The Silver Door by Emily Rodda

Doors.
    On the left, the golden Door glowed against the rough stone of the wall. On the right stood the wooden Door, solid and strong. Between them, the silver Door gleamed coldly.
    Rye made himself look at the strange patterns flowing across the silver surface. The longer he looked, the more he began to see, among the mysterious lines, the shapes of monstrous birds with long necks, cruel, curved beaks and vast, outspread wings.
    His skin crawled. A cold tide of dread sweptthrough him. Shuddering, he quickly raised his eyes to the rhyme carved in the stone above the Doors.

    The final lines whispered in Rye’s mind like the soft, secret voices of the Fellan. He turned towards the wooden Door like a flower turning to face the sun. Barely conscious of what he was doing, he took a step forward, raising his hand.
    â€˜No, Rye!’
    Rye stopped, very startled, as Sonia’s voice cut through the feeling of longing that had almost overwhelmed him. He turned to look at her. There was an odd, strained expression on her face. Behind her, Dirk was looking aghast.
    â€˜You cannot choose for yourself, Rye,’ Sonia said. ‘Remember your dream. If we are to find the skimmers we must follow Sholto through the silver Door.’
    Rye glared at her. She returned his gaze with a steady stare of her own and abruptly his anger died, leaving confusion in its place.
    â€˜I-I am sorry,’ he stammered. ‘The wooden Doorseemed to draw me. I felt the lure the first day I was here, but this time it was much stronger. I cannot explain …’
    Dirk looked confused, but Sonia’s face softened. ‘There is no need to explain,’ she said. ‘I felt it too.’
    As Rye stared at her she smiled ruefully. ‘Perhaps one day you and I will be able to choose a Door for ourselves, Rye. When all this is over.’
    â€˜Perhaps,’ Rye agreed, though he did not believe it. The skimmers and their evil master were at the end of this journey. Whether it ended in triumph or disaster for Rye, Dirk and Sonia, it was unlikely that any of them would face the Doors a third time.
    â€˜You should use the hood, Rye,’ Sonia said, with a sudden return to briskness. ‘We have no idea what might be waiting for us outside.’
    Rye pulled up the hood. Sonia took his arm, and he took Dirk’s. They moved to stand before the silver Door.
    Rye reached out for the slender handle. The moment his fingers touched it, the Door began to open.
    Again he saw a widening strip of blinding light. Again he felt an invisible power drawing him forward.
    And again he was pulled off his feet, as the world of the silver Door dragged him in.

7 - The Pyramid
    R ye felt something tickling his closed eyelid. Just for a moment he thought he was lying in the shade of the bell tree at home, and a falling leaf had drifted onto his face. Half smiling he put up his hand to brush the leaf off, and felt movement beneath his fingers.
    He yelled and sat up, slapping at his eye. Wings whirred frantically, and he caught a brief glimpse of something streaking away into the air.
    He felt for his hood and found that it was still in place. So the flying creature, whatever it was, could not have seen him. It must have sensed him—felt his warmth, perhaps.
    Sonia was crawling to her knees beside him. She was staring around blankly. A tangle of sticks was caught in her scarf, just below her ear, but she seemed unaware of it.
    Then the tangle moved. Rye’s stomach heaved as he realised that the sticks were legs, and at the same moment saw stiff, transparent wings, a head filled with glittering eyes, a needle-like stinger poised to strike …
    Sonia screamed as he shouted and lunged at her. Again there was the whir of wings, but this time Rye saw the creature clearly as it sped away. It was shaped like the small, blood-sucking insects called whines that plagued the people of Weld in warm, damp weather. But it was huge—as big as his