An Extract from the Firebird Chronicles: The Basillica Isles

An extract from the Firebird Chronicles:

They made their way along a dirt track that led through the heart of the makeshift encampment. Every so often, through the tarpaulins pulled between the shacks, Scoop caught a glimpse of the cathedral domes. The air was close, heavy with the smell of fried fish, sweet meats and waste water. Ramshackle huts of corrugated iron and scrap wood were squashed next to each other. Market stalls faced the track, boxes overflowing with spiked shells, grimacing fish and strange insects. Behind them, Scoop caught sight of camp beds and broken chairs. There were people everywhere: sailors drinking at roadside bars, merchants striking deals, pilgrims leading livestock along the carriageway. A single-toothed old man held out a handful of charm necklaces. ‘Protect from Fade,’ he said, his language broken. ‘Protect from Fade!’



By danielingrambrown

Author of the Firebird Chronicles

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