David Sakmyster - The Pharos Objective

“Suspended…” He thought about it, imagined twisting back and forth. To what purpose? He thought of the Tarot again, and from what he remembered of this card’s symbolism, it had to do with letting go, giving in to God’s will. Continuing the themes of Calcination and Dissolution, this was a logical step in releasing the initiate’s preconceptions, his ego. But it also had to do with self-sacrifice. Martyrdom. He thought of Lydia, whose death had come about because Caleb couldn’t see the way past this step.

He slid into a kitchen chair and lowered his head. “I don’t get it. The symbolism of that Tarot card is ‘to win by surrendering.’ But how does that help us?”

Helen took down one sheet of paper and held it in front of Caleb. “This might be a clue.” She pointed to something the second person had drawn: a series of blocks crumbling around the hanging person. “What if the next trap has something to do with the floor falling away? And to survive it-”

“-you have to be suspended in the air.” Caleb rubbed his eyes and squeezed them tight, trying to see inward. “But what sets it off? I stood there for almost an hour one time, and nothing happened.”

“Did you step forward, toward the door?”

“No. Away.” He could see his foot lifting, starting to move forward. But it was as if he had a notion of self-preservation, and pulled it back and turned the other direction. “I guess I just felt there was no point going forward if I hadn’t experienced anything at this stage.”

“That may have saved your life.”

Before he could respond, a flash of white light and a burst of heat exploded inside his head with the image of…

… Sostratus leading his guest out, returning through the great seal and into the main chamber. The door closes slowly, the snakes again facing each other across the staff.

“The traps will be in place as I have described,” Sostratus declares, and directs Demetrius’s gaze down at the inscribed stones underfoot. “You have seen my vault below. You have seen its defenses.”

“I have seen.” Demetrius is pale, and shaking. “But I fear that with such defenses, what we place inside may never be found.”

Sostratus smiles. “No, my friend. Human nature, such as it is, will always lead men to yearn for the truth. And the legends we create will live on. The grandeur of this lighthouse will endure, serving as a beacon for generations long after its light no longer burns.”

“And how will you ensure that what it guards will be sought after? If no one knows…”

“Ah,” Sostratus says, stroking his white hair, “they will know, because you will tell them.”

“I?”

“Yes, you and those whom you select to keep this knowledge.”

Demetrius shakes his head. “No, Sostratus. That will not work. How can I find enough trustworthy individuals? And, how do I get them to pass along the information?”

“They will pass it on to a son or daughter, one per generation.” Sostratus places a heavy hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Choose your Keepers, Demetrius, then spread them over the world. Those selected will keep the secret. They will know what the lighthouse’s true purpose is, and what it protects.”

“These Keepers…” Demetrius takes a breath. “What makes you think they will not try to steal the contents for themselves?”

Sostratus shifts his arm around Demetrius’s shoulder. “My friend. That is precisely what I am counting on.”

As suddenly as it had begun, Caleb was torn from the waking dream. He clung to it and focused and tried to keep his mind wrapped about it, but the visions scattered through his grasp like fireflies on a warm summer night.

“No,” he stammered, trying to stay in the dream. “I saw them.”

“Saw who?” Helen was leaning close, pressing her cool hands to his burning forehead. “Caleb, you terrified me. I’ve never seen someone fall into a trance so suddenly. You were shaking, so pale. And your eyes-”

“I saw them,” he repeated. “Sostratus… and Demetrius.”

“The architect and the librarian?”

Caleb blinked away the remaining imprints of the two men and the great seal. “I’ve had several visions now of the two of them together as the Pharos was being built.”

Helen stood up and took a step back. In the kitchen the others were washing dishes and talking over the noise. “Maybe you should go back into the trance, if you can. Find out more.”

He took a deep breath. “You know I’m no good at forcing visions.”

“But this sounds like the connection we’ve been seeking!” She glanced at the kitchen and motioned for someone to stay away for a moment longer. “Caleb, if you can learn more, it might confirm the presence of the books you think are hidden there.”

“The books I know are there,” he corrected. “We don’t need confirmation of that. What we need now is to understand the puzzles, find a way past the traps. From what I saw, Sostratus constructed the vault and the door, then he built the traps around them and set everything into place. I don’t think I’ll get a view of anyone getting past them. I don’t think anyone ever has.”

“Someone must have. There’s the scroll.”

“Which might only be one Keeper’s attempt to pass the door. Maybe he failed, or maybe only some of the answers are in it.”

“Did you see any of these Keepers?”

“I think I saw Sostratus create them.” Caleb frowned. “And I heard something about his plan for the treasure’s release. He was relying on man’s inner nature-the Keepers’ greed, their curiosity-to one day seek out the treasure and find the way in.”

“Sounds like a lot of presupposition on his part.”

“But it was something Sostratus would do. He was tricky like that.”

Helen urged the others inside and had them take their places again around the table. “Okay, that was symbol number three, and we think we might have the answer we’re looking for.”

“We hope,” Caleb added.

“We hope,” she agreed, giving him a wary smile. “Let’s continue, people. Four more to go.”

Caleb took a breath and settled back in his chair, for the first time in his life eager to join one of these sessions. As the others took their seats, he thought again about what his mother had just said.

“Four more to go…”

All of a sudden, Caleb was struck with the certainty that she was wrong. We’re missing something. And then he realized what was bothering him. The sealed door with the caduceus was only at the halfway point, maybe a little more. If the adage As Above, So Below held, then there was still a long way to go before they reached the beacon-the fire, the light of truth-where Sostratus surely hid his vault.

And if seven clues were needed to open this door, what would be next? Caleb tried to picture it, but saw only darkness. There would be the octagonal section, ending in the cupola and the pillared room with the mirror.

“Octagon, ” he whispered, shivering in a sudden chill.

Helen looked up, first at Caleb, then to the kitchen, where a brisk wind blew through the open door.

Waxman was standing there. His face was rosy. He stank of menthol. “Caleb,” he said. “I’ve just come from the University. Phoebe’s asking for you. She’s finished unrolling the scroll. ”

Caleb bounded up the steps just as the first snowflakes began to fall. At his back, across Elmwood Avenue, Mount Hope Cemetery sprawled over two hundred acres, its monuments and time-worn markers standing as mute soldiers among the rolling hills and saluting into the twilight. He took one last look, waved to the cab driver who had just dropped him off, then flung open the door and ran into the university’s archive center.