Free The First Stone by Mark Anthony Page A

“Couldn’t he help you again?”
    Travis’s face was thoughtful. “I don’t think Brother Cy is here anymore. When Larad broke the rune of Sky, Mohg was able to return to Eldh. I think Cy and Mirrim and Samanda went as well. It’s their home, after all. I don’t think we’ll be getting any help from them this time around.”
    “There must be another way,” Vani said, her words imploring.
    Travis laid a hand on the
T’gol
’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Vani. But even if I wanted to help, I can’t. You have to face the fact that there’s no way for any of us to get back to—”
    The telephone rang.
    They all gazed blankly at one another for a moment, as if the sound had jarred them out of a spell, then Beltan picked up the cordless phone and held it to his ear.
    He cocked his head, then held the phone out toward Deirdre. “It’s for you.”
    Deirdre fumbled as she took the phone. Who could be calling her here? She hadn’t told anyone where she was going—not the Seekers, not even her partner Anders. However, as soon as she heard the rich, accentless voice emanating from the phone, she knew who it was.
    “Turn on the television,” the nameless Philosopher said. “I think you’ll be interested in what you see.”
    There was a click, and a dial tone replaced his voice. Deirdre set down the phone, her heart pounding.
    “Who was it?” Travis said.
    She licked her lips. “Where’s the remote control?”
    A minute later, they gathered around the television. In quick words, Deirdre had described the message she had received on her computer just before Travis called and what he had said just now on the phone.
    “You say this Philosopher friend of yours hasn’t contacted you in over three years.” Travis said. “I wonder why now?”
    “Let’s find out,” Beltan said, and clicked a button on the remote.
    The television glowed to life, displaying a scene of a blue ocean breaking against white rocks. The camera panned, focusing on weathered columns—what looked like the remains of an ancient Greek temple—rising toward an azure sky. A small graphic image in the corner of the screen advertised the name of the program: Archaeology Now!
    “Wait a minute,” Beltan said. “I was watching this show hours ago. How can it still be on?”
    He punched the remote, trying to change the channel, but it no longer seemed to function. The volume came up.
    “I didn’t do that. What’s wrong with this thing?” Beltan banged the remote against the table.
    Travis grabbed his arm, stopping him. “Listen,” he said.
    Now the television showed a man dressed in khakis standing next to one of the columns. “—and which were opened by a recent earthquake here on the Mediterranean island of Crete,” he was saying. “Tonight, we’re taking our cameras and you into one of those caves, not far from the ancient palace of Knossos, to an excavation where Dr. Niko Karali is hoping to uncover evidence that could further our understanding of ancient Minoan culture, and perhaps provide new clues to an age-old mystery: why the thriving Minoan civilization vanished almost overnight three thousand years ago. As always on our program, we have no idea what we’ll find, because everything you see is live. So let’s head—”
    The sound cut out, and the video began to move rapidly.
    “Don’t look at me,” Beltan said, pointing to the remote control, which sat on the coffee table.
    Despite the announcer’s statement, Deirdre was certain this show was anything but live. It had been recorded earlier that night, and now it was being played back for their benefit. The video became a blur of images too fast for the eye to decipher. Then the video froze, and a single image filled the screen.
    It was a stone arch, or part of one at least, set against rougher rock. A hand held a brush, clearing away dust and debris from one of the stones of the arch. Beneath the brush, Deirdre could just make out a series of angular marks.
    She clapped a