Jane Doe and the Key of All Souls

by Jeremy Lachlan

  ‘I’m, like, two gazillion years old, and I’m damn sure I couldn’t.’ I glance at Aki. ‘Anyway, if we’re seen by any Leatherheads on the way to the cell block –’

  ‘We pretend to be Aki’s prisoners and let him lead the way. Relax, Jane. We’ll be fine. We take Roth down, grab the Cradle keys, free everyone and flee into the Manor. The Leatherheads’ll be too distraught to follow. Hell, I bet a lot of them’ll be glad Roth’s gone.’

  I huff out a deep breath and feel that sense of certainty again, a flicker of a thrill. ‘You’re right. We’ve got this.’ Roth’s gonna rue the day he decided to mess with the Manor.

  We drive for an hour, maybe two, following the convoy down winding corridors and across pillared halls, through archways and holes blown into walls. I imagine Violet, Yaku and Elsa bound up together in another truck. I picture Masaru, bouncing along further up the line, shedding happy tears. Old fool has no idea what he’s got himself into.

  After a while, I tug at my tunic. Fan myself down. ‘It’s baking in here.’

  Hickory shuffles over to a slit in the canopy. ‘Understandable. Take a look …’

  The corridor’s a blur, glowing fiery red. Aki slows the truck to a crawl, and we rumble with the rest of the convoy onto a rusty chain-link bridge strung up through the middle of an enormous hall. There’s a lake of bubbling lava way down below the bridge. Little archways, balconies and staircases dot the far walls, all of them glowing garishly in the lava-light.

  And we thought Arakaan was hot.

  Most incredible of all are the statues. The hall’s full of them. Colossal, demonic things rising from the lava all around us, their beastly legs and pointed horns wider than wagons. Some of them soar so high we can’t even see their heads. One snarls up at us from below, its fanged mouth wide enough to swallow a truck whole. Another’s muscular arms stretch across the hall from one side to the other, as if it’s holding up the walls.

  ‘Have you ever seen –’

  ‘Uh-uh.’

  ‘Can you believe –’

  ‘Nope.’

  The convoy caterpillar crawls. The bridge sways gently, strung up by a network of huge chains bolted to the surrounding walls. Before Roth came, this hall must’ve been a marvel of the Manor. Now it’s in decay, smoke-stained, and many of the statues are metal-plated, which only makes them scarier.

  ‘Aris must’ve carved them,’ Hickory says, ‘in the Beginning. Maybe it’s some kind of tribute to the fallen gods.’

  ‘The Gods of Chaos,’ I whisper.

  The gods Po, Aris and Nabu-kai tricked into the Manor, whose combined energies clashed and swirled inside the Cradle, creating the hazardous Sea. Whose absence from the Otherworlds enabled life to flourish and thrive. If this is what they looked like, I’m glad the Makers did away with them. I just wish their essence hadn’t remained. The most destructive force imaginable, hidden at the centre of all things – our ultimate goddamn destination. Lucky us.

  We rumble off the bridge and down a new corridor. The air’s so terrible here I can taste it. Burning rubber, coal and rancid meat. The stench of Roth, lingering like the stench of death.

  We’re getting close.

  The truck slows. Me and Hickory peek over Aki’s shoulders. All we can see is the back of the truck in front of us and the Manor walls either side, every inch covered in a rough patchwork of metal plates. Roth-proof, like the statues. A gate rattles, clunks and squeals ahead. The convoy crawls through.

  Aki twitches his head at us. Get down.

  The brakes squeal. The truck lurches to a halt. Leatherheads stomp around the truck and Tin-skins bark, competing with the constant clanging of metal on metal, the hiss of steam and the clunk-clunk-clunk of turning cogs. The crack of a whip. A scream.

  ‘No turning back now,’ Hickory says. ‘We’re here.’

  THE KEEP

  Masaru and the others are marched out of the garage. We can hear Violet giving them hell, kicking and swearing. A siren blows, and the rest of the Leatherheads clear out quickly, boots like rolling thunder. Once the coast is clear, Aki hops out of the truck, opens the back flap and hands me and Hickory a pair of shackles each. We slip them around our wrists, clasped but not bolted – in front of us, not behind.

  ‘Ready?’ I ask Hickory.

  ‘Ready,’ he replies, and we duck outside.

  The garage is big, filled with trucks and supplies. There’s even a rusty old tank. Every bit of stone’s covered in that patchwork of rusted steel, as if an Otherworld of metal has crept through a weakened gateway and taken over, like the lava and the snow.

  It’s eerily quiet.

  ‘We’re beneath the main keep,’ Hickory whispers, handing Aki the bow and shotgun.

  ‘Keep your gas mask on, buddy,’ I say, gesturing to make sure Aki gets the point. ‘Stay close behind us. If we’re spotted, act like you’re turning us in. When we see Roth, hand Hickory the bow – he’ll take the shot. Hickory, you still got the arrow?’

  ‘No, I threw it into the lava – of course I still have the arrow.’

  ‘Just checking.’ I take a deep breath, scan the area. ‘All right. Let’s go.’

  We head through an archway and sneak up a narrow metal-plated stairwell. It’s a long climb. That rancid stink gets worse the higher we go. We pause at every new flight, every archway, but there are no Leatherheads in sight. Makes me even more nervous.

  ‘Quick question,’ Hickory mutters. ‘What if I miss?’

  ‘What do you mean, what if you miss?’ I whisper-shout. ‘You said you wouldn’t.’

  ‘Yeah, but … what if I do?’

  ‘If you miss, I’ll kill you myself, Hickory.’

  He plucks the arrow from his belt, raises an eyebrow and grunts. ‘Fair enough.’

  We reach the top of the stairwell and creep down a dark corridor. When we pass an open balcony, we’re granted a view over the central keep. A dirty old Manor hall ten storeys high, dotted with archways and galleries, topped by a crumbling dome held together by disjointed metal beams. Machines and barrels of coal litter the floor down below – inactive conveyor belts and drums of newly crafted weapons – all circling a clearing in the centre.

  The place is deserted.

  ‘Over there,’ Hickory whispers, pointing to the right of the hall with his shackled hands.

  A crooked structure of rusted steel has been built against the far wall. Stationary platforms and pulleys scale the wall beside it. There’s a line of tiny, barred windows at the top.

  ‘The cell block …’

  Down the corridor we go. Up another flight of stairs. Still no Leatherheads, no Tin-skins. Nothing but empty chambers and a deep, discomforting silence.

  ‘Something’s wrong,’ Hickory mutters. ‘This is too easy.’

  ‘No turning back now, remember?’ I say.

  Aki lifts his mask. He looks scared, too. I give him a reassuring nod.

  We sneak up an enclosed ramp into the cell block. The structure creaks and groans beneath our feet. It’s dark. Reeks of something other than Roth. Stale pee, sweat and fear. We stop, let our eyes adjust. See two rows of single-celled cages slapped together either side of a narrow walkway. They’re all empty. Chains dangling, doors ajar.

  ‘I’m telling you, Jane, this isn’t right,’ Hickory says.

  ‘Throne room.’ The wound in my palm pangs. ‘Now.’

  Hickory scans the empty cages again, grips the arrow tight. ‘Aki, stay close.’

  We move through some kind of guards’ quarters and sneak back into a metal-plated Manor corridor. There’s an open door ahead. I peek inside. ‘No …’

  The throne room’s empty, too.

  We step inside, blasted by a wall of heat. The whole metal-clad chamber’s bathed in lava-light. Roth’s throne is ugly: a hulking black metal thing. I spit at it when we pass by. The air’s so thick with his stench I can hardly breathe. We must’ve just missed him.

  The balcony across the room overlooks a pillared hall filled with
broiling lava. There’s a lavafall way off to the left. Looks like a giant, glowing tongue lapping at the lake. I wipe the sweat from my forehead, turn around.

  ‘Where the hell is everyone?’ I ask.

  That’s when we hear it – BOOM, BOOM, BOOM – a menacing beat echoing through the fortress. A metallic clanking and stomping, back towards the keep.

  Me and Hickory ditch our shackles. Aki click-clacks at us – tries to stop us – but we’re already running towards the sound, out of the throne room and down the corridor, past the cell block to an open gallery of metal-plated archways overlooking the keep.

  I can’t believe my itching, watery eyes.

  Leatherheads are marching through every archway of the lower level, every door, beating their weapons as they gather round the barrels and machines. And there, standing in the middle of them all, staring up at us with those cold, cold eyes –

  ‘Roth.’

  The furious tide stirs in my gut. My palm prickles. Five people are kneeling before him, gagged and bound. Masaru, Yaku, Violet, Elsa, and –

  ‘Dad.’ He’s hurt. Slumped forward, swaying slightly. His shirt’s sweat-stained and splattered with dried blood. His shaggy, greying hair’s flowing down over his face.

  Roth signals to his troops. They stop clanking and stomping, and more Leatherheads appear in the gallery around us, barging through doors and clambering over the edge of the keep, rifles raised and ready to fire. One grabs Hickory and throws him to the floor. The same Leatherhead grabs my right arm, pulls it firmly behind my back, pins me against a nearby column, and starts patting me down.

  I’m about to fight back, when the Leatherhead slips something up my sleeve.

  Something long and thin, with a very pointy end.

  The arrow.

  ‘Aki?’ I whisper, flushed with relief.

  He rattles his throat ever so softly in my ear, then snarls for show. Spins me round, grabs my hands and shackles them, not behind my back, but in front again. I imagine him winking a black beady eye at me behind his gas mask. Because he hasn’t bolted them properly.

  That’s when I realise. I can still do this. Aki ditched the bow to blend in, sure, but there’s another way. Elsa told me how, back in the watchtower of Orin-kin.

  When we’re shoved onto one of the wooden platforms, it isn’t despair I feel. It isn’t fear. It’s something else. Something powerful and real.

  It’s hope.

  EENY, MEENY, MINY, MOE

  All eyes are on me and Hickory as we’re lowered down to the keep. Especially Roth’s. The platform sinks slowly – squeak, creak, squeak, creak –and with every passing second, the fug gets worse. That bitter, eye-watering stench. The itch on my skin. Everybody’s suffering. Violet. Yaku. Elsa. Dad’s barely with it. Masaru looks like he’s having second thoughts about his devotion to Roth already. Serves him right, the fool.

  The platform hits the floor. We set off across the keep with Aki and two Leatherheads. The closer I get to Dad, the more I want to tear this place apart. Deep shadows well beneath his eyes. His nose and ears are crusty with dried blood. It’s killing me, being so close and not being able to go to him, not being able to hug him. Elsa keeps glancing at him – trembling with fear and rage, struggling to breathe – but I don’t think Dad has seen her. Will he recognise her when he does? I’m sure Elsa’s wondering the same thing.

  Roth’s having a grand ol’ time. Watching the reunion with glee. He grabs Dad by the hair and lifts his head a little. Soon as Dad sees me, he sits up straighter, utters my name into his gag and makes a desperate, whimpering sound. The furious tide stirs in my gut again, but I rein it in. As much as it pains me, I can’t let it go now. Gotta play it cool. Stay sharp.

  Like Hali-gabera. Like Winifred Robin.

  Roth holds up a hand, telling us to stop. One of the Leatherheads grabs my arm. Aki snarls at it, shoves it aside and grabs me instead. Nice of him, but not the smartest move. Roth’s creepy eyes narrow a fraction. Hickory must notice it, too, because he quickly wheezes, ‘Where are the other prisoners, Roth?’

  Roth takes a long death-rattle breath, flicks his hand, and the Leatherheads behind him stand aside. The prisoners are all there, bound and gagged, lined up against the wall. There are dozens of them, wide-eyed and filthy. Some could’ve been here for decades. I recognise some of them from the train. I wish I could free them all right now and take them to their homes. I will. I swear it. As soon as I can. But first –

  ‘So, how are we gonna do this?’ I ask Roth. ‘I assume you have the two keys.’

  He pulls down the collar of his cloak. Masaru’s thin, golden chain is already sitting pretty around his neck, the two Cradle keys resting on his pasty, mottled chest.

  ‘Suits you,’ I say, stifling a cough. ‘But I’m gonna have to take them now.’

  Violet shouts something, words muffled by her gag. Hickory squirms in the grip of his hulking Leatherhead guard. I notice he hasn’t been shackled. Perfect.

  Roth just stares at me, a sick kind of glee in those cold, creepy eyes. I figure he’s about to come over, try to take a gander inside my head, but he turns on his heels instead, starts wandering back and forth behind the others – slowly, deliberately – watching me, but pausing now and then behind Masaru, behind Yaku, behind Violet and Elsa, like he’s picking out the ripest fruit at a market. He’s wondering who to choose, who to read. Treating it like a game.

  ‘Stop it,’ I tell him.

  Masaru whimpers. I don’t pity him, but I don’t want Roth to read his mind, either. If he does, he’ll learn about the arrowhead, and my plan will be shot.

  ‘I’ll tell you everything,’ I say. ‘I know where the Cradle is. I haven’t told any of them. Let everyone go, and I’ll take you there. We can go right now. Just you and me.’

  Violet objects again. Dad does, too. He even tries to stand, but only manages to get to one knee before he collapses. It goddamn kills me. Roth bloody loves it, though. Chuckles into his half-mask.

  ‘Take me,’ I shout. ‘I’m the one you want.’

  But the more I plead, the more he toys with me, walking, pausing, walking again – Violet, Yaku, Elsa, Dad – running a hand over their heads. My eyes flick to Elsa, and I can’t help thinking, Pick her. If you have to pick someone, please, let it be her, because she’s the only one who doesn’t know about the arrowhead. The only one who can’t ruin my plan.

  Roth stops. Turns back to Elsa with a satisfied, grating sigh. He saw where I was looking. Thinks I care about her the most. Before I can say another word, Roth lifts her up, turns her round, and slips the gag from her mouth. She spits at him, right between the eyes.

  ‘Wanted to do that for years,’ she gasps. ‘You really are one ugly son of a –’

  Roth growls. His heat-shimmer breath burns her skin. Elsa struggles in his arms, kicks and screams, but it’s pointless. His eyes are locked onto hers. He’s already trawling through her mind, making her body convulse and her legs jitter. It’s horrible to watch. I may hate Elsa for what she was gonna do to me in the Cradle, but I wish things hadn’t come to this.

  Before I try to stop Roth, though, I wriggle my fingers till I know I’ve got Violet’s attention, then twist my semi-shackled wrist around just enough to show her the tip of the arrowhead poking from under my right-hand sleeve.

  Her eyes bulge wide. She gives her head a subtle shake. Don’t you dare.

  I shoot her a sad smile back. I have no choice.

  ‘Oi, garbage guts,’ I shout, shaking Aki from my arm. ‘You win. If you kill her, you kill our only chance at getting inside the Cradle. Let her go. Now.’

  Roth blinks. Breaks the connection. Takes a slow, trembling breath and sets Elsa down. He kneels over her while she shivers in a sweaty mess, and clenches his fists. I know what he’s thinking. He just learned the second key’s been in Arakaan all this time.

  ‘Sucks, huh?’ I say. ‘I’d be angry, too. You’ve been searching for it all these years, and there it was, right back
where you started. She told us all your secrets, too.’ Roth stands tall. Steps over Elsa, one step closer to me. ‘That’s right,’ I wheeze. ‘I know everything about you, ya chump. I’ve been to Arakaan.’ He takes another step closer. ‘I know about the Dahaari Cull and the Immortal War.’ And now for the kicker. ‘I know about Neela.’

  Roth stops at this. Growls through his mask.

  ‘Poor woman,’ I say. ‘Imagine what she’d say if she saw you now – if she smelled you now. Hell, I bet she’d be glad she was shot through the heart and thrown into a volcano.’

  ‘Um, Jane?’ Hickory mutters behind me. ‘Bit much, don’t you think?’

  Roth growls again. This time, I take a step towards him.

  ‘Come on, then,’ I say. Aki rattles his throat. Hickory mutters my name again, but I don’t stop, don’t turn back. I keep my eyes fixed on Roth’s. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how sick it makes me feel, I can’t let him look away. ‘Have a read. I promise I won’t stop you this time.’ I tap my head with my left, bandaged, arrow-free hand. ‘It’s all here. Everything you wanna know. The secrets of the Manor. The key to conquering the Otherworlds. All you have to do’ – one more step, we’re unbearably close – ‘is look.’

  Roth’s rancid breath prickles my skin and blasts my throat dry. He stares into my eyes, and I stare into his: that cold, burning blue. I can feel him probing and prodding around, trying to get inside my mind, just like he tried to on the train. I know I can stop him without breaking a sweat, but I keep my word. This time, I want to draw him in, keep him focused, distracted.

  I picture the Hollows’ basement door and open it. Roth’s on the other side. I let him in. Let him look down at my raggedy mattress on the floor, and Dad’s alcove near the corner. I can feel Roth pushing, trying to leave the room and see something else, but I keep him here. Show him the rats and the spiders, and the bluebird on the windowsill. I even sing him a song.

  Bluebird on the windowsill,