The Golden Door by Emily Rodda

marveling that she could allow her hopes to deceive her eyes and her mind so thoroughly.
    “That is not a house, Sonia,” he said. “It is far too small and low, even for barbarians. At best, it is a shed for animals.”
    “Oh,” the girl said in a small voice and gave a forced little laugh.
    “But it is very lucky you spied it,” Rye hurried on, seeing that she felt foolish as well as disappointed, and wanting to make her feel better. “It is shelter — and better shelter for us than a house. In the land of the barbarians, it would be unwise to trust in the kindness of strangers.”
    “Perhaps,” Sonia murmured, but looked a little happier.
    They left the bridge and walked together down the road toward the rounded building. The field inwhich it stood had once been separated from the road by a wooden fence, but now a whole section of the fence lay flat and trampled on the ground.
    In Weld, it would have been unforgivable to enter another citizen’s property with no intention of asking permission. But Rye felt only a tiny twinge of unease as he stepped across the ruined fence and made for the shelter.
    Tired to his bones, all he could think of was his need for rest, and it seemed that Sonia felt the same, for she followed him into the field without hesitation.
    As they approached the shelter, Rye smelled the faint, familiar scent of goat droppings. There was another odor, too, stronger and sharper, which he did not recognize.
    “This is a place for animals.” Sonia wrinkled her nose. “I hope there are none in there now.”
    “If there were, they would be calling to us by this time,” said Rye. “Come on!”
    With the girl trailing after him, he prowled around the shelter, looking for the entrance.
    He found himself surprised and impressed. The shed was very sturdy — not at all like the ramshackle building he would have expected barbarians to throw together. It was neatly built of stone, like the bridge. The low roof was flat, made of hard gray sheets that shone like some sort of metal. At a distance, the roof had looked rounded because of the rocks that had been piled on top of the metal sheets to hold them in place.
    “Perhaps they have skimmers here, after all,” he muttered. He glanced quickly at the sky but could see no movement there.
    On the side of the shed farthest from the road, he found a strong wooden door bound with metal bands and fastened with an iron rod. Rye pulled the rod back, opened the door a little, and peered cautiously into the shelter. It was very dark and smelled strongly of goat, but as far as he could see, it was completely empty except for the layer of straw that covered the floor.
    He pulled the door wider and noted a second metal bar fixed to the inside frame. “You can bar this door from the inside as well as from the outside,” he said in surprise. “It looks as if people do use this shelter sometimes. I wonder why —?”
    “Rye …” Sonia said in a tense, level voice more chilling than any scream. “Behind you!”
    Rye spun around. And there, lumbering toward them from the shadows of the nearby knot of trees, was a shaggy beast with tiny, hungry red eyes and a single white horn that jutted up from its muzzle like a curved sword.
    It was big — bigger than a goat by far — bigger than six goats put together! As Rye stared, aghast, the creature grunted and pawed the ground. Its slavering jaws parted, showing blunt, yellow teeth in what looked horribly like a mocking grin. Then it lowered its head and charged.

T here was only one thing to do. Rye and Sonia flung themselves into the darkness of the hut, dragging the door shut behind them.
    Crawling on his hands and knees, Rye fumbled for the iron bar, found it, and thrust it across the door with all his strength. A split second later, there was a thunderous crash as the charging beast slammed into the wood. The door shuddered, but held.
    The beast outside bellowed its rage. Again it attacked the door. And