Timeline

01:22:12

She was lost in infinite darkness. It was a nightmare, she thought, as she crouched in the boat, feeling it drift in the current and bump from stalactite to stalactite. Despite the cool air, she had begun to sweat. Her heart was pounding. Her breathing was shallow; she felt like she couldn't get a full breath.

She was terrified. She shifted her weight, and the boat rocked alarmingly. She put both hands out to steady it. She said, "Chris?"

She heard a splashing from far off in the darkness. Like someone swimming.

"Chris?"

From a great distance: "Yeah."

"Where are you?"

"I fell off."

He sounded so far away. Wherever Chris was, she was drifting farther and farther from him every minute. She was alone. She had to get light. Somehow, she had to get light. She began to crawl back toward the stern of the boat, groping with her hands, hoping her fingers would close on a wooden pole that meant one of the remaining torches. The boat rocked again.

Shit.

She paused, waiting for it to steady beneath her.

Where were the damn torches? She thought they were in the center of the boat. But she didn't feel them anywhere. She felt the oars. She felt the planking. But she didn't feel torches.

Had they fallen off the boat with Chris?

Get light. She had to get light.

She fumbled at her waist for her pouch, managed to get it open by feel, but then could not tell what was in there. There were pills… the canister… her fingers closed over a cube, like a sugar cube. It was one of the red cubes! She took it out and put it between her teeth.

Then she took her dagger and cut the sleeve of her tunic, tearing off a section about a foot long. She wrapped this cloth around the red cube and pulled the string.

She waited.

Nothing happened.

Maybe the cube had gotten soaked when she went in the river at the mill. The cubes were supposed to be waterproof, but she'd been in the river a long time. Or maybe this one was just defective. She ought to try another one. She had one more. She had started to reach into her pouch again, when the cloth in her hand burst into flame.

"Yow!" she cried. Her hand was burning. She hadn't thought this through very well. But she refused to drop it; gritting her teeth, she held it high above her head, and immediately she saw the torches to her right, pushed up against the side of the boat. She grabbed one torch, held it against the burning rag, and the torch caught fire. She dropped the rag in the river and plunged her hand under the water.

Her hand really hurt. She looked at it closely; the skin was red, but otherwise did not appear too bad. She ignored the pain. She'd deal with it later.

She swung the torch. She was surrounded by pale white stalactites hanging down into the river. It was like being in the half-open mouth of some gigantic fish, moving between its teeth. The boat banged from one to another.

"Chris?"

Far away: "Yeah."

"Can you see my light?"

"Yeah."

She grabbed a stalactite with her hand, feeling the slippery, chalky texture. She managed to stop the boat. But she couldn't row back to Chris, because she had to hold the torch.

"Can you get to where I am?"

"Yeah."

She heard him splashing somewhere in the darkness behind. :

Once he was back in the boat, soaked but smiling, she let go of the stalactite and they began moving again with the current. They spent several more minutes in the stalactite forest, and then they came out into an open chamber again. The current moved faster. From somewhere ahead, they heard a roaring sound. It sounded like a waterfall.

But then she saw something that made her heart leap. It was a large stone block by the side of the river. The block was worn around the sides from rope chafing. It had clearly been used to tie up boats.

"Chris…"

"I see it."

She saw what looked like a worn path beyond the block, but she couldn't be sure. Chris rowed to the side, and they tied up the boat and got out. There was a definite path, leading to a tunnel with smooth, artificially cut walls. They started down the tunnel. She held the torch in front of her.

She caught her breath.

"Chris? There's a step."

"What?"

"A step. Cut in the rock. About fifty feet ahead." She moved faster. They both moved faster. "In fact," she said, raising the torch higher, "there's more than a step. There's a whole staircase."

By the flickering torchlight, they saw more than a dozen steps, rising at a steep angle upward, without a railing, until they ended in a stone ceiling - a trapdoor fitted with an iron handle.

She handed Chris the torch, then scrambled up the stairs. She pulled at the ring, but nothing happened. She pushed at it, putting her shoulder into it.

She managed to raise the stone an inch.

She saw yellow light, so bright that it made her squint. She heard the roar of a nearby fire, and the laughter of men's voices. Then she couldn't hold the weight any longer, and the stone came back down again.

Chris was already coming up the stairs toward her. "Earpieces on," he said, tapping his ear.

"You think?"

"We have to risk it."

She tapped her ear, heard the crackle. She heard Chris's breathing, amplified as he stood beside her on the narrow ledge.

She said, "I'll go first." She reached into her pocket, took out the marker, and gave it to him. He frowned. She said, "Just in case. We don't know what's on the other side."

"Okay." Chris set the torch down, then leaned his shoulder against the trapdoor. The stone crunched, moved upward. She scrambled through the opening, then helped him quietly swing the door all the way open and lay it on the floor.

They had made it.

They were inside La Roque.