The Myst Reader

by Robyn Miller

  And if that cloud were to reach out its fingers to D’ni city?

  Then they would also die.

  The city below was in turmoil. The shrieks of terror and wailing of the desperate were dreadful to hear. There were great queues now at all of the Common Libraries, as people made their way to the safety of the common Ages.

  Anna stared across the cavern for a moment longer, horrified, then hurried on, taking Gehn’s hand and pulling him along behind her. There was not far to go now and she was beginning to think about what she would need to pack—journals and books and the like—when the third tremor struck.

  It was by far the largest of the three tremors and threw them both from their feet, showering them with dust and debris.

  Walls were crumbling now. Buildings were crashing to the ground. Just up ahead of them, the front of one of their neighbors’ mansions tumbled into the alleyway, throwing up a great cloud of dust.

  As the tremor faded, Anna lifted herself onto her hands and knees and turned anxiously. But Gehn was fine: He had a small cut on his brow, but it was almost nothing.

  “Come on,” she said, getting to her feet then taking his hand again, “before the next one hits.”

  But they had barely gone a dozen paces when the whole cavern seemed to resound like a struck gong.

  They clung to each other, waiting for the great ceiling to come down on them or the earth to open up beneath them, but despite the mighty roar of falling masonry and cracking walls, they came through untouched.

  Indoors, Tasera was waiting for them anxiously.

  “Thank the Maker you are here,” she said, relieved to see at least two of her family home safe. “But where is Aitrus?”

  “He has gone to the Guild House,” Anna said, more calmly than she felt. “He will come when he can.”

  Tasera gave a nod of resignation. “Kahlis went, too, as soon as the first tremor struck. No doubt they will return together.”

  Anna nodded, then said, “I need to get one or two things from the study. Take Gehn and link through. I will follow you just as soon as I can. Aitrus said we were to link to Gemedet.”

  “Gemedet? But surely Ko’ah would be safer?”

  “It is what he said.”

  Tasera bowed her head, for once giving in to her daughter-in-law. “Then go quickly, Ti’ana. I shall see you in Gemedet.”

  ANNA SLIPPED THE KNAPSACK ONTO HER back, then went out into the corridor. Time was pressing now, but she could not go until she had taken one final look at things. Climbing the stairs, she emerged onto the balcony then hurried over to the rail.

  The great city was stretched out below where she stood, layer after layer of ancient stone streets and houses, reaching down to the great circle of the harbor and Kerath’s massive arch. Though it was day, lights burned in most of the houses, for a strange twilight was falling over D’ni as the great cloud spread, its poisonous fumes dousing the lake’s soft glow.

  The dark cloud now filled almost half of the cavern, its color now discernible as a filthy brown. The edges of it drifted slowly, in a dreamlike fashion, more like a sluggish liquid than a gas. Even as she watched, wispy brown tendrils of the gas extended about Kerath’s Arch and slowly curled across the surface of the harbor.

  And where the gas touched, the algae faded, the bright glow dying like sputtering embers.

  The sight of it chilled her.

  Where are you, Aitrus? she wondered, looking across to the left, where the Guild House stood, its massive, tiered roof dominating the surrounding Halls. Are you safe, my love?

  As if voicing the fear she felt at that moment, a great noise of wailing drifted up from the lower city. Many were safe now, but there were still some—hundreds, maybe more—who had not made it to the Common Libraries and the safety of the Ages. It was they who now faced the coming of the great cloud as it slowly filled the harbor with its roiling darkness, then spilled into the narrow lanes and alleyways that led up from the waterfront.

  The Maker help them …

  Yet even as she thought it, she caught a glimpse of a guildsmen hurriedly ascending the main street that led between the gates, his cloak streaming behind him as he ran. He was carrying something odd, some kind of cylinder, yet she knew at once who it was.

  “Aitrus!” she yelled, waving frantically at him.

  He slowed, his head turning, and then he waved back at her, hurrying on again, disappearing briefly behind a row of houses, while far below him, like the breath of fate itself, the dark gas slowly climbed the levels, destroying any living thing it touched.

  IT WAS RAINING IN GEMEDET, A FRESH, PURE rain that, after the nightmare of the cavern, seemed to wash all stain of it from them as they walked down the slope toward the encampment.

  Seeing them step out from among the trees, Gehn stood then ran toward them, hugging his father fiercely. The boy’s hair was slicked back, his clothes soaked, but he seemed not to mind.

  Picking him up, Aitrus carried Gehn down the rest of the slope and into the shelter of the cabin. Tasera looked up as they entered, a great beam of a smile lighting her face at the sight of Aitrus. Then, seeing only Anna enter behind him, she frowned.

  “Where is your father, Aitrus?”

  “In D’ni,” Aitrus answered somberly, slipping the cylinder from his back and balancing it in the corner.

  “He stayed?”

  “He agreed to. Along with the Five and all the other Grand Masters. It was their plan to go to one of the Guild worlds and there to debate things further.”

  “Then he is safe,” she said, relieved.

  “For a time,” Aitrus answered, taking the mask from his cloak pocket and placing it on top of the cylinder, the end of it dangling from the great silver nozzle.

  “What do you mean?”

  Aitrus shrugged. “I mean only that none of us knows yet what has really happened or where the gas is coming from. As for the tremors, there were no early signs in the rock, nor is there any history of such local disturbances.”

  “So what are we to do? Stay here?”

  “For a time, yes. Until things blow over. I have been ordered to remain here for ten days. At the end of that I am to return to D’ni, wearing the mask and cylinder. Others will return at the same time. If all is well, we shall bring the people back to D’ni.”

  “And if it is not?” Tasera asked, her face gaunt.

  Aitrus sighed. “Then we stay here … for a time. Until we can make things well again in D’ni.”

  THE AIR WAS A HORRIBLE, SICKLY YELLOW-BROWN, choking the ancient streets and alleyways, as though a wintry fog had descended upon the great tiered city in the cave. Silent it was, and dark, though not as dark now as at first.

  Here and there, at crossroads and at gates, lamps had been set on the top of poles. Huge fire-marbles the size of fists glowed red, or blue, or green behind the thick glass panes of the lamps; yet their lights burned dimly, as though through depths of dark and murky water.

  Silent it was, yet in that silence the creaking of a cart could now be heard, along with the shuffle of two men, making their slow way through that subterranean place.

  As they came into a pool of dark red light, one could see the airtight masks that encased their heads, linked by strong hoses to the air tanks on their backs. They wore long leather boots and thick gloves that reached to their elbows.

  Their cart was loaded high, pale hands and feet jutting lifelessly from the midst of that macabre bundle of rags and bones. Leaning forward, they pushed in silence, sharing the weight without complaint. Ahead, just beyond the lamp, was their destination.

  Coming to the foot of the steps, they set the handles of the cart down, then began to unload, taking each body by its wrists and ankles and carrying it up into the semi-darkness of the entrance hall.

  Here, too, they had placed lamps, lighting the way into the great Book Room.

  It was not their first journey, nor would it be their last. For a full week now they had gone about their task, patiently,
unendingly, collecting in the harvest of their sowing.

  So many bodies, there were. So much illness and death. It was hard to credit that the gas had undone so many. And then the quakes.

  While one held the body propped against the podium, the other took its hand and placed it over the glowing panel of the Book, moving his own hand back as the link was made.

  The body shimmered for an instant and was gone.

  And so on, endlessly, it seemed. A thousand corpses, maybe more: their dead hands, filled yet with living cells, linking into the Ages; their bodies wracked with illness; rife with the contagion that had swept these mortuary streets.

  Looking through their masks at one another, the two men smiled grimly.

  “Another, Philosopher?”

  “Oh, another, my Lord. Most certainly another.”

  The two men laughed; a dark and bitter laughter. And then they returned, to bring another body from the cart. To send another of their dark seeds through into the Ages. Destroying the sanctuaries one at a time: finishing the work they had begun.

  IT WAS THE EVENING OF THE NINTH DAY. Tomorrow Aitrus would return to D’ni. As the day ended, they sat on a platform of rock just above the falls, just Anna and Aitrus, looking out over the little world they had made.

  The sun, behind them, cast their shadows long across the lush greens of the valley. For a long time they were silent, then Anna spoke.

  “What do you think you will find?”

  Aitrus plucked a stem of grass and put it to his mouth. Now that it was evening, he had pushed his glasses up onto his brow, but where they had sat about his eyes, his pale flesh was marked with thin red furrows. He shrugged. “Who knows? Yet I fear the worst. I had hoped some message would have come through earlier than this. Or my father …”

  Anna reached out, laying her hand softly against his neck. He feared for his father, more than for himself. So it was with Aitrus. It was always others before himself. And that was why, ultimately, she loved him: for that selflessness in him.

  “How long will you be?”

  Aitrus turned slightly, looking at her. “As long as I am needed.”

  “And if you do not return?”

  “Then you will stay here.”

  She began to shake her head, but he was insistent. “No, Ti’ana. You must do this for me. For me, and for Gehn.”

  The mention of Gehn stilled her objections. Aitrus was right. Gehn was still only eight. Losing one parent would be bad enough, but to lose both could prove devastating, even though Tasera would still be here.

  She gave the barest nod.

  “Good,” Aitrus said, “then let us go back to the encampment. I have much to prepare before I leave.”

  IT WAS EARLY WHEN AITRUS SET OFF. ALL farewells had been said; now, as Anna looked on, Gehn cuddled against her, Aitrus pulled on the cylinder, checked it was working properly, then slipped the airtight mask down over his head.

  Seeing him thus, Anna felt her stomach tighten with anxiety.

  Aitrus turned, waved to them, then turned back, placing his hand against the open Linking Book.

  The air about his figure swirled as if it had been transformed into some other substance, then cleared. Aitrus was gone.

  Anna shivered. Words could not say the fear she felt at that moment: a dark, instinctive fear for him.

  “Be brave, my darling,” she said, looking down at Gehn. “Your father will come back. I promise he will.”

  AITRUS COULD HEAR HIS OWN BREATHING loud within the mask as he linked into the study. He took out the lamp he had brought and, striking the fire-marble, lit it and held it up, looking about him.

  Nothing had been disturbed, yet all had been transformed. The gas had gone, but where it had been it had left its residue, coating everything with a thin layer of yellow-brown paste.

  The sight of it sickened him to his stomach. Was it all like this, everywhere in D’ni? Had nothing survived untouched?

  Outside in the corridor it was all the same, as though some host of demons had repainted everything the same hellish shade. Where his booted feet trod he left long smearing marks upon the floor.

  Aitrus swallowed. The air he breathed was clean and pure, yet it seemed tainted somehow by what he saw.

  He went down the stairs, into the lower level of the house. Here some of the gas remained, pooled in the corners of rooms. Faint wisps of it drifted slowly through open doorways.

  Aitrus watched it a moment. It seemed alive, almost; hideously, maliciously alive.

  No sooner had he had the thought, than a second followed. This was no simple chemical mix. He should have known that by the way it had reacted with the algae in the lake. This was biological. It was alive.

  He went out again, heading for the front door, then stopped, deciding to douse the lantern, just in case. He did so, letting the darkness embrace him, then he stepped up to the door, finding his way blindly.

  Outside it was somewhat lighter, but only comparatively so. Most of the cavern was dark—darker than Aitrus had ever imagined possible—but there were lights, down below him and to his left, not far off if he estimated correctly; approximately where the great Halls of the guilds had once stood.

  Had stood. For even in the darkness he could see evidence of the great ruin that had fallen upon D’ni. Between him and the lights, silhouetted against them, was a landscape of fallen houses and toppled walls, as if a giant had trampled his way carelessly across the rooftops.

  Aitrus sighed, then began to make his way toward those lights. There would be guildsmen there, he was certain of it. Maybe even his father, Kahlis. They would have news, yes, and schemes to set things right again.

  The thought of that cheered him. He was D’ni, after all!

  Aitrus stopped and, taking out the lantern, lit it again. Then, holding it up before him, he began to make his way through the ruin of the streets and lanes, heading for the Guild House.

  THE GUILD HOUSE WAS EMPTY. ITS GREAT doors, which had once been proudly guarded, were now wide open. It had been built well and had withstood the ravages of the great quakes that had struck the city, yet all about it was a scene of devastation that had taken Aitrus’s breath. There was barely a building that had not been damaged.

  And everywhere the sickly yellow-brown residue of the gas.

  Aitrus stood in the great Council chamber, facing the five thrones, his lantern held up before him. It was here that he had left his father. Here that he had made his promise to return on the tenth day. So where were they all? Had they been and gone? Or had they never come?

  There was one sure and certain way to find out.

  He walked through, into one of the tiny rooms that lay behind the great chamber. There, open on the desk, was a Linking Book. As all else, it was covered with the pastelike residue, yet the glow of the linking panel could be glimpsed. Though a thin layer of the paste covered the glowing rectangle, a hand print could be clearly seen upon it.

  Someone had linked after the gas had settled.

  Aitrus went across and, using the sleeve of his cloak, wiped the right-hand page clean. At once the glow came clear. If the Five Lords and his father were anywhere, they were there, in that Age.

  He doused the lantern and stowed it, then placed his hand upon the panel. He linked.

  At once Aitrus found himself in a low cave. Sunlight filtered in from an entrance just above him. He could hear birdsong and the lulling noise of the sea washing against the shoreline.

  He sighed, relieved. All was well.

  Releasing the clamp at the side of his mask, he eased it up, taking a deep gulp of the refreshing air, then, reaching behind him, switched off the air supply. He would need it when he returned to D’ni.

  Quickly he climbed the twist of steps that had been cut into the side of the cave wall, pausing only to take out his glasses and slip them on. Then, his spirits raised, he stepped out, into the sunlight.

  The buildings were just below him, at the end of a long grassy slope. They blazed
white in the sunlight, their perfect domes and arches blending with the green of the surrounding wood, the deep blue of the shimmering sea that surrounded the island.

  They would be inside the Great Library, of course, debating what to do. That was why they were delayed, why they had not come. Even so, Aitrus was surprised that they had not set a guard by the Linking Book.

  He stopped dead, blinking, taking that in.

  There would have been a guard. There always was a guard. In fact, he had never come here, before now, without there being a guard in the cave.

  Something was wrong.

  Aitrus drew his dagger then walked on, listening for any sound. Coming around the side of the library, he slowed. The silence was strange, unnatural. The great wooden door was open. Inside the room was shadowy dark.

  The elders of D’ni sat in their seats about the chamber, thirty, maybe forty in all. In the darkness they seemed to be resting, yet their stillness was not the stillness of sleep.

  Slipping his dagger back into its sheath, Aitrus took out his lamp and lit it, then stepped into the chamber.

  In the glow of the lantern he could see the dreadful truth of things. They were dead, every last one of them, dead, their faces pulled back, the chins slightly raised, as if in some final exhalation.

  Aitrus shuddered, then turned.

  “Father …”

  Kahlis sat in a chair close by the door, his back to the sunlight spilling in from outside. His hands rested on the arms of the chair, almost casually it seemed, yet the fingers gripped the wood tightly and the face had that same stiffness in it that all the other faces had, as if they had been caught suddenly and unawares by some invisible enemy.

  Aitrus groaned and sank down to his knees, his head lowered before his father. For a long while he remained so. Then, slowly, he raised his head again.

  “What in the Maker’s name has happened here?”

  Aitrus turned, looking up into the masked face of the newcomer. The man was standing in the doorway, the sunlight behind him. He was wearing the purple cloak of the Guild of Ink-Makers, but Aitrus could not make out his features clearly in the gloom.