Free The Myst Reader by Robyn Miller Page B

suddenly he found himself obsessed with the idea of falling into that darkness; and not just falling, but deliberately throwing himself. The urge was so strange and overpowering it made the hairs at the back of his neck stand on end.
    Below him, almost directly opposite him across the great shaft, Gehn continued his descent, unaware, it seemed, of the immense danger, stepping lightly, almost effortlessly, down the spiral, his lamplight casting flickering shadows on the groined and striated rock, before he vanished inside another of the narrow tunnels.
    I must go on
, Atrus told himself, freeing his left foot from the sandal; yet the fear he felt froze his muscles. It was like a dream, an evil dream. Even so, he forced himself to move, taking first one step and then another, each step an effort of sheer will.
    If I fall I die. If I fall
…
    His father’s voice echoed across that vast open space. “Atrus?”
    He stopped, his shoulder pressed against the wall, and closed his eyes. “Y … yes, father?”
    “Do you want me to come back to you? Would you like me to hold your hand, perhaps?”
    He wanted to say yes, but something in Gehn’s voice, the faintest tone of criticism, stopped him. He opened his eyes again and, steeling himself, answered. “No … I’ll be all right.”
    “Good. But not so slow, eh? We cannot spend too much time here. Not if I am to be back in time.”
    Controlling his fear, Atrus began to descend once more.
    Imagine you’re inside a tree
, he told himself.
Imagine it.
    And suddenly he could see it vividly, as if it were an illustration in one of his grandmother’s books. He could picture it in the brilliant sunlight, its branches stretching from horizon to horizon, a tiny crescent moon snagged among its massive leaves. Why, even the blades of grass about its trunk were several times the height of a man!
    Halfway down, there was a depression in the side of the shaft—a kind of cave. Whether it was natural or D’ni-made, Atrus couldn’t tell, but Gehn was waiting for him there, sitting on a carved stone ledge, calmly smoking his pipe.
    “Are you all right, Atrus?” he asked casually.
    “I’m fine now,” Atrus answered genuinely. “There was a moment …”
    He fell silent, seeing that his father wasn’t listening. Gehn had taken out a tiny notebook with a tanned leather cover and was studying it as he smoked. Atrus glimpsed a diagram of paths and tunnels.
    With a tiny grunt, Gehn closed the book and pocketed it again, then looked up at Atrus.
    “You go ahead. I’ll finish my pipe, then catch up with you.”

     
    IT WAS SEVERAL HOURS HARD WALKING through a labyrinth of twisting tunnels before they finally came to the eder tomahn. The D’ni way station was built into a recess of a large cave, its black, perfectly finished marble in stark contrast to the cave’s natural limestone. Atrus walked over to it and, holding up the lantern, ran his fingers across the satin-smooth surface, marveling at the lack of evident joints between the blocks, the way his own image was reflected back to him in the stone. It was as though the stone had been baked like melted tar, then set and polished like a mirror.
    Real
, Atrus thought, amazed by it.
    Gehn meanwhile had walked across to face the door, which was deeply recessed into the stone. Reaching into the neck of his tunic, he drew out a magnificent golden chain which, until that moment, had been hidden from sight. On the end of it was a bevel-edged key, a thick, black thing streaked with red. Placing this to one of the matching shapes recessed into the door, Gehn pushed until it clicked. There was a moment’s silence, then a strange clunk-clunk-clunk and the sound of a metal grating sliding back.
    He removed the key and stepped back. As he did, the door slid into the stone, revealing a dimly lit interior.
    Gehn stepped inside. Atrus, following, stopped just inside the room, surprised at how big it was. There were low, utility bunks to either side