By James Rollins
The bones bring about old mysteries and present-day terror . . . To persist with them potential death.
in the course of a crowded provider at a cathedral in Germany, armed intruders in priests' gowns unharness a nightmare of blood and destruction. however the killers haven't come for gold; they search a extra worthwhile prize: the bones of the Magi who as soon as paid homage to a infant savior . . . a treasure that may reshape the world.
With the Vatican in turmoil, Sigma strength below the command of Grayson Pierce leaps into motion, pursuing a perilous secret that weaves via websites of the Seven Wonders of the area and ends on the doorstep of an historic, mystical, and terrifying mystery order. For there are people with darkish plans for the stolen sacred is still that may adjust the way forward for humankind . . . while technological know-how and faith unite to unharness a horror now not obvious because the starting of time.
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The lead horse threw its head again after which heaved opposed to the yoke. not anything occurred. Chains strained, horses happy white into the chilly air, and males swore so much foully. Slowly, too slowly, the wagon dragged freed from the dust with the sucking sound of an open chest wound. however it used to be relocating back finally. each one hold up had expense blood. The demise wailed from the cross at the back of them. The rear shield needs to carry a bit longer. The wagon persevered, mountaineering back. the 3 huge stone sarcophagi within the open wagon mattress slid opposed to the ropes that lashed them in position. If any should still holiday… Friar Joachim reached the foundering wagon. His fellow brother, Franz, moved his horse nearer. “The path forward scouts transparent. ” “The relics can't be taken again to Rome. We needs to achieve the German border. ” Franz nodded, knowing. The relics have been not secure upon Italian soil, now not with the real pope exiled to France and the fake pope dwelling in Rome. The wagon climbed extra quick now, discovering more impregnable footing with every one step. nonetheless, it trundled no swifter than a guy might stroll. Joachim endured looking at the a long way ridge, staring over his mount’s rump. The sounds of conflict had settled to groans and sobbing, echoing eerily around the valley. the hoop of swords had died thoroughly, signaling the defeat of the rear defend. Joachim searched, yet heavy shadows steeped the heights. The bower of black pines concealed all. Then Joachim noticed a flash of silver. A lone determine seemed, limned in a patch of solar, armor glinting. Joachim didn't have to see the crimson dragon sigil painted at the man’s chestplate to acknowledge the black pope’s lieutenant. The profane Saracen had taken the Christian identify Fierabras, after one among Charlemagne’s paladins. He stood a whole head taller than all his males. a real sizeable. extra Christian blood stained his arms than the other man’s. yet baptized this prior 12 months, the Saracen now stood beside Cardinal Octavius, the black pope who took the identify Victor IV. Fierabras stood within the patch of solar, making no try to chase. The Saracen knew he used to be too past due. The wagon crested the ridge finally and reached the rutted, dry path atop it. they'd make stable velocity now. German soil lay just a league from right here. The Saracen’s ambush had failed. stream drew Joachim’s awareness. Fierabras drew a superb bow from over a shoulder, black because the shadows. He slowly set arrow to thread, notched it, after which leaned again and drew a whole pull. Joachim frowned. What did he desire to win with one feathered bolt? The bow sprang, and the arrow flew, arching over the valley, misplaced for a second within the sun above the ridgeline. Joachim searched the skies, annoying. Then, as silent as a diving falcon, the arrow struck, shattering into the centermost casket. Impossibly, the sarcophagus’s lid cracked with the sound of a thunderbolt. Ropes broke unfastened because the crate cut up, scattering open. Loosed now, all 3 crates slid towards the open rear of the wagon. males ran ahead, trying to cease the stone sarcophagi from crashing to the floor.