The Wheel of Osheim

Snorri stared back at me with an intensity he usually reserved for men he was about to swing his axe at. “We will go to Osheim and stop the Wheel’s turning.”

“That’s just Viking talk.” I turned back to Garyus. “What should we do really?”

“You need to take the key to the Wheel of Osheim,” Garyus said.

“Take—” I had doubted it was possible to fit more misfortune between two sunrises. I had been wrong. “What? Why?” I’d been intending to just say no but when I opened my mouth questions came out instead.

“The key has to be taken to the centre. Nobody has ever escaped from that place. It’s one of the few locations that should be secure. If the Dead King, his servants, or anyone else goes hunting it, they won’t return.”

I cleared my throat. “I think you’re missing an important point here. Nobody has ever escaped from that place.”

“That is the point, Jalan. I didn’t miss it.”

“I—” I had dug myself into Hell by not having the bravery to admit my cowardice. I resolved not to get into a similar situation again. “Look. I’m just going to say it. I’m not in favour of any plan that doesn’t see me coming back again, and that’s that. I’m sure there are far more capable volunteers ready to do . . . this thing.”

“I will do it,” Snorri said. We both ignored him.

Garyus kept his gaze on me. “The rest of the point is that you’re not just going there to put the key in a safe place—you’re going there to use it. The Wheel is the source of our problems and the key is the one thing that might stop it. You’re going there to turn the Wheel back. If you fail then the key will be in a place that is dangerous to reach and impossible to escape from, but if you succeed then the world won’t split open, you’ll be able to return, and we will all live whatever lives were laid out for us.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. The old man was mad. Someone would need to replace him as steward and then we could all sit tight until the Red Queen came back to save us. If she was still alive.

“Yes.” Snorri didn’t sound like he needed any convincing. “We should leave today.” We both ignored him.

“Great-uncle.” I tried for a sympathetic voice. “The Wheel of Osheim . . . it’s not an actual wheel, you know? It’s a tunnel deep underground that runs in a circle miles wide. It can’t be ‘turned’.”

“It’s a machine. That’s what Kara told me,” Snorri said. “It’s a machine that changed the world a thousand years ago and is still changing it. It was started—so it can be stopped.”

“Interesting,” I said, by which I meant “shut the fuck up.” Why the hell Snorri was so keen to rush off to Osheim I had no idea. I stroked my chin as if contemplating his words and tried not to sound too tetchy. “Tunnel, machine, whatever, it’s huge and we can’t turn it back.”

“You could turn it off though,” Garyus said. “If you had the right key.”

TWENTY-TWO

And so I found myself down at the river docks about to flee Vermillion by boat with a Viking once again. Same Viking, different boat.

I had argued long and hard that I should at least take a crack squad of troops, by which I meant a small army . . . or, if it were up to me, a large one. Garyus pointed out that any infantry would slow me down and were needed at the walls. The horde of dead men wandering the embers of the outer city still posed a substantial threat and there was no certain knowing that the Dead King would not return his attention to them or send another lichkin or unborn to focus their efforts.

“A fast horse will serve you better than two hundred men, and the queen took what little cavalry remains to us to Slov with her. Any riders we have left in Vermillion are needed as swift reserves to react to possible incursions.”

Garyus had directed that we should begin our journey by following the line of Grandmother’s advance into Slov. The trail of destruction should allow for relatively unhindered passage. He had had no word of his sister and reports of her death appeared to be wishful thinking on Uncle Hertet’s part. With any luck Grandmother would already have levelled the Lady Blue’s stronghold and killed the witch with her bare hands.

This of course led me to suggest that I then deliver the key into the Red Queen’s hands and let her see to its future, whether that lay in the Wheel of Osheim or around her neck. If it were to be the Wheel she would surely do a better job of it than me.

Garyus had contradicted me again. “You have qualities she lacks, Jalan. Necessary ones. You will run away. You will lie and cheat. My sister is more likely to fight and die. The only sure way this key is getting to Osheim is in the hands of someone as flexible and resourceful as you.”