Free A Thirst for Vengeance (The Ashes Saga, Volume 1) by Edward M. Knight

I ventured past the familiar streets around Magda’s hut, and discovered that all the places of Hallengard were mostly the same—at least, from the perspective of someone like me.
    The first time I ventured into a gambling district, however, I thought I had found a new home.
    No sooner had I sat down with my tin kettle placed in front of me (with some fake coins glued to the bottom to encourage donations), than a man burst out of a pub with two women on his arms. He was laughing and drinking from a mug held in one hand.
    One of the women noticed me. She whispered a word to the man. He staggered over, reached into a purse, and dumped a handful of coins into my kettle.
    He ruffled my hair as I stared, amazed, at my newfound fortune. “There ya go, you little hapless bastard,” he laughed, slurring his words. “Enjoy some o’ my winnings. ” He turned away, put his arms around the women, and waltzed down the street.
    I could not believe my eyes. I fingered the coins, doing a quick count. There were fifteen iron pennies, six copper marks, and one tiny, silver dime.
    The dime was worth more than the rest put together. It was worth more than all the coins I’d ever collected put together.
    Clutching my windfall, I got up and ran. I was going to go to Magda, to give her most of the coins as payment for everything she’d done. I could give her more than half, and still have enough to eat for a year.
    I ducked through the sparse crowd, dodging legs and bodies, when suddenly a blow hit me right across the back.
    I fell. The metal kettle flew out of my arms. The coins scattered.
    Nobody paid me any mind—except for two large, heavyset street toughs.
    “Look what we’ve got here,” one of them said. “A little boy with a fortune. How’d you get all those coins, kid?”
    “Say, these look like Delphic coins,” the second said. “Now, how would a dirty little runt like you come across Delphic coins?”
    “You’re too young to gamble,” the first mused. “So you must have stolen them, eh? Ahh, answer me!”
    He picked me up and held me in the air, feet dangling. He smelled like smoke and rust and stone. “How did. You. Get those. Coins ?”
    “Someone gave them to me,” I said, trying to squirm out of his grip. “Let go!”
    “Someone gave them to you.” He scoffed. “You spin a tall tale, kid. Why would anyone give so much money to a brat like you?”
    “I think he stole it,” his friend said over his shoulder. “We’ll have to teach him what happens to thieves.”
    I remembered my blistering thumb. “No!” I screamed. “No, I didn’t steal it!”
    The man holding me tossed me down. I fell with a grunt. I could see my coins lying scattered around me. A space had cleared up on the street. The passersby were giving us a wide berth.
    The two men towered over me like mountains. “The Delphic doesn’t look kindly on stragglers, kid.” A boot caught me in the side. “Get up! Collect your coins. We’re going to hand them back to the casino.”
    I scrambled to pluck up as many as I could. My eyes searched wildly for the dime. I knew that if I could find it quickly, I had a chance of pocketing it without notice.
    Luck was not on my side. The second of the toughs leaned down and picked a coin up. He flipped it in the air as he straightened.
    I caught the slivery glimmer of my dime in the sun.
    It represented half a year of food. It represented a warm place to sleep on cold nights. It represented a respite, however short, from life on the street.
    The tough caught me looking. He scowled. “Did I tell you to stop? Get going!” He aimed another kick at my head, which I only narrowly avoided.
    I collected the remaining coins under two pairs of watchful eyes. I clutched the little kettle to my chest protectively when I was done.
    In the span of time it took me to retrieve the coins, I contemplated running a dozen times. And a dozen times, I reminded myself that I couldn’t. I didn’t know these streets. Even