The Myst Reader (40 page)

“Don’t think that I have finished with you, boy. You have caused me an inordinate amount of trouble, and I shall not forget that. As far as I am concerned, you are no longer my son. Do you understand me? I do not need you anymore, Atrus. You have served your purpose.” Gehn looked to Catherine and smiled; a hideous, gloating smile. “Yes … you see it, don’t you? Catherine and I …” He laughed. “She’s a strong young woman. Perhaps my next son will not fail me!”

Atrus groaned. It was a nightmare. Had he still been bound to the post he could not have felt more impotent.

Catherine
…
my beloved Catherine
…

He looked up, surprised. The ground was trembling.

No … he was imagining it.

And then the ground shook violently, as if a great rock had been dislodged beneath them. From within the temple came the sound of the marble stand toppling, the tray with the two bracelets on it clattering across the marble floor.

“No …” Gehn said, looking about him wild-eyed. “No!”

But even as he said it, a great crack opened in the ground before the temple steps.

THE SKY WAS SLOWLY TURNING BLACK. THE SUN
, which only moments before had blazed down from the late afternoon sky, was being eaten, a curved blade of blackness devouring its pallid face inch by inch.

One by one the stars winked into place in the sudden night.

With a great low, groaning shudder, like some gargantuan animal waking from long hibernation, the ground shook once more, the quake much stronger this time, rumbling on and on, causing the temple roof to fall, throwing many of the Guild from their feet and knocking over the table on which the Linking Books had been placed.

Atrus stared about him in disbelief, seeing the jagged pattern of thick black cracks that now covered the meadow. Then, seeing the fallen books, he rushed to pick them up, yet as he did, Gehn stepped out in front of him, wielding a massive ceremonial spear he had grabbed from one of the Guild, the gold and red pennant still fluttering from its shaft.

“Leave them!” Gehn growled.

“Get out of the way!” Atrus yelled back, crouching, knowing that there was no other way now except to fight his father. Riven was doomed, and even if he’d lost Catherine, he had to stop Gehn.

But Gehn had other ideas. He laughed mockingly. “If you want the books, you will have to come through
me
to get them!”

“If that’s what it takes!” Atrus said and threw himself at Gehn, hoping to overwhelm him. His first rush almost succeeded, his charge knocking Gehn back. For a moment they struggled, Atrus’s hands gripping the spear’s shaft, trying to keep Gehn from using it against him. Then, suddenly, Gehn released his grip, and Atrus found himself tumbling over, the spear falling from his grasp. All about them now, the earth was breaking up, huge cracks appearing everywhere one looked. The air was growing hot and everything was underlit now by the red and orange glow emanating from the fissures.

Atrus got up and, turning, went to throw himself at his father again, but he was too slow. As he charged, Gehn stepped aside and, putting out his boot, tripped him, then stood over him, the spear point pressed hard into his chest.

“You’re useless. I should have killed you long ago!”

Atrus answered, his voice defiant. “Then kill me.”

Gehn lifted the spear, his muscles tensing, but as he did a shout rang out behind him. “Gehn!”

Gehn turned, to see Catherine, her dark hair streaming out behind her in the wind that had blown up, one of the Linking Books in each hand, standing over a large crack that had opened in the ground, its dark, jagged shape lit redly from below.

“Harm him and I’ll throw the books into the crack!”

Gehn laughed disbelievingly. “But Catherine, my love …”

“Let him go,” she ordered, her voice unyielding now. “Let him go or I’ll drop the books into the fissure.”

Again he laughed, then looked to Atrus. “No … No, I …”

To his astonishment, she let the Linking Book fall from her right hand. With a gust of flame it vanished into the crack. Gone.

Both Gehn and Atrus gasped.

“No!” Gehn screamed, then, in a softer, more cajoling voice, “Come now, Catherine … let us discuss this. Let us talk about this
reasonably
.”

He lifted the spear from Atrus’s chest, then, throwing it aside, took a step toward her, his hand out, palms open. “Remember our plans, Catherine. Remember what we were going to do. A thousand worlds we were going to rule. Think of it. Whatever you wanted … I could write it for you. You could have your own Age. You could live there if you wanted, but … if you destroy that second book we shall be trapped here. Trapped on a dying world!”

Gehn took a second step.

“You
want
the Linking Book?” Catherine asked, a faint smile lighting her features for the first time.

Gehn nodded, then slowly put out his hand, a smile appearing at the corners of his mouth.

“Then have it!” she said and tossed the Linking Book high into the air, its arc carrying it out over the smoldering crevice.

With a gasp of horror, Gehn dived for the book, straining to get to it, one hand grasping in the air to catch it, but he was too late. With a burst of flame it vanished into the red glow.

Gehn stared disbelievingly, then, getting up onto his elbows he turned, furious now, looking for them. But Atrus and Catherine had gone. The wind was howling now, like a gale, bending the nearby trees and making the loosened earth tumble up the slope, as if defying gravity.

As he watched, the temple heaved a sigh and fell inward, the sound of stone grating against stone like the groan of a dying giant, For a brief instant he thought he could see the shape of a giant dagger jutting from the ruins. Then, with a great crack of sound and a fierce, almost blinding flash of light, a lightning bolt hit the summit of the great tree, two hundred yards from where he knelt. At once the upper branches exploded into flame, a huge fireball climbing into the sky above its crest.

In that sudden, blazing light Gehn saw the two of them on the far side of the copse, beneath the trees, their backs to him as they ran. As the light slowly died, their figures merged again with the darkness of the trees. But he knew now where they were headed. Getting up onto his feet he began to run, the howling wind at his back.

“WAIT!
WAIT!
” ATRUS SHOUTED, PULLING CATHERINE
back, barely able to hear himself over the noise of the storm. “You’ve got to tell me what’s happening!”

“Don’t worry!” she yelled back at him, pulling her hair back from her face. “Everything’s going just as we planned!”

He stared at her. “As
who
planned?”

“Anna and I.”

His mouth fell open.
“Anna?”

Overhead the branches of the trees were thrashing wildly in the wind. As she made to answer him, the crash of a falling tree made them both jump.

It isn’t possible
…

Atrus stared at Catherine a moment longer, then numbly let her lead him on through the trees.

They were following a narrow crack. At first he’d thought it was just like all the others that had opened up, but there was something very strange about this one. It
glowed
… not red, but blue … a vivid, ice cold blue.

To either side, dirt and leaves, broken branches and small stones jumped and tumbled, dragged along by the wind that seemed not so much to blow from behind as to draw them on. And where those tiny particles brushed against the crack, they vanished, sucked into that ice-cold fissure.

They ran on between the trees, the crack slowly widening beside them. And then suddenly, there where the trees ended, the fissure opened out to form a kind of cleft, the edge of it outlined by that cold blue light. Inside, however, it was dark—an intense, vertiginous darkness filled with stars.

Atrus stopped, astonished. The wind still tugged at his legs, but its noise was not as strong here as it was among the trees. Even so, he had to struggle to keep his footing. His right hand gripped Catherine’s tightly, afraid to let go in case she, too, was sucked into that strange, star-filled hole.

He looked to her, wondering if she was as afraid as he was, only to find her strangely calm, a beatific smile on her lips and in her beautiful green eyes.

“What is it?” he asked, his eyes drawn back to the fissure, seeing how everything seemed to be sucked into it; how leaves and earth and lumps of rock tumbled over the edge and seemed to wink into nonexistence.

And other things …

Atrus blinked, noticing some of Catherine’s fireflies, melting and merging, pulsing with brilliant color as they flickered across that dreamlike landscape.

Turning to Atrus, Catherine freed her hand, then took the knapsack from her back and opened it.

“Here,” she said, handing him a book.

Atrus stared, dumbfounded. It was the Myst book.

“But what …?”

She put a finger to his lips, silencing him.

“Did you ever wonder what it would be like to go swimming out among the stars?”

Catherine smiled then; opening the Linking Book, she placed her hand against it. “We could fall into the night and be cradled by stars and still return to the place where we began …”

The last word was an echo as she vanished.

“But what do I do?” he called after her, holding up the book.

The answer came from behind him. “That’s easy, Atrus. You give the book to me.”

Atrus turned, facing his father. Gehn stood there, a large chunk of jagged rock in his hand. His glasses were gone and his ash-white hair was disheveled, but there was still something powerful, something undeniably regal about him.

He looked down at the Myst book in his hands. His first impulse had been to use the book to return to the island, but there was an obvious flaw with that. If he used the book, the book would remain here in his father’s possession. And Gehn would surely follow him. His second impulse had been to throw the book into the fissure, but something stopped him—something in what Catherine had said …

He smiled.

Raising the book in one hand, he held it out, then took a step back, onto the lip of the fissure, the wind tugging at his boots, a strange coldness at his back suddenly.

A muscle beneath Gehn’s left eye jumped. “If you throw the book into that chasm, I’ll throw you with it!” he snarled. “Give it to me. Give it to me
now!
”

Atrus shook his head disdainfully.

Gehn took a step back, letting the rock fall from his open hand. “Unless …”

“Unless what?”

Atrus stared at Gehn suspiciously. Holding the book up was a strain, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered now, not even the dull, throbbing ache at the base of his skull.

“Unless
what?
Give me a single reason why I should trust you.”

Gehn shrugged. “Because you are my
son
.”

Atrus laughed bitterly. “I thought you’d already disowned me. Or did I hear
that
wrong, too?”

“Forgive me Atrus. I was angry. I thought …”

“What? That I’d see your point of view? That I’d realize that you were right? That I would come to see myself as a god?”

Gehn blinked. “But you
need
me, Atrus. I know so much. Things you will never know. Think of the experience I have, the knowledge. It would be a waste not to call upon it, no?” Gehn shook his head, as if regretful. “You were such a good student, Atrus. So quick. So nimble of mind. It would be such a shame if your studies were curtailed …”

Atrus stared back at him, expressionless.

“What is it?” Gehn said, puzzled now. His hand, which had extended toward Atrus, drew back slightly.

“It’s
you
,” Atrus said, lifting the book higher. “All those things you taught me … they were just words, weren’t they? Empty, meaningless words. As empty as your promises.” There was a momentary hurt in the young man’s eyes, then, “I wanted so much from you. So much. But you failed me.”

“But I taught you, Atrus. Without me …”

Atrus shook his head. “No, Father. Anything I ever learned that was of any value to me, anything
important
, I got from Anna, long before I met you. You …
you
taught me nothing.”