‘Oh, I intend to,’ she says, fitting the arrow into her crossbow. ‘Now go. Run.’ As expected, she turns to face the Stairs. Turns her back on me. Big mistake.
I snatch the shotgun from Atlas and whack Winifred in the back of the head. She drops like a sack of clams.
Everyone stares at me, open-mouthed. Not even Violet knows what to say.
‘You just knocked out Hali-gabera,’ Yaku gasps.
‘Yeah, well’ – I ditch the shotgun – ‘now we’re even.’ I pick up her crossbow and toss it to Hickory, tuck the hood of Winifred’s cloak under her head. ‘Sorry, old girl. You said it yourself, way back when: I’m the hero of this story, whether I like it or not.’
‘Jane,’ Violet says, staring up at the Manor. ‘He’s here.’
The townsfolk streaming from the gateway are clutching their chests, their faces, their mouths. Roth’s striding among them, a new half-mask fixed to his face, taking his first few steps down the Sacred Stairs into a brand-new world. I can feel him staring at me.
‘Good,’ I say through gritted teeth. ‘Let him come.’
RETURN
First things first.
‘Atlas,’ I say, ‘take Winifred and get out of here. Hide her. Tie her up. Whatever happens, don’t let Roth see her.’ I turn to Barnaby Twigg and the others. ‘Run.’
I don’t need to tell them twice. Roth’s already leaping down the stairs.
‘Um … Jane?’ Violet says, backing towards the museum. ‘We need to go.’
‘One sec.’ I kneel over Dad, tap his cheeks. ‘Wake up. Please.’ I shake him. ‘Dad! If you wake up right now, I … I promise I’ll never sing to you ever again.’ His eyes flicker open. I sit back. ‘Wow, okay. I was kinda hoping for a little hesitation there, to be honest.’
‘Jane!’ Violet says.
‘Right. Sorry. The hall with the spike pit floor, Dad. The entrance to the Cradle. Which door is it?’ He slow-blinks. Tries to talk, but he’s fading. ‘No, no, no. Dad –’
‘Look,’ he mutters under his breath.
‘Look for what? Dad, look for –’
‘Light … of the Spectres. Blood … of the innocent …’
‘What does that mean? Dad –’
But he’s gone again, passed out.
‘JANE!’ Violet and Hickory shout together.
‘Okay!’ I turn to Yaku. ‘Can you take him? Keep him safe?’
‘Of course.’ He picks up Dad almost as easily as Aki would. ‘Good luck, Jane.’
‘Thanks. If he wakes up before we’re back, tell him I love him. If I don’t make it back –’
‘You will,’ Yaku says with a nod. ‘Now go!’
I take a final look at Dad, kiss him on the cheek, and bolt across the square with Violet, Hickory and Aki. The Museum of Otherworldly Antiquities looms before us, its double doors open wide.
‘I assume you have a plan,’ Hickory shouts.
‘Roth has no keys,’ I say. ‘No prisoners. We get him off Bluehaven – draw him down through the catacombs, through the second gateway and back into the Manor. If we can slip into the Cradle without him, he’ll be stuck in the snow.’
‘And once we step out of the Cradle again?’
‘No idea. Haven’t thought that far ahead.’
‘Oh, good.’ Hickory slings the crossbow round his shoulders. ‘Just checking.’
Roth isn’t even bothering with the Stairs now. He’s sprinting and leaping from terraced farm to terraced farm, making a beeline for the museum. At least we’ve got his attention.
We burst into the museum foyer. Every stained-glass window has been shattered. A beam of light shines through a hole in the ceiling. Hickory skids to a halt, gaping at the semi-naked statue in the middle of the room. ‘Is that … me?’ He smiles and nods. ‘I look good.’
I grab his arm and drag him on. ‘You can perve at yourself later, Great Adventurer.’
‘This way,’ Violet shouts, leading us to the stairwell in the far left corner.
Down the stairwell, through the big wooden door, into the Great Library we go. Violet plucks a torch from the wall and leads the way. Even Aki’s dwarfed by the towering bookshelves. Roth’s garbled screech echoes through the library and we step up the pace, legs pumping, hearts racing, headed for the archway at the end of the aisle. We don’t need to go through Winifred’s study this time. Don’t need to take the secret passage behind the painting on her wall. Violet leads us down the main stairs to the catacombs instead.
‘There’s a chasm down the tunnel, so be careful,’ I say. ‘The gateway’s at the end.’
‘You sure you’ll be able to open it?’ Violet says.
The gash in my palm tingles at the thought.
The catacombs are dark, dank and deserted. The ceiling’s so low, Aki has to duck. Barrow-loads of rock and rubble are scattered around the tombs.
‘That way,’ I say, leading us down a skinny passageway. The Scrolls of the Dead have been removed from the tiny alcoves. Spiders scurry over the walls as we run, their cobwebs flapping like dusty flags.
I can’t believe I was here with Winifred only a week ago, setting off into the Manor for the very first time. It feels like a different place altogether. But here’s the dead end. Here’s the dirty great hole in the ground and the stale breeze brushing past my cheeks. Winifred’s left us a ladder. Some torches, too, judging by the warm glow way down there in the dark.
‘Down,’ I say, pushing Hickory towards the hole. ‘Aki, you – ugh.’ His gob’s already crammed with spiders. ‘Get in the damn hole …’
We scramble down the ladder, sprint through the tunnel and climb around the chasm, squishing and swiping away spiders. Winifred left us another torch in the chamber at the end. The flames flicker as we dash inside. Our shadows play over the walls. The not-so-secret stone gateway looks a little worse for wear compared to the last time I saw it; like a dirty, rotten tooth. I unravel the bandage from my palm and catch my breath.
‘Go on,’ Hickory says. ‘What are you waiting for?’
‘Last time, the gateway opened and shut pretty quickly,’ I say. ‘We have to time this right.’
Violet turns back to the tunnel. ‘Is he coming? Maybe he got lost.’
Not a chance. Aki taps his earholes. A second later, the rest of us hear Roth, too, storming down the tunnel, grunting through his half-mask, getting louder, closer, until his footsteps cut out suddenly, replaced with a swift whoosh. He’s leaping across the bloody chasm.
‘Now!’ I shout, and slam my hands onto the stone. The chamber rumbles. The gateway rises. We scramble inside, sinking ankle-deep in snow. The Manor candles flicker to life down the hallway, lighting up the broken door at the other end – open, just as I left it.
The wall of snow’s still there. So is the hole I burrowed up top.
‘The hall’s through there,’ I shout. ‘Go, go, go!’
Violet clambers up through the hole and reaches back down to lend me a hand, and that’s when the air in the hallway thickens – when my skin crawls – when my eyes water and burn and the gateway slams shut with a deafening thud. Roth made it just in time.
‘Jane!’ Violet shouts.
‘Stay there,’ I shout back.
Roth glares at us, breathing hard and fast, rippling the air between his porcelain lips. He points at me, staking his claim. You’re mine.
‘Not a chance, boss,’ Hickory says, unshouldering the crossbow, taking aim.
I grab his arm. ‘Don’t. Look at his chest.’ The metal plate’s stuck to his skin.
Roth lunges at us, quick as lightning, but not as quick as Aki. One punch, one kick, and Roth goes flying into the wall. Aki rounds on us then. Grabs me and Hickory and tosses us through the hole in the snow, one after the other, up into the frozen hall.
To Dad and Elsa’s spike pit, buried under metres of snow.
‘Aki, no!’ I untangle myself from Hickory and leap back to the hole, but Aki’s already turning around, snarling, advancing on Roth to give
us the time we need.
‘We have to go, Jane!’ Violet pulls me back through the snow. ‘We have to find –’
A bright, white light shines on her face.
The colour drains from Hickory’s. ‘No …’
Time slows. Violet shouts something, but I can’t hear her. Can’t hear Aki and Roth fighting down in the hallway, either. As I slowly turn back to the hall – teeth chattering, feet numb – all I can hear is the sound of my own breathing and the thudding of my heart.
There are the columns and flickering candles.
There are the balconies and frosted doors.
There are my old footprints in the snow.
And there’s the archway at the other end of the hall, no longer black, but filled with that burning, white-fire light. I was right. They’re here. The Spectres really have been waiting for me, ever since I set foot on Arakaan.
Ever since I found out I’m the third key.
They float through the hall like two monstrous ghosts, out-glowing every torch and candle, making the icicles sparkle and shine. Just like in my nightmare, they roar so loud it hurts. Just like in my nightmare, I know they can see it. I know they can feel it.
They think I’m gonna fail.
They think I’m a threat to the Manor.
Sure, I’m afraid. Hell, I’m this close to turning the snow at my feet a violent shade of yellow. But I can’t let the Spectres Grip us. Not when we’re so close to the end. Not when Roth’s breathing down our necks, and Aki’s put his life on the line.
The Spectres launch at us in a burst of furious light – shattering every icicle, shedding snow from the upper balconies – and I do the only thing I can. I step up, speak out, leap in front of Hickory and Violet with my arms out wide, and shout at the top of my lungs.
‘NO!’
I stand my ground.
I stare both Spectres down.
THE FINAL TRIAL
It works. It actually works. The Spectres stop. They just sit there – float there – towering over us, so close we could reach out and touch them. They’re looking at me, waiting.
‘Um … stay,’ I say.
Hickory yelps behind me. Violet makes a weird little gulping sound.
Back in the hallway, the fight’s raging on. Dahaari versus Gorani. Roth’s gurgling into his mask. Sounds like Aki’s got him in a headlock. He rattles his throat.
By all means, I imagine him shouting, take your time up there.
‘Uh … right.’ I hold out the Cradle keys to the Spectres. Try to stop my hands from shaking. ‘Look, I – I know I’m not what you were expecting. I may not be the brightest kid around. I may not be the strongest or the fastest or the wisest, either, but I’m here. I’m all you’ve got. I’m all the Manor’s got. One of you helped us back by the river. I need your help again. Okay?’ Strangely enough, the Spectres nod. They can understand me. ‘Whoa.’
I point to the hallway. Roth’s broken free of the headlock. Even manages to get an arm through the hole in the snow before Aki pulls him, snarling, back again.
‘You can’t Grip Roth, can you?’ I ask the Spectres. ‘The big bad guy with the mask?’ They shake their heads, swaying their tendrils of light. ‘His mind’s too strong?’ They nod. ‘Hmm. No offence, but as far as guardians go, you’re not exactly the cream of the –’
Hickory clears his throat. ‘Please don’t insult the scary nightmare beasts, Jane.’
‘The Cradle,’ Violet whispers. ‘Ask them about the –’
‘Cradle,’ I say, ‘yeah.’ I nod at the Spectres. ‘We know the entrance is here somewhere. It’s about bloody time we took you two home, don’t you think?’
The Spectres shoot back across the hall and disappear through a gap above the snow to our left, leaving a trail of their foul-smelling gunk in their wake. The top of another broken, three-quarters-buried-in-snow Manor door. My old footprints wind right past it, so close it makes my stomach squirm. The Cradle was right here all along.
Violet and Hickory glance at me. ‘Not a word,’ I say.
Roth bursts through the hole behind us, growling like a rabid dog. He leaps for me, but Aki’s hot on his tail. He tackles Roth into the snow, snarling and rattling his throat.
Click-clack-click, he goes. Get out of here, I assume.
Run!
We dash after the Spectres. Squeeze through the gap in the broken door and slide down into another candlelit hallway. The Spectres are waiting for us in the chamber at the other end, floating either side of a stone plinth. The pedestal where Dad and Elsa found the keys.
‘Go, go, go!’
We run, slip and slide along the frosty floor.
The Cradle entrance isn’t here.
‘What now?’ I ask the Spectres. They’re just floating there, useless as a couple of ghost-turds, facing the back wall, but there’s nothing there. ‘Hickory?’
‘Hit the pedestal,’ he shouts, standing guard by the hallway, crossbow at the ready.
I slide back to it. Throw my weight on it. Slam my fists on top. ‘It isn’t working!’
‘Try turning it! Clockwise!’
Violet joins me at the pedestal. We grab one side each, grit our teeth and heave. Kick away the ice around the bottom and try again. The pedestal budges an inch. And another. And another. It’s working.
‘I think we’ve … almost’ – clunk – ‘got it!’
The chamber rumbles. The pedestal starts sinking into the floor.
‘This is it.’ I slip Masaru’s chain from around my neck and grip the keys tight as a section of the wall ahead rises up into the ceiling, revealing a pale, smooth door. But there aren’t two keyholes. There are dozens. A hundred of them spaced evenly around the stone.
‘Which ones do we choose?’ Violet asks.
And that’s when the walls start closing in.
‘Oh, come on!’ I snap Masaru’s chain, give Violet a key. We run our hands over the stone, checking for Cradle symbols, but apart from the keyholes, it’s blank. ‘Any ideas, Hickory?’
‘Yeah,’ he says, backing towards us, eyeing the approaching walls. ‘Hurry.’
‘Did Elsa give you any clues?’ Violet asks. ‘What did your dad say?’
‘He – he said something about …’ I glance back at the Spectres. ‘Light! Look for a light!’
The walls are a few metres apart now, getting closer by the second. We only have a minute, tops. We peer into each keyhole as quickly as we can, trying to catch a glimmer, a flicker, even the faintest trace of light shining from within, but it’s hopeless.
‘Aki!’ Hickory shouts. ‘Get in here!’
I glance over my shoulder. Aki’s trying to get to us, trying to squeeze through the gap in the door down the hallway. ‘Where’s Roth?’ I ask. ‘Aki couldn’t have killed him.’
‘Don’t worry about that!’ Hickory drops to his butt and shoves his weight against the wall, trying to slow it down. But the floor’s too slippery, too icy. ‘You get that door open, now!’
‘Here!’ Violet cries. ‘White light, like the Spectres!’
She shoves her key into a lock near the top, ready to turn. I peer into keyhole after keyhole, but they’re all dark inside.
We’re about to be turned into pancakes.
‘I can’t find any – wait!’ I catch a flicker of white in a keyhole near the bottom. ‘Got it!’ I shove my key in, too. ‘Turn on three. One … two … three!’
We turn the keys. The walls stop closing in. The chamber falls silent.
‘Take the keys out,’ Hickory whispers, staring at the door, rising to his feet.
We pluck the keys from the door – click – and that does it. The white light shines from every keyhole. The chamber rumbles again. The walls retreat, and with an almighty wrenching sound, the great stone door rises into the ceiling. White light shines beneath the door, so blinding we have to shield our eyes. The two Spectres fly inside, reunited with the others at last, but when the door’s fully open, they vanish.
Only
darkness remains.
The Cradle is open.
A pained yelp behind us. We spin around in time to see Aki freeze, halfway through the hole in the door. His black-beady eyes bulge wide. I’m sorry, they’re saying. Go. There’s a terrible wrenching sound, a pitiful squeal, and Aki’s jerked back into the frozen hall.
‘Aki,’ I scream, but it’s too late.
Roth’s slipping through the hole. Charging down the hallway.
‘Inside!’ Hickory shouts.
The hundred-keyhole door starts to close the moment we step through. We back into the darkness, watching the gap shrink and Roth get closer, willing the door to descend faster.
Violet grabs the crossbow from Hickory. Takes aim but hesitates. Roth’s chest-plate is glinting in the candlelight, shielding his heart. ‘Close already!’
But again, Roth dives and slides under the door just in time. It shuts with an echoing boom, and we’re plunged into darkness. He growls. Violet cries out. There’s a scuffle. I leap forward to help, but I’m shoved to the ground by Hickory. I spin around, ready to leap into the dark again, when – thwat! – the crossbow fires.
We freeze, all of us, waiting.
The torches either side of the door flare to life.
My heart sinks.
Roth has Violet in a headlock with one arm, the crossbow held aloft in the other.
And Hickory’s standing before the Cradle Sea, clutching the arrow embedded in his stomach, falling to his knees, collapsing at the black water’s edge.
‘Jane,’ he gasps, and falls utterly, terribly still.
Hickory Dawes is dead.
THE CRADLE OF ALL WORLDS
The Sea stretches on into the darkness, well beyond the flickering light cast by the torches on the walls. It isn’t ordinary water, I realise. Not exactly. It moves differently – like silk, like oil – and it’s rippling now, trembling like the stone beneath my feet. I want to cry. Scream. I want to tear open the wound in my hand and rip this entire goddamn cavern apart. I can feel the furious tide coursing through my veins, ready to burst, but I know that’s what Roth wants.
Jane Doe and the Key of All Souls Page 24