Free The Rosetta Codex by Richard Paul Russo

the far end of the room. A candle burned near the stone altar. A slice of faintlyglowing blue light emerged from the stone. “Can’t get the top slab off, yeah? Too damn heavy. Slid it a little, but about broke my back doing that.”
    Cale looked at Sproul, who shrugged and gave him a guilty smile. “You think I ended up in this place by accident?” He shrugged again. “We can be partners.”
    â€œPartners in what?”
    â€œThat,” he said again, gesturing at the altar. “There’s treasure in there.”
    â€œWhat kind of treasure?” Cale asked.
    â€œDon’t really know. That’s what I’m trying to find out. But it’s something a lot of people have thought was worth killing or dying over.”
    â€œThen I suppose you’ll try to kill me after I help you.”
    Sproul shook his head. “No. Don’t want to kill no one. Been enough death already.” He paused, and his cheek twitched. “I lost my brother in that goddamn river along with everything else. Didn’t say anything about him before because I thought you might think I killed him.”
    â€œAnd you didn’t?”
    â€œNo. I told you. Never killed anyone, and don’t plan to. Not for anything, not even for this crazy treasure.”
    Cale believed him. He didn’t know why he should, but he did. He got to his feet and said, “All right, let’s see about this treasure.”
    The storm had abated somewhat, but wind and rain still gusted in through the open windows and the holes in the roof. Cale followed Sproul to the altar and the flickering candle. The rich fabric tapestry that had covered the altar lay in a crumpled heap on the wooden floor. Sproul had moved the slab just enough to allow the blue light to leakout through a crack no wider than Cale’s smallest finger.
    â€œStrange, yeah?” Sproul said. “How something could glow like that. But it’s not radioactive. I checked.” He held up a black metal disk with tiny windows and pulsing green figures. “See?”
    Cale didn’t, but he wasn’t going to let Sproul know his ignorance, so he just nodded. They took hold of the slab, gripping the lip that extended from the altar on all sides; Cale at one end, Sproul at the other. The stone was smooth and cold on top, warm and rough below. Cale bent his knees, adjusted his grip, then straightened his legs when Sproul said, “Now.”
    Muscles strained, pain knifed Cale’s back, and a finger joint popped loudly. The slab came up, and more glowing blue light fanned out to the sides.
    â€œDamn!” Sproul gasped out.
    They shuffle-stepped to one side, then Sproul lost his grip and released the slab. As the long great stone dropped, Cale let go and leaped backward. The slab crashed to the floor, crushing and cracking the wood, but remained intact.
    Lambent azure light seemed to flow up and over the sides of the altar like liquid, pouring down to the floor and rising slowly upward to the ceiling above them. Cale wondered if he was hallucinating, or if some distracting trickery was involved, a protective device at work inside the altar.
    Sproul stood transfixed in the gleaming blue radiance, his eyes weirdly luminescent.
    â€œTreasure,” he whispered.
    Then all the strangeness faded, and all that remained before them was a plain, faint glow of light. Cale looked into the open altar.
    Blue faceted stones formed a nest for a large book boundwith a shiny coppery material. Sproul plunged his hands into the stones, then withdrew them, holding one large stone in each upturned palm. He grinned at Cale.
    â€œWhat are they?” Cale asked.
    â€œDon’t know, but they must be rare, must be worth a fortune, all the people searching for them. Killing for them.”
    Killing, again. Cale wondered how many people had been killed in the search for this. He picked up the book, which was astonishingly heavy. He sat on the