The ​Skin Map (Bright Empires 1.) 1 csillagozás

Stephen R. Lawhead: The Skin Map

It ​is the ultimate quest for the ultimate treasure. Chasing a map tattooed on human skin. Across an omniverse of intersecting realities. To unravel the future of the future.

Kit Livingstone's great-grandfather appears to him in a deserted alley during a tumultuous storm. He reveals an unbelievable story: that the ley lines throughout Britain are not merely the stuff of legend or the weekend hobby of deluded cranks, but pathways to other worlds. To those who know how to use them, they grant the ability to travel the multi-layered universe of which we ordinarily inhabit only a tiny part.

One explorer knew more than most. Braving every danger, he toured both time and space on voyages of heroic discovery. Ever on his guard and fearful of becoming lost in the cosmos, he developed an intricate code--a roadmap of symbols--that he tattooed onto his own body. This Skin Map has since been lost in time. Now the race is on to recover all the pieces and discover its… (tovább)

>!
Thomas Nelson, Nashville, 2010
404 oldal · ISBN: 9781595548047

Kívánságlistára tette 2


Népszerű idézetek

Arianrhod P>!

Kit drank some more, reviving a little more with every sip. “So, what are these ley lines, then?”
Into the invisible square the old man drew a straight diagonal line. “A ley line,” he said, speaking slowly—as one might to a dog, or dull-witted child, “is what might be called a field of force, a trail of telluric energy. There are hundreds of them, perhaps thousands, all over Britain, and they’ve been around since the Stone Age. I thought you might have stumbled across them before.”
Kit shook his head.
“Early man recognised these lines of force and marked them out on the landscape with, well, any old thing, really—standing stones, ditches, mounds, tumps, sacred wells, and that sort of thing. And, later on, with churches, market crosses, crossroads, and whatnot.”
“Hey, hold on,” said Kit, breaking in. “I think I know what you’re talking about—New Agers out in Wiltshire on bank holidays traipsing around the standing stones with witching sticks and tambourines, chanting to the Earth Goddess and—” He looked at the frown on the old man’s face. “No?”

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Arianrhod P>!

“Consider the pyramids, Cosimo. Marvellous achievement—one of the most impressive architectural feats in the history of the world. Have you seen them? No? You should one day. Stupendous accomplishment. It would be an heroic undertaking to build such structures with cranes, earthmovers, and the kind of industrial hydraulics available today. To contemplate erecting them with the technology available to the ancient Egyptians would be unimaginable, would it not?”
“I suppose.” Kit shrugged. “What’s the point?”
“The point, dear boy, is that they are there! Though no one remembers how they were built, though the methods of their construction, once considered commonplace, have been lost to time, the pyramids exist for all the world to see.

Arianrhod P>!

Although, strictly speaking, the leys have been rediscovered many times. The latest discoverer was Alfred Watkins.”
“Who?”
“Old Alf was a photographer back in the day—quite a good one, actually. Nice chap. Had an eye for landscape. Travelled around on horseback in the early days of the camera, taking photographs of the brooding moors and misty mountains, that sort of thing. Helped enormously with his discovery,” explained the old man, biting off a bit of cheese. “He made a detailed survey of ley lines and published a book about them.”

Arianrhod P>!

He had read about alternate worlds and such. But wasn’t that all just the overinflated musings of theoretical physicists with way too much time and funding on their hands?

Arianrhod P>!

“Precisely. This is not simply Restoration England revisited,” he explained. “This particular England has its own history and is developing along its own evolutionary route. Similar—given a common starting point—but different, and those differences multiply year on year.”
“An alternative history,” volunteered Kit, “in an alternative world.”

Arianrhod P>!

And in all his wildest dreams, he had never once imagined he would ever hear anyone actually say the words “my chariot awaits” and mean it literally.

Arianrhod P>!

All sported elaborate lace neckwear and a marvellous profusion of beards. This, Kit decided, was really where they splashed out. Indeed, the general population seemed to be in some sort of tonsorial competition to see who could achieve the most outlandish whiskers. Judging from the results on display, the contest was at a highly advanced stage.

Arianrhod P>!

“The map was made by a man named Arthur Flinders-Petrie. It is in the form of numerous tattooed symbols—”

Arianrhod P>!

“These questors you both keep talking about—who are they?”
“Ah! Yes, the Questors. I suppose they are best described as a loose confederation of colleagues, all of whom belong to the Zetetic Society.”

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