Emily Rodda - The Golden Door

It was strong enough to show Rye that he had been right. He and Sonia were not the first people to have taken shelter in the goat house.

Words had been scratched on many of the stones of the back wall. The scratches were new, sharp and clear, and every message was the same.

“Wonderful!” Rye heard Sonia sigh. He looked around and saw that she was gazing at the shining crystal in awe.

“Is it hot, Rye?” she asked eagerly.

Rye shook his head. He did not know what to think or how to feel. He could not share Sonia’s uncomplicated delight. The crystal was wonderful, but it was frightening, too. No thing so small should be so powerful. No ordinary boy of Weld should own it.

He looked down at the little bag.

Nine powers , the Fellan Edelle had said. Nine powers to aid you in your quest.

All the guilt that had plagued Rye in the pool clearing came rushing back. He glanced again at the despairing words scratched on the back wall of the shed. Sonia had not noticed them, and he was glad of it. He wished he had never seen them himself.

Something was going to happen on Midsummer Eve. Something terrible, of which the barbarians themselves were afraid.

Edelle had known of it. That was why she had whispered to him, urging him to make haste.

The light crystal and whatever other wonders the little bag contained had been intended for someone who was going to try to stop the dread happening.

And here they were with him.

“I should not have taken this,” he muttered, gingerly prodding the bag with a fingertip. “I might just as well have stolen it.”

“What in Weld do you mean?” Sonia exclaimed. “The Fellan wanted you to have it.”

“They were wrong.” Rye shook his head. “I cannot keep it. It is too important. I must return it, and explain —”

“ Return it?” Sonia exploded, sitting bolt upright. “Go back into the Fell Zone, when it has just taken us so long to get out?”

Rye set his lips stubbornly. He told himself that he had to do what was right, whatever the cost.

Sonia was eyeing him as if he had taken leave of his senses. “Rye, do you want to find your brother or not?” she demanded.

Rye glared at her.

“Then behave as if you do!” she snapped. “Thank the Wall that magic has fallen into your hands, because in the days to come, you will certainly need it!”

It was like being dashed with icy water, full in the face. Shocked and sobered, Rye stared at the blazing crystal in his hand. He looked down at the little bag on his lap and thought of all the other amazing powers it might contain. Things, perhaps, that would help him find Dirk — save Dirk, who was in danger.

Was the unknown barbarian who had scratched the pleas on the back wall of the shelter more important to him than Dirk? Was his own honor more important to him than Dirk?

Rye knew that they were not. A cold, hard determination slid like a shield between his conscience and his need.

“Hold this,” he said, thrusting the crystal at Sonia and picking up the little bag. “I will see what else is here.”

But the instant the crystal left his fingers, its light went out. It shone again only when Rye took it back. In the end, he was forced to keep hold of it in one hand and search the bag with the other.

He began with his heart beating fast, but gradually puzzled disappointment took the place of excitement. The things remaining in the bag seemed very ordinary compared to the light crystal. He had expected wonders, but nothing astonishing happened as he held each object up before placing it on his knee with the others.

When he had finished, he and Sonia gazed at the motley collection in silence.

A red feather, slightly ragged around the edges. A shabby ring made of tightly braided gray threads. A tiny gold key. A little brown ball that looked like some sort of nut. A curiously patterned snail shell. The twist of waxed paper, which by its smell seemed to contain a stale honey sweet.

To Rye, the items looked like nothing more than the sorts of interesting but rubbishy treasures he used to collect in his pockets when he was young.

Telling himself that this could not be true, that any objects packed in a bag with the light crystal could not possibly be ordinary, he picked up the ring and slid it on. He waited self-consciously for something to happen — for Sonia to cry out that he had become invisible, for example, or for a feeling of superhuman strength to flow through him.

But he could feel no difference in himself, and the ring did nothing at all.

“All these things are magic,” Sonia murmured beside him. “I am sure they are. But what do they do?”

“We may never know, if they only show their powers when they are needed, as the light crystal did,” Rye said lightly, trying to hide how crestfallen he felt. “That is the trouble with stolen magic, I daresay.”

Sonia put her head on one side.

“You have found only seven things so far, counting the crystal,” she pointed out. “Did the Fellan not tell you there were nine powers in all?”

Rye put his fingers back into the little bag and felt something small and flat wedged into one of the corners. He eased it out carefully.

It was a transparent disc, thin as paper and not much bigger than his thumbnail. As he held it up, it shone blue and green in the light.

“What is it?” Sonia leaned closer.

Rye shrugged uneasily. The strange disc had done nothing, but as he looked at its glimmering surface, a deep trembling began in the pit of his stomach.

“That still only makes eight,” Sonia said. “There must be something else. Look again!”

Rye shook his head. “There is nothing else.”

He pushed the disc back into the bag and instantly felt better.

“We will think about it again in the morning,” he said, scooping up all the other objects on his knee and returning them to the bag, too. “We should try to get some sleep. I only wish I still had that box of supplies I was given. I am starving.”

Sonia grinned. “I can do better than stale volunteers’ food.”

She untied the bag she carried at her waist and rummaged inside it.

“Here!” she said, pulling out some little bundles wrapped in red cloth. “I have dried bell tree fruit and hoji nuts. I have cheese and honey. I have rice pastries, rolls, and sweet cakes. And a flask of amber tea.”

She met Rye’s startled gaze defiantly. “Yes, I stole them from the Keep kitchens. But will you reject them for that?”

Rye laughed and shook his head.

Gratefully they ate and drank. Then, yawning, they settled themselves for sleep. Rye put the light crystal back into the little drawstring bag, and once again, they were plunged into darkness.

Rye lay back on the straw, finding that despite everything he felt strangely content. His stomach was full. There was silence outside. Cool air blew softly through the tiny gaps between the stones of the walls.

“Ah,” he heard Sonia sigh. “How good it is to feel fresh night air! In Weld now, we would be sweltering in our beds.”

Sweltering and listening in dread to the skimmers, Rye added silently. He thought of his mother in the Keep — sad and alone, but safe at least.

“Yet here it is warm enough to be comfortable but cool enough to sleep,” Sonia was going on drowsily. “Who would guess it was almost Midsummer Eve?”

Rye stared up into darkness. Words scratched on stone seemed to dance in front of his stinging eyes.