The Passage to Mythrin 2-Book Bundle (20 page)

He fell and fell down an endless, shining blue tunnel. The scream echoed and faded.

§

The heave of the shoulder that sent Simon crashing through the door also sent Amelia — not yet the most skilled flyer — twisting through the air. A blast of fire roared past her. She corkscrewed, all claws out, and
clamped onto the first solid object she met. Something screamed with rage.

The Assassin. She was velcroed to the back of his neck.
The very last place I want to be!
He tossed his head back and forth to get rid of her. She slid and gripped again, and found herself hanging from his neck like a pendant on a chain, with her jaws up under his chin.

Now's your chance,
called a distant voice.
Bite!

The Assassin hurled himself through the air, looping and backflipping, trying to break her grip. She dug her claws in and held tight.

Now, Amelia, now!
It was Mara's voice in her head, less faint, clearer.
Kill him!

She could have done it. Something inside her, something that hadn't been there before, knew she could do it. Her jaws were easily strong enough to crush out his life through the soft spot under his chin, his one vulnerable spot. But...

I can't!

You must!
Mara sounded closer.

But I —

That was when he pried her off and sent her spinning through the air, head over tail. With each spin she glimpsed his jaws opening wider, wider. Another two seconds and she would have got control of her flight path, but she didn't have two more seconds. Not even one.

Fire filled her world. After that, all she felt was colours. Burning red all through her body. Her mind awash with poison green: somebody's hatred.

Then the colours squeezed smaller, smaller, and then there was only a bright dot that winked out.

***

Simon sprawled with his cheek pressed on gritty ice. A shaft of light from above hit him in the eyes. He sat up, blinking.

“I'm home!”

He was lying on the floor of the cave in Dunstone Gorge. He was freezing. Something smelled like burned wool. “Ammy?”

He was alone.

Ammy didn't make it.

For long minutes he curled himself up around the memory of that scream. The dragon fire must have just missed him. It couldn't possibly have missed Ammy, the size she was.

It's so unfair! I mean, she wasn't even really there! How could she die there when her real body was here?

He sat up. “That's right, how could she?”

There's still a chance.

He staggered to his feet, cracked his head on the overhanging rock wall, fell down, and crawled out of
the cave. On the ledge he squinted against the glare. A razor-edged wind sliced through what was left of his sweater. A big charred patch hung loose on one side.

By the time he was down from the ledge and halfway along the gorge to the path up to Deacon Street, his socks were crusted with snow again and his hands and ears were aching. He didn't care.
One chance
, he thought, over and over.
One chance.

“What the heck? Where am I?” Amelia paused with her foot on the next step and her hand on the railing. She stood midway up a flight of stairs built of smooth white stone. The chrome railing was cold under her hand. “Mara? Mara! Where —”

“Well fought!” said a voice beside her.

“Mara?”

“Who else?” Mara took hold of Amelia's arm and urged her up the stairs.

“But you're not a dragon!”

It was Mara of the tangled dark red mane, Mara of the red angora sweater and long jean-clad legs. She was even wearing the sequined coat. Amelia looked down at herself. “And look at me. I'm human too. And ... oh, holy moly!” She stopped again and gazed around.

Stairs, stairs, stairs. All going in different directions, zigzagging across this gigantic stairwell that went down forever, or at least as far as she could see. It was dark down there.

And above her head, more stairs climbing to cat-walks linked to corridors with open archways along them, which fed into closed corridors, which came out into catwalks and more stairs, stairs, stairs. All of it the same smooth white stone with flashes of chrome, all of it beautifully built. And most of it impossible.

Like that catwalk over there that started horizontal and suddenly went straight up.

And above her head, a flight of stairs came to a landing and headed off again in a different direction, upside down. Amelia pressed a hand to her stomach. “I feel sick.”

“Don't look, then. Climb!” Mara pulled at her arm to get her going.

“What is this crazy place?”

“This is the dream between life and death. I
think
. It is the first time I am here.”

“But what are we doing here?”

“I am here because you need me. You are here because you are dying.”

“Dy— Wait a minute!” Amelia stopped again. “I thought I wasn't going to die in your world.”

“That was before you chose to fight the Assassin. Your body lies broken and burned on the mountain-side. I came too late. The Assassin, he lies there too,” Mara added matter-of-factly. “We met and fought and he is dead.”

“So I'm dead?” Funny, she didn't feel scared. Miffed, but not scared.

“No, not yet. If you come back with me there will be pain, but we can heal you. Come.” She gave Amelia a push. “We must find the way back. And quickly!”

They reached the top of the stairs. A catwalk led off across empty space. Halfway along, it took two or three sharp angles and bent completely around itself, but that didn't seem to bother Mara. Amelia kept pace. The angles unfolded ahead of them. When they reached the other side, she didn't dare look back.

“So this is the dream between life and death. Why does it look like this?”

“Dreams are truth, especially this one. And it is your dream.”

“I must be awfully confused.”

Mara headed up another flight of stairs. Amelia trotted up after her. One good thing, you didn't get tired here. She must have climbed hundreds of stairs already and she wasn't puffing.

“So, you still want me?” They rounded the stair
head and turned into a corridor that corkscrewed into the distance.

“You are honoured with us. You are among the bravest of the brave.”

“What — because I fought the Assassin?”

“Yes, and he with three times your size and ten times your skill.”

“But that wasn't brave, that was ... I dunno. Desperate. I just had to. Maybe if I'd had time to think about it first — but I didn't.”

“Only one thing I do not understand. Why did you not kill him when you had the chance?”

“I ... well ... I couldn't.”

“Why not?”

“Well, because ... I guess I...” She slowed down and stared thoughtfully into the distance. That didn't help. She shut her eyes and hunted for the right words. When she opened them, Mara was tugging at her arm again. “I mean,” Amelia said, as she started along the corridor, “I could've killed him but I could-n't have brought him back to life again, you know? I mean, it's forever.”

“But he was trying to kill you.”

“Right, but up to the last second I'd be looking for another way out. You see? So I wouldn't have to...”

Mara looked back at her, shaking her head. “This makes no sense to me.”

They went on walking. Amelia's throat was too tight for words. After a few minutes she said in a blurry voice, “I wish I could make you understand.”

“I too.” Mara sounded sad.

No tears.
Amelia tweaked her leather jacket. “Huh! If this is my dream, you'd think I'd dream myself a dragon, wouldn't you?”

“If you could, of course. Who would not?”

“But I didn't. So I suppose that means — that means — I'm not a dragon. Not really.”

“No, you are not. If you had stayed with us, perhaps it would be different. But you must be true to your people, as I to mine.” Mara took a look back over her shoulder and walked faster. She'd been doing that a lot.

“Why are we in such a big hurry?”

“Look back and you will see.”

Amelia looked back. The end of the corridor was gone. A few yards behind them the stone walls and floor and ceiling were fraying, inch by inch, into blackness. The blackness crept nearer as she watched. “What is that?”

“The end of the dream.”

This time Amelia didn't need to be pulled. They ran. There was something about the creeping darkness that made her go cold inside. “Why is this happening?”

“This is an in-between place. It cannot stay.”

“What — what happens if the darkness catches us?”

Mara didn't answer, just ran faster. They ran and ran, and the darkness crawled behind them, slow, yet never far behind, swallowing up the corridors and cat-walks and stairs.

At last they come to a wide hallway with two openings halfway along, one on the left, one on the right. Stairs led down from each doorway, came to a landing, and disappeared around the bend. Mara stopped between them. “This must be it. The place where you choose.”

The two stairways looked exactly the same, except that a red light flickered deep down in the one on the right, and Amelia smelled smoke. The stairway on the left led down into a cool grey light, and the breeze that blew from it smelled like snow.

“One way leads back to your world, and one way leads back to mine.” Mara stood at the head of the red-tinted stairs. “You know where I must go.”

“And I...” Amelia looked from left to right and back again. Then back at the oncoming shadow.

“Hurry! If you wait too long, these will be gone. Only the third way will be open.”

“What third way?”

Mara nodded with her chin along the corridor. It ran straight, with no more crazy bits. A few yards further on, it ended in a staircase that led up to a brilliant white haze. Amelia sniffed. Funny...

Mara's hand was on her arm. “No! That way is not for you, not yet.”

Amelia had walked past the two stair heads and was gazing up into the shining haze. It wasn't really white, there were colours in it. And that smell... “Is that lilacs?”

“Amelia! That way leads to death.”

She retreated to the space between the two stair heads. Three yards back in the direction they'd come from, the corridor was vanishing inch by inch. The darkness was so close now, she could hear a faint crinkling noise as the edges of the stone unravelled.

“How can I choose?”

“You have chosen. You know it.”

“Yes, I know.” Amelia threw herself at Mara and hugged her.

Mara hugged back so hard it hurt. “I knew you were my friend from the first moment, you with your head of fire. My first and only friend in a world of demons.”

“Me too.” Amelia held her off to look up at her. “Only, you do know my hair isn't really like this, right? It's just gel.”

“Disguise. Costume. I know.”

Amelia laughed. She scrubbed at her eyes with the back of a hand.

“No sadness,” Mara said. “There are other doors, and maybe you will find them. You and —”

The crinkling noise was suddenly loud. She looked over Amelia's shoulder. The green shine in her eyes went dark. “Now, Amelia! Now!”

§

“Ike!” Simon yelled, halfway up the tower. “I'm back!”

No answer. He felt sick. When he flung himself up the last step and stumbled onto the platform, Ike was sitting beside Ammy as if he'd never moved. He looked up and shook his head.

“Is she... Has she...” Simon collapsed to the floor, panting, and crawled over to her.

“She's just the same. I'm scared she's...”

Simon knelt beside her, across from Ike. He held a hand close to her mouth. “She's still breathing.” He touched her cheek. But so cold! “We'd better get her to a hospital. Call an ambulance. I'll stay, you go. Hurry!”

Ike sprang to his feet. He took one step towards the stairs, stopped at the sound Simon made, and turned back.

Ammy's eyelids flickered. Her eyebrows drew together. Her eyes opened. Simon let out a whoop. “You're back!”

“Yeah.” She sat up stiffly. Simon's parka slid off her. “What's this for?”

“We had to keep you warm.”

“Hypothermia,” Ike began.

But Ammy wasn't listening. She put her hands to her face and burst into tears. Ike stood back, appalled. Simon, kneeling beside her, had no idea what to do, so he put his arms around her and squeezed as hard as he could. It didn't seem to help. She cried until she had nothing left but hiccupping sobs.

“Hey! Ammy, can you do this?” Ike skated backwards in front of her.

“Go away, you're showing off.” Amelia wobbled, flung out her arms, and just managed not to fall down, this time. Even Simon skated better than she did.

Roasted chestnut and french fry carts stood around the edge of the town hall square. Smells of coffee and fresh baking drifted from the doughnut shop. The sound system was playing the Blue Danube. The fresh snow sparkled like diamonds in the sunshine and everybody had rosy cheeks, not that Amelia was a big fan of the healthy outdoorsy look.

The rink was crowded, so there were plenty of people around to see what a dork she looked. If it weren't for that, she might've had to admit she was having fun.

Ike poked her in the arm. “I like the hair. It's cool. Well, cool-ish.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Yesterday evening, after taking a three-hour nap, she had washed the coloured gel out of her hair. It was back to its plain old brown, mostly straight but curling a little around her ears and on her neck.