In the race to save one of their own, Sigma Force must wrestle with the deepest spiritual mysteries of mankind in this mind-expanding. Download The Bone Labyrinth: A Sigma Force Novel (Sigma Force Series Book 11) Download at: musicmarkup.info?book=B00OP1K6GS. Description The explosive first adventure in James Rollins' bestselling Sigma Force series! A freak explosion in the British museum in London.
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Crash and Burn: A Sigma Force Short Story · Crash and Burn: A Sigma Force Short The Eye of God: A Sigma Force Novel · The Eye of God: A Sigma Force. SIGMA Force (Series). James Rollins Author Klaus Berr Translator (). cover image of The Doomsday Key and The Last Oracle with Bonus Excerpts. His Sigma series has been lauded as one of the "top crowd pleasers" (New York Times) and one of the "hottest summer reads" (People Sigma Force (Series).
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Why not share! An annual anal Embed Size px. Start on. Show related SlideShares at end. WordPress Shortcode. Published in: Full Name Comment goes here. Are you sure you want to Yes No. Be the first to like this. No Downloads. Views Total views. Actions Shares. Embeds 0 No embeds. No notes for slide. Map of Bones: Description The bones lead to ancient mysteries and present-day terror.
To follow them means death.
To the west, a sandstorm climbed toward the sun, turning the day's blue sky into a dusty darkness, crackling with lightning. The enemy was almost upon them. In preparation, Sabah had shaved all the hair from her body, even the brows above her painted eyes.
She had bathed in the waters to either side, two tributaries that flowed north out of the deeper desert and joined at this sacred confluence to form the mighty river that the ancient kings of heqa khaseshet called the Nahal. She pictured its snaking course as it flowed past Luxor, Thebes, and Memphis on its way to the great blue sea that stretched past the river's fertile delta.
Though she had never set eyes upon that region, she had heard tales. Of our old home, a place of green fields, palms, and a life ruled by the rhythmic flooding of the Nahal. It was from those lands that Sabah's people had fled over a century ago, escaping the time of plagues, starvation, and death, chased by a pharaoh now long dead.
Most of the other tribes in the delta had sought refuge in the deserts to the east, conquering the lands out there and creating a kingdom of their own-but her tribe had lived in an area farther south along the river, near the village of Djeba, in the Upper Egyptian district of Wetjes-Hor, known as the Throne of Horus.
During the time of darkness and death, her tribe had uprooted itself and fled up the river, beyond the reach of the Egyptian kingdom and into the Nubian Desert. Her tribe had been scholars and scribes, priests and priestesses, keepers of great knowledge.
They had retreated into the empty ranges of Nubia to protect such knowledge during the turbulent times that followed the plagues, when Egypt was beset and overrun by foreigners from the east, a fierce people with faster chariots and stronger bronze weapons who conquered the weakened Egyptian towns with barely an arrow fired. But that dark time was coming to an end.
Egypt was rising yet again, chasing out the invaders and building monuments to their many victories and spreading ever in this direction. Tabor's eyes were upon the storm to the west, clearly the source of his worry, but Sabah noted a wisp of smoke due north, marking the destruction of a town alongside the fifth cataract of the Nahal, the latest conquest by the Egyptian armies.
It would not be long before those same forces reached this mighty confluence. Before that happened, Sabah and the others of her order must hide what they had protected for over a century, a wonder unlike any other: Watching the Egyptians creep and spread up along the river, consuming town after town, preparations had been under way for the past thousand days, mostly acts of purification, all to ready her and her order to become immortal vessels for God's blessing.
Sabah was the last to be allowed this transformation, having already overseen and guided many of her brothers and sisters on this path. Like the others, she had forsaken all millet and grain for the past year, subsisting on nuts, berries, tree bark, and a tea made from a resin carried here from foreign lands. Over the turning of seasons, her flesh had dried to her bones, her breasts and buttocks gone sallow and sunken.
Though only into her third decade, she now needed Tabor's strong back and arms to help her move, even to slip her linen robe back over her head. As they set off away from the confluence, Sabah watched the sandstorm roll inexorably toward them, laced with lightning born from the roiling clouds of dust.
She could sense that energy flowing across the desert. She smelled it in the air, felt it stir the small hairs along her arms. With God's will, those same blowing sands should help cover their handiwork, to bury it under windswept dunes. But first they had to reach the distant hills. She concentrated on putting one foot before the other. Still, she feared she had waited too long at the river.
By the time she and Tabor reached the deep cleft between two hills, the storm had caught them, howling overhead and scouring any exposed skin with burning sand. Carried now, she felt her toes brushing the ground, scribing the sand underfoot with indecipherable glyphs of beseechment. I must not fail. Then they were through the dark doorway and hurrying down a long, steep passageway to the greater wonder sculpted out of the sandstone below.
Torches lit the way, flickering shadows all around them, slowly revealing what was hidden, what had been created by artisans and scholars working in tandem for over seven decades. Tabor helped her over the arcade of large stone teeth and across the sprawl of a sculpted tongue, carved in exquisite detail.
Ahead, the chamber bifurcated into two tunnels: It was the latter route they took now in great haste. As Tabor helped her, she pictured the subterranean complex beneath these hills. It had been dug out and fashioned to model the interior workings of a featureless figure in repose, one whose body lay buried under these hills. While this sculpture had no exterior-for the world was its skin-all of the internal details of the human body had been meticulously carved out of the sandstone, from liver and kidney to bladder and brain.
Beneath the hills, her order had created their own stone God, one large enough to make their home within, to use its body as a vessel to preserve what must be kept safe. Like I must do now.
Tabor led her to where the ridge-lined passageway split yet again into two smaller tunnels, marking the same division of airways found in her own chest.
He took her to the left, requiring that they duck slightly from the curved roof of the smaller passage. But they did not have far to go. Torchlight grew brighter ahead as the tunnel ended and opened into a massive space, seemingly supported by stone ribs that arched up to the carving of a mighty spine overhead. In the room's center sat a stone heart, rising four times her height, again rendered in perfect symmetry, with great curving blood vessels that fanned outward. She glanced to the handful of other Nubian servants, all on their knees, who awaited her in the chamber.
She stared over to the colonnades of curved stone ribs. Between those ribs, fresh bricks had been used to seal the many alcoves hidden there. They marked the tombs of her brothers and sisters of the order, those who had preceded her into the future. She pictured them seated or slumped on their chairs, their bodies slowly finishing their transformations, becoming vessels for the blessing. I am the last.
She turned from the walls to face the stone heart.
A small doorway opened into one of the chambers, a place of great honor. She shook free of Tabor's arm and took the last steps on her own. She crossed to the doorway, bowed her head low, and climbed inside. Her palm felt the cold stone as she straightened. A silver throne awaited her inside, equally cold as she sat upon it. To one side rested a bowl of carved lapis lazuli. Water filled it to just shy of its silver-embossed brim. She lifted the bowl and let it rest on her thin thighs.
Tabor leaned toward the opening, too pained to speak, but his face was easy to read, full of grief, hope, and fear. Matching emotions swelled within her own breast-along with a fair amount of doubt. But she nodded to Tabor. The other servants came forward and began sealing the entrance with dry bricks of mud and straw. Darkness fell over her, but in the last flicker of torchlight from outside, she stared down at the bowl in her lap, recognizing the dark sheen to the water.
It was colored a deep crimson. She knew what she held. It was water from the Nahal, from when the river had been cursed and turned to blood.
The water had been collected ages ago and preserved by their order-along with the blessing held at its cursed heart. As the last brick was set, she swallowed hard, finding her throat suddenly dry. She listened as a fresh coat of mud was smeared over the bricks outside. She also heard the telltale scrape of wood being stacked under the base of the heart, encircling it completely.