Crucible of Shadows: Book 3 of the dark epic fantasy series (Dawn of Assassins) by Jon Cronshaw

Author:Jon Cronshaw [Cronshaw, Jon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wyvern Books, Ltd.
Published: 2023-02-02T00:00:00+00:00

Fedor followed Lev down the steps. He made a right through the tunnels and turned left onto the docks.

The great sea gate stood open. The morning sun shone through the cavern entrance, throwing golden light across the moored ships and glistening against the water’s surface.

Sailors and dockers unloaded crates and barrels from ships, while men in white linen uniforms piled many-hued silks onto handcarts.

Fedor wended between women selling seafood from trays and a pair of young thieves trying to work the pockets.

He glared and pointed to his dagger when one of the pickpockets veered towards him.

The sunlight faded as he stepped into the commercial district, the golden glow making way for alchemical harshness. He weaved between shops and cafés.

Lev grabbed his arm and dragged him to join a queue.

“What are we doing now?”

“I’m hungry. You got any cash?”

Fedor nodded and reached into his pocket. His fingers brushed Lev’s fifty and he shook his head. “Melita’s got my cash, remember?”

“Ah, shit. I swear, mate. My belly’s going to bring the watch out if it gets any louder.”

“Have you not got cash at the den?”

“Yeah. But I don’t like being out without any.” He jerked a thumb back towards the docks. “Maybe we should shake those kids down. You see them trying to dip me?”

“One of them tried it on me too.”

Lev shook his head. “Cheeky bastards.”

Fedor sniffed. “I seem to recall that being us not too long ago.”

“Yeah? Well, maybe it’s time we showed them how things work around here.”

“The way they’re going about it, they’ll be in a cell by lunchtime.”

“Don’t mention lunch, mate.” Lev cradled his stomach and looked up at the cavern ceiling. “Creation, if you can hear me, send down some cash or a bacon and egg butty. Help your old mate Lev out just this once. I swear I’ll try to get to church when I can.”

Fedor laughed. “You’re praying now?”

“At this point, I’ll try anything.”

“Is it working?”

Lev’s nose wrinkled and pointed at something on the floor in a nearby alleyway. “And Creation delivers.”

Fedor studied the rotten loaf and shook his head. “You need to pray harder.”

“Nah, I need some cash.” He looked behind him. “Might have to head back.” He sniffed the air. “That bacon smell is too much. Can’t bloody think.”

“Let’s just...let’s just do what we came down here for.”

“Yeah. You’re right.”

As the Rusty Sail came into view, something squeezed in Fedor’s chest. Sweat blossomed along his flesh, a wave of cold washing over him. He rested a hand on a nearby wall for balance.

“You alright, mate?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. It’s just...”

“Wait here. I’ll go on, see what’s what, and I’ll be straight out.”

Fedor licked his lips and nodded. “You go ahead.”

Lev marched towards the Rusty Sail, stopped, and turned to Fedor. “Don’t move.”

“I won’t.”

Lev went inside, leaving Fedor alone.

The faint hint of plez sent his nerves roaring. It took everything he had not to move, not to rush inside, to take the pipe in his mouth and wash all the pain away.

He breathed deeply and tried to focus his mind, tried to stop his body from betraying him.

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