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Mongolia 1245 Father Michael Curran, Special Vatican Envoy from His Holiness the Pope Innocent IV to the People of the Felt Walls, stared at the waves of oncoming riders and did what he could to keep the fear from showing on his face. Not that there wasn't good reason to be afraid. They were at least three days' hard ride from Karakorum, where Guyuk, the grandson of Genghis Khan and the current ruler of the Mongol Empire, held court over his subjects. In the years since the death of the Great Khan, the empire had fractured. More and more tribes were returning to the old ways, fighting and competing against one another. The Naimans were one such group and Curran's party was deep in a contested area that the Naimans claimed as their own. The distance from the capital meant that no one was going to come charging in to save them. To make matters even worse, the honor guard that Guyuk had sent with Curran for this trip into the Hentiyn Nuruu Mountains numbered less than thirty men, while the Naiman warriors currently charging their position appeared to number in the hundreds. As the enemy swept forward, Curran could see that each man stood high in the stirrups, guiding his mountain pony with his knees, leaving his hands free to use his bow with the unerring accuracy that had made the Mongol army so feared. True, these were not the famed warriors of the Great Khanjust a lesser khan's raiding party but he knew they were deadly just the same. The thunder of their horses' hooves mixed with the screeching wind that whipped across the open plain, and the priest no longer had to wonder what hell might sound like. Now he knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt. Hell was the uncanny silence as the enemy thundered toward them. Hell was the thrumming of the enemy's arrows as they filled the sky above him, so thick that for a moment he lost sight of the sun itself. Hell was the thump of the shafts as they met leather armor and human flesh. Hell was the cry of the injured and the dying as they fell into the snow around him. The Naimans harbored years of resentment against the unification brought to the plains by the army of Genghis Khan some fifty years before. They had caught the small group in the open, crossing a wide valley between two separate mountain peaks, leaving them with few places to run and little to use as cover of any sort. Curran had to admit to himself that it was a marvelous piece of strategic planning. Volke, their group's leader, had been too confident in his belief that no one would dare to attack a party under Guyuk's protection. But the harsh winter and the lure of overwhelming odds had apparently filled the enemy with daring. Curran knew the old adage usually held true: desperate men will do desperate things. Having been forced into a desperate move, it now seemed that this group of raiders was determined to make certain that no survivors were left behind to report their audacity to the ruling khan. Volke shouted something in Mong Fiction Fiction eBook, Worldwide Library
2010, ISBN: 0373621418
[EAN: 9780373621415], [PU: Gold Eagle], This Book is in Good Condition. Clean Copy With Light Amount of Wear. 100% Guaranteed. Summary: Genghis Khan carved out a legacy of bloodshed and conquered kingdoms that has lasted almost eight hundred years. But while his name and deeds live on in the annals of history, his tomb has never been located. until now. Not everyone is convinced that the diary and the map, said to lead to the great warrior's final resting place, are authentic. Archaeologist Annja Creed is among these doubters. The reality is that the body was lost to history. But despite her skepticism, Annja suddenly finds herself pulled along an increasingly complex trail of clues, each more remote than the last. And as she and her companions race to their final destination, one thing is clear--the only tomb she may find is her own .
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EAN (ISBN-13): 9780373621415
ISBN (ISBN-10): 0373621418
Herausgeber: GOLD EAGLE
Gewicht: 0,136 kg
Buch in der Datenbank seit 29.03.2010 16:28:03
Buch zuletzt gefunden am 27.02.2017 19:04:08
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