She stepped forward onto one of the tiles. Then moved to the next. Before each move, she studied the images, always choosing ones with patterns of three, to select her next step.
Max stood quietly, watching her every move.
In her mind, she could see the girls and boys playing together, laughing and teasing. Some days they had waved to her, sitting in her window. But most days, they’d simply ignored her.
Another four moves, and she was halfway across the board. She examined the next option.
She shifted one foot forward to touch the next tile, the image of children playing with three balls. As her foot touched the stone, it shattered and fell below, leaving a gaping cavern in its wake. Her balance shifted, but Max caught her, holding her steady without walking onto the game board himself.
“You all right?” he asked.
“Wrong move,” she said, her voice shaky. “I must have missed something in that picture. An extra ball, perhaps.”
“Does that always happen if you mess up?”
“No, normally you die, meaning you lose your turn. This one seems a little different from the Thistle the children play. Here it doesn’t seem to be a metaphorical death.”
“Right.” He made no move away from her, still holding her up and assisting her balance.
“I can finish now,” she said with a nod.
“No more mistakes,” he suggested.
She smiled. “I’ll try.”
She didn’t know how much longer it took her to work through the game, but eventually she came down to her last move. She closed her eyes and concentrated, then examined the remaining tiles. “Last one,” she said.
“Are you certain?” Max asked.
“More or less,” she said as she took the final step. The tile did not break, but instantly the box, in which she’d cast her rocks, began to shake.
Max made his way over there. “The box opened,” he said. He reached down into it and pulled something back. “It’s a letter.”
“What does it say?” she asked, standing still, afraid to move.
He met her eyes. His own sparkled with excitement. “It’s another clue.”
They made their way down the hill. Sabine moved more quickly in their descent, clearly eager to get back to their room. Max had no difficulty keeping up with her pace, but twice he had to grab her elbow to steady her when she hit a rocky portion of the hill. They walked in silence into the tiny inn and had barely closed the door to their room before Sabine grabbed his arm. “What does it say again?” she asked.
Max unfolded the parchment again and read aloud, “‘At the Virgin’s rock, the dove bathes where the ancients found tranquility.’”
Sabine sat on the edge of the bed. Deep creases settled into her brow. “It’s a riddle,” she said.
“So it would seem.” Max eyed the handwritten note again. It was written on papyrus, but anyone could purchase the antique paper. So the question was, how old was this particular note? The ink had faded, but was still legible. And the note had been scrawled in Greek, not the native Atlantean language.
Max sat next to her on the bed, and beneath both their weight, it creaked and moaned.
“If the Chosen One has a copy of the prophecy, which I’m assuming he does in some form or another, then he knows about the dove, too,” Sabine reasoned. “He will undoubtedly be looking for the dove as well. Or has looked for it in the past.”
Max nodded. “And what better way to keep him from getting his hands on it than to hide it with a series of puzzles.”
“But we solved the first one,” she said.
“No, you did. I wouldn’t have known how to play that game. Hell, I didn’t even know what it was,” Max said.
“I almost failed,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“But you didn’t.”