Banished (Street Rats of Aramoor: Book 1) Read online

  Street Rats of Aramoor

  ~The Beginning~

  by

  MICHAEL WISEHART

  www.michaelwisehart.com

  © 2017

  Copyright

  BANISHED IS A WORK of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 by Michael Wisehart

  All Rights Reserved.

  1st Edition

  No part of this publication may be reproduced in whole or in part without the written permission of the author.

  Cover Art by Whendell Souza

  Map by Michael Wisehart

  Illustrations by Janelle Wisehart

  Editing by Danae Smith, Mia Darien

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Table of Contents

  Foreword

  Books

  WEST ALDOR

  EAST ALDOR

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  FREE OFFER

  Author Note

  Acknowledgements

  About The Author

  Sneak Peek

  Glossary

  Foreword

  BANISHED IS THE much-requested opening story to the Street Rats of Aramoor series. It takes you deep underground within the ruins of the Lost City, and gives you a glimpse into the life of an Upakan warrior.

  This series ties directly into the Aldoran Chronicles saga, twenty years prior to the first book: The White Tower. Both series are completely stand-alone.

  As with my other books, there is a glossary at the back if you need it.

  Books

  THE ALDORAN CHRONICLES

  Prequel | Shackled

  Book 1 | The White Tower

  STREET RATS OF ARAMOOR

  (Read in this order)

  Book 1 | Banished (The Beginning)

  Book 2 | Hurricane

  WEST ALDOR

  Click here to view this map in more detail:

  http://michaelwisehart.com/map-of-aldor/

  EAST ALDOR

  Click here to view this map in more detail:

  http://michaelwisehart.com/map-of-aldor/

  “HE’S A CHEAT!” Brim said as he leaned his muscular torso forward in his seat. Brim was the head of our clan, and the overly-proud father of a not-so-distinguished son, Flon. The same Flon who had taken it upon himself to be my personal tormentor.

  “My son is no cheat.”

  “Then he’s a liar. No one finishes the Tri’Nephrin in a single day. It can’t be done.”

  My father scanned the faces of the two other council members. Neither showed signs of being influenced by his words. Mostly, they looked frightened. It was no secret that once Brim had taken over as Primary, he had seated the Pel’tok with people he knew he could control, those who wouldn’t question his decisions. Talarin was a member of Brim’s extended family. Not too close, but enough that Brim didn’t need to worry about the man challenging his authority. Ness, on the other hand, was of no relation. She hated conflict, and the easiest way to avoid it was simply to agree with whatever the Primary said.

  “Obviously it can be done,” my father said, “because Ayrion did it.”

  Brim pounded the arms of his chair. He looked like he was ready to jump off the platform and challenge my father to combat right there on the spot. “Are you saying my son couldn’t have?”

  “Of course not, Primary.” His voice was tempered, but I knew him well enough to hear the soft hint of anger. Brim, who rarely controlled his own emotions, didn’t catch it and glowered at my father’s apparent calm. “I’m simply stating a fact. Ayrion made it through the Tri’Nephrin in a single day.”

  The other two members of the council stared at me as if expecting me to confess the entire thing had been a lie. I kept my face emotionless as my father had instructed, but inside, I was beaming with pride. My father was one of the toughest men I’d ever known. He wasn’t one to back down from anything, even Brim.

  “And that’s why I say he’s a cheat!” Brim roared, his eyes bloodshot, as he attempted to stare my father down. He seemed to think that if he glared long and hard enough that somehow my father was going to see the error of his ways and recant.

  He didn’t.

  Unlike the rest of our clan, my father didn’t hang on the Primary’s every word. He wasn’t the biggest or strongest of our clan’s warriors, but his unwavering strength of character had earned him the respect of many.

  All three members of the council looked anxious as they sat atop the small platform at the center of the room. Well, maybe two of them did. Brim just looked vindictive. As Primary, he held the central position. He was one of the strongest men in our clan, and known to be the most ruthless. In a society such as ours, where we were trained from the tender age of six to be warriors, your skill as a fighter was your most valuable asset. It raised you and your family’s standing within the clan, and determined your placement within the hierarchy of contracts. Those at the top claimed the most lucrative jobs for themselves.

  Some called us mercenaries; others, assassins. To us, it was simply a way of life. We were shunned by all normal society, considered to be nothing more than tools, something less than human. But it never stopped the good citizens of Aldor from using our services when it suited them. There was always someone that needed killing.

  “Narris, can you please explain to us how Ayrion managed to complete the course in such a record time?” Ness, in her usual way, tried to calm the situation by acting as an intermediary. “It seems unlikely that Ayrion would manage to come out that far ahead.” She glanced at Brim to ensure he approved her question. The Primary waited for my father’s answer.

  “He trains longer and harder than any of the other contenders. Is it that hard to assume he’d come out on top?”

  Brim’s face contorted into an angry sneer. I had beaten all the other trainees, including his precious Flon. “No one’s that good, not even Ayrion, which means he’s either a liar or a cheat.” Brim drummed his fingers on the arms of his chair and smirked. “And both require punishment.”

  “Punishment?” My father’s face reddened.

  Talarin and Ness looked surprised as well, as if they hadn’t expected Brim to go that far. I don’t know why, giving punishments—especially to me—was one of Brim’s favorite pastimes.

  “How in the flaming Pits of Aran’gal can you punish him for doing nothing more than completing part of his training?” my father asked, fists clenched.

  My heart raced and I took a step closer to my father. I was afraid he was going to lose his composure altogether, which was rare. He was the one who always kept a level head. He had taught me to never jump into anything without plenty of forethought and planning.

  I wish I had been a better student of that philosophy. I wasn’t exactly what you’d call mischievous. It wasn’t like I purposefully went out looking for trouble. It just always seemed to find me.

  “You cannot punish someone for doing their best,” my father said.

&nbs
p; Brim’s eyes narrowed. “I’m the Primary. I can do whatever I please.”

  It was clear I wasn’t going to make it out of this without some form of punishment. And with the mood the Primary was in, it would be harsh. The last punishment he’d dished out sent me to the lower caverns where the molten rock flowed. I had been left there for three days with no food or water. I cringed. I had been so weak after that, my father had to carry me all the way home. It took another three days before I could manage to get out of bed.

  Brim leaned forward in his seat, his smile cruel. “Ten lashes of Dorin’s whip for the cheating, and ten more for the lying. That way we can make sure he gets punished for the right thing.”

  My legs nearly gave out.

  “Twenty lashes?” My father’s eyes were the size of ripe figs and his mouth was open wide enough to have poured an entire bushel in.

  To Brim’s right, Talarin remained silent. The grin on his face said it all.

  Ness fidgeted in her seat. “Primary, do you think it wise to add such a strict punishment to something we cannot prove? Such action may raise questions.”

  Brim’s glare made me glad I wasn’t the one sitting next to him. “Are you questioning my judgement?” His tone made it clear her answer would determine whether or not she joined me at the post.

  “I . . .” She turned and looked at me, fear in her eyes. I already knew her answer. She lowered her head. “No, Primary.”

  “Twenty lashes?” My father shook with rage. “Twenty lashes for making your son look like the fool he is? Why not fifty? Nu’Tarin Fu’Tok! Why not just take him out and execute him while you’re at it?”

  My eyes bulged and the air wheezed from my chest. Only twice had I ever heard my father curse, and never in the old tongue. I had to do something. I’d never seen him like this before. If I didn’t stop him, Brim might actually try having me executed out of spite. The Primary hated our family. Always had. This would be the perfect excuse to be rid of one of us.

  I took a small step forward. “I accept.” I heard the words, but I couldn’t believe I had said them. I must not have spoken them loud enough, because my father was now telling Brim what he thought about his son, his wife, his house. I think I even heard him say something about his manhood.

  This time, I took a deeper breath and shouted, “I accept!”

  My father’s tirade faded as he—and every other member of the Pel’tok—turned to look at me. “What?”

  “I said . . . I accept.”

  “You most certainly will not! No son of mine is going to be punished for doing what is required of him.”

  “He will if I say he will!” Brim said, pounding his fist like a mallet on the arm of his chair. “Guards, take Ayrion to the post.”

  My father started to argue, but I shook my head and he bit his tongue.

  As the guards led me out, I found myself wondering once again how I had managed to end up in yet another mess.

  I FOLLOWED THE TWO guards down the long corridor leading back to the foyer of the Justice Hall. The name seemed ironic. There was about as much justice in this place as there were adornments on the walls, and they were as empty as Bulrin’s tankard on a slow night after work.

  My father and the Pel’tok followed a short distance behind us. I was amazed Brim hadn’t ordered my father tied to the post along with me after the vitriol he had just spewed. Probably the only thing that had saved him was Brim’s fear of an uprising. Too many in our clan respected my father’s opinion, which was another reason Brim hated our family. He feared for his position as Primary.

  No one spoke. The crackle of the torches and the echo of boots on broken tile were the only sounds to be heard. It did little to quench the fear bubbling in my gut. I’d been forced to endure Dorin’s whip before, but never with so many lashes.

  Dorin was one of five instructors in our clan, but he considered himself responsible for single handedly maintaining our clan’s high passing rate. His influence had nothing to do with his ability to teach, and everything to do with his use of the whip on students he believed weren’t measuring up. No one slept through his classes.

  We reached the second floor balcony and started down one of three staircases that led to the main floor. All three merged about halfway to form a single set of stairs wide enough to fit the five members of my family, standing side by side with arms outstretched.

  Although little more than ruins, the buildings our clan called home were still impressive. I looked up, but the darkness kept me from seeing much higher than the next couple of floors. With the majority of the city resting underground, the sunlight from above rarely found its way in. We lived in a constant state of darkness, as though our world had no day, only night.

  These ruins were the home of my people, the Upaka, but they had once been the capital city of Keldor back before the eruption of Ash Mount. It was said that the entire city had been lost in a single day, that the ground shook with such violence that it opened its mouth and swallowed the city whole. Pretty disgusting image if you ask me. It was hard to imagine an entire city being swallowed whole, but having spent my life–all thirteen years of it—living amongst the ruins of the former capital, it was impossible to deny. The once proud city of Rhowynn was now the Lost City.

  I let my imagination wander, trying not to think about what was waiting for me outside. Unfortunately, every time I tried to think of happier thoughts, like exploring the deeper tunnels under the city, or bathing in one of the underground falls, my mind kept returning to the whip. It wasn’t the pain I feared—though Dorin would make sure it was agonizing—it was the humiliation. It wasn’t like I was being taken to a private room. The whipping post was like the stocks. It was made to be witnessed by any who wished to, so of course it had been erected in front of the Justice Hall.

  There was always a good turnout for public punishment. It seemed we Upakans didn’t have anything better to do with our time than to be entertained by the suffering of others. Personally, I didn’t find it enjoyable. I took after my mother in that sense. She was never one to attend the punishments. She found the whole ordeal to be distasteful, and so did I, especially considering I was the one, more often than not, receiving the punishment.

  We stepped outside. It was nearly as dark outside the Justice Hall as it had been inside. As predicted, there was already a growing crowd standing around the seven foot tall stone pillar at the bottom of the stairs. It seemed they had already known what the verdict would be before the session had even taken place. But considering who was on trial and who was giving the ruling, I guessed it was to be expected.

  In a close-knit society, being different was not always a good thing. People praise you when you’re skilled, but then they want to tie you to a post and publicly flog you when you’re too skilled.

  I started down the front steps, dragging my feet as slowly as the guards would allow. I hadn’t made it very far when the council and my father exited the building. The council seemed to be waiting for me to reach the bottom before they made their grand procession down the stairs. My father had no such notion and was halfway down before my foot reached the final step.

  The crowd parted, leaving just enough room for me and my armed escort to pass.

  The guards slowed their pace. Part of the ritual was to force the criminal, or in my case victim, to endure the scrutinizing glares of their clan before receiving punishment. They wanted the experience to be as shameful as possible. The goal was to make an example of the wrongdoer in the hope that they would learn from the experience and change their ways. I straightened my back. I was determined to hold my head high. They weren’t going to see me break. I’d done nothing wrong and had no reason to be ashamed.

  “Cheater.”

  I didn’t need to look to know who’d said it. Flon. The Primary’s son was four years older than I was. At seventeen, he was nearly as tall as his father, and certainly as nasty. It would be just like him to show up and taunt me throughout the entire ordeal. I ignored him
and kept walking.

  “This is what you get for cheating, you . . . cheater.”

  I rolled my eyes. Flon’s vocabulary was about as proficient as his father’s. I’d heard donkeys speak with better diction.

  As I marched through the crowd, I could hear snippets of whispered conversations. Some were wondering with a great deal of concern what else the Primary would be willing to start dishing out punishments for if he was going to go this far. Others wondered if I wasn’t getting off too easy. Those closest to the front clicked their tongues and shook their heads in disgust or disappointment. Most had no real idea what was going on. They were simply there to watch Ayrion get punished again.

  The guards came to a halt in front of the pillar. The stone was spattered with blood. Four rings, each with a set of shackles, had been mounted into the top of the post, one per side.

  My legs wanted to run, but I was determined not to bring shame to my family.

  Dorin stood off to the side, uncoiling his whip. The leather strands had been tightly woven into a cord that stretched a good twelve feet. Dorin prided himself on his ability to break skin with every swing.

  “Take it off,” one of the guards said as he propped his spear against the post.

  I removed my top and the guard proceeded to shackle my wrists. The iron was cold to the touch. I tried to keep my hands from shaking. I didn’t want them to see how frightened I was. I kicked my tunic as far away as I could to keep it from getting stained.

  Behind me, Brim’s voice silenced the crowd. “The council’s decision was unanimous.” I turned to see what was happening. The three members of the Pel’tok were making their way down the stairs, Brim one step ahead of the others. “Ayrion has been convicted of cheating during the Tri’Nephrin, and lying about it after the fact.”

  The crowd parted to let them through.