Jane and the Raven King

by Stephen Chambers

  “Yes, that’s right. I mean, yes, we do.”

  “Is it true what Gaius said—that your mother or someone saved the world?”

  “I don’t know,” Jane said. “I guess she might have—not my mother but maybe my grandmother. Who was that boy?”

  “Thomas? Oh, he’s older—you know how older boys are, yeah?” She smiled, as if they were sharing a private joke. “Their bodies are growing too fast for their brains.”

  “I didn’t want to come here,” Jane said. “But my grandmother…” She was suddenly about to cry and stopped herself. Everything was happening so quickly, as if Jane had accidentally slipped into a marathon without a chance to catch her breath.

  Manali patted Jane’s hand. “It’ll be all right. One of these kids will be strong enough to stop him—maybe you; maybe someone else. Gaius will figure out which one of us it is, and everything will be okay.”

  “The Raven King? What are we supposed to do—I don’t even know who he is.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it right now. He’s a bad guy—like in a storybook, yeah?—and the bad guys always lose at the end. That’s how the world works, isn’t it?”

  Manali said innit instead of isn’t it.

  A mechanical crab brought two covered plates of food. The first, for Manali, was a spicy red sauce of potatoes and chicken cubes over white rice with slices of warm flatbread on the side.

  “Wow,” Jane said. “What is that?”

  “Chicken vindaloo,” Manali said. “My favorite.”

  Well, Jane thought, I’ve never tried it, but it does smell good, and I guess I could eat it… The second plate was a row of three chicken tacos with white cheese, refried beans, Mexican rice, a basket of warm salted chips, salsa, and chili con queso.

  This time Manali said, “Cool—that looks good.”

  “I love chicken tacos,” Jane said, amazed.

  Each child received a different meal. Wooden crabs brought hamburgers and french fries, waffles, goat and rice skewers, soups, lobster, and plates of elaborate, colorful piles that Jane had never seen before that smelled like citrus or almonds or beef—all wonderful.

  When Jane reached for a chip, Manali offered her a piece of flatbread and said, “Naan?”

  “It’s called naan?”

  “That’s the bread, yes,” Manali said. “I’ll give you some naan if I can try your chips.”

  “Okay, but only if you’ll take a taco for some chicken vinder.”

  “Vindaloo,” Manali said and smiled. “It’s a deal. But you’ll definitely need lots of water.”

  Maybe—just maybe—Jane thought, this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  After Jane had finished eating, she said good night to Manali. “I’ll see you for breakfast, yeah?” Manali said. “And call for me if anyone gives you a hard time again.” Then Jane wandered out one of the many, many side doors at the back of the room to look for a bathroom. It opened to a corridor of white-veined black marble. Bobbin masks—Jane thought they looked like wax casts—were mounted on either side, flickering with yellow-orange candlelight. But there were no candles behind them. No doors either, and the corridor grew dark in the distance.

  Wrong way, Jane thought, but when she turned to go, some one cleared his throat. Thomas was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed.

  “I’m sorry,” Jane stammered. “I shouldn’t…”

  “Be here?” Thomas said, and he stepped closer. “Who was it in your family? Who was so special?” When Jane went for the door, he said, “Are you afraid? It’s a simple question: Who in your—?”

  “My grandmother,” Jane said. “And other women before her. What about you?”

  “Me?” Thomas shrugged, as if that didn’t matter. “Do you think I was given anything? You have an easy life, I can tell. You want to help your family—good for you. My dad is dead now because of”—he gestured at the walls and ceiling—“all of this.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re just a kid,” Thomas said, and he came closer, his hands balled to fists. “How old are you—ten, eleven?”

  “I’m twelve.”

  “I’m sixteen, and my family—you know what? I don’t have to explain anything to you.” When she stared back, he smirked. “You want to know, huh? He saved Gaius. When I was a baby, my dad died to save Gaius’s life.”

  “I didn’t know the Raven King—”

  “Not from the Raven King; it was something else. If you tell anyone…”

  “I won’t.”

  “I don’t care if we’re from the same place, Jane. You and I are nothing alike.” He was breathing fast, his arms tense, ready to hit her. “Stay away from me.”

  “Okay.”

  Something bonged behind the door, and Jane opened it again. Gaius was banging a gold gong, like something from the Forbidden Palace or the Great Wall of China, Jane imagined. “Children?” Gaius waited, but the kids kept talking. “Everyone, please…”

  Thomas slipped in beside Jane. “Hey!” he shouted. “Listen!”

  The room went silent, and Gaius smiled. “Thank you, Thomas. Dinner is over, children, and you all have a long day tomorrow. To your rooms. Scoot, scoot!”

  “There,” Finn said to Jane, “how was it?”

  “The food? Great.”

  A side door grew large enough for Finn, and she followed the dragon up a red-marble staircase.

  “Was I the last one to get here?” Jane asked.

  “Yes,” Finn said. “There was a hiding spell around your family. Gaius didn’t think he would ever find you, but then someone else broke the spell.”

  “You mean the Raven King?”

  Finn was quiet. They continued up, passing a closed wooden door with a cartoon-bobbin painted on it in bright red and blue.

  “Most of Castle Alsod is off-limits,” Finn said. “It’s not safe to wander off without me or Gaius with you.”

  He didn’t answer me, Jane thought, so I’m probably right: The Raven King, whoever he is, found us—found Grandma Diana. She must have cast the spell in the first place.

  “Finn, do you know anything about Thomas?”

  “Why, did he say something to you?”

  She shook her head. “Never mind.” They passed another door with a picture of a raindrop on it. Jane asked, “How come the castle doors open wide for you?”

  “She likes me.”

  “Who does?”

  “Alsod.”

  “I thought Alsod was the name of the castle.”

  “It is,” Finn said. “And she likes me.”

  “How can a castle be a person?” Jane asked.

  “She isn’t a person; she’s a castle.”

  “But you’re talking about her—it—like a person.”

  “Jane, this is Hotland. I’m a talking dragon, remember?” Finn smiled. “Alsod has been the home of bobbins—the cat-people like Gaius—for thousands of years.”

  But there aren’t any other bobbins besides Gaius, Jane thought. They stopped at a third door with a picture of two open hands on it. The stairs continued up and up and up. Strange that this door has human hands on it, Jane thought, if this is a bobbin castle.

  “Here we are,” Finn said. He opened the door. On the other side was a hall made of blue brick. Fireflies blinked and winked in a cloud near the ceiling, and in the yellowish glow, Jane saw pairs of unmarked doors that disappeared into darkness down the hall. “This is your floor,” Finn said. “The room on the left is for you, Jane. Alsod is dangerous in the dark. Trust me.”

  Jane went to her door. “Where is everyone else?”

  “On other floors.”

  “What if I have to go to the bathroom?”

  “The bathroom is attached to your room, just like in a hotel.” Now, lights out is in fifteen minutes,” Finn nodded to the fireflies, “so hurry to bed, kiddo.”

  Finn said, “Here, let me get you settled into your room…”

  The room was red and plushy, with shiny brass at the
edges of the tables and chairs—like it was some kind of archaic parlor, rather than a bedroom—although there was a high, puffy bed.

  “Ta-da!” Finn said. When Jane didn’t smile, he walked her to the bed. “I bet you’re tired, huh?”

  “I don’t understand any of this,” Jane said. “Please, Finn. I need you to tell me why I’m here. Who is the Raven King?”

  “He’s…it’s not…” Finn sighed and sat at the foot of the bed. “Get comfortable, amiga. Gaius thinks it’s better not to scare you, but I guess explaining things can’t hurt, can it? Are you sure you want to know? Okay…a long time ago, when the Earth was young, people were watched over by Great Eagles.”

  “By birds?” Jane said.

  “They were like birds, yes, but they were very powerful. Anyway, they protected people. I don’t know where they came from, but there were twelve of them. Back then, there was no war, no starvation—none of the horrible things you read about or see on television. It was as peaceful as you can imagine—until one day, when a thirteenth eagle came. He was stronger than all twelve of the other eagles combined, and he didn’t like people.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know. Have you ever been around a person who is angry at you or seems to hate you for no reason?”

  Jane smiled. “I’ve been to school.”

  “I’m serious,” Finn said. “This is different. Maybe people could do things that he couldn’t, like love or work together, but he hated them—I mean, really hated them. Well, the other eagles knew they couldn’t fight him, so they found one person who was different than all the others—someone who was special. And they gave her a weapon called the Name of the World. They made the Name of the World invisible to the bad eagle so he couldn’t see it. He still can’t. Anyway, when the bad eagle attacked, this person fought back, and she beat him. She made him leave the Earth forever. So he came here to Hotland.”

  “But the Raven King came back,” Jane said.

  “Yes. He’s tried to get revenge a bunch of times, but every time, there is one person who can fight him. And every time, that person has stopped him.”

  “What about the bobbins?”

  “Before the Raven King got here, the bobbins ruled Hotland. They were good guys—real warrior-poet types.”

  “What happened to them?”

  Finn coughed. “The Raven King got rid of them.”

  “All of them? What about the other good eagles?”

  “The Raven King got them too,” Finn said. “I told you there was a reason Gaius doesn’t like to talk about this. Now into bed. Lights out.”

  Jane kicked off her shoes and climbed into bed. “What is the Name of the World?”

  “It’s the only thing that can hurt the Raven King—if the right person uses it.”

  “I know, but what is it?”

  “Hey, I’m just a dragon. I don’t have all the answers. Your grandmother knew—she was the last one to use it.”

  Jane tried not to remember the way Grandma Diana had crumpled on the couch. That’s what the Raven King had been trying to find, Jane realized. That’s what he had been asking Grandma Diana about: he wanted to destroy the Name of the World so nothing could hurt him.

  “If Gaius thinks that I can stop the Raven King because of my family,” Jane said, “then why are the other kids here?”

  “Well, there’s always a chance, I guess…” Finn swallowed as he went to leave. “Gaius might be wrong.”

  The next morning, Jane wiped sleep sand from her eyes and forked a waffle bite in syrup. It tasted warm and sugary and wonderful, but she couldn’t concentrate. All the things Finn had told her went around and around in her head. Although she usually forgot her dreams, today was different. In her sleep, Jane had been standing at the center of a hurricane, with winds rushing in a dark vortex around her, ripping trees from the earth, shredding homes as if they were made of toothpicks, and she had heard someone laughing. It wasn’t an evil laugh—not the kind of laugh a villain or a monster would make in a movie. No, this was cold laughter. It was worse than evil because whoever was laughing was causing this destruction, and he simply didn’t care the way a normal person should.

  She’d awakened frightened and shivering, and although Finn had consoled her, Jane couldn’t shake the dream or forget the horrible things the Raven King was supposed to have done. He’d killed all the Great Eagles and all the bobbins—all but Gaius—and now he wanted to do the same thing to ordinary people everywhere.

  Manali watched Jane from across the table. They sat at the same empty table in the noisy, early-morning dining hall. “You’re not hungry?” Manali said. “What’s wrong?”

  Jane still hadn’t talked with anyone about the things Finn had told her—or about Grandma Diana’s envelope that the rabbit had delivered to her on the Sunburn Road.

  “What’s wrong?” Manali asked again.

  “I’m just sleepy,” Jane said. “Manali, do you ever worry that maybe he—maybe the Raven King—could find us here?”

  Manali looked confused. “What are you on about?”

  “What if he finds us before we’re ready—before Gaius figures out which one of us is supposed to fight?”

  “Silly, this castle is hidden like a Russian doll. Only someone who has been here before can find Castle Alsod, and I’m sure the Raven King has never been here.” But that didn’t make Jane feel any better. She was about to say more when a fireball burst in the center of the room, and Gaius called, “Attention!” Talking stopped, and everyone turned to listen. Gaius stood on a platform at the front of the room, beside his gong. “I hope you are all rested and ready. The tests begin today. Only one of you can face the Raven King. Today we’ll discover who it is. All your families have accomplished histories of magic, but none of that matters now.

  “Our enemy is moving, so let me be very clear about this. Think of everything in the world that you love. Think about your families and your friends; think about your toys and your routines; think about your favorites places, your favorite smells, and your favorite memories. If the Raven King is not stopped, all of that will be lost. I don’t want to scare you, but only one of you can face him because only one of you will be clever enough and strong enough to find and use the Name of the World.”

  From the back of the hall, Thomas called, “Where is it?”

  Kids turned to look, and Gaius said, “I don’t know. Today there will be three trials. Only one of you will pass all three. Are there any questions?”

  A boy at another table burped, and children laughed. But Gaius didn’t.

  “Let me say this again,” he said more quietly than before. “If our champion fails or if none of you passes all three tests, then we are all going to die.”

  Thomas stared back at Gaius, unfazed.

  “Now, then,” Gaius said. “If you fail a test, you will be immediately disqualified, and you will go home tonight. You have only one chance to pass each test. Does everyone understand? Good. Please stand up and head for the front door in an orderly manner. The first test is to walk on water.”

  They gathered on a plateau of dried mud alongside Castle Alsod, and Gaius said, “Before magic or skill, you need confidence. Your parents and your teachers have taught you that there is no such place as Hotland and that the Raven King is imaginary. That is completely backward. Right now the Raven King is using technology—electronic distractions like televisions, radios, computers, and phones—to muddle your parents’ minds. By the time they realize that they are in danger, it will be too late. You must believe in yourself and in Hotland. You must believe,” Gaius said, “that you can walk on water.”

  The swamp trees faded like ghosts, leaving red water as far as Jane could see. In the distance, something arched over the water like a leafless tree trunk.

  “Each of you will walk out there,” Gaius said, indicating the arch. “Finn is waiting on the other side. The Purple Marsh is home to many hungry things. Do not look at the shadows under the water. They will
leave you alone if you ignore them. Does everyone understand?” He waited. “Good. Then who’s first?”

  Thomas pushed to the front of the group and said, “I am.”

  “Walk across the water,” Gaius said. “Do not doubt that you can…”

  “I understand,” Thomas said, and he stepped onto the muck. The red water rippled in petroleum-rainbow rings, and Thomas’s foot went in. He paused, closed his eyes, and stepped out. The water caught him. There were whispers and gasps as Thomas slowly walked, never pausing, closer to the arch. His outline grew murky, until finally he passed under the arch and was gone.

  “You see,” Gaius said. “It can be done. But before you take a step, you must know that you can do it.”

  “I’ll go next,” a pale boy said.

  Gaius whispered in the boy’s ear. The boy nodded, looked seriously at the water, took a step—and went splashing in. Children laughed, and Gaius hauled the boy out. The water left an orange stain on the boy’s skin and clothes.

  “I’ll try harder,” the boy said, wiping his face. “I just need to—”

  “I’m sorry,” Gaius said. “Return to your room.”

  “But I didn’t even have a chance,” the boy said. “Come on, I barely touched the water.”

  “I’m sorry,” Gaius said again, and he motioned to the next girl. “Go ahead, Julia.”

  Julia made it three steps before the water gave, collapsing like a rotten board under her shoes. She swam back to the shore and climbed out, dripping and hugging her shirt. Three more kids fell in before another boy—a German named Gerhard—made it across. The losers were told to return to their rooms to dry off and get ready to go home. Such a long way to come for nothing, Jane thought. It’s too bad.

  She watched them fall in, one after another, until finally a third kid—a girl from Africa—made it across. Jane waited at the back of the crowd with Manali as it went on and on and on. At first the dunks elicited laughter, and when someone started to walk across, kids cheered and clapped, but now it was as monotonous as a math test. Splash, splash, splash, walk. Splash, walk, splash, splash.