Mariah's Arc

Chapter 5 of 5

Marcus counted the water skins by lantern light and set them on the step. Two skins, both light. A half sack of dried meal. Three withered apples. Mariah watched him work and did her own math. Two days. Maybe three if she drank less than she needed. The stones outside would still be there. She would not be strong enough to hold a graphite stick. "We have to try the passage," she said. "It's not cleared," Marcus said. "I've been down twice. It bends and drops. I don't know where it ends." "Then I go up top and look for water while you clear more of it." "The thing outside will kill you." "Not if it doesn't see me leave." She pointed at the back wall. A narrow shaft ran up through the stone, meant for smoke or air. She could fit. Marcus did not like it. He boosted her anyway. She came out on the slope behind the building. The stalker's shadow crossed the front path once, then again. It did not turn. She kept low and moved uphill through the ruins. She smelled the water before she saw it. A carved stone shelter sat between two toppled walls. Moss covered its peaked roof. A shallow basin held clear water fed by a spring under the floor. She filled both skins she had brought and drank until her stomach hurt. On the way back, vines choked a fallen column. Red berries hung in clusters, glossy and heavy. She knew this plant from the codex Rouge had drawn her. Safe. Sweet. She stripped two handfuls into her scarf and knotted it. A cough on the path stopped her. An old man in a yellow robe sat on a broken step with a walking staff across his knees. Bald head. Long white beard. A string of red beads. He did not look surprised to see her. "You are the one hiding in the priest's house," he said. "You know it?" "I have slept in it. There is a stone in the cellar floor with a cross cut into it. Lift it. The priest kept his stores below. Grain jars. Oil. Perhaps still good." She stared at him. He smiled and tapped his staff. "The creature does not follow me. I smell wrong to it. Go quickly." He stood and walked off between the columns before she could thank him. Mariah crawled back down the shaft with the skins and berries. She told Marcus about the stone. He found the cross under a layer of dust. Together they levered it up. Below sat a small vault, dry, lined with sealed jars. Grain. Oil. A crock of honey. She sat on the step and ate. Her hands stopped shaking. The stalker paced outside the door, but she had days now. Days to find another way out to the stones.