Jane Doe and the Key of All Souls

by Jeremy Lachlan

  ‘But –’

  ‘Let it go, Violet,’ I say through gritted teeth. ‘She’s never gonna help us. She’s no better than Roth.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ Elsa says.

  ‘You said it yourself, back at Orin-kin. All this mess started because he lost someone he loved – because he was so consumed by grief and hatred he didn’t care who he hurt.’

  ‘I’m nothing like Roth.’

  ‘Oh, really? What about the Otherworlds, Elsa? If you unleash the Sea, they’ll –’

  ‘What? Be destroyed? Descend into chaos? You shouldn’t put so much faith in legend, my dear. What did Hickory call them in the canyon today? Lies and bedtime stories?’

  My breath catches. My stomach sinks.

  ‘To think, I nearly had him killed. Thank you for saving him, Jane. Really. He’ll make a valuable ally once we return to the Manor. He and I have so much in common, after all …’

  ‘You want to recruit Hickory?’ Violet says. ‘He’ll never side with you.’

  ‘I think we all know that isn’t true. After all, he’s betrayed you before.’ A door opens somewhere down the tunnel. The guards have returned. ‘Time’s up,’ Elsa says with a sigh.

  ‘What about all the innocent people still trapped in the Manor?’ I ask, yanking on my chains again. ‘My dad and Roth’s prisoners? You gonna sacrifice them, too?’

  ‘Kill several hundred to save several billion? Sounds like a fair trade to me.’

  ‘You’ll die, too,’ Violet says. ‘You know that, right?’

  ‘Silly girl,’ Elsa says. ‘I died when Roth murdered my son.’ She steps away from my door. ‘I’ll see you both soon. Don’t be late. Wouldn’t want to miss your flight …’

  PRECIOUS CARGO

  Night has fallen. A chill has crept through the dungeon tunnels, this labyrinth of rank odours and dark, empty spaces. We’re being marched who knows where by a host of red-cloaked guards. I have no idea if they’re on Masaru’s side or Elsa’s. Either way, they’re not on ours. Violet’s been muttering escape plans for the past hour or so.

  ‘We just have to delay take-off,’ she whispers to me now. ‘Give the Boboki a chance to catch up. As soon as we’re free, we nab the keys from Masaru, head to the tomb and find the arrowhead. Then we find Aki, get Hickory – if you really insist – and split. Make our own way across the dunes. Elsa and the old man can rot out here together, far as I’m concerned.’

  Thing is, I don’t wanna run. My mind’s been racing since Elsa left. I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but –

  ‘We have to go with them, Violet.’

  ‘What? No, Jane, Yaku –’

  ‘Doesn’t have a plane. Elsa may be our enemy, but she’s right: we need her. Every day we waste out here is another day my dad and the rest of the prisoners suffer – another day the Manor continues to crumble and Roth closes in on the Cradle.’

  Violet glances at the guards and scratches her head, rattling the shackles around her wrists. ‘So we should … let Masaru take us? Just like that?’

  ‘Just like that.’

  ‘And when we get back to the Manor? What then?’

  I pull at a loose thread of the bandage around my hand. My palm pangs again. I can still feel it: the gentle ebb and flow of the not-quite-furious tide swirling deep in my gut. Sure, I’m still scared. I can still see that crumbling Manor corridor and all those Otherworlds lying in ruin, but my anger at Elsa and Masaru is clouding it all. Comes down to this: I’ve come too far and gone through too much to be handed over to Roth or slaughtered on the stone.

  ‘Then we give ’em hell.’

  Violet arches her eyebrows. ‘Child of the Makers indeed. Don’t get me wrong, love your attitude, but what about the arrowhead? We can’t leave Arakaan without it.’

  ‘Don’t worry.’ I’ve been thinking about this, too. ‘I know exactly where it is. You were right. The dead do keep their secrets, but somebody beat Elsa to it.’

  It was Elsa’s comment about Masaru that sparked it. A fleeting remark that sank its teeth into my grey matter the moment she left.

  He’s been ahead of me every step of the way.

  ‘Masaru knew Elsa was searching for a Dahaari weapon,’ I say. ‘He must’ve known she’d check the tomb. Elsa told me the remains in there were a mess. They’re ancient, sure. Makes sense. But what if they were really damaged because Masaru had already riffled through them?’

  Violet goes quiet for a bit, then nods. ‘That’s good thinking, Jane. Really good.’

  ‘Don’t sound too surprised.’

  ‘But why would Masaru keep it a secret all this time?’

  ‘Because –’

  ‘Shh!’ The guard behind me jabs my shoulder. ‘Kalanthai!’

  I glare back at him so fast I give myself whiplash. ‘Because he had to make sure Elsa stuck around. He needed her to think sacrificing me in the Cradle was the only way to defeat Roth, to lure us in – so he could get his hands on all three keys.’

  ‘Why didn’t he destroy the arrowhead for Roth, then? Chuck it into a volcano.’

  ‘Roth used to wear it around his neck, right? To keep it close, in case one of the Dahaari slipped through his fingers. Probably wore it as a medal of honour, too. A messed-up little trophy.’ Now for the real kicker. ‘Just like Masaru’s wearing it now.’

  Violet stops in her tracks, till Captain Shooshie jabs her in the back. ‘The medallion …’

  ‘Hidden in plain sight,’ I say. ‘In the Elders’ chamber, Masaru said we weren’t the only gifts he’d be presenting to Roth. At the time, I thought he was talking about his loyal service or whatever, but he was clutching that thing. I bet the arrowhead’s inside it.’

  ‘Jane, I could kiss y–’ Violet begins, but then she cuts herself off and splutters a string of half-words. Her eyes bulge. I swear her cheeks flush a deep shade of reddish-brown. ‘I mean, well done.’

  She’s mortified, but me? All I can think is, I think she likes me too, I think she likes me too, I think she likes me too.

  In short, I’m goddamn thrilled.

  That is, until we’re marched out of the tunnel and into the canyon.

  ‘Oh, crap …’

  The people of Asmadin are standing in the cold, red-cloaked like the guards. Women, men, children: the whole city’s gathered to see us off. Torches line the paths and flicker from the windows and caves dotted all the way up the cliffs and pillars. It looks as if a million fireflies have filled the canyon, twinkling like the strip of stars above. Masaru’s hunched before us, resting a hand on an open metal crate. Two beams have been lashed to either side. It looks big enough to carry a person, if said person was roughly my height and crouched in a trembling little ball, which – unfortunately – seems to be the idea.

  ‘Welcome, my children!’ Masaru claps. The guards stand to attention. Most people in the crowd bow their heads. Something tells me they’re not here by choice. ‘It is time.’

  The true Cradle keys dangle around Masaru’s neck, glinting in the torchlight. The clay medallion’s there, too. Violet glares at him – at it – entranced.

  ‘Don’t,’ I whisper through frozen lips. ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Time for what?’ she asks Masaru instead, nodding at the open metal crate. ‘We’re not squeezing into that thing, if that’s what you’re thinking.’

  ‘Not you,’ Masaru says. ‘Just Jane. It is a rather crude mode of transportation, yes, but we have a bit of a walk to the next canyon. We will not be taking any chances.’

  Hickory’s behind Masaru, flanked by a couple of guards, his gag and shackles removed. He’s free, but he isn’t fighting. Isn’t trying to flee. He’s just standing there with his head bowed, dressed in a red cloak of his own. I bet Masaru’s been whispering things, trying to recruit him, too. Surely Hickory wouldn’t fall for it, but if he hasn’t, why is he acting so strange?

  ‘Get in, Jane,’ he mutters. ‘You have to.’

  ‘You will be quite safe,’ Masaru says. ‘You have m
y word.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ I tell Violet. ‘Stay close, if you can.’

  ‘Always.’ She gives my hand a quick squeeze. ‘See you on the plane.’

  The look on her face almost kills me.

  I continue down the rocky path alone. The crowd shuffles back as I pass. The other Elders are here, too, bound, gagged and trembling behind Masaru.

  ‘No cushions?’ I ask when I step up to the crate.

  The old man cackles and cranes his neck up at the stars. ‘Take a good look, my child. This is the last time you and I will stand under an open sky.’

  ‘Call me child one more time, and it’ll be the last time you stand, period,’ I say.

  And that’s when an explosion rocks the canyon.

  A flash of fire. A barrage of yelling. A volley of arrows zipping through the air, clattering against the cliffs, while swift shadows dart down the pillars and swing from the decorated ropes.

  ‘Boboki!’ the guard behind me screams, and the crowd scatters.

  They’ve come to save us at last, whether we want them to or not.

  ‘No, no, no,’ I shout, ‘we’re okay! We’ve got everything under control!’ Which is funny because, as soon as I say it, a guard leaps forward, shoves me into the crate, slams the lid over my head and bolts it shut, plunging me into darkness. ‘Oi! You son of a –’

  The crate lurches and sways and I’m tossed to and fro, slammed up and down as the red-cloaks lug me along the path as fast as they can. There must be four of them, the beams resting on their shoulders. I can hear them grunting. It’s a mad dash for the airstrip.

  Another explosion rocks the world, much closer than before. The red-cloaks stumble, the crate lurches, and all I can do is try not to crack my head open as I’m bounced around in the dark. That, and try to calm the furious tide swirling stronger and stronger in my gut.

  I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but if the Boboki destroy Betty we’re screwed. I can hear them now, dozens of raiders chanting, storming and shooting their way through the canyon. Machetes clang, rifles blast, arrows thwat-thwat-thwat, and I can’t see a damn –

  ‘Wait.’

  There. A tiny, rusted-out hole to my right. I smoosh my face up to it and see black-cloaks fighting red-cloaks. Rifles flashing and torches whipping by. Violet joining the fray, ducking, rolling and weaving.

  ‘Hey!’ I smack my hand on the crate. ‘Violet, I’m in here!’

  ‘I know, Jane!’ she shouts back. ‘Everybody knows! Shut up and let me’ – she leaps out of view, a red-cloak goes flying by – ‘concentrate! Yaku’s here. They’ve already’ – there she is again, leaping onto someone’s shoulders – ‘captured Elsa and taken the plane!’

  ‘What? That’s brilliant!’ We’re finally getting the upper hand. Sure, I’m trapped in a box, but still. One step at a time. ‘Where’s Masaru? We need –’

  ‘The arrowhead,’ Violet says. ‘I’m on it!’ She smacks the guy in the head, flips him around, and lands on her feet. ‘Sit tight.’ She disappears into the battle once again.

  ‘Like I have a choice,’ I mutter.

  At least I’m kinda safe in here.

  A volley of rifle-fire splits my eardrums. The guards cry out, my stomach jumps into my throat, the crate hits the ground, and I bounce and hit my head.

  ‘Damn it!’

  Now the crate’s spinning and sliding down a steep slope, gathering speed. ‘Somebody-y-y-y-y,’ I cry, my voice juddering with every bump. The crate hits something, flips through the air, and crashes down hard. My whole body’s aching. I think the gash in my palm has opened again, because it’s burning with pain, and I can feel the canyon trembling through the crate. I’m causing a goddamn quake. Perfect timing, as always.

  ‘Bugger it,’ I say. ‘Not now!’ I scrunch myself into a ball, roll back and kick at the crate lid. The bolt rattles, but the bloody thing won’t budge. ‘Hey! Violet! Anybody!’

  Footsteps. A whole bunch of them bustling around the crate. Murmured chatter and a harried, ‘Steady now – one, two, three,’ as the crate’s heaved again.

  ‘Hickory?’

  ‘Nice and comfy in there?’ he asks, huffing and puffing on my left. He’s helping the red-cloaks. He’s actually helping the red-cloaks.

  ‘What the – whose side are you on?’ I shout.

  ‘Right now?’ he says. ‘Undecided.’

  ‘Do not worry,’ a familiar voice grunts on my right. ‘We have got you.’

  Wait – not the red-cloaks. The Boboki.

  ‘Yaku? Is that you?’

  ‘You are a hard girl to catch, Jane Doe.’

  ‘I’m so sorry about Orin-kin,’ I say, steadying myself against the jolt and sway of the crate. ‘We didn’t mean to hurt your people. I mean, let’s be honest, you could’ve said something.’

  ‘This is not the time,’ Yaku says.

  ‘You should’ve said something.’

  ‘You really need to – shut up, Jane,’ Hickory grunts between breaths. ‘And calm down. If you bring – down the mountain now – we’re done for.’

  ‘Get me out of here, then!’

  ‘Not yet,’ Yaku says. ‘We are nearly there.’

  I can hear the rumble of the quake now, lurking beneath the sounds of the battle like a brewing storm. I can feel the trembling cliffs and pillars. The path cracking below the crate. I clench my bandaged hand shut and hold it to my chest. Think about Dad’s big brown eyes, Violet’s smile, Aki offering me a darkling beetle – but nothing works. I can’t shut it out, can’t stop it. Being stuck in a goddamn box sure isn’t helping.

  I can barely breathe.

  Another sound now. One I’ve never heard before. An electric whine. A loud putt-putt-putt and frenzied whir that’s getting louder and louder by the second.

  ‘Betty …’

  I almost cheer. Figure we must be home and hosed. I’m about to ask if anyone’s seen Violet or Masaru when a Boboki raider to my left cries out in pain, and the crate tilts to the side. Hickory, Yaku and the other guy skid to a halt. Footsteps thud around us. Weapons clatter. I mash my face up to the tiny hole again. Looks like the red-cloaks have got us surrounded.

  ‘Chappa nu kappa,’ Yaku growls.

  A woman with a booming voice yells an order. Swords are unsheathed around us. But then I catch a different, blessedly familiar sound. A throaty click-clack-click. Aki’s woken up. And he isn’t happy. He snarls, the red-cloaks scream, and I hear terrible things. Crunching sounds. People shouting as they’re thrown far and wide. Cries of pain cut short. Hickory saying, ‘Whoa, it’s me,’ and, ‘Not them, either. They’re with us. Get her on the plane!’

  ‘Aki,’ I shout, pounding my good hand on the crate. ‘I’m okay. I just – whoa!’

  The crate lurches up higher and faster than before. Aki grunts. He’s lifting it all by himself, marching me up some kind of ramp onto Betty.

  The whirring and putt-putting’s deafening now. The crate tilts dangerously as Aki sets it down. There’s a great wrenching sound – metal bending metal – and at last the lid pops off, flooding me with grimy electric light. ‘Thanks, buddy,’ I gasp, popping my head out. Aki pats me like I’m a damn dog.

  Betty’s a hunk of junk. The small circular windows are cracked and filthy. The hull’s all patchwork metal, just big enough for Aki to stand up straight and not smack his head. Rusty benches are bolted along each wall, but other than that, the plane’s empty.

  ‘This is your marvellous machine?’ I shout at Elsa.

  She’s up in the cockpit, flicking switches and tapping dials. The tattooed Boboki girl from the stables of Orin-kin is watching over her, a curved blade at the ready. Two red-cloaks are gagged and grumbling beside her, hands tied around a bench-leg. Elsa’s guards.

  ‘Jane,’ Elsa says, ‘glad you could join us. Sit down and shut up.’

  ‘You do not give orders anymore,’ Yaku tells her, stomping up the ramp with Hickory.

  The other Boboki men are staying behind to hold off the
red-cloaks, drawing their weapons, standing their ground. The tattooed girl runs to join them, pausing before Yaku as she goes. They lock eyes. Touch their foreheads together and mutter something I can’t hear. Then the girl glances at me, nods once, and leaps down the ramp to help the men.

  ‘Take off,’ Yaku shouts at Elsa. ‘Now!’

  ‘Wait,’ I say. ‘We can’t!’

  Elsa releases a lever. Betty shudders and roars, starts crawling forward.

  ‘Stop!’ I scramble out of the crate. ‘We’re not leaving without Violet!’

  The ramp’s still down, dragging along the airstrip. Aki grabs my arm and stops me from leaping down it. I can’t hear it over Betty’s roar, but I can tell the canyon’s still quaking. The airstrip’s cracking. The cliffs are crumbling. A tumbling boulder wipes out a few red-cloaks bolting our way. The others fire their rifles, and we duck for cover. An arrow flies through the cabin and lodges into the back of Elsa’s chair. Our Boboki defenders are quickly overrun. Yaku’s about to pull a big lever down the back when I shout, ‘Not yet – look!’

  Violet’s here at last, blasting her way through the red-cloaks on horseback with a longbow slung round her shoulders and a sack slumped over the saddle in front of her. No, not a sack. A person.

  Masaru.

  ‘Get that ramp up and strap in,’ Elsa shouts. ‘We’re running out of runway!’

  ‘Wait,’ I shout back. ‘Slow down!’

  ‘We’ve only got one shot at this, Jane, especially if you tear the canyon apart!’

  Elsa flicks another switch. Betty picks up speed. The whole cabin shakes and rattles. Elsa veers left, throwing everybody off balance and clipping the wingtip on the canyon wall. She swears, course-corrects and shouts something about a newly formed crevice in the runway.

  ‘Jane,’ Hickory shouts, ‘calm down!’

  ‘You calm down!’ I stumble back towards Yaku and the ramp. ‘Hurry, Violet!’

  She’s clear of the red-cloaks, getting closer and closer. Riding Scab, I realise. Makes sense. No other horse in all the worlds would be wild enough to chase a goddamn plane.

  ‘Come on,’ I scream, reaching out a hand. ‘Go, boy, go!’

  The red-cloaks take aim and fire. Yaku shoves me aside just in time. Bullets ricochet around the cabin, sparks fly. Violet and Scab weave, dodge and pull alongside the ramp. Aki leaps forward, reaches out and plucks Masaru from the saddle. The old man’s unconscious, shrivelled limbs flopping around. Violet springs from the saddle a second later, and Aki catches her in his other arm, safe and sound.