Jane and the Raven King

by Stephen Chambers

  Jane felt a rush. “That makes sense,” she said. “There’s a smeared signature at the bottom that starts with a T.”

  “But Turim wouldn’t have had this phone number. Back then they probably didn’t even have phones.”

  “The phone number is written in different ink,” Jane said. “Maybe it was added later. What do you know about Turim? That may be my great—several greats—grandmother sitting with him in the picture.”

  “He lost his arm in a war, I think.” Manali murmured to herself in another language. “You’re sure about the picture, yeah?”

  “I’m looking at it right now. Do you know of anything that might connect us? Have you seen an old mirror?”

  Manali was quiet. Jane heard rustling, and then Manali said, “I’m back. I think I found it.”

  “The mirror?”

  “No, a picture of Turim in our family album. Here’s one that has a British woman standing with him.” A pause. “And that’s it.”

  “There’s only one picture?”

  “Only one,” Manali said. “There are words at the bottom, but I can’t read them. Looks like they’re dated ’04. Maybe 1904? Oh, wait, here’s another one—not of him, but the British woman is in it again…and so are you.”

  Jane felt dizzy. “What?”

  “It looks just like you,” Manali said. “Like an older version of you anyways. There’s one woman—the lady from the Turim picture, except she is much older in this picture—and there’s a girl who looks like you standing with a couple of Indian kids and their parents. I haven’t seen these pictures in years. All the people are standing on a dock with ships behind them.”

  “Is there a date?”

  Manali hesitated. “Um…’46, I think, maybe ’45—it’s hard to tell. It’s definitely forty-something.”

  “Does it say anything else?”

  “Yeah, it says, Protect and Keep Us from Bombs (1940) and Birds (1945).” “Is that it?”

  “That’s it,” Manali said. “This phone call is going to cost you a fortune, yeah?”

  Jane smiled. “It’s worth it.”

  “I’m sorry I’m not more help. Funny that your grandmother had this number, isn’t it?”

  “It is…” Jane was thinking. “Wait just a second.” She covered the receiver and asked Rachel, “The Germans bombed London a long time ago, didn’t they? When was that?”

  “Are you talking about the London Blitz?”

  “What year did that happen?”

  “That was 1940.”

  Bombs (1940).

  Jane’s pulse quickened and she said, “Thank you so much, Manali! I have to go.” And to Rachel, “Where’s the bomb shelter?”

  They found a locked door in the lobby (Rachel opened it) that led to steep wooden steps and a cement basement with brick walls. It smelled of mildew. A bicycle was chained to the bottom step, and the left wall and area behind the stairs were crowded with boxes with names written on the sides, along with words like kitchen and breakables. A coin-operated washing machine and a dryer were against the right wall under a paper taped to the bricks with detailed instructions like Please DO NOT remove someone else’s clothing, Wait your turn, and Management is not responsible for missing items.

  Jane was disappointed. “This is just a basement.”

  Rachel carried Michael down the steps. “It was used as a bomb shelter once.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I was here when people hid from the explosions.”

  “Why won’t you tell me more?” Jane said. “Why was my friend Manali’s phone number—in India—written on an old picture in the office up there?”

  “Obviously your families helped each other a long time ago—through several generations.”

  Why did I think Grandma Diana would hide the mirror in a bomb shelter? Jane asked herself. Just because Grandma Diana came down here once doesn’t prove anything, and besides, she hid here in 1940—five years before she beat the Raven King. There were uneven gaps in the brick wall where pipes snaked out. Gaius had said to stay away from pipes. I should search Grandma Diana’s office again, Jane thought. I should go through everything—the mirror is probably up there.

  Michael screamed as Rachel carried him closer to Jane. “Stop—stop!” he shouted. “That hurts!” And when Rachel stepped back, he relaxed again, half-asleep.

  Jane said, “Step forward again.”

  Rachel did, and Michael jerked up, yelling, “Ow! My chest! Stop!”

  “Step back.”

  When Rachel moved away, Michael slumped and was quiet.

  His wound reacted to the photograph upstairs, Jane thought, as if the mirror in that picture—as if the Name of the World—were reaching out to burn him. She stepped where Rachel had been standing when Michael screamed. She didn’t feel anything, and the floor was solid cement. What if it’s buried under here? she thought. I would need someone to jackhammer it open or something. But what if it isn’t…?

  She crouched at the nearest wall. The uneven bricks looked like crooked teeth, ready to fall out. She grabbed one and pulled. It didn’t budge. So they weren’t loose; they just looked like they were. She tried another one—nothing. And another. She tested the bricks as high as she could reach and then started pulling on them in the next column all the way down again. It’s probably under the floor, she thought. This isn’t—

  A brick came out.

  The loose brick was as high as Jane’s waist. Carefully she placed it on the floor and reached into the dark gap. It was like a cubby inside the wall—the perfect place to hide a mirror.

  “Ow!” Jane pulled her hand back out. She had pricked her thumb on something sharp. Blood pooled around the cut. “Can you use your powers or whatever to tell me what’s in there?” Jane asked, and when Rachel shook her head, Jane thought, Of course not.

  Slowly Jane reached in again. She felt hard, folded paper. Jane took it out; there were three sheets of unlined yellow paper with blue cursive writing on them. It was the same handwriting from the envelope and three spells. But it wasn’t the paper that had cut her. She reached in again. Her arm tense, she poked and checked and finally touched smooth metal. Tapping it carefully as if it were a hot burner, Jane traced the side of the metal object to a soft handle. A knife. She grabbed the handle and pulled it out.

  It was a narrow black knife, about eight inches long. Drawings that were as tiny as Jane’s fingernails cluttered the blade—all the way to the mean-looking point. The first picture was a series of horizontal lines; then there was a dot with five lines sprouting from it; then a circle; then a jumble of vertical lines; and, finally, an upside down V.

  Jane checked the hole again. It was empty. She showed the knife to Rachel. “Do you know what this is?”

  “You can see for yourself.”

  Michael groaned and pawed his chest when Jane brought the knife closer, so she backed off to examine the old papers. They were tearing along the creases where they’d been folded. The first page read:

  I destroyed the Dark One today with the help of Gaius Saebius and Tanya. I am writing this letter to you, somewhere in the future, whoever you are, so that you will know what I have sacrificed and why. He came to take revenge on the world by spreading madness. He thought that if people killed each other like animals, they would grow too wild and disorganized to resist him or to even notice what he planned. And he was right. No one noticed until it was too late. The adults were consumed by war. And the Dark One almost won.

  As Jane flipped to the second page, Rachel said, “Jane, someone is coming.”

  “Just a minute…”

  But I found the Name of the World, and I learned the spells of fire, lightning, and sight. The hardest part was losing my brother, Sam.

  Jane paused. Grandma Diana was an only child; she didn’t have a brother.

  I sacrificed him so that the world could live. If I had to do it again, I don’t know what I would do. I only know that inside the Steel Mountain, I made a choice. I le
t the Dark One erase my brother, my best friend—who I loved more than anything in the world—so that I could get close enough to stop him. He killed Sam—no, I killed Sam so completely that he has never even been born. I’m the only one who knows what I’ve lost.

  “Jane…”

  “Wait,” Jane said. She remembered the mountain that the third spell had shown her. Was that the Steel Mountain? Jane wondered. Is that where I have to go?

  “We may be in danger,” Rachel said. “It’s time to go.”

  Jane started reading the third page as she followed Rachel up the stairs.

  Only the Name of the World could hurt the Dark One, but the Name is just a tool, like a gun. Without bullets, a gun is useless. Without sacrifice, the Name is useless. But I have stopped him now, so no one will ever have to fight him again. The Sharp Map guided me to the place where the Dark One first fell. That’s where I traded my brother’s life for the life of the world. God forgive me.

  Diana Starlight, August 6, 1945

  At the top of the stairs, Rachel stopped Jane with one arm. “Too late,” she said. “Someone is here.”

  Jane stuffed the papers into her pocket and held the knife in one hand. It was heavier than it looked, like a paperweight.

  “Who is it?” Jane said. “Sansi?”

  “I’m not sure,” Rachel said. “I hear someone from Hotland, and he is…”

  Nails clicked through the lobby, and a German shepherd limped around the corner.

  Jane ran to him. “Finn!” Finn wagged his tail. He was carrying a scrap of paper in his mouth, and one of his hind legs was bandaged. “Are you hurt? What’s this?”

  Finn dropped the slobbery note into her hand. Three words were scrawled in brownish red: Gaius is gone.

  Outside, Rachel walked them to an old church on the street corner. “You can open the door to Hotland in many places, Jane,” Rachel said. “But you know that if you go back to Hotland, I can’t come with you.”

  As Finn whimpered and Rachel waited, Jane scanned the last page of Grandma Diana’s old note again.

  The Sharp Map guided me to the place where the Dark One first fell…

  Jane held up the knife again. “Rachel, is it possible that this isn’t just a knife? These lines—could they be some kind of map?”

  Rachel hesitated. “It’s possible.”

  “Can you take care of Michael while I’m gone?”

  Rachel nodded. “I’ll protect him as long as I can.”

  Jane kissed Michael’s forehead, but he didn’t even wake up. He was running out of time: the poison had reached the bottom of his neck.

  “Okay, Finn, let’s go,” Jane said.

  Rachel said, “Jane, the Dark One is much more powerful than he was the last time you visited Hotland. If you go back, you may not be able to return. Are you ready?”

  “I might be stuck there? But I don’t even have the Name of the World yet. I can’t fight the Raven King without it, can I? I don’t have any more spells—I’m not the savior. Gaius said so. Don’t look at me like that, Finn. Rachel, tell him—explain that I’m not ready, like my grandmother was.”

  Rachel said, “Your grandmother was frightened too.”

  Jane felt very small. Learning that Grandma Diana had been scared made it even worse. “Then why did she do it?” Jane asked.

  “She didn’t have a choice.”

  “But how am I supposed to fight him? Is this a map of Earth or Hotland? It’s just a bunch of lines and circles…” But that last drawing, the upside-down V could represent a mountain. The Steel Mountain could be the mountain I saw in the third spell, Jane thought. But what if the Name of the World isn’t there and the Raven King is waiting for me? Jane said, “I’m not strong enough to beat him, am I?”

  “No, you’re not,” Rachel said. “But you don’t have a choice. Touch the church stones and ask them to open.”

  Jane did, and a low black doorway formed. She said, “Take care of Michael.”

  “Your brother will be safe here.”

  “Thank you,” Jane said. “All right—come on, Finn. Let’s do this before I change my mind.”

  Jane stepped into the wall.

  When the rickety elevator expanded, Finn became a dragon again, and he said, “I don’t know where they took Gaius. When I went back to Castle Alsod, he was gone.” The gymnasium elevator lights came on. One of Finn’s gigantic hind legs was swaddled in bandages. “We need your help, Jane. We’re in a lot of trouble here.”

  When the elevator doors opened, she saw why. The animals were gone. The old bobbin ruins were empty, and the grass was dead. The ground was so dry that it was cracked like a desert or a dusty eggshell. The daylight was faded and sepia-gray. A skin of ugly clouds covered the sky, and three points curled around the Hotland sun, as if a giant bird claw were squeezing it.

  “What is that?” Jane asked.

  “A spell,” Finn said. “The Raven King’s magic has spread everywhere.”

  “Where are all the animals?”

  “Gone. The Raven King trapped them here and turned them into sansi.”

  Stickmen, Jane thought. Like what’s happening to Michael. She showed Finn the knife: horizontal lines; the dot with five lines; a circle; vertical lines; and the upside-down V. “Do you see these pictures? I think it might be a map to someplace called the Steel Mountain. Do you know how to get there?”

  “Yes, it’s on the eastern side of the Old Wall,” Finn said. “It’s where the Raven King lives.”

  “The Raven King can’t see the Name of the World,” Jane said. “It’s invisible to him. I think the Name of the World is on the Steel Mountain.”

  “You mean it’s been sitting under his bed or something this whole time? I don’t know—this is dangerous, Jane. Are you sure it’s there?”

  “No.”

  “Ooo-kay.” Finn said. “Then what are we waiting for?”

  Behind them, the elevator dinged. Manali stepped out. “You were just going to leave without me, yeah?”

  “Manali!” Jane ran to hug her. “How did you get here?”

  “I opened a door to Hotland in a phone booth three blocks from my house. Hi, Finn. Have you found the Name of the World yet? No? When this is all over, we’ll get our picture taken to confuse our grandchildren. How’s that?” After she climbed onto Finn’s back, Manali said, “Hold on a minute. Where’s Gaius?”

  I can’t believe how quiet it is,” Manali said.

  After they left the bobbin ruins, they followed the Sunburn Road toward the Purple Marsh. They were still too far away to see much, but Jane could already tell that the marsh was gone. The horizon was swollen and black, like burnt plastic. Everything is going to be like this if we don’t stop him, Jane thought. The Raven King is like someone throwing a temper tantrum, breaking everything around him. I’m not afraid of him, she told herself. But the nervous jags in her chest meant that wasn’t true.

  “If our grandparents could stop him,” Manali said, “we can too.”

  Jane said, “I know.”

  “You’re worrying too much, Jane. Your grandmother said a Sharp Map guided her. You’ve got the map—all we have to do is follow it to the Name of the World and the Raven King. Don’t you know how stories like this end? The bad guy always loses.”

  “What if this is different?”

  “Different how?”

  “Different like Shakespeare,” Jane said. “What if everyone dies at the end?”

  “This isn’t make-believe,” Manali said. “We get to choose what happens.”

  They ate cold cucumber and lamb sandwiches Manali had packed, and soon they reached the edge of the Purple Marsh. The trees were crumpled and black with ash, as if someone had emptied a giant fireplace over them. The red water had all dried up, and the air smelled like burnt popcorn. Nothing moved.

  “Hellooo!” a voice called below.

  Finn called, “Who’s there?”

  “Finn, you big dog, where have you been?” The lady frog—the same
frog who had worn lipstick and let them enter the swamp with Gaius the last time—crawled out of a hole. “Do you see what he did to my swamp?”

  “I know, Sandra. I’m sorry,” Finn said. “I’m glad you’re still here. You’re the first one we’ve seen.”

  “The others are hiding,” she said. “But there aren’t many. Where’s Gaius? I thought he’d be with you.”

  “No,” Finn said. “They got him.”

  Sandra croaked in soft shudders, like a child trying not to cry. “The Raven King finally got Gaius too, huh?”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll find him.”

  “Excuse me,” Jane said. “Ms. Frog—”

  “Just Sandra, dear.”

  Jane drew the black knife. “Have you ever heard of the Steel Mountain?”

  Sandra disappeared into the hole. “Are you mad? Put that away, child! Away—away!”

  Jane slipped the knife back into her pocket. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know—”

  “All of you, get! You’ll have the sansi swarming like buzzards!” she shouted from inside the hole. “Go! Less talking, more flying, you big dumb dog!”

  Big dumb dog,” Finn muttered when they were airborne. “Sandra is lucky there’s nothing left to burn down.”

  Jane said, “Finn!”

  “What? Do I look like a dog to you? I’m a dragon. Dra-gon.”

  Manali said, “I don’t understand why she would be afraid of the knife. Maybe she knows something we don’t.”

  Finn snorted. “She knows diddly.”

  “Finn, if Gaius trusted her, I’m sure—” Jane’s voice caught in her throat. “Is that…?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Finn said.

  Ahead Castle Alsod was a crater. The great tree had been gashed right down the middle and torn open like a burrito that had burst in the microwave. The outer walls had been ripped apart, and hunks of marble, glass, smashed gears, and chair legs were scattered everywhere. Finn didn’t land.

  “Is she dead?” Jane asked.

  “No,” Finn said. “She’s just badly hurt. But if Gaius doesn’t come back to heal Alsod, she will die, yes.”

  They flew in silence until the ruined castle and swamp were behind them. The hills of the Soldier’s Forum—where the dodo gave Thomas Grandma Diana’s armor—were bare, and in the distance, a white wall crossed the plain. There were regular lines along its side, like the layers of a canyon. The wall was taller than the buildings in New York and it went on forever in both directions.