The Emptiness Without
The wind whistled as it past through the thick metal support beams high above the ground. The iron flooring creaked and groaned as the air shifted around it. Heavy metal struts jutted into the grey rock walls, and small white lights, built into those same beams, gave off a steady hum. And on the opposite side, away from the cliffs, was the void. A greyness, which was endless, and boundless. The grey void. Below the bridge, about one hundred meters down, was the main support construct, with it's four think iron beams, which joined with the bridge section. At one end of the bridge, was the huge mechanical elevator built right into the cliff side. Created years ago, it's complex system of gears and pulleys still were in perfect working order. Built to last for eternity.
A sound could be faintly heard, that of booted feet upon gravel. The sound stopped, and a deep thud resounded throughout the rock. Suddenly, the lift came to life with a sharp shrieking of metal against metal. The platform sped downwards quickly, and as it neared the bottom, it slowed, and shuddered to a halt. The steps changed from gravel, to metal, as the feet trod onto the platform. Again, the thud and the shrieking begun once more, only to become silent once again as the lift neared the top. The feet didn't move however. They simply waited, as their owner simply stood and stared. After a moment, and what could have sounded like a sigh, the man started forward, his booted heals making reverberating thuds on the thick iron flooring.
The man pulled his cloak tighter around him, as the wind picked up again, once almost threatening to swat him off the bridge as if he were nothing but dust. He held his hand out to touch the cool metal support nearest to him to steady himself, and continued onward.
The opposite end of the bridge ended at the rock-face, with no visible points of entry. The man walked on, unaware, it seemed, that he was walking towards a wall. About thirty centimetres from the rock, he stopped, and held out his hand, with his palm facing the rock. He waved it near for a moment, and with a thick, deep rumble, the rock-face slid back, then downwards into the cliff, revealing another metallic corridor beyond. On the wall, was inscribed some lettering: "It has been innumerable days since I have arrived here."
It was late at night. But one would never have known, for the lighting was the same as it was seven hours earlier, an incessant gloom, which emanated from the void, and seemed to consume everything. The wind had died down to a faint, low whisper, but the fog was setting in. Faint wisps of it could be seen flitting about down on the gravel floor. The bridge creaked quietly, as the cold air caused the metal to shrink, the noise accompanied by a dull chipping sound. The sharp, and abrupt sounds seemed to penetrate the void's never ending gloom. The sound intensified, becoming sharper, and louder. A faint light could be seen, from inside the cave, from behind the secret doorway. The man sat on the cold stone floor, patiently chipping away at the rock wall, adding to the text already written. With a small metal chisel, he carefully carved. "I no longer know why I'm here. It has been so long. I wish to leave, to be with the others, but I do not know how." The long, flowing D'ni characters seemed to stand out from the rock as if wreathed in flame. The taste in the man's mouth was equally wreathed in flame. Betrayal, anger, hatred. But directed at nothing, for the man no longer even knew how he came to be. Only one thing, did he remember. The word. D'ni. Spoken long ago, in a different place. With the word, came great anger. Like the word, he knew not where it originated. He stopped chipping, and looked up. The fog would be coming up near the top now. The sickly red fog, which he so detested. Three months ago, if there ever was such a thing, the fog had arrived. It had killed the other two, and would kill him too, should he not close the stone door. Why Bother, He though. Let it come, for he had nothing left to live for. His existence had become pointless, each day, little more than a chore. But then he thought better of it. He stood, and walked over to the doorway, his booted feet making clicking sounds on the damp rock. His hand darted up, reaching behind a fold in the stone, searching for the hidden catch. A heavy thud signified he found it, and the rock slid forth from the ground, covered the hole completely, and then slid forward, completely sealing off the doorway. He walked back, deeper into the tunnel, towards the bed he had carved out of the stonewall. The walls here were slick, and polished - he had had plenty of time for that. The dampness was still present, but more muted, for the ventilation system, which had been here when he had chosen this place, worked to dry out the air. His heavy feet moved over to the bedside, and he slid down onto the stone palette. His eyes closed, and he fell asleep.
Across from the cave, on a thick, heavy metal platform suspended above the ground, higher even, than the bridge, by an intricate system of iron ropes and magnetic arrays, a shimmer of light appeared. The light solidified into that of a man. His eyes narrowed, taking in the apparent desolation. He walked forward, the sound of his feet on the metal floor loud in the silence. He extended his hand to touch one of the metal girders attached to one of the magnetic arrays, and instantly retracted it. Cold. Freezing Cold. The man thought. What has happened here?
D'Ni. The word played through his mind. D'ni. Long hallways merged with doors, and platforms. Animals appearing, chasing him, disappearing. He walked on. Looking for the door. It was there. Two people, stood there. Laughing at him. Mocking his attempt to get free. The reddish tinge to the door blinded him. The wood from the door's aroma was strong. He reached out, and went for the handle. It melted away, as if shying away from his hand. The laughter intensified. The door turned grey, and merged with everything else. Grey as the void. D'ni. D'ni. I am from D'ni. The words came to him, spoken from an unknown voice. The word echoed. D'ni.
With a start, the man woke. His head coming up fast, and hitting the low ceiling above the alcove he had carved out for his bed. His hand went up reflexively to his forehead, and it swiped the lantern that was suspended there. It broke off its chain and went flying to the ground, the glass panes on it, shattering under the impact. He grunted in annoyance. His hand massaged the point of collision, and, as the pain passed, he flopped back down, and sighed. The dream had come again. The nightmare, more like. They were more and more frequent now, and frightened him awake quite often. He opened his eyes, blinking away the sharp pain, as his irises closed from the light. His heart stopped. Light? I closed the door yesterday. He forced his eyes open, the pain forgotten, and looked toward the door. Open, it was, and framed inside the archway, was the silhouette of a man.
"Hello." Said the silhouette. "My name is Atrus." The man blinked at the silhouette. "Who are you?" it - Atrus said again. The man understood the question. But, who was he? Blank. "I am." the man started, but left the statement hanging. "Where are you from, Atrus?" he said instead. Parsing each phrase through his head first - it had been so long since he had spoken to someone else. "I have searched this place from end to end, and there is nothing else here, but dust, oil and metal. How have you come to be here?"
"I come from a place you have not yet searched." Atrus replied, twisting the facts slightly. "I take it, from your tone, that you don't wish to be here." He continued. "Perhaps if you help me, I can help you to leave this place." The man's eyes opened wide then narrowed. He gazed long and hard at Atrus. "Where are you from?" he said. His voice was more solid now. Atrus sighed. He looked at the man, and answered: "I am from D'ni."
=
Atrus steadied himself, not knowing what to expect. The other man stood there, an impassable expression on his face. "D'ni" the man spat. "What is D'ni?" His face worked hard to conceal the anger beneath, but Atrus spotted it. Before Atrus could say anything else, the man's hand darted for the shelf beside him and grabbed a short, curving dagger. The metal blade glinted in the light from the doorway as it shot towards Atrus' chest. It never arrived there. Atrus twisted out of the man's reach, and with his momentum in the wrong direction, the man flew out the doorway. He yelled, but abandoned his attempt to kill Atrus, and fled, tossing the dagger to the side, into the void. Atrus looked out after the man, but he had already made his way to the lift. His hand smacked the button, triggering the platform to screech it's way to the ground. The yells could be heard long after he had disappeared.
The high-pitched shriek of the metal platform was sharp as it stopped at the bottom. The man leapt off it, and ran across the gravel floor. He reached a groove, a small cleft within the gravel floor, and jumped down. He landed with a thud, his feet sending a spike of pain through him, as the unyielding metal beneath him resounded from the impact. The cleft was not natural at all, rather, it had been, but was now covered in iron, as if someone had poured molten iron into the crevice and then let it harden. The ground had been polished smooth, and the man found it hard to run on the surface without sliding off to the sides. On he ran, the slick black walls becoming a blur. Ahead, he saw the metal bulkhead, the only passage from the south side of the island to the north. He rushed up to it, and stopped. Rather, he tried to stop. His feet slid on the smooth floor, and he barrelled into the metal doorway. His head hit the large bolt holding the door on its hinges, and he went out cold.
=
He could see them now. The two men. Young men. They stood there, atop the temporary wooden platform, yelling orders out to the workers below. And a few meters below them, hundreds of men, pulled from another age, toiled, building the central spine of the support construct. Another four dozen worked on the base of the lift platform. And he worked there as well. They were nearly done now. Both the platform, and the bridge were finished; it was the central support construct that he was finishing now. It was hot, and he was tired. The sound of a whip cracked through the air, and a spike of pain raced its way from his back to his head. He looked up, and was greeted by a face. A face he knew very well. His cousin, Pràth. The look of pain in his cousin's eyes was almost too much. Forced, he had been, to oversee the construction of the support struts, as he had been forced to be the one building it. His cousin's eyes pleaded him to get back to work, lest he whip him again. He looked back down, at the large thing in his hand. A tool, in the shape of a T, designed to drive the massive bolts in preparation for the second wave of workers - those who had pressure driven tools, to screw in the bolts tightly. He went back to work. Above him, the two out-worlders looked on, and the anger within him grew. Pràth bent down, so only he could hear. "Come on, Naigth, you must work. Please. They'll kill you if you don't." he told him. The pain in his voice was too much. The anger within him spiked, then ebbed. He had to control himself, at least for their sake. But he couldn't. The anger welled again, he was furious. He looked up at his cousin. "No. Not anymore." He told him quietly, and dropped the wrench. It fell to the ground, and slid between the crack of two unfastened floor plates. The noise made the two out-worlders look up, and frown. One of them, the older one, gestured to him. His teeth ground in his mouth, and he walked to them. "What are you doing?" said the younger one, as he strode up the steps to them. "Get back to work, or we'll destroy your world, just as we made it." The older one snarled. He stopped, but not for long. He no longer cared. With a yell, he ran towards them, with his fist in the air. The older man snarled a curse, and produced a dagger. The pain, as the cold metal slid into him was intense. He fell away from the man, his hands clutching at the wound, as the blood poured out of him, then the blackness took him.
He awoke some time later in a small, dark cave. His hands had been bound behind his head, by a heavy metal chain. The chain itself was melded to the metal post that stood behind him. The post itself was part of a larger cage that surrounded him, and appeared to be the same metal as the post. He looked down to his chest, and saw that his wound was sealed. It still hurt, but it was no longer open. "I took the liberty of patching up that wound." The voice said. It sounded like that of a cultured sort of being, but with a hint of malice behind. "From what my brother has told me he has planned for you, I wonder now, if it was a waste of time." The man walked in front of him, and he saw him clearly for the first time. The younger of the two brothers. Sirrus. Even the name sounded god-like, but if he was any god, he was a god of evil. Naigth pulled at the chains, but the other simply laughed, mocking his attempt. "Don't bother. The chain is made of Nara. There isn't anything stronger." He said, then spun on his heel and walked away, leaving Naigth alone in the dark, with only the cold metal of the chains and cage as his companions.
=
Atrus was now deeper inside the cave, which, upon further inspection, revealed that it had been carved out of the rock. At first, he had been idly walking through the tunnels, then, without realizing it, he found himself looking for something. Or rather, not so much looking as trying to pinpoint exactly what it was he'd seen but not understood. A glint caught his eye, and he looked long and hard at the metal faceplate. It looked right, but somehow, it felt out of place. He reached out, and touched the cool metal surface, withdrawing it in surprise, as the metal hissed, and slid away into the wall. After a few moments, he could hear the sound of metal gears grinding. (So much had he heard of the sound back on Myst Island, it was unmistakable to him.) An iron bulkhead to Atrus' right grinded away from him, and then slid downward noisily, revealing a hidden chamber. The air from inside was musty, and carried the faint smell of something rotten. Tentively(sp?), he stepped through the opening, into a dimly lit chamber. The light appeared to be emanating from three fire-marbles, each placed in its niche set into the walls.
In the dim light, was just enough to make out the dim outline of a cage.
=
Naigth had been there for three hours, and he was beginning to think they were just going to leave him when he heard a deep, grinding noise and the older one - Achenar, strode casually into the chamber. He walked passed the cage without looking, and went up to a desk which had been carved out of the stone wall - which He, Naigth had carved out of the stone wall, nearly three months earlier. Achenar looked down, and picked up a piece of paper. He read it, and then chuckled. Naigth shifted in his bindings, and the noise made Achenar turn quickly to regard him. "Ah. I see my brother has healed you. Excellent." He said, his voice turning something awful at the last word. "I was rather hoping I'd have a chance to. speak with you. After all, that public display back there was quite. unwise." He started to laugh, a high-pitched affair, which angered Naigth. "You do realise, you've condemned every one of your people here to death, do you not?" A trace of a smile forming on his lips. "Most are locked away in the holding cells, and. I seem to have lost the key. As for the others, they've all. jumped into the void." With that, his laughter became hysterical. Abruptly, he stopped, and slammed his fist onto the desk. "You have no idea how furious I was back then." He growled. Then, in a lighter tone, "You should thank my brother, or perhaps curse him, depending on which way you look at it. I was going to throw you off into the void myself.", and his face hardened. "I think you're going to regret that I hadn't." he said, and walked over the stonewall. On it, was mounted a silver box, with a large throw switch. Achenar raised his hand, and laid it onto the switch. "I'm going to enjoy this." And he pulled the switch down. Electricity arced down the bars, and into the poll to which he was bound. It flowed into, and through him, leaving intense pain in its wake. Naigth screamed out. After a small eternity, the power was cut off. The stink of ozone, and seared flesh was thick in the air. Naigth could not move, except for the small involuntary muscle twitches, and he couldn't avoid the hand that grasped his arm, or the hand that held the syringe.
=
Naigth awoke sometime later on the cold, hard metal panelling. He coughed, and sat up. Nothing Broken. He stood, and looked around. The void, it seemed, was getting brighter, but Naigth dismissed it as nothing. He walked back, retracing his steps, and coming to the foot of the giant construct. His foot kicked something, and the noise made Naigth look down. A loose metal floor-plate lay there. He pushed it aside, and, there, down in the slot where it would have been put in place, was a shiny tool, in the shape of a T. He reached down and grasped it, feeling the cold metal against his hand, as the equally cold memories were confirmed. It was true. He dropped the wrench for the second time, and walked back towards the lift.
=
Atrus found the small piece of paper on the floor, beside a small desk, which had been apparently cut from the wall. He picked it up, and read the familiar handwriting. "Dear Achenar," it began, "I've finished locking up all the workers. They were so afraid I'd kill them I didn't even need to threaten them. I am going. This place is a failure. Don't be too long, lest the other Ages miss us." So they had been here. He could almost hear Sirrus' laughter echoing in his head. He shuddered, putting down the paper sheet, and turning towards the exit. It was then, that he heard the telltale shriek of the metal platform. He rushed out the small chamber, and back into the cave proper. The shriek died out, and Atrus rushed to meet the man on the metal catwalk. He was there, and with him, seemed to be an extra three years worth of pain and misery. His forehead was covered in dried blood, as were his robes. He stopped, and looked at Atrus, his cold glare piercing through him. "You said your name is Atrus." He said, slowly, "But I know of no Atrus." Then, he stopped, and his look hardened even more. "Perhaps the names Sirrus and Achenar mean something to you?" Atrus went cold. "They are my sons." He told him, and the other man's face become like stone. "Perhaps it would cheer you to know that they are imprisoned forever." He told him, reading into the other's expression. The other man laughed bitterly, and sighed. "Too late." He said quietly. "But forgive me, you've given me your name, it's only fair that I should give you mine. I am Naigth." He said, with quiet defiance. Atrus meant to say something, but couldn't find the words. The void was now turning ever brighter, the shade of a faint crimson. "Long have I been here." said Naigth. "But at last I am free." He said. Atrus frowned. "I have a book. We can leave here. I can bring you home." He said to him, but the other shook his head. "No. All that I loved has died here. Closed, the circle must be." He edged closer to the side of the catwalk. "Please." Atrus began, but it was too late. With an almost casual ease, Naigth let himself fall off into the void. Or rather the sky, which was of a beautiful shade of red, with faint wisps of clouds, of a pinkish colour high up. The sun now shone clear through the haze, as Naigth continued to fall downwards.
=
Atrus let his breath out in a sigh. Silently, he removed the Tomahna linking book, and, holding the book out over the edge of the bridge he brought his other hand over to cover the glowing image. The book fell into oblivion, following the last trace of what had happened.
As he shimmered into existence in his study back on Tomahna, he reached over to his desk, and grabbed the Book of the Age of Sagye, and closed it, and placed it into a wooden cabinet. He locked it and slipped the key into his pocket. Silently, he walked out of his study, and into the sunroom. Catherine was there, with Yeesha, and she looked up and smiled to him. "Atrus! I was beginning to worry, what." she stopped, catching Atrus' mood. "What is it, Atrus?" she asked, but he shook his head. "Not now, my love. Perhaps I'll tell you tomorrow, but not now." He said and walked away. And perhaps I'll never tell you. He had always known his sons deeds, but never had they been laid bare like this. Now they were real.
The End
The wind whistled as it past through the thick metal support beams high above the ground. The iron flooring creaked and groaned as the air shifted around it. Heavy metal struts jutted into the grey rock walls, and small white lights, built into those same beams, gave off a steady hum. And on the opposite side, away from the cliffs, was the void. A greyness, which was endless, and boundless. The grey void. Below the bridge, about one hundred meters down, was the main support construct, with it's four think iron beams, which joined with the bridge section. At one end of the bridge, was the huge mechanical elevator built right into the cliff side. Created years ago, it's complex system of gears and pulleys still were in perfect working order. Built to last for eternity.
A sound could be faintly heard, that of booted feet upon gravel. The sound stopped, and a deep thud resounded throughout the rock. Suddenly, the lift came to life with a sharp shrieking of metal against metal. The platform sped downwards quickly, and as it neared the bottom, it slowed, and shuddered to a halt. The steps changed from gravel, to metal, as the feet trod onto the platform. Again, the thud and the shrieking begun once more, only to become silent once again as the lift neared the top. The feet didn't move however. They simply waited, as their owner simply stood and stared. After a moment, and what could have sounded like a sigh, the man started forward, his booted heals making reverberating thuds on the thick iron flooring.
The man pulled his cloak tighter around him, as the wind picked up again, once almost threatening to swat him off the bridge as if he were nothing but dust. He held his hand out to touch the cool metal support nearest to him to steady himself, and continued onward.
The opposite end of the bridge ended at the rock-face, with no visible points of entry. The man walked on, unaware, it seemed, that he was walking towards a wall. About thirty centimetres from the rock, he stopped, and held out his hand, with his palm facing the rock. He waved it near for a moment, and with a thick, deep rumble, the rock-face slid back, then downwards into the cliff, revealing another metallic corridor beyond. On the wall, was inscribed some lettering: "It has been innumerable days since I have arrived here."
It was late at night. But one would never have known, for the lighting was the same as it was seven hours earlier, an incessant gloom, which emanated from the void, and seemed to consume everything. The wind had died down to a faint, low whisper, but the fog was setting in. Faint wisps of it could be seen flitting about down on the gravel floor. The bridge creaked quietly, as the cold air caused the metal to shrink, the noise accompanied by a dull chipping sound. The sharp, and abrupt sounds seemed to penetrate the void's never ending gloom. The sound intensified, becoming sharper, and louder. A faint light could be seen, from inside the cave, from behind the secret doorway. The man sat on the cold stone floor, patiently chipping away at the rock wall, adding to the text already written. With a small metal chisel, he carefully carved. "I no longer know why I'm here. It has been so long. I wish to leave, to be with the others, but I do not know how." The long, flowing D'ni characters seemed to stand out from the rock as if wreathed in flame. The taste in the man's mouth was equally wreathed in flame. Betrayal, anger, hatred. But directed at nothing, for the man no longer even knew how he came to be. Only one thing, did he remember. The word. D'ni. Spoken long ago, in a different place. With the word, came great anger. Like the word, he knew not where it originated. He stopped chipping, and looked up. The fog would be coming up near the top now. The sickly red fog, which he so detested. Three months ago, if there ever was such a thing, the fog had arrived. It had killed the other two, and would kill him too, should he not close the stone door. Why Bother, He though. Let it come, for he had nothing left to live for. His existence had become pointless, each day, little more than a chore. But then he thought better of it. He stood, and walked over to the doorway, his booted feet making clicking sounds on the damp rock. His hand darted up, reaching behind a fold in the stone, searching for the hidden catch. A heavy thud signified he found it, and the rock slid forth from the ground, covered the hole completely, and then slid forward, completely sealing off the doorway. He walked back, deeper into the tunnel, towards the bed he had carved out of the stonewall. The walls here were slick, and polished - he had had plenty of time for that. The dampness was still present, but more muted, for the ventilation system, which had been here when he had chosen this place, worked to dry out the air. His heavy feet moved over to the bedside, and he slid down onto the stone palette. His eyes closed, and he fell asleep.
Across from the cave, on a thick, heavy metal platform suspended above the ground, higher even, than the bridge, by an intricate system of iron ropes and magnetic arrays, a shimmer of light appeared. The light solidified into that of a man. His eyes narrowed, taking in the apparent desolation. He walked forward, the sound of his feet on the metal floor loud in the silence. He extended his hand to touch one of the metal girders attached to one of the magnetic arrays, and instantly retracted it. Cold. Freezing Cold. The man thought. What has happened here?
D'Ni. The word played through his mind. D'ni. Long hallways merged with doors, and platforms. Animals appearing, chasing him, disappearing. He walked on. Looking for the door. It was there. Two people, stood there. Laughing at him. Mocking his attempt to get free. The reddish tinge to the door blinded him. The wood from the door's aroma was strong. He reached out, and went for the handle. It melted away, as if shying away from his hand. The laughter intensified. The door turned grey, and merged with everything else. Grey as the void. D'ni. D'ni. I am from D'ni. The words came to him, spoken from an unknown voice. The word echoed. D'ni.
With a start, the man woke. His head coming up fast, and hitting the low ceiling above the alcove he had carved out for his bed. His hand went up reflexively to his forehead, and it swiped the lantern that was suspended there. It broke off its chain and went flying to the ground, the glass panes on it, shattering under the impact. He grunted in annoyance. His hand massaged the point of collision, and, as the pain passed, he flopped back down, and sighed. The dream had come again. The nightmare, more like. They were more and more frequent now, and frightened him awake quite often. He opened his eyes, blinking away the sharp pain, as his irises closed from the light. His heart stopped. Light? I closed the door yesterday. He forced his eyes open, the pain forgotten, and looked toward the door. Open, it was, and framed inside the archway, was the silhouette of a man.
"Hello." Said the silhouette. "My name is Atrus." The man blinked at the silhouette. "Who are you?" it - Atrus said again. The man understood the question. But, who was he? Blank. "I am." the man started, but left the statement hanging. "Where are you from, Atrus?" he said instead. Parsing each phrase through his head first - it had been so long since he had spoken to someone else. "I have searched this place from end to end, and there is nothing else here, but dust, oil and metal. How have you come to be here?"
"I come from a place you have not yet searched." Atrus replied, twisting the facts slightly. "I take it, from your tone, that you don't wish to be here." He continued. "Perhaps if you help me, I can help you to leave this place." The man's eyes opened wide then narrowed. He gazed long and hard at Atrus. "Where are you from?" he said. His voice was more solid now. Atrus sighed. He looked at the man, and answered: "I am from D'ni."
=
Atrus steadied himself, not knowing what to expect. The other man stood there, an impassable expression on his face. "D'ni" the man spat. "What is D'ni?" His face worked hard to conceal the anger beneath, but Atrus spotted it. Before Atrus could say anything else, the man's hand darted for the shelf beside him and grabbed a short, curving dagger. The metal blade glinted in the light from the doorway as it shot towards Atrus' chest. It never arrived there. Atrus twisted out of the man's reach, and with his momentum in the wrong direction, the man flew out the doorway. He yelled, but abandoned his attempt to kill Atrus, and fled, tossing the dagger to the side, into the void. Atrus looked out after the man, but he had already made his way to the lift. His hand smacked the button, triggering the platform to screech it's way to the ground. The yells could be heard long after he had disappeared.
The high-pitched shriek of the metal platform was sharp as it stopped at the bottom. The man leapt off it, and ran across the gravel floor. He reached a groove, a small cleft within the gravel floor, and jumped down. He landed with a thud, his feet sending a spike of pain through him, as the unyielding metal beneath him resounded from the impact. The cleft was not natural at all, rather, it had been, but was now covered in iron, as if someone had poured molten iron into the crevice and then let it harden. The ground had been polished smooth, and the man found it hard to run on the surface without sliding off to the sides. On he ran, the slick black walls becoming a blur. Ahead, he saw the metal bulkhead, the only passage from the south side of the island to the north. He rushed up to it, and stopped. Rather, he tried to stop. His feet slid on the smooth floor, and he barrelled into the metal doorway. His head hit the large bolt holding the door on its hinges, and he went out cold.
=
He could see them now. The two men. Young men. They stood there, atop the temporary wooden platform, yelling orders out to the workers below. And a few meters below them, hundreds of men, pulled from another age, toiled, building the central spine of the support construct. Another four dozen worked on the base of the lift platform. And he worked there as well. They were nearly done now. Both the platform, and the bridge were finished; it was the central support construct that he was finishing now. It was hot, and he was tired. The sound of a whip cracked through the air, and a spike of pain raced its way from his back to his head. He looked up, and was greeted by a face. A face he knew very well. His cousin, Pràth. The look of pain in his cousin's eyes was almost too much. Forced, he had been, to oversee the construction of the support struts, as he had been forced to be the one building it. His cousin's eyes pleaded him to get back to work, lest he whip him again. He looked back down, at the large thing in his hand. A tool, in the shape of a T, designed to drive the massive bolts in preparation for the second wave of workers - those who had pressure driven tools, to screw in the bolts tightly. He went back to work. Above him, the two out-worlders looked on, and the anger within him grew. Pràth bent down, so only he could hear. "Come on, Naigth, you must work. Please. They'll kill you if you don't." he told him. The pain in his voice was too much. The anger within him spiked, then ebbed. He had to control himself, at least for their sake. But he couldn't. The anger welled again, he was furious. He looked up at his cousin. "No. Not anymore." He told him quietly, and dropped the wrench. It fell to the ground, and slid between the crack of two unfastened floor plates. The noise made the two out-worlders look up, and frown. One of them, the older one, gestured to him. His teeth ground in his mouth, and he walked to them. "What are you doing?" said the younger one, as he strode up the steps to them. "Get back to work, or we'll destroy your world, just as we made it." The older one snarled. He stopped, but not for long. He no longer cared. With a yell, he ran towards them, with his fist in the air. The older man snarled a curse, and produced a dagger. The pain, as the cold metal slid into him was intense. He fell away from the man, his hands clutching at the wound, as the blood poured out of him, then the blackness took him.
He awoke some time later in a small, dark cave. His hands had been bound behind his head, by a heavy metal chain. The chain itself was melded to the metal post that stood behind him. The post itself was part of a larger cage that surrounded him, and appeared to be the same metal as the post. He looked down to his chest, and saw that his wound was sealed. It still hurt, but it was no longer open. "I took the liberty of patching up that wound." The voice said. It sounded like that of a cultured sort of being, but with a hint of malice behind. "From what my brother has told me he has planned for you, I wonder now, if it was a waste of time." The man walked in front of him, and he saw him clearly for the first time. The younger of the two brothers. Sirrus. Even the name sounded god-like, but if he was any god, he was a god of evil. Naigth pulled at the chains, but the other simply laughed, mocking his attempt. "Don't bother. The chain is made of Nara. There isn't anything stronger." He said, then spun on his heel and walked away, leaving Naigth alone in the dark, with only the cold metal of the chains and cage as his companions.
=
Atrus was now deeper inside the cave, which, upon further inspection, revealed that it had been carved out of the rock. At first, he had been idly walking through the tunnels, then, without realizing it, he found himself looking for something. Or rather, not so much looking as trying to pinpoint exactly what it was he'd seen but not understood. A glint caught his eye, and he looked long and hard at the metal faceplate. It looked right, but somehow, it felt out of place. He reached out, and touched the cool metal surface, withdrawing it in surprise, as the metal hissed, and slid away into the wall. After a few moments, he could hear the sound of metal gears grinding. (So much had he heard of the sound back on Myst Island, it was unmistakable to him.) An iron bulkhead to Atrus' right grinded away from him, and then slid downward noisily, revealing a hidden chamber. The air from inside was musty, and carried the faint smell of something rotten. Tentively(sp?), he stepped through the opening, into a dimly lit chamber. The light appeared to be emanating from three fire-marbles, each placed in its niche set into the walls.
In the dim light, was just enough to make out the dim outline of a cage.
=
Naigth had been there for three hours, and he was beginning to think they were just going to leave him when he heard a deep, grinding noise and the older one - Achenar, strode casually into the chamber. He walked passed the cage without looking, and went up to a desk which had been carved out of the stone wall - which He, Naigth had carved out of the stone wall, nearly three months earlier. Achenar looked down, and picked up a piece of paper. He read it, and then chuckled. Naigth shifted in his bindings, and the noise made Achenar turn quickly to regard him. "Ah. I see my brother has healed you. Excellent." He said, his voice turning something awful at the last word. "I was rather hoping I'd have a chance to. speak with you. After all, that public display back there was quite. unwise." He started to laugh, a high-pitched affair, which angered Naigth. "You do realise, you've condemned every one of your people here to death, do you not?" A trace of a smile forming on his lips. "Most are locked away in the holding cells, and. I seem to have lost the key. As for the others, they've all. jumped into the void." With that, his laughter became hysterical. Abruptly, he stopped, and slammed his fist onto the desk. "You have no idea how furious I was back then." He growled. Then, in a lighter tone, "You should thank my brother, or perhaps curse him, depending on which way you look at it. I was going to throw you off into the void myself.", and his face hardened. "I think you're going to regret that I hadn't." he said, and walked over the stonewall. On it, was mounted a silver box, with a large throw switch. Achenar raised his hand, and laid it onto the switch. "I'm going to enjoy this." And he pulled the switch down. Electricity arced down the bars, and into the poll to which he was bound. It flowed into, and through him, leaving intense pain in its wake. Naigth screamed out. After a small eternity, the power was cut off. The stink of ozone, and seared flesh was thick in the air. Naigth could not move, except for the small involuntary muscle twitches, and he couldn't avoid the hand that grasped his arm, or the hand that held the syringe.
=
Naigth awoke sometime later on the cold, hard metal panelling. He coughed, and sat up. Nothing Broken. He stood, and looked around. The void, it seemed, was getting brighter, but Naigth dismissed it as nothing. He walked back, retracing his steps, and coming to the foot of the giant construct. His foot kicked something, and the noise made Naigth look down. A loose metal floor-plate lay there. He pushed it aside, and, there, down in the slot where it would have been put in place, was a shiny tool, in the shape of a T. He reached down and grasped it, feeling the cold metal against his hand, as the equally cold memories were confirmed. It was true. He dropped the wrench for the second time, and walked back towards the lift.
=
Atrus found the small piece of paper on the floor, beside a small desk, which had been apparently cut from the wall. He picked it up, and read the familiar handwriting. "Dear Achenar," it began, "I've finished locking up all the workers. They were so afraid I'd kill them I didn't even need to threaten them. I am going. This place is a failure. Don't be too long, lest the other Ages miss us." So they had been here. He could almost hear Sirrus' laughter echoing in his head. He shuddered, putting down the paper sheet, and turning towards the exit. It was then, that he heard the telltale shriek of the metal platform. He rushed out the small chamber, and back into the cave proper. The shriek died out, and Atrus rushed to meet the man on the metal catwalk. He was there, and with him, seemed to be an extra three years worth of pain and misery. His forehead was covered in dried blood, as were his robes. He stopped, and looked at Atrus, his cold glare piercing through him. "You said your name is Atrus." He said, slowly, "But I know of no Atrus." Then, he stopped, and his look hardened even more. "Perhaps the names Sirrus and Achenar mean something to you?" Atrus went cold. "They are my sons." He told him, and the other man's face become like stone. "Perhaps it would cheer you to know that they are imprisoned forever." He told him, reading into the other's expression. The other man laughed bitterly, and sighed. "Too late." He said quietly. "But forgive me, you've given me your name, it's only fair that I should give you mine. I am Naigth." He said, with quiet defiance. Atrus meant to say something, but couldn't find the words. The void was now turning ever brighter, the shade of a faint crimson. "Long have I been here." said Naigth. "But at last I am free." He said. Atrus frowned. "I have a book. We can leave here. I can bring you home." He said to him, but the other shook his head. "No. All that I loved has died here. Closed, the circle must be." He edged closer to the side of the catwalk. "Please." Atrus began, but it was too late. With an almost casual ease, Naigth let himself fall off into the void. Or rather the sky, which was of a beautiful shade of red, with faint wisps of clouds, of a pinkish colour high up. The sun now shone clear through the haze, as Naigth continued to fall downwards.
=
Atrus let his breath out in a sigh. Silently, he removed the Tomahna linking book, and, holding the book out over the edge of the bridge he brought his other hand over to cover the glowing image. The book fell into oblivion, following the last trace of what had happened.
As he shimmered into existence in his study back on Tomahna, he reached over to his desk, and grabbed the Book of the Age of Sagye, and closed it, and placed it into a wooden cabinet. He locked it and slipped the key into his pocket. Silently, he walked out of his study, and into the sunroom. Catherine was there, with Yeesha, and she looked up and smiled to him. "Atrus! I was beginning to worry, what." she stopped, catching Atrus' mood. "What is it, Atrus?" she asked, but he shook his head. "Not now, my love. Perhaps I'll tell you tomorrow, but not now." He said and walked away. And perhaps I'll never tell you. He had always known his sons deeds, but never had they been laid bare like this. Now they were real.
The End