Read Online The Pharos Objective by David Sakmyster - Free Book Online Page A

Marcus’s torch, Titus’s legs nearly buckle beneath him.
    The well opens into a massive, brightly lit chamber. They approach two guardians, enormous Egyptian statues carved out of black onyx—an Ibis-faced god with a long staff and a writing palette to one side flanked by a female statue wearing a peculiar half-moon headdress and holding a large book to her chest.
    Titus respectfully bows his head to these native deities and steps between them. Ahead looms an imposing red granite wall covered with strange carvings and images. Centered and most prominent rises a large staff with twin snakes wrapped around it and facing each other at the top. Standing before this symbol is Gaius Julius Caesar.
    Titus kneels as Marcus bows his head. “My Lord.”
    Caesar slowly raises his left hand. In his right he holds an unbound sheaf of papyrus. The flickering torchlight from two braziers mounted on opposite sides of the wall illuminate scrawled lines and symbols on the papyrus similar to the images on the walls.
    Titus peers at the wall ahead, observing seven strange symbols enclosed in raised circles spaced around the great snake-entwined staff. He recognizes some of them as ancient Greek signs for the planets.
    Caesar turns. His eyes are haunted, glazed and exhausted. Titus has heard whispers that since his taking of the Pharos, he has been rarely seen, spending all his time inside the lighthouse. Doing what, no one would say. Some of the men whisper that the ancient gods have trapped him inside their shrine and will not let him go until Rome has left their land. Others claim Caesar has found an ancient source of power and seeks to wrest it from the gods. Still others believe he has discovered Alexander’s lost treasure.
    “Titus Batus,”—Caesar clenches the papyrus tightly in his hand—“your skills are needed. These papers were in the possession of this tower’s keeper, an old, pathetic man who, with his son, alone kept the fires burning and directed the great mirror above.”
    “What, only two—?”
    “The boy is dead.” Caesar says sharply. “He fled, and when we caught up with him, down here, he was trying to throw these”—he holds up the papers—“into the flames. We had to stop him.”
    “What are they, sir?”
    Caesar shakes his head. “Whatever these scribblings represent, that boy died for them. We brought his father here, and the old man actually broke free, lunged for the papers and tried to tear them up.”
    Titus frowns, looking from those sheets to the wall again.
    “Titus. Get the answers from the old man. He is secured in the living quarters upstairs. Use whatever means necessary.” Caesar turns his back and regards the wall once more. His shadow leaps from his body and dances obscenely across the wall, mimicking his stance and mocking his ignorance. Behind him, Titus imagines the two Egyptian statues expelling low, indifferent sighs.
    “Yes, sir.” Titus stands and extends his arm in salute. “I—”
    But then a trampling of feet pounds out from the stairwell and four men rush into the room. “My liege, Egyptian forces are approaching. Twenty ships.”
    Caesar lowers his head as if a great weight pulls on his neck. He looks at the papers trapped in his fist and then considers the wall once more.
    Marcus glances from the messenger to his leader. “My Lord, we do not have the strength to withstand such an assault.”
    Caesar sighs. “Very well. We leave for the safety of the palace and wait for Mithradates and reinforcements. I will return once we have the situation in hand. Bring the old man with us.”
    “Sir,” says another soldier on the stairs, “it is too late. He has chewed off his tongue and drowned in his own blood.”
    Caesar swears. He pushes past Titus, muttering a curse on the local gods, and stomps up the stairs. Titus follows the others, the last to leave the silent chamber. Turning one last time, he meets the unnerving stares of those two snakes carved deeply into the