of Thor’s twin children, presumed lost at Ragnarók.
   The rescued Æsir, being disembodied, are obliged to take on the Aspect of the nearest appropriate living host – in this case, two humans, a goblin and a pot-bellied pig.
   We leave the gods on the shore of Dream, angry, broken, grieving and faced with the jo 
					     					 			b of repairing a breach between Worlds that may soon result in all Hel breaking loose …
   So – lots of ends remained untied. Some good people died who should have survived. Some very bad people who ought to have died somehow managed to make it.
   It’s not what you’d call a happy ending.
   But it was the best I could do at the time.
   Now. Read on …
   CHARACTERS
   GODS (ÆSIR)
   Thor, the Thunderer, son of Odin, aka Dorian Scattergood, ex-pig farmer, rebel and acting leader of the Æsir
   Ethel, the Seeress, his mother, aka Frigg, Ethelberta Parson, Oracle and merry widow
   Sif, Thor’s wife, the goddess of plenty, aka Fat Lizzy, a pot-bellied pig
   Tyr, the Warrior, aka Sugar-and-Sack, an erstwhile goblin reluctantly turned god of war
   Maddy, who ought to have been born Modi, son of Thor, but who for complicated reasons turned out to be his daughter instead
   Odin, the General, still dead, but working on a solution
   GODS (VANIR)
   Heimdall, Watchman of the Golden Teeth
   Skadi, the Snowshoe Huntress, daughter of the Ice People and still not sure which side she’s on
   Idun, the Healer, goddess of youth
   Bragi, the Poet, god of wine and song
   Freyja, goddess of desire
   Frey, the Reaper, her twin brother
   Njörd, Skadi’s estranged husband, the Old Man of the Sea
   OTHERS
   Loki, blood-brother of Odin, known as the Trickster, fitting into neither camp but grudgingly tolerated – at least for the present – on account of how he saved the Worlds
   Jormungand, his monstrous son, aka the World Serpent
   Sigyn, Loki’s late ex-wife
   Hel, his daughter, Ruler of the Dead
   Fenris, his other son, Devourer and demon wolf
   Skól and Haiti, aka Skull and Big H, friends of Fenris, Demon Wolves, Devourers of the Sun and Moon, and dedicated followers of World’s End fashion
   Jolly – just don’t call him ‘short’
   Hughie and Mandy, aka Hugin and Munin, ravens with a sweet tooth
   Angrboda, one of Loki’s more dangerous liaisons, aka the Temptress; hag of Ironwood, mother of Hel, Fenris and Jormungand – and person of Chaotic origin
   Maggie Rede, a daughter of the Order, and more
   Adam Scattergood, a young man with a dream
   Crazy Nan Fey, a crone of unruly ambition
   Captain Chaos, an entertainer
   Sleipnir, an eight-legged Horse and harbinger of the Apocalypse
   Mimir the Wise, aka the Whisperer, a disembodied entity with revenge on its mind
   The Old Man, see above
   Perth, an entrepreneur and dealer in other people’s property
   Surt, a Lord of Chaos
   RUNES OF THE ELDER SCRIPT
   Fé: wealth; cattle; property; success
   Úr: strength; the Mighty Ox
   Thúris: Thor’s rune; the Thorny One; victory
   Ós: the Seer-folk; the Æsir
   Raedo: the Journeyman; the Outlands
   Kaen: wildfire; Chaos; World Beyond
   Hagall: hail; the Destroyer; Netherworld
   Naudr: the Binder; need; distress; the Underworld; Death
   Isa: ice
   Ár: plenty; fruitfulness
   Yr: the Protector; the Fundament
   Sól: summer; the sun
   Tyr: the Warrior
   Bjarkán: revelation; truth; vision; dream
   Madr: mankind; the Middle Worlds; the Folk
   Logr: water; the One Sea
   RUNES OF THE NEW SCRIPT
   Ethel: the Homeland; motherhood
   Aesk: the Ash Tree; Creation
   Ác: the Oak Tree; strength; determination
   Daeg: day; the Thunderbolt
   Iar: the Builder; industry
   Perth: a game; hazard; chance
   Wyn: gain; winnings; temptation; gambling
   Eh: Wedlock; loyalty; a bond
   Ea: the tides; Eternity; Death and beyond
   Gabe: a gift; a sacrifice
   The river Dream runs through Nine Worlds, and
   Death is only one of them.
   Old proverb
   FIVE PAST MIDNIGHT in World’s End, three years after the End of the World, and, as usual, there was nothing to be seen or heard in the catacombs of the Universal City – except, of course, for the rats and (if you believed in them) the ghosts of the dead.
   Maggie Rede had no fear of either. A tall, slim girl with straight dark brows and eyes of a curious amber-grey, wearing a white headscarf of the type World’s Enders called the bergha and a scarlet tunic over leggings and boots, she was the only remaining custodian of those abandoned catacombs, and rats were her especial prey. With crossbow or sling she could hit a rat at three hundred paces without missing a step; the rats knew her very well by now, and kept their peace when Maggie Rede was on the prowl.
   As for ghosts, Maggie had been walking the secret passageways every night for almost three years, and she had never yet seen a glimpse of one. There were still tales of a terrible battle here, with ten thousand of the Order wiped out in a single day. But there were no signs of them, nor of the enemy they had fought. Not even the ghosts were telling that tale.
   Outside, of course, tales were rife, but Maggie Rede mistrusted such tales, and even more the folk who told them, and she ignored them just as she did the ghosts, concentrating instead on what she could see, and keeping the rats from the catacombs.
   The Good Book, of course, had its own version of events. According to the Book of Apocalypse, the ten thousand had all been lost to the Bliss, a time predicted since the birth of the New Age, when the Nameless would call the faithful to arms, and they would shrug off their mortal flesh and be reborn into their perfect bodies upon the shores of the First World.
   Maggie believed in the Good Book. Like her father and her brothers before her, she was a true follower of the Order, and if she had been a boy she too would have known the Bliss by now, and would have been taken up into the Celestial City, instead of being left to deal with the mess at World’s End.
   Part of the problem, Maggie thought, was that although there had been much discussion on the subject of the Bliss and the precise nature of the delights in store for the faithful when the happy day arrived, no one had ever been entirely clear on what was to happen to the discarded flesh. She had imagined a kind of celestial spring cleaning, whereupon the bodies would be miraculously tidied away, but when it had finally come round, with ten thousand members of the Order suddenly vacating their earthly bodies (including Professors, Magisters, prentices and Examiners in the field), the results had been catastrophic.
   It had taken six months to dispose of the corpses. Part of this was because no one in World’s End wanted to take responsibility. The cleanup was the Order’s business, or so the sanitary services maintained, and ought to be dealt with (and paid for) by official representatives of the Order.
   The grim truth remained, however, that there were no representatives of the Order, either official or unofficial. And so the corpses festered and stank until, many meetings and committees later, they were declared a public health hazard and carted away and burned.
   That had been three years ago. Maggie had been fourteen that year, and just before the plague broke out she had been sent to stay with her great-aunt Reenie in the Ridings, while her mother searched among the gruesome remains for the three Examiners who had been her sons.
   Officially, of course, an Examiner of the Order has no family. The first thing a prentice has to do before taking his place as a son of the faith is to turn his back on his parents, to give up his name and to accept a number in its stead. Maggie’s father respected this. The brother of an Examiner recently honoured with the gift of the Word, he knew better than to shame his sons with his interference. The younger son of a Ridings wool merchant, he had longed to enter the Order himself, but his father could only affor 
					     					 			d to lose one of his sons, and so his brother Elias had won the chance, while Donal had learned his father’s trade.
   Years later, himself a father, he had moved to the Universal City, swearing to give his own sons the opportunity he had been denied and, when the time came, to disown them entirely, as was right and proper according to the rules of the Order. But Maggie’s mother had made no such vow. Many were the mothers like her, who defied the Law and sneaked into the University buildings at night, risking arrest – and sometimes worse – for the chance to offer a decent burial to their lost menfolk.
   Susan Rede had paid dearly for that chance. A haemorrhagic fever, caught on one of her night trips among the remains, had put an end to her searching and to her life, though not before she had passed on the sickness to her husband, the nurse, the grocer, his cousin, all his customers and the fellow who came to collect the dead.
   By the time Maggie came home, a hundred thousand people were dead of the plague; World’s End was out of quarantine; the bodies had been cleared away; and the University of Immutable Truths was nothing but a hollow shell, its wealth looted, its libraries abandoned, its great halls and amphitheatres empty of everything but dust.
   She could have stayed with her aunt, she supposed. Nothing remained of her previous life. But Reenie had children of her own, and a job milking cows at a neighbouring farm, and Maggie was unused to the ways of Ridings people, who seemed to her almost disorderly, with their country customs and casual attitude towards going to church and holy days; who laughed at the way she dressed and at her World’s End accent and at what they called her ‘city ways’.
   And so, with no family, no home and no friends, Maggie went back to World’s End. She found herself a job in a tavern close to the old University, which offered her board and lodging and a penny a day for expenses. She didn’t like the customers, who were often rude and drank too much; but the tavern was called The Communion, which had led her at first to think that maybe it was somehow connected with the Order. The landlady was a Mrs Blackmore, a prude with a widow’s bergha and a beady, sharp, acquisitive eye, who had made a fortune during the plague selling charms to the credulous. Her husband had died helping the sick, or so said Mrs Blackmore; in fact he had caught the fever himself while looting the bodies of the dead. Now his widow made her trade on her sainted husband’s reputation – telling tales of his bravery; warning of the Seer-folk; keeping an eye out for ruinmarks and such; and solemnly preaching abstinence, while selling the worst and sourest watered-down beer in the whole of World’s End.