““Saint Vishtin, this thing is heavy,” a guard grunted, carrying one end of the long, brass-bound crate. “Put it over there,” his deep-voiced partner said. The men carried it several feet before setting it down with a careless thud. Listening to the two men shuffle back and forth, Ahren remained still, suppressing his urge to peek outside. Katze never ceased to laugh that the Black Raven, the greatest thief in Delakurn, didn’t like the dark. He had told her the story of Dolch, the thief ...master with the powers of demonic darkness whom he had crossed years before, but Katze had waved it off as silly paranoia. Reluctantly Ahren succumbed to her pleas to extinguish the lamp he burned beside their bed at night. Muted thunder echoed outside. “Damn it,” one of the guards growled as they slid another crate on top of Ahren’s. “Hurry up and get the rest before it starts raining.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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