The Myst Reader (10 page)

“Now listen to me, Atrus.”

Atrus looked up, surprised by how serious her voice suddenly was. “Yes, grandmother?”

Her dark, intelligent eyes searched his. “You must remember what you have learned here, Atrus. I have tried to teach you the mechanics of the earth and stars; the ways of science and the workings of nature. I have tried to teach you what is good and what is to be valued, truths which cannot be shaken or changed. This knowledge is from the Maker. Take it with you and weigh everything your father teaches you against it.”

Anna paused, then leaned in toward him slightly, lowering her voice. “I no longer know him, but I know you, Atrus. Measure your own deeds against the truths I have taught you. If you act for self-gain then no good can come of it. If you act selflessly, then you act well for all and you must not be afraid.”

Anna moved back, smiling once more. “The journey down will be long and hard but I want you to be brave, Atrus. More than that, I want you to be truthful. To be a better son to your father than fate allowed him to be with his.”

“I don’t understand …” he began, but she shook her head, as if it didn’t matter.

“Do what your father asks. But most of all, Atrus, do not violate what is in your nature. You understand me?”

“I think so, grandmother.”

“Then I have no fears for you.”

He embraced her again, gripping her tightly and kissing her neck. Then, turning from her, he climbed the steps and crossed the rope bridge.

At the cleftwall he turned, looking back at her, his eyes briefly taking in the familiar sights of the cleft, its shape like a scar in his memory. Anna had climbed the steps and now stood on the narrow balcony outside her room. Lifting an arm, she waved.

“Take care on your journey down. I’ll see you in three months.”

Atrus waved back, then, heaving a deep sigh, turned and jumped down from the wall, following his father up the slope of the volcano.

THEY WERE IN THE TUNNEL.

“Father?”

Gehn turned and, holding the lantern high, looked back down the tunnel at Atrus. “What is it, boy?”

Atrus lifted his own lamp and pointed at the D’ni symbol carved into the wall; the symbol he had seen that morning after the experiment. “This sign, father. What does it mean?”

Gehn motioned to him impatiently. “Come on now, Atrus. Catch up. We’ve wasted enough time as it is. There will be occasion for such things later.”

Atrus stared at the intricate symbol a moment longer, then, hiding his disappointment, turned away, hurrying to catch up with his father.

“We need to make up time,” Gehn said, as Atrus came alongside. “The journey is a long one and I have several experiments in progress. I must be back in time to see how they have developed.”

“Experiments?” Atrus asked, excited by the sound of it. “What kind of experiments?”

“Important ones,” Gehn answered, as if that were sufficient to satisfy his son’s curiosity. “Now hurry. There will be time to talk when we reach the first of the eder tomahn.”

Atrus looked up at his father. “Eder tomahn?”

Gehn glanced at his son as he strode on. “The eder tomahn are way stations. Rest houses, you might term them. In the days of the late empire there were plans to have commerce with the world of men. Such plans, fortunately, did not come to pass, yet the paths were forged through the earth and rest houses prepared for those D’ni messengers who would venture out.”

Atrus looked back at his father, astonished. “And this tunnel? Is this D’ni?”

Gehn shook his head. “No. This is simply a lava tube. Thousands of years ago, when the volcano was still active, hot lava ran through this channel, carving a passage to the surface.”

Again Atrus felt a surge of disappointment. The walls of the tunnel had been so smooth, its shape so perfectly round, he had been sure it must have been the product of D’ni construction.

“Yes,” Gehn continued, “but you will see things before our journey’s done that will make you forget this tiny wormhole. Now, come over to the left, Atrus, and get behind me. The tunnel slopes steeply just ahead.”

Atrus did as he was told, keeping close behind his father, careful not to slip, his left hand keeping his balance against the curved wall of the lava tube, his sandaled feet gripping the hard, dry floor. All went well until, by chance, he turned and looked back up the tunnel. Then, with a sudden rush of understanding, he realized where he was. The darkness behind him seemed suddenly oppressive. Who knew what waited back there beyond the lantern’s glow?

He turned back, realizing just how dependent on his father he was. If he were to lose himself down here …

Ahead of him Gehn had stopped. “Slowly now,” he said, looking back at Atrus. “It ends just here. Now we go down The Well.”

Atrus blinked, seeing how the tunnel ended in a perfect circle up ahead. Beyond it was simple blackness. He went out and stood beside his father on the narrow, crescent-shaped ledge, overwhelmed by the sight that met his eyes.

In front of them lay a giant oval of blackness—a chasm so huge it seemed you could drop a whole volcano into it.

The Well.

Gehn raised his lamp, letting its light glint wetly off the far wall of the great shaft, revealing the massive striations of the rock, then pointed to his left.

“Just there. See, Atrus? See the steps?”

Atrus saw them, cut like the thread of a screw into the uneven sides of the great hole, but the thought of using them, of descending that vast shaft by their means, frightened him.

Gehn looked to him. “Would you like to go first, Atrus, or shall I?”

Atrus swallowed, then spoke, keeping the fear from his voice. “You’d better. You know the way.”

“Yes,” Gehn said, giving his son a knowing smile. “I do, don’t I?”

For the first hundred steps or so, the steps passed through a narrow tunnel cut into the edge of the chasm with only a thin gap low down by the floor to the right, but then, suddenly, the right-hand wall seemed to melt away and Atrus found himself out in the open, staring down into that massive well of darkness. Startled by the sight, he stumbled and his right sandal came away, toppling over the edge and into the darkness.

He stood there a moment, gasping, his back against the wall, trying to regain his nerve. But 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 of the dormitory-sized room and a door at the end led through to what Atrus assumed was either a kitchen or a washroom of some kind. He looked to his father.

“Why are we stopping?”

To his surprise, Gehn yawned. “Because the hour is late,” he answered. “And because I am tired.”

“But I thought …”

Gehn raised his hand, as if to stop any further argument. Then, turning, he gestured toward a large knapsack that rested on the bunk in the right-hand corner.

“That is yours,” Gehn said unceremoniously. “You can change now or later, it is entirely up to you.”

Atrus went across and, unfastening the leather buckle, looked inside. Frowning, he tipped the bag up, spilling its contents onto the mattress.

Standing back, he gave a little laugh, surprised, then turned, looking to Gehn, who was sitting on the edge of one of the facing bunks, pulling off his boots.

“Thank you,” he said. “I’ll change later, if that’s all right.”

Gehn grunted. “Do as you will, lad. But I would not sleep in the boots if I were you. I don’t know if they fit. I had to guess at the size.”

Atrus turned back, gently brushing one of the boots with his fingertips, then lifted it, cradling it, sniffing in its rich, deep smell. It was strangely beautiful. Studying it, he could see that it had never been worn before.

Beside the knee-length boots, there was a cloak—a smaller version of his father’s, a black shirt with a strange book symbol on it, a skull-shaped hat made of some kind of metal that seemed soft unless you really pressed it hard, and a small leather-and-metal pouch.

Atrus squatted on the edge of the bed to examine this last, untying the drawstring and peering inside. For a moment he didn’t understand, then with a gasp of delight, he poured a number of the tiny objects out into his palm.

Fire-marbles! It was a whole pouch of fire-marbles! Why, there must have been fifty, sixty of them!