far as he knew, Monday’s Postern was the only way in.
He had to go through.
Arthur took a very deep breath, something that he wasn’t often able to do. He enjoyed the feel of his lungs expanding to their maximum capacity. Then, holding the Key in front of himself like a sword fighter about to duel, he stepped completely into the doorway.
Chapter Nine
A rthur stepped through the doorway, but not onto solid ground. Not onto any ground. He screamed as he realized he was falling through space, and Monday’s Postern was not behind him but above him, a doorway of bright light where all else around was darkness. A doorway that was receding every second as he fell away from it.
Arthur’s scream faded as he noticed that he wasn’t falling all that fast. It was more like sinking in water, though he didn’t feel wet and he had no trouble breathing. He tried kicking to see if it slowed his fall. It was hard to tell, since the distant doorway was his only point of reference, but it did seem as if it wasn’t receding quite as fast.
Arthur kicked again and tried a couple of strokes with his free hand. That also appeared to work. He was contemplating putting the Key in his belt and trying some full-on swimming when the Key suddenly jerked in his hand. It jerked again a second later, much harder, like a fisherman’s strike setting a hook in a fish. Then the Key absolutely rocketed forward, almost ripping itself out of Arthur’s grasp. If he hadn’t tightened his grip he would have lost it, to fall once more.
He held the Key as tightly as he could and got his other hand onto it as well, the muscles in his forearms taut from the effort. The Key kept accelerating like a tiny rocket, fortunately without the flaming exhaust, dragging Arthur through the inky blackness.
He still couldn’t see anything. Without the sensation of air rushing past, or anything to look at, it was very hard to tell how fast he was traveling. But Arthur somehow felt that the Key was still accelerating, going faster and faster and dragging him along with it. After a while—Arthur could not guess how long—the end of the Key began to glow with a red heat and sparks began to shower from it. Arthur flinched and tried to turn his face away, but the sparks flew out at an oblique angle, as if there was some sort of shield around him, and the end of the Key he held remained cool.
A long time passed. Arthur tried to look at his watch, but it had slipped around his wrist and he didn’t dare let go of the Key to move it back. He tried counting seconds and then minutes, but kept forgetting what number he was up to.
Eventually he gave up. At least an hour had passed, he was sure of that. His fingers were very cramped and sore, and his shoulders hurt. But not as much as they should have. Once again he could feel the power of the Key lessening pain and stiffness, in the same way that it helped him to breathe.
Eventually he even became bored and started to look around, peering into the darkness in the hope of seeing something. Anything. But apart from the glow of the Key and the sparks, there was no light. Occasionally, as a spark faded in the distance, Arthur thought he saw just the hint of shapes moving parallel with him, but when he stared even harder he couldn’t see a thing.
Then, just as he was starting to be afraid again, thinking that he might never get anywhere, the Key suddenly changed direction. Arthur yelped as his body swung around to follow his outstretched arms and his legs jackknifed wildly.
He could see something ahead now. A pinprick of light that became a dot and then a distinct rectangle. It got closer and closer and closer with alarming rapidity and Arthur saw it was another illuminated doorway—one much, much bigger than Monday’s Postern. They were going to smack into it at a very high speed, at least a hundred miles an hour and he would be smashed into a pulp—
Arthur closed his eyes as they hit…and fell over something, going no
He had to go through.
Arthur took a very deep breath, something that he wasn’t often able to do. He enjoyed the feel of his lungs expanding to their maximum capacity. Then, holding the Key in front of himself like a sword fighter about to duel, he stepped completely into the doorway.
Chapter Nine
A rthur stepped through the doorway, but not onto solid ground. Not onto any ground. He screamed as he realized he was falling through space, and Monday’s Postern was not behind him but above him, a doorway of bright light where all else around was darkness. A doorway that was receding every second as he fell away from it.
Arthur’s scream faded as he noticed that he wasn’t falling all that fast. It was more like sinking in water, though he didn’t feel wet and he had no trouble breathing. He tried kicking to see if it slowed his fall. It was hard to tell, since the distant doorway was his only point of reference, but it did seem as if it wasn’t receding quite as fast.
Arthur kicked again and tried a couple of strokes with his free hand. That also appeared to work. He was contemplating putting the Key in his belt and trying some full-on swimming when the Key suddenly jerked in his hand. It jerked again a second later, much harder, like a fisherman’s strike setting a hook in a fish. Then the Key absolutely rocketed forward, almost ripping itself out of Arthur’s grasp. If he hadn’t tightened his grip he would have lost it, to fall once more.
He held the Key as tightly as he could and got his other hand onto it as well, the muscles in his forearms taut from the effort. The Key kept accelerating like a tiny rocket, fortunately without the flaming exhaust, dragging Arthur through the inky blackness.
He still couldn’t see anything. Without the sensation of air rushing past, or anything to look at, it was very hard to tell how fast he was traveling. But Arthur somehow felt that the Key was still accelerating, going faster and faster and dragging him along with it. After a while—Arthur could not guess how long—the end of the Key began to glow with a red heat and sparks began to shower from it. Arthur flinched and tried to turn his face away, but the sparks flew out at an oblique angle, as if there was some sort of shield around him, and the end of the Key he held remained cool.
A long time passed. Arthur tried to look at his watch, but it had slipped around his wrist and he didn’t dare let go of the Key to move it back. He tried counting seconds and then minutes, but kept forgetting what number he was up to.
Eventually he gave up. At least an hour had passed, he was sure of that. His fingers were very cramped and sore, and his shoulders hurt. But not as much as they should have. Once again he could feel the power of the Key lessening pain and stiffness, in the same way that it helped him to breathe.
Eventually he even became bored and started to look around, peering into the darkness in the hope of seeing something. Anything. But apart from the glow of the Key and the sparks, there was no light. Occasionally, as a spark faded in the distance, Arthur thought he saw just the hint of shapes moving parallel with him, but when he stared even harder he couldn’t see a thing.
Then, just as he was starting to be afraid again, thinking that he might never get anywhere, the Key suddenly changed direction. Arthur yelped as his body swung around to follow his outstretched arms and his legs jackknifed wildly.
He could see something ahead now. A pinprick of light that became a dot and then a distinct rectangle. It got closer and closer and closer with alarming rapidity and Arthur saw it was another illuminated doorway—one much, much bigger than Monday’s Postern. They were going to smack into it at a very high speed, at least a hundred miles an hour and he would be smashed into a pulp—
Arthur closed his eyes as they hit…and fell over something, going no
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