Banished
Date: 2017-09-20 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy; Fiction; Young Adult; Magic; Action
Description: Beaten. Imprisoned. Banished. At thirteen, Ayrion learns quickly the consequences of being exceptional. Staying on top is not always a good thing, especially when the head of your clan has a son who can't stand to lose. Trained as an assassin, competition for Ayrion is serious. The higher he rises, the deadlier it becomes. Can he manage to keep his identity as a wielder hidden, or will he ignore his parents' advice and use his magic to win? This is the Prequel story to the Street Rats of Aramoor series, an offshoot of the Aldoran Chronicles saga.

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

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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.

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.

“The punishment has been set at ten lashes for cheating, and another ten for the lying.”

There were a few gasps. Hushed whispers sifted their way through the crowd. I got the feeling that those watching felt the punishment rather severe, but none would ever voice that opinion, at least not loud enough for the Primary to hear.

“Dorin, you may begin,” Brim said.

I glanced to the left. My father was pushing his way to the front. Most were quick to make room when they saw who it was. My older sister, Rianna, was there beside him, as well as my younger brother Jorn. There was rage in my father’s eyes. I shook my head to let him know not to interfere. My sister had tears running down both cheeks. Like our mother, she had a tender heart. She had spent two days weeping in her room after our father had killed one of the cave lizards she had rescued when it ran across the dinner table and tried helping itself to a piece of meat from his plate. It had taken weeks for Rianna to finally forgive him.

Jorn, on the other hand, had no tears to shed for his older brother. And unlike the anger in my father’s eyes, my brother’s gaze held only contempt. Being the youngest, he wanted nothing more than to be out from under my shadow. I was the one who always seemed capable of anything, the one who received the highest praise from our parents, the winner of every competition, the fighter who’d never been beaten. He had always been jealous of my abilities and it only seemed to get worse the older he got. The growing divide between us was definitely one of the worst downsides to having magic.

A loud crack caught my attention. Dorin had finished his stretching and was now testing his whip. He swung the long cord over his head and then brought it back around with the snap of his wrist. The sound echoed off the surrounding buildings like a clap of thunder.

The people standing closest moved back, nearly tripping over themselves as they attempted to get clear of Dorin’s aim. No one wanted to be standing anywhere near the open end of the lash.

“That looks like it’s going to hurt,” a familiar voice said off to the right, causing my jaw to tighten even further. This time, I couldn’t ignore Flon. He had pushed his way to the front, opposite my family, not a few paces from where Dorin was standing. I was hoping a stray lash would catch him in the mouth, or maybe one of his eyes.

Dorin took great pride in the dispensing of punishments. He also seemed to take a fair amount of pleasure in it as well. The enthusiasm on his face was revolting. The lanky instructor finished the last of his practice runs before moving in behind me. I was so busy focusing on keeping my legs from shaking that when he spoke, I almost yelped.

“The more you jump, the worse it’ll be.” Dorin always said the same thing to his victims before he began. It was just another part of his ritual.

My entire body was trembling. I took a step closer to the post and grabbed the extra slack in the chain with each hand and held tight. I made sure to keep my tongue from between my teeth. I’d heard tales of others who’d bitten clear through from the pain.

I turned my head just in time to see Dorin fling the whip back over his head. I closed my eyes and tightened every muscle in my body. The whip struck. I felt it sear across my back, burning like a hot iron. I wanted to scream, but I held it in.

“One!” Dorin called out, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Again, the whip found its mark and I clung to the chains to keep my legs from giving way.

“Two!”

I could hear my sister whimpering off to my left. I was thankful my mother wasn’t there.

“Three!”

The pain ripped through my body and I found myself pressed against the post. The cold stone on my chest was no small relief. I gasped for breath. Each new lash ripped the air from my lungs.

“Four!”

“Five!”

“Six!”

Dorin continued to swing, showing no mercy. My knuckles were white, and my teeth ground under the strain of holding my mouth shut. I could feel warm blood running down my back. Small sprays had joined countless others in the mural at my feet.

“Eight!”

“Nine!”

“Ten!”

I tried desperately to focus my mind, a tactic we’d been taught in order to keep from breaking under torture. It didn’t work.

There was a brief pause from the lashing. I tried to turn my head to see why, but my neck wouldn’t move. Tears were burning the corners of my eyes as I fought to hold them in.

I could hear some whispers in the crowd. I wondered if the Pel’tok had decided to show lenience, but then Brim’s voice boomed above the crowd. “That was ten for cheating. Ten more to go.”

My heart sank. It would have been easier had they never stopped. By now, I could have been half-way through the final ten instead of just getting ready to start. The familiar clap of thunder resounded and my back spasmed.

“One!”

One? Why couldn’t he have kept on at eleven? Now it feels like they’re starting all over again. I almost laughed at the absurd thought.

“Two!”

The pain was overwhelming. I couldn’t take it any longer. I wanted to give in. I wanted to beg for mercy. I might have recanted right there and told them whatever they wanted to hear if they’d been willing to stop.

“Three!”

My legs gave way. My hands slipped and I landed on my knees. My father started forward, but others in the crowd grabbed him and held him back. My sister had covered her face with her hands while my brother simply stared at the cobbles around his feet.

“Four!”

A yelp tried making a run for it, but I snatched it back before it could get away.

“Five!”

Another crack of the whip and my mind began to slip. I was growing dizzy. I could feel something cool against my face. I peeked through my lids and dimly realized I was pressed against the post. The rough stone rubbed my cheek.

“Six!”

I groaned. At least I think it was a groan. I wasn’t even sure I was the one who’d done it. I tried imagining it was Flon. That somehow Dorin had swung wide and the tip had caught him in the face.

“Seven!”

Dorin’s counting faded into the distance. I could no longer feel the pain. In fact, I couldn’t feel anything. It was a strange euphoric sensation, like when leaving one of the tunnels from the city to walk in the light above. Except, it was the opposite. I could see the light but it was growing more distant. I was being pulled further and further into darkness. Pretty soon it had completely enveloped me.

I had no idea if Dorin ever finished his counting. The last thing I remembered was my mother’s gentle voice telling me to sleep.

SOMETHING PULLED ME from the darkness. As my mind cleared, I wondered why I had even bothered to wake up. Gut-wrenching pain poured over me like liquid fire bubbling up from the deepest of the wind tunnel caverns. I closed my eyes and tried to find my way back to the darkness. It was peaceful there. No Pel’tok sentencing me to an undeserved punishment, no Dorin practicing his skills on my hide, no Flon mocking me as my skin is peeled from my back. I wanted to stay in the darkness and never return.

“Ayrion? Are you awake?” My mother’s voice pulled me back from the precipice. “He’s waking up, Narris.”

“Good. I was starting to worry. He’s been out for hours.”

“He needs the rest.”

“Yes, but if he hadn’t woken by this evening, I was going to pay Dorin a little visit tonight.”

I didn’t need to ask what my father had meant by that.

“Hush, Narris. The children could hear you.”

My father grumbled something under his breath, but it was too soft for me to hear. It was clear I wasn’t going to be able to find my way back to the dusk of sleep, so I decided to step into the light. At least, as much light as one can find living underground.

The amber glow of the lamp burning on the table beside my bed cast deep shadows across the faces of my parents, which were already haggard from worry. Like the rest of the Upaka, my parents had the same dark hair and fair skin. My father kept his short. He didn’t want to give an opponent something to grab on to. My mother would have probably preferred to do the same, but she knew how much my father liked her longer curls. My father was shorter than most Upakan men, something he said was a benefit when having to sneak in and out of places while fulfilling his contracts. My mother, on the other hand, was taller than average. She stood eye to eye with my father, which she said made kissing him much easier.

“There he is,” my father said, laying an encouraging hand on my shoulder. “There’s my little warrior.”

I wanted to smile, but it came out more of a wince than anything.

“No one has ever stood before Dorin’s whip like that before. I’ve seen grown men weep under the lash. But not my son. No, they couldn’t break my Ayrion.” My father leaned in a little closer. “You should have seen the look on Brim’s face. I’ve never seen him look so disappointed.” He laughed and then rubbed the top of my head. “I couldn’t be prouder of you, son.”

“You need to stop using your abilities during training.” My mother’s words were harsh, but the look on her face let me know they were given out of sincere concern. “Using magic only draws attention.”

I took a breath, but the pain from the wounds in my back nearly snatched it away. “I have these gifts for a reason,” I said, my voice weaker than I had anticipated. “I shouldn’t have to hide them.”

“Perhaps not. But what should be, and what is, are two very different things.

“Your mother’s right. You’ve got to be more careful. If the clan were to ever discover that your rapid advancement was due to magic and not cheating, things would be a whole lot worse for all of us.”

Everyone knew what happened to those with magic. The White Tower came for them. Those that were taken were never heard from again.

I tried rolling to my side and received a lash of searing pain for my effort. “I suppressed my magic during the whipping.”

My mother nodded. “I wondered.”

“Wondered what?”

“Your grandfather used to speak of how the magic affected him. He said he was able to turn it on and off at will.”

I sighed with a wince. “The last thing I wanted was to see the lashes coming and not be able to stop them. It was easier not knowing.”

I was the only one in my family who had magic. It had skipped a generation from my grandfather to me. None of my siblings had it, at least not yet. My mother said that magic sometimes took longer to manifest in some than others. My grandfather had the gift of pre-sight. But unlike me, he only had the one gift.

Being able to see things before they happen is usually a good thing, except when you’re tied to a stake and publicly beaten. I wasn’t a seer. I couldn’t predict future events or anything, it only worked on the immediate. I would have visions, each giving me a few seconds warning when something was going to affect me in a physical way.

My second gift was just as useful. My mother said I was a repeater. The name sounded silly to me. It was a type of muscle memory. It allowed my body to learn things much faster than anyone else. For most, it took years of training and repetition to master the elements of our fighting techniques, but with my gift, it only required me to perform something once and my body could repeat it immediately.

Even more unusual than possessing not one but two gifts of magic was that I could use the magic freely without the aid of a transferal crystal.

Our histories said that those with magic were only able to use it when in direct contact with one of the crystals brought over during the age when the Fae had broken into our realm. We had never known of magic before the coming of the faerie, but after centuries of them ruling over us, magic began seeping into the population. Pretty soon we found ourselves born with gifts that rivaled our oppressors. And the transferal crystals allowed us to tap into that power.

As magic grew, we rebelled and the first Wizard Order was formed. They eventually drove the faeries back into their own realm and sealed the breach, but many of their crystals had been left behind. It was those little pieces of their homeland that allowed humans born with magic to tap into their newly acquired power.

My parents had warned me not to use my gifts. They told me to let the other trainees win on occasion so I didn’t stick out so much. I didn’t see the point. I was already disliked by the other kids, so I wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction of beating me. If I was going to be shunned, then it might as well be for good reason. After today, I was starting to think that maybe they had been right after all.

My mother gently rubbed my cheek. “Get some rest, Ayrion. You need to heal. I’ll check in on you later.”

My parents stood and walked to the door. I closed my eyes and listened to the latch fall back into place behind them. It didn’t take long before the darkness overtook me and I floated away into peaceful silence once more.

The days passed slowly and painfully as I started my long journey back to recovery. Rianna spent a great deal of time reading to me as I dozed off and on. I wasn’t sure if Jorn made an appearance. If he had, it must have been when I was dozing.

My mother washed my wounds every day, and father coated my back with a special herbal salve, a secret recipe passed down through his family that was said to speed healing. It seemed to be working. By the end of the first week, I was out of bed and moving around the house. By the end of the next, I was walking down through the tunnels to my favorite spot at the bottom of Triple Falls.

The pain was still there, but not at the intensity it had been the first week. I could feel my body gaining strength. The wounds had all but sealed and the itchy scabs were driving me crazy. Pretty soon, even they would be a distant memory, a stern reminder to keep away from magic, at least in public.

I exited the tunnel to the thunderous sound of water pouring down three sides of a hundred-foot ledge of granite, forming pools at the bottom. The large pools at the base spilled over into smaller ones, forming a maze of tiny lakes.

I doused my torch. Anywhere else within the wind tunnels, I would have been left in darkness, but the pools were home to a type of algae that produced a soft bluish glow. The water was so clear that the bottom looked as if it were just below the surface, close enough to touch. In reality, it would have taken a deep breath and a strong pair of arms and legs to make it down and back.

The pools were warm, perfect for swimming. I stripped down to my underpants and carefully slid off the shelf and into one of the smaller pools further from the falls. Normally, I would have climbed higher and dove in, but I would have probably ripped open my back if I had, and then mother would have given me a harsh scolding—which I would rather avoid—when I got home.

The water felt wonderful. I paddled around for a while before finally turning over on my back to float.

“There you are!”

I opened my eyes and twisted my head around. My sister was walking across the rock to my pool. She opened the front of her lantern and blew out the wick.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

I relaxed and lowered my head back in the water and continued to float. “It’s quiet down here.”

Rianna turned to look at the falls. “Quiet isn’t exactly the word I’d use for it.”

“You know what I mean.”

She sat down on the edge of the pool and rolled up her trousers past the knee, letting her legs dangle in the water.

My sister was sixteen, three years older than I was. Like most of the Upaka, she had the same dark hair and fair skin. I thought she was very pretty for a girl, but so far she hadn’t been chosen by any of the other boys for Mal’jinto. I had a feeling I was partially to blame for her lack of suitors. Very few people wanted to be associated with our family. She seemed to want to spend more of her time with me and Jorn than with the kids her age.

“How’s the back?”

“Healing.”

Rianna was unusually quiet. “That was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to watch,” she said finally.

I used my hands to rotate my body in the water so I could see her. “If it makes you feel any better, it was hard for me as well.”

She splashed me with her foot. “Hey, I’m being serious.”

“Me too.” I floated for a while without saying anything. I couldn’t stop thinking about all the trouble I’d been in over the last couple of years and wondered if Brim was right, that the problem was me. “Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn’t be better if I just left.”

Rianna lowered her brows.

“I can’t stop being who I am.”

“No one’s asking you to.”

“Everyone is. Mother even wants me to stop using magic so I’ll fit in.” I hit the top of the water with my palm and watched the ripples spread outward. “I’d like to say that I wished I’d never been born with magic, but the truth is . . . I can’t. It’s a part of me. I can’t just ignore it and hope it goes away.”

Rianna sighed. “I know it’s hard. But you have to realize you’re not the only one affected by it. We all are. Most of the other ladies won’t talk to Mother any more. And Father’s contracts, if you haven’t noticed, are getting smaller every year. And Jorn . . . Well, he’s ten. He just wants attention—”

“And most of it seems to be heaped on me, I know.”

Rianna nodded. There was another moment of silence as we listened to the droning sound of the water beating against the granite floor of the enormous cavern.

“Anyway, I just thought you should know.”

She was right. I could see the burden my gifts placed on my family. Would it really hurt me to try being a little more careful? “I’ll see what I can do.”

Rianna smiled. “Good. Can’t ask for more than that.”

“Hey! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming down here? I wanted to come.” Jorn stood just inside the mouth of the tunnel on the left, his torch revealing the deep-seated scowl on his face.

“Come on in,” I said, waving him over. “The water’s warm.”

“I can’t. Father told me to come get you. He has news.”

“What kind of news?” Rianna asked.

Jorn shrugged. “How should I know?” With that he ran back up the tunnel.

“Guess we’d better go,” Rianna said as she stood. “Give me your hand.” With her help, I was able to get out of the pool without re-injuring my back.

“I wonder what news Father has.”

I grabbed my clothes and put them on over my wet underpants. “Don’t know. With my luck, the Primary wants to give me another ten lashes for having the nerve not to cry during the last twenty.”

My sister frowned. “That’s not funny.”

She was right. It wasn’t.

“HE’S TOO young, Narris.”

“Nonsense. I was his age when my father took me on my first contract.” Father rubbed the top of my head and smiled. “Besides, Ayrion is twice as capable as any of the other trainees. He’ll be fine.”

“He’s hardly healed,” Mother insisted. “Just look at him. He can’t even put his clothes on straight.” I looked down. In the rush to get out of the pools, I’d somehow managed to put my top on backwards. Mother gave me a sharp look. “I don’t like it. He’s not ready.”

Father huffed. “Lea, he’ll be fine.” As much as I didn’t like watching my parents argue, it was nice to see that look of pride in my father’s eyes.

Rianna offered me a kind smile, but Jorn’s lips tightened into a pout—an expression that seemed to be growing more frequent of late.

“The contract doesn’t come due for another month,” father said. “That’s plenty of time for him to get his strength back.”

“It’s already coming back, Father,” I said, so eager to join him on one of his jobs that I would have done or said anything. “See.” I swung my arms in a slow circle, not letting the sharp pain in my back show on my face. “No pain. In a month, I’ll be stronger than ever.”

“That’s the spirit,” my father said with a wink. “After everything that’s happened, I think some time away from here will do you good.”

My mother didn’t look convinced. “Will he be in any danger?”

“No. It’s a single contract with a good payout. Fanon said it came in a week ago and he’s been holding it just for me. He knew we needed the coin.”

“That was kind of him. Make sure to thank him for me when you get the chance.” She crossed her arms. “But I still don’t like it.”

The days seemed to drag on forever. Sitting around waiting for something to happen was one of the hardest things for a thirteen-year-old boy to do. It reminded me of the time I’d ventured above ground and watched the sun move from one side of the sky to the other. It seemed it would never make it.

I tried to stay busy. Most of my time was spent down at the pools. If I wasn’t swimming, regaining my strength and endurance, I was running through exercise routines. The slick granite was a fantastic place to work on balance. If I slipped, I had warm water waiting to catch me.

When the day finally came for our departure, my father woke to find me packed and waiting by the door. I looked like one of Master Selfer’s wolf pups, excitedly prancing from one foot to the other, waiting for its piece of meat to be thrown. I’m not sure, but my tongue might have been hanging out as well.

I had crammed everything I thought I would need into my travel pack the day Father had first told me I was to join him. Since then, the sack hadn’t left my side in anticipation of the event.

“You have your sword?” my mother asked as she started through the long checklist of items she always read off before my father left for a contract.

I tapped the hilt at my waist. “Got it.”

“Throwing knives?”

“Yep.” I ran my fingers across my leather jerkin. Mother had sewn pouches on the inside for them.

“Long bow?”

“Right here.” I motioned to the quiver of arrows sitting next to me. My mother never looked up from her list.

“Have you restocked your fire-pouch?”

“Of course,” I said, listing off the items in the small red sack. “Flintstone, hemp fibers, resinous wood—”

“Birch bark?”

I rolled my eyes and huffed in frustration. “Yes, Mother, I’ve got it.”

We continued through the list, Mother checking off the items as she went. I felt ten years older, running through the same routine I’d watched my parents perform on countless occasions. This time, it was my turn.

By the time we made it through, finished saying our goodbyes, and started up the south tunnel that led to the surface, I was nearly ready to crawl out of my skin with excitement. I kept trying to walk faster, but Father just smiled and said, “No need to rush. We’ll get there when we get there.”

Half of the tunnel we were walking through consisted of lined cobble from one of the old city’s main streets. It had folded in on itself during the collapse, twisting its way up the wall before meandering back under our feet again.

The higher we climbed the colder it got. One of the great things about living underground was that we rarely had to deal with the extremes of weather. The heat from the magma flows in the lower wind tunnels helped regulate the temperatures. I took a deep breath and exhaled. I couldn’t yet see my breath, but the nip in the air let me know that fall had arrived.

The tunnel ended inside the atrium of a large building. I had no idea what it had been used for back before the great quake, but from its size, I was sure it had been important. The back-half had collapsed, leaving only the entrance and part of the west wing mostly intact and above the surface. Bright light shone through the broken windows at the front and sides and I had to squint to see where I was going.

My father doused his torch and we started across the once elegant tiles, now chipped and faded with age. The sound of our boots echoed off the walls. Two guards, each bearing the crest of their clan, motioned us to stop. There were three clans that made up Upakan society: Orpa, Raju, and Kovaa. Orpa, which was the clan my family was a part of, meant strength in the old tongue. Raju meant swift, and Kovaa meant hidden or unseen. There were times I thought my family had ended up in the wrong clan. Kovaa would have been a better fit.

“It’s a bright one,” the guard from Kovaa said, walking over to a small desk.

My father smiled. “It usually is.”

The guard picked up a quill and dipped it in the ink jar. “Where’re you headed?”

“Oswell.”

He scribbled something in his ledger. “Contract?”

“Yes.”

“Will you be taking the southern route around the mountains or west through the Squeeze and on past Norshag?” The guard stopped writing to look our way. “Norshag will cut a good four or five days off your journey, but . . .” He looked at me. “It’s a sight more dangerous.”

“We’ll be taking the—”

“Squeeze,” I said, puffing out my chest. I wasn’t about to look like I needed coddling.

The guard smiled. “I like your attitude.”

My father looked like he was about to say something, but only nodded. The guard went back to his writing. “And when will you be expecting to return?”

“Put us down for three weeks. A full moon at most.”

The guard nodded and added it to the ledger, then joined the guard from Raju to open the doors.

“Get your shaders,” Father said.

I followed his lead and reached into my travel bag. I didn’t like wearing the eyewear all that much. They gave me a headache, but the sunlight without them on was even worse. It usually took a couple of days for our eyes to adapt.

Shaders were very hard to come by, which meant they were rather costly. Most families were lucky to have one pair. We had two. There were a few in each clan who would rent theirs out for a percentage of the renter’s contract. If that wasn’t an option you simply wore a wide-brimmed hat and suffered.

My father had managed to land a contract in Aramoor back before I was born. While there, he had found a blower who specialized in unique glass. He had him make tinted glass for two pair and then hired a girdler to sew the glass into leather bands. It had been much cheaper to purchase the items separately than to acquire a pre-made pair.

I cinched the straps at the back, but not too tight. The last time, I’d spent two days with a severe migraine. The soft leather on the inside band kept my skin from chafing, but they were still annoying to use. For one, they cut off all peripheral sight, so I spent a lot of time shifting back and forth to watch my flank. I felt like a horse with blinders.

Once our shaders were secure, the guards opened the door and we stepped outside. Even with the tinted glass, the light was blinding. The guards wished us a safe journey and quickly shut the door behind us.

Bright though it was, the sun felt warm on my hands and face. It had been a few months since I had been topside. I’d forgotten how different it was. Smells were unnaturally sharp without the familiar dampness of our underground home to mute them. The wind whipped across my face, sending tiny bumps skittering across my arms. Even the sound of my own breathing was unnerving without its normal hollow echo off the stone below. It wasn’t bad, just different.

All around us lay the ruins of the once great capital city of Keldor. The tops of some of the taller buildings burst through the ground as if trying to claw their way back up. The rest were either scattered debris or buried below the surface. Behind the city, the white-capped peaks of the Northern Heights stood as a protective barrier, a beautiful offset to the carnage of what now lay spread across its foothills.

“Let’s get our horses and be on our way,” Father said as he started down the steps. “I want to reach the Squeeze before nightfall.”

I hefted my sack and followed him down to the worn path that led off in the direction of the stables. It wound its way through the ruins, making sure to avoid any of the red markers. The ground was unstable to walk across in some areas. Most of them had been discovered by the unfortunate finder falling through—often to their death.

The stables were nothing more than half a building too stubborn to collapse. The front wall was missing, which was perfect for setting up a handful of stalls.  I’d been given training in horsemanship, but it had been quite a while since I’d ridden one. The thought of doing so again brought a spring to my step.

Father rented us a pair—a medium-sized mare for me with a white stripe down its light brown neck, and a stallion for him with a dark coat and even darker mane. We tied on our gear, mounted, and slowly made our way back out into the light.

My father turned in his saddle. “Make sure not to let your horse wander off the path. You hit one of those sink holes and Brim will get his wish.”

I nodded and gripped the reins tightly. That would be my luck. My chance to finally go on my first great adventure and I’d manage to plummet to my death before I even left the city.

I shivered at the thought.

IT TOOK US THE REST of the morning to navigate our way through the city’s remains. Once safely on the other side, we skirted the area designated for farmland. Those not training to be warriors, either because of an infirmity, a lack of ability, or an absence of desire, were recruited to help grow the crops necessary to feed those living underneath. The land surrounding our home was rocky and difficult to grow on, but we Upaka never backed away from a challenge. What we didn’t manage to grow ourselves, we purchased from the regular supply wagons that sold to us from Chorazin and Pinnella.

Off to the west, the smoke from Ash Mount rose into the sky, a clear reminder of the power it held over this part of Keldor. It burned night and day, feeding the lava flows deep beneath the city. Some said if it ever erupted again, it would finish the job it had started centuries ago. I tried not to think about it.

We made good time in reaching the pass. The sun was still hanging above the ridgeline behind us when we stopped at a small grove of trees nestled against the sheer rock, the last oasis before entering the barren passageway through the North Heights.

Within the confine of the trees, the sun’s last rays had little effect. I was thankful for the chance to finally remove my shaders and let my eyes readjust to the dimness, even if it meant losing the warmth of the sun. I rubbed the back of my head where the leather strap had flattened my hair.

Father dismounted and went about setting up camp. I slid off mine with a rather sore backside and a stiff, bowlegged limp. I tied off the horses then dug a small pit for the fire and gathered enough wood to last till morning. There was a nip in the air and I scooted closer to the flames as I watched Father slowly stew some cabbage, leeks, and a few pieces of cut meat inside our small kettle.

Further north, a pack of wolves joined their voices in song. It was a lonely sound, haunting and beautiful. We were happy to listen so long as they stayed at a distance.

Father finished up his stirring and I held out my bowl to be filled. He dipped a good portion and then froze, the ladle halfway to my bowl, dripping its contents on the needles below.

I looked around. “What is it?”

He held his finger up to his lips. I didn’t hear anything. Another round of howling drifted in, but it didn’t sound like the pack had gotten any closer. I opened my mouth to ask him what he’d heard when a twig snapped. We whirled to face the sound. It came from the pass. The ladle hit the ground and two knives appeared in my father’s hands before I had time to blink. I grabbed my dagger from my waist since my sword and bow were with my bedding on the other side of the fire.

Another limb snapped, this time much closer. Father grabbed my arm and we raced to the far side of the camp. I grabbed my bow and quiver on the way by and he grabbed my sword, which was closer than his.

We melted into the trees and waited. A voice rose out of the night behind us.

“A warrior in life.”

Father’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “A warrior in death,” he answered, a formal greeting given between Upakans. I followed him back to camp. Two men dressed in the familiar leathers of Upakan warriors appeared out of the shadows, leading their horses.

“Would you have any more of whatever that wonderful smell is?” one of the men asked. “Our journey took longer than expected. I’m sick of hearing Heflin’s stomach growl,” he said, elbowing his companion. “Not much in the way of game in there unless you count rock grubs and stripers. Another day without food and I might have resorted to either.”

“Aye,” my father said, gesturing for the two men to take a seat. “There’s enough to go around. We can always restock in Norshag if we need to.”

“Norshag?” The taller man, wearing a neat jawline beard, glanced my way but tried not to make a show of it. “That’s a rough place to be taking someone so . . .” He cleared his throat. “I’d stay clear if you can manage it. The place grows worse every year; you know how the mountain folk feel about our kind.”

“It’s been a couple of seasons since I’ve been,” Father said with a pensive look. “I thank you for your advice, uh . . .”

“Sorry about that,” the taller man said. “I’m Nykl, and this is Heflin.” He made a quick gesture to his comrade. Heflin, shorter than his companion and somewhat stocky, seemed more interested in what was in our cooking pot than whether or not we went to Norshag. Both men wore rings on their right hands like my father’s, each with the mark of their clan. I studied them, eager for my own naming day when I would be given mine and recognized as a full-fledged Upakan warrior.

“Pleased to meet you both,” Father said. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

“Much appreciated,” Nykl said. The two men made no attempt to hide their haste as they tied off their horses, grabbed a couple of wooden bowls and spoons from their satchels, and plopped down beside the fire.

“How far have you traveled?”

Heflin leaned forward to get a good whiff of the pottage. “Syrel.”

“That’s quite the journey,” my father said, adding another few cuts of meat to the pot and what was left of the onions.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Nykl said. “I’m looking forward to getting back to the wife and kids. This contract took us longer than we would have liked. I’m sure Maritsa has been worried sick.”

Heflin huffed. “If my woman was half the looker yours is, I’d be anxious too.”

Nykl smiled at the compliment. “Your Lorna might not be the most handsome woman, but she can cook a circle around anyone in our clan.”

Heflin grinned and patted his stomach. “Aye. Why do you think I chose her for bonding?”

Nykl snorted. “You chose her ‘cause her father didn’t give you a choice after her brothers caught the two of you down in the pools together.”

My eyes widened. This was getting interesting.

“That again? I tell you, nothing happened.”

“Clearly, they didn’t believe you.”

My father cleared his throat. Heflin looked at me and stumbled to change the subject. “Yes, well, regardless, my Lorna can make a mean pot of stew.”

The two men ate their fill and were mighty grateful for it, not turning down the offer for seconds. Heflin even licked his bowl before laying it aside. “Best I’ve tasted in some time,” he said with an honest smile.

The two men stretched out in front of the fire while I helped Father finish cleaning. I spent the rest of the evening enthralled as I listened intently to the three of them swap stories of their adventures: battles fought, men they’d killed, interesting places they had seen. Being a warrior sounded like the most exciting thing in the world. I couldn’t imagine living my life as anything else.

Morning broke early, and I woke to the sound of my father’s voice and the feel of his hand on my shoulder as he shook me awake. “It’s time to get up. We’ve a long day ahead of us.”

My teeth were chattering as I yawned and stretched. The fire had died during the night, but the coals were still glowing faintly. “Are you sure?” I asked. “It’s still dark.”

My father smiled and started to pack his gear. Nykl and Heflin were already up and packed and ready to leave by the time I managed to drag myself from the warmth of my bedding. They didn’t have that long of a trip back to the Lost City and would probably arrive sometime that afternoon.

“We wish you safe travels,” Heflin said as they mounted. “Many thanks for sharing your fire with us.”

“Our pleasure,” my father said with a warm smile.

Nykl leaned forward in his saddle. “Do consider my warning, and stay clear of Norshag.”

“We will. Thank you.”

The two men waved, turned their horses about, and headed west.

After a quick meal of cheese and some dried apple slices, washed down with what was left in our water bladders, I refilled them from a small stream near the camp. We let the horses drink their fill. Normally, Father would have been cautious not to let them drink too deeply and upset their stomach, but our journey through the pass would be a slow one, no chance for them to reach a full gallop. We saddled the horses, tied on our gear, and buried the remains of the fire with a blanket of fresh dirt.

Before the first hint of morning light had penetrated the canopy over our heads, we were mounted and riding toward the pass. I’d never been to the Squeeze before so I was excited to see it for myself. Even the possibility of danger waiting for us at Norshag was thrilling. I knew Father would never allow us to go, especially after Nykl’s warning, but one could always daydream.

IT WAS EASY TO SEE why the pass was called the Squeeze. It was barely wide enough for two horses to walk side-by-side. In some places, it was too narrow for even that. The sun wasn’t yet high enough to illuminate our path between the rising walls of stone, so Father used a torch to guide the horses.

My shaders hung loosely around my neck. I was glad I didn’t have to wear them yet. I clicked my tongue and my horse slowly moved back in step with Father’s. The rhythmic clopping of their hooves on the granite made it hard to stay awake. My lids had drifted closed for the third time when Father shouted and I nearly fell out of my saddle. If there’d been enough room, I would have. As it was, I simply bounced off the rock wall.

I grabbed for the reins. “What’s going on? What happened?” I was definitely awake now, the dreariness frightened out of me.

Father roared with laughter. “You should see the look on your face.”

I didn’t think it was all that funny, but after a while, his amusement spread and I found myself laughing as well.

Father cocked his head to the side. “Just listen to that echo,” he said as his voice reverberated off the surrounding walls, slowly fading into the distance. “Give it a try.”

I wasn’t sure if he was being serious.

“Well, go on. What are you waiting for?”

I shrugged and shouted. “Hello!” There was a faint echo in the distance.

“You call that a yell? I barely counted three repeats. Your sister could have done better than that.”

I straightened my shoulders. No girl was going to shout louder than me, not even Rianna. Taking a deep breath, I sucked in every last bit of air my lungs could hold and released. “Ahhhh!” By the time I finished, my face had turned red and my head felt woozy from the rush of blood.

The echoes bounced back in all directions. This time, I joined Father in counting the number of repeats. “Eight,” I said with a proud smile.

“Aye, now that’s more like it.” He slapped me on my back with a firm whack. My eyes bulged and I coughed as the pain seared across my not-so-healed lashes. From then on, I made sure not to doze off.

By mid-afternoon, the sun had risen to its peak, cutting through the shadows ahead and lighting our path. There wasn’t much to see but more rock. The pass was deep, and narrow enough that we were able to travel most of it without our shaders. Every now and then it would widen long enough to allow in chunks of sunlight, but I was finding that I needed the tinted glass less and less.

The stone corridor tunneled through the mountains like a snake. What lay beyond each new bend was a mystery, one I was anxious to explore—at least for the first couple of hours. After two or three dozen twists and turns with nothing to show for it but more twists and turns, I grew annoyed.

“How much farther?”

My father laughed. “It’s a two-day trip through the Squeeze. Better get comfortable.”

I groaned and tried to find a more relaxed position in the saddle. You would think that doing nothing more than sitting all day would be easy, but it wasn’t. I’d forgotten how sore horse-riding could make your backside.

The rest of the day went about the same: rolling in the saddle while staring at miles of rock. The only good thing was that the granite was familiar and reminded me of home. Father wanted to reach our next campsite before dark, so we ate while riding, stopping only long enough to give the horses a rest, which wasn’t really a stop. It just meant we led the horses a while on foot.

The last of the light was slowly ebbing from the pass when we rounded yet another bend to find an opening large enough to make camp.

“Ah, good, we’re here,” Father said, hopping down from his horse and stretching. “I was getting worried I’d misjudged the distance.” I slid from my mount and did the same, followed by a few well-deserved moans as I massaged my hindquarters.

There wasn’t anything available to burn so we had a cold meal of dried meat and cheese stuffed between a couple slices of Mother’s delicious rye bread.

The horses were unsaddled and fed. Father tethered them to a boulder in case they got the notion to wander on without us in the middle of the night.

Without the warmth of the fire, I made sure to lay my bedding right beside my father’s. By the next morning, my teeth were chattering and my hands shaking. Even with my winter blanket, it was unpleasantly cold when I felt him turn over and get out of bed. It was hard to do the same knowing there were no warm embers waiting for me.

We ate a quick breakfast, saddled the horses, packed what gear we had used—which wasn’t much more than our blankets—and were back on the trail before the stars had winked from view. I volunteered to be the one to hold the torch this time, hoping it would thaw my fingers.

I was more than grateful for the sun’s eventual presence. Its warmth on my face and hands more than made up for the fact I had to keep squinting. Father said the sooner we got used to the light, the better off we’d be, so I went most of the day without my shaders.

The pass seemed to go on forever. I wondered whether it actually led somewhere or if we were traveling in a big circle. I was about to ask for what seemed like the countless time how much further we had to go, when Father beat me to it. “We’re getting close.”

The winding twists and turns mellowed and the walls of granite lowered as we rounded the last bend. I could see trees in the distance. I urged my horse faster. The excitement of finally reaching the other side of the long, narrow corridor had my heart racing. I was about to spur my horse again when I heard a hiss. Just like that, I was struck with one of my visions.

I grabbed for the reins, but there wasn’t much I could do. My horse reared and I flew off the back. I hit the ground and my horse took off at a hard gallop. I barely had time to gather my thoughts when another vision struck and I rolled to the right. A long black and yellow striper struck, just missing my neck. I rolled again, this time startling my father’s horse. I curled into a ball and prayed I wouldn’t get trampled.

Another vision struck. I whipped out my dagger and sliced. The serpent’s head fell from its body and bounced off my arm. The snake coiled, not yet realizing its head was gone.

“I’m going after your horse!” Father shouted over his shoulder once he saw I was unhurt. “We can’t lose the gear.” He slapped his reins and took off for the trees ahead.

I scrambled to my feet, the headless snake still flopping as I quickly edged away. I didn’t wait to see if it would ever realize it was dead before chasing after my father.

Finally breaking free of the mountainside, I plopped down on a fallen log and attempted to catch my breath. I didn’t dare venture into the woods on foot without knowing where I was going, so I waited for Father to return with my horse.

I shook my head. This was definitely my luck. We’d traveled the entire length of the Squeeze without seeing a single striper and wouldn’t you know they had waited till the very last few feet to make an appearance. And to top it off, I lost my horse. Not the best way to prove my worth on this contract.

After an hour had passed, I began to worry. Surely that stupid animal couldn’t have run that far. Then again, these woods were dense, no telling how hard it would be to track the crazy thing if it ever got out of sight.

Another hour passed and I was now more than a little anxious when I finally heard someone coming. I hid behind a large boulder up near the rock face—checking for stripers first—and waited to see who it was. It was my father. I left my hiding place and climbed back down to the entrance. The excitement of seeing him disappeared quickly when I saw only the one horse.

“I couldn’t find that rotten animal anywhere,” Father said as he came to a stop. “Who knows how far it went before slowing. Dumb thing probably ran itself to death.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what? It’s not your fault that flaming snake was there.” He climbed down off his horse and walked over to where I was standing to look me over. “Are you injured?”

“I’m fine.” Which was true. The only real injury was my pride. My back stung from where I had landed on my still healing skin, but it didn’t feel like the lashes had reopened. “What are we going to do?”

Fathered sighed and ran a gloved hand down his face. “Something I don’t want to.” He turned and looked to the south. “We can’t go on with only one horse and half our supplies, not to mention your weapons.”

“I still have my dagger.” I held it up only to realize I hadn’t cleaned all the blood off yet.

“It looks like we don’t have much of a choice. We’ll have to resupply at Norshag.”

“But Nykl said—”

“Doesn’t much matter what he said. We can’t go on without another horse and proper supplies.”

I shrugged. “I guess not.”

Father walked over to his horse and mounted. “Here, give me your hand. We’ll have to ride double for now.”

With his help, I swung up behind him.

“When we get there, you do exactly what I say. You hear me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Just keep your eyes open and remember your training. You’ll be fine.”

The excitement I had felt earlier at the prospect of a little danger was now building into something more troubling. We were heading straight for a place that not one, but two, Upakan warriors had warned us to stay clear of.

The last rays of the sun dropped behind the peaks. The growing darkness, rather than being comforting and familiar, seemed ominous.

THE LAST SWATCH of color in the sky was fading from view by the time we reached our destination. Father pulled back on the reins, giving us a chance to take a look before entering.

There wasn’t much to see. The town seemed to grow right out of the surrounding forest. It definitely wasn’t one of those exotic locations that Father had described from his travels. The buildings were older and of poor craftsmanship. They looked to have been built from the trees cut to make room for the withering community.

Father started forward slowly. Our eyes scanned the faces of those we passed. The people on the street, as well as those mingling around the buildings, stopped to stare at the newcomers. Most were dressed in rough leather and thick furs, and everyone was armed, from the youngest to the oldest. There were swords, daggers, bows, even hatchets, but it wasn’t their dress or even their weapons that held my attention. It was their eyes. I’d never seen anyone with colored eyes before. They looked frightening.

These were the first outsiders I’d ever come across. The only people I’d ever seen were Upakans, and we all had the same light grey eyes, but the townsfolk here had brown eyes, blue eyes, I even saw some green eyes. Father said it was the Upaka who were different, and that we should try to keep our faces lowered so as not to draw attention to ourselves—not that lowering our heads was going to make much of a difference.

A few of the people we passed shook their heads, some spit, most just stood there watching. They felt like a pack of wolves protecting their den. Whispers of conversation floated from one person to the next as we rode by. It was clear we weren’t wanted. Even the scraggly mutt we passed bared its teeth, warning us to keep riding.

Norshag was dangerous. Upakan warriors were the fiercest fighters in Aldor, but looking at the inhabitants of Norshag, I realized I would rather face a dozen Upakans than one of them.

I followed my father’s lead and lifted the hood of my cloak over my head. The road leading through town was a muddy rut. The sludge sucked down the horse’s hooves with each step. There were a few rundown shops scattered to either side, with a smattering of single-story homes filling in the rest of the space. The tavern at the center of town seemed to be the main attraction. It was also the only building—apart from a barn further down—to have two floors. The sign swinging at the front declared it THE RUSTY NAIL. Seemed appropriate.

Shouts drifted through the tavern’s open doors, followed by a loud crash as someone flew through one of the front windows. Another man jumped out and landed on top of him. They threw wild punches as they rolled off the porch and landed in the dirt. The tavern’s remaining occupants turned out to watch the entertainment. People were shouting, laying wagers, urging the two men to do their worst.

Father stopped the horse before we reached them.

There were some women standing on the front porch, along with the men, that didn’t seem to belong. They weren’t wearing the same heavy furs, in fact, they weren’t wearing much of anything at all unless you counted the thick paint on their faces. They shouted at the two men rolling in the street, their shrill voices overpowering that of the men.

One of the two brawlers made it to his feet and pulled the other one up far enough to punch him in the face, knocking him back down again. He repeated this action a couple more times before a hefty man in a full apron pushed his way through the crowd and pulled them apart.

“I told you, you could both have her. You just have to wait your turn.”

The two brawlers dusted the dirt from their clothing as they stood to their feet. The crowd grumbled at the fight having ended and stomped back inside the tavern. The man who’d clearly won grabbed one of the painted women and shuffled her inside. The loser wiped the blood from his mouth and stumbled toward the front porch. Two of the woman took pity on him and helped him in. The bright smile on his face as they wrapped their arms around him was a strange contrast to his bloody nose and swollen eyes.

Once the people had dispersed, my father urged us on. He directed the horse toward the barn on the south side of town. There was a corral built onto the side with a number of horses mingling about.

“Father.” I tapped him on the shoulder. “That’s our—”

“I know. I see it.”

My horse was one of those prancing around the small fenced-in area. The saddle was still on its back, but my travel packs were gone, including the one with all my weapons.

A couple of gruff looking men stood around the gate. They turned at our approach. They looked like animals with their fur skins and untamed beards. I didn’t think I’d seen a single clean-shaven face the entire way through town. I rubbed my smooth chin.

“What’s your business here?” a large bear of a man asked as he stepped out of the barn and started our way. His shirt was only half-buttoned, revealing he had more in common with a bear than just his size.

I slid off the back of the horse so father could get down.

“Stay here,” he said. He handed me the reins and walked over to meet the man. The two leaning against the railing kept a close eye on my father. One of the men, who had been digging into the top of the post with his knife, glanced at me. He spent a good deal of time studying my father’s horse, or more appropriately, the bags tied to it.

“I see you found our horse.” My father’s tone was polite, almost cheerful. He even wore a friendly smile, probably a good tactic. These weren’t the kind of people you wanted to anger. Upaka or not, they looked ready for a fight. He made his way over to the corral’s gate and the grizzly-man joined him.

Father pointed to our horse. “That one there with the saddle. She got spooked by a striper back at the pass and took off. Spent a couple hours looking for her this afternoon. I guess she made her way down here. I appreciate you taking care of her. Here,” he said as he pulled a small coin pouch from around his neck. “How much do I owe you for stabling her?”

My father was clearly trying to direct the conversation.

The big man leaned one arm on the top rail and placed one foot on the bottom. “Nothing.”

“Nothing? No. I won’t hear of it.” My father loosened the drawstrings on the purse. “Come now, at least I can pay you for the time and feed.”

The big man eyed the coin pouch. I couldn’t exactly tell because of the thickness of his beard, but he appeared to be smiling. “No need. The horse isn’t yours.”

Father raised his head. “Of course she is. See there. That’s our saddle. And if I’m not mistaken,” he said, pointing back toward the front of the barn where my travel bag hung from a peg. “That’s one of our satchels.”

The big man didn’t move. There was no need for him to turn and look. He knew what my father was referring to. The other two men started inching their way toward the gate’s entrance.

My father’s sword was still strapped to his horse. I loosened the tie. His bow hung just behind the sheath with its quiver of arrows right beside. If things turned ugly, I wouldn’t have time to string it so I kept my hands close to the sword. My dagger was tucked in my belt.

“You’re mistaken. That’s Haran’s horse.” The big man looked past my father to the two men working their way over to where they were standing. “Ain’t that right, Haran? That’s your horse there with the white nose, isn’t it?” It sounded more like the big man was telling rather than asking him.

“Aye,” the man on the left said, stopping to look at the animal in the pen. “That’s mine for sure. Bought her off a peddler two seasons back. Cost me . . . Uh, three gold pieces.”

So that was their game. They were holding the horse for ransom. We couldn’t afford to pay that for the horse, but if we returned without it, we’d be liable for its worth.

Father didn’t say anything, but his smile disappeared. He studied the big man in front of him for a moment, then turned and looked at me. He seemed to be trying to decide something, but I couldn’t tell what it was. I took another step closer to the horse and my father’s sword. He shook his head. He didn’t want me doing anything. He turned back around.

A few more people stepped out of the stables and started toward my father, two men and a woman. The woman was just as big as the men. All three were heavily armed.

My father glanced at the newcomers and then over his shoulder at the two men moving up from behind. “Fine. How much do you want for her? It seems I don’t have much choice but to buy her back from you.”

“She’s not for sale,” the grizzly-man said. This time, I could see his smile. He was clearly enjoying himself. The three from the barn moved up beside him, obviously eager to get in on whatever was about to happen. None of them looked my way, and even if they did, father’s horse blocked their view. I took the opportunity to draw his sword from its sheath. I stuck it tip-down in the dirt then untied and strung the bow. I nocked a single shaft and waited to see what would happen.

“We don’t want any trouble. We just want to get our horse and be on our way.”

“We don’t want your kind around here, Upakan.”

“My kind?”

The grizzly-man spat near my father’s boot as if the very word Upaka had left a bad taste in his mouth. Father removed his hood. There was only one reason to do that. He needed his peripheral sight. “Fine,” he said, tucking his purse inside his shirt before raising his hands to show submission. “We’ll just leave.” He took a step back.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

I raised the bow and drew part-way.

My father stopped. He looked left then right. He was nearly surrounded. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I’d always wondered what it would be like to be in a real fight. Never had I imagined being this nervous. My mouth was as dry as one of father’s jokes and my heart raced. I’d been in hundreds of fights before, but none where I was expected to actually do real harm, maybe even kill.

“Please, I have my son with me. You don’t want to do this.” The distress in my father’s voice surprised me. He wasn’t one to plead. He never backed down from anyone, not even Brim.

“Oh, but I think I do. Why take a couple gold coins in exchange for the horse when I can just take your gold and the horse, and do the world a favor by ridding it of two more filthy Upakans.”

My father raised his hand. “I’m warning you. This will not end well for you if you do this.”

The big man smiled. At least I thought it was a smile, it might have been a snarl. I couldn’t be sure. “I tell you what. I’ll let you and your runt go if you . . .” He stopped and looked down. “If you clean my boots.” He looked at the others and winked. My father stared at the man for a moment, then turned to look at me. I shook my head.

He dropped to his knees.

My mouth opened. I couldn’t believe it. My father was an Upakan warrior and here he was kneeling in the mud, groveling for our lives. What turned my stomach even more was the fact that I knew he was only doing it because of me.

The others were openly laughing now as my father leaned forward to wipe the man’s boots with his sleeve.

“With your tongue.” The grizzly-man’s voice dripped with contempt.

I raised my bow the rest of the way and made ready to step out from behind the horse. My father might have been willing to humiliate himself for me, but I wasn’t about to let him. Remembering the determined shake of his head was all that held me back.

My arms were trembling. The anger boiled inside me, vying to break free. I wanted to kill them all. I’d never felt hatred like that before. It frightened me. Father had stopped halfway to the man’s filthy boots.

“You heard me, dog! Lick them clean!”

Those gathered round laughed and jeered, drawing others from across the street.

“You tell him, Orvil.”

“Teach that filthy Upaka where his place is.”

“Mercenary scum.”

My father bent over once more, but this time, I caught a flash of something in his hands. Just like I’d seen him do outside the pass when Nykl and Heflin had walked into camp, he whipped two knives out from his sleeves and planted one in each of the man’s feet.

The man reared and howled. His arms flailed as he tumbled backwards, knocking the woman behind him over in the fall. I didn’t need to be told what to do. I stepped out from behind the horse, steadied my breathing, and lifted the bow, drawing the arrow’s fletching to my chin. I released and let it fly. Haran, the man claiming to own my horse, screamed, his backside decorated with a long shaft. I shrugged. I’d have to work my way up to the killing part. For now, I’d settle with just incapacitating.

My father was on his feet before I had a chance to grab another arrow. He moved with the grace of a mountain cat. Those standing closest were dead before they knew what hit them. Just a single pass with his two blades left necks open, chests pierced, and guts spread wide. It was horrifying and beautiful all at the same time.

A vision struck and I turned with just enough time to draw halfway and release. One of the men from across the street rushed me from the back, hoping to catch me by surprise, only to catch an arrow in his right shoulder instead.

I dropped the bow and grabbed my father’s sword, managing to get it up in time to parry as another man swung his blade at my head. I directed the momentum of his swing to the side leaving him open. I stabbed his left thigh, surprised by how easy the blade slid in. The man howled and dropped his weapon. He attempted to help me pull the blade out, nearly cutting his fingers off in the process.

I yanked the blade free and spun around on the heels of a new vision. I was familiar with the way my magic worked, and I let it take over as three men rushed me at once. Each vision showed me what was coming, giving me time to counter.

My body seemed to have a mind of its own as it acted and reacted to each attack. I blocked left. Spun and countered right. I cut the legs out from the first man while stopping the second by chopping his sword-hand from his arm. I swallowed hard at the blood, a wave of nausea threatening to overpower me.

The third man was more cautious after witnessing how quickly his comrades had been dispatched. I blocked his first swing and parried the second, driving back each attack then countering with my own. It didn’t take long to find an opening. Ducking under his swing, I spun around behind him and cut through both calves. The man dropped.

I retreated toward the corral’s gate where my father was holding off five or six men of his own. He had acquired a sword, blocking with it in one hand while delivering swift, fatal strikes with the dagger in the other. He was amazing. I’d never seen him fight like this before.

Another vision and I spun, whipping my sword around and barely dodging three swift blows from a pair of hatchets. They were wielded by a short, stout man with more hair on his face than his head. It was so thick I could barely see his eyes. He snarled and swung every which way, trying to cleave me in two.

The villagers might have had the greater numbers, but dusk steadily turned to dark, giving our Upakan eyes the advantage.

I pivoted to the left. A hatchet sailed past where I’d been standing. The throw was deadly accurate—but not for the intended target. It struck one of my father’s attackers square in the back. He fell without a sound.

My assailant was so stunned at having killed the wrong person, he missed my counter. I caught the head of his other axe with my sword and flung it from his hands. Letting the momentum lead me, I spun and slammed the pommel of my sword into his temple. He crumpled.

The townsfolk—those still left standing—determined we were far more hassle than we were worth and retreated. I stood back to back with my father as we waited to see what they intended to do. My father didn’t appear to even be winded. I, on the other hand, was having a hard time keeping my hands from shaking.

I snuck a glance at the pile of bodies strewn across the lawn in front of the corral. Some were still writhing, but most would never move again.

“Get your horse and satchel,” my father hissed.

I crawled through the fence and grabbed my horse, pulling her by the reins toward the gate. Father retrieved his, which surprisingly hadn’t run off in the middle of the battle, and opened the gate for me.

He held my horse while I ran to get my pack from the peg at the front of the barn. The other two bags, along with my sword and bow, were piled just inside the door. Apparently, the stable owner and his comrades hadn’t gotten around to divvying out the goods before we’d shown up.

“Everything there?”

I took a quick look inside the packs. “Looks like it.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

By the time we had tied everything off, those that had retreated had rallied help. It looked like half the town was heading our way. By their unsteady steps, most appeared to have come directly from the tavern. Even the half-naked women were rushing down the street to see what all the fuss was about.

I mounted, slapped the reins, and took off after father. We headed out of town as fast as we dared in the dark, not slowing until we were sure no one was following. Some miles down the road, Father slowed and I brought my mare up alongside. We kept our pace to a brisk trot from there.

“Are you injured?”

In all the excitement, I hadn’t thought to look. I gave myself a quick inspection, then shook my head. “No. You?”

“Not that I can tell.”

Neither of us spoke for some time. I didn’t know what to say, but the silence was even more disconcerting. Just when I didn’t think I could take it any longer, my father finally turned in his saddle.

“Best we don’t tell your mother about this.”

I shivered at the thought. “Agreed.”

WE TRAVELED THE REST of the night without stopping. I think we were both a little worried that the townsfolk of Norshag would throw a hunting party together and come after us in our sleep.

By the time the sun had risen high enough to penetrate the canopy over our heads, Father had directed us off the main path and into a dense grove of underbrush. We quickly covered the horses’ passage with fallen branches and loose leaves.

“You need some rest,” he said. “And frankly, so do I.”

He wasn’t going to get an argument from me. I hadn’t been able to quit yawning for the last four hours. I’d dozed off more than once only to be jostled awake before falling out of my saddle.

We stopped next to a small stream and didn’t bother unsaddling the horses in case we needed a hasty escape. I had a feeling the poor animals would just have to suffer with them for the next few days, at least until we were a safe distance from Norshag. After refilling our skins and feeding and watering the horses, we bedded down. I was too exhausted to eat.

Father took first watch. I turned over and pulled my blanket up over my face to hide the light. As tired as I was, sleep was slow in coming. The events of last night kept playing over and over in my mind. My first real battle wasn’t what I had imagined it to be. I had thought I wasn’t afraid of anything. I was wrong. I was still trembling just thinking about it.

I lowered my blanket. “Is everyone out here like that?”

My father was sitting against a large oak, keeping an eye on the surrounding wood. “Like what?”

“Like those people back there.”

“Crazy?” he asked with a slight chuckle. “No. They aren’t all like that.” He shifted position to see me better. “But we aren’t the most welcomed people in Aldor either, given what we do.”

“You mean killing people?”

Father nodded

I thought about it a moment. “Then why do we do it?”

“Because . . .” He seemed to be searching the surrounding foliage for an appropriate answer. “It’s just the way it’s always been.”

Not exactly the response my curious mind had hoped for. “But why?”

He shrugged. “I guess out of necessity. It allows us to live our own lives away from the burdens of their society.”

“Why are we so different?”

My father rolled his eyes. “Ayrion, go to sleep.”

I could tell he was getting annoyed, so I dropped it. I rolled over, pulled my blanket back up, and closed my eyes.

Something grabbed my shoulder. I threw back the covers and shot up, ready to fight.

“Calm yourself. It’s just me.”

I shook my head to clear it. When my eyes focused enough to recognize my father’s face, I let my fists drop. I had to squint just to see him. “Is it my turn already?”

“No, I let you sleep. We’ll eat and be on our way.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?” My words were distorted with a deep yawn.

“That’s why.”

I stretched and rubbed my eyes. “What time is it? How long did I sleep?” It felt like I had just managed to doze off when Father had woken me.

“Mid-afternoon, judging by the sun. Now get a move on. We have quite a bit of road to cover today.”

I stood slowly and repacked my bedding. My movements felt groggy, like after a long night of hard drinking. Not that I had ever done such a thing, but I’d seen the way some of the other warriors in our clan had behaved after returning home from a successful contract. It was best to leave them alone for the next few days.

After a quick meal of dried meat, some cheese, and a slice of bread, we were back on the road and moving east.

We spent the next couple of days traveling through the wooded regions south of the Northern Heights. I’d never seen so many trees. I was beginning to wonder if they’d ever end when the forest finally started to thin. Pretty soon it was nothing but open countryside in all directions.

After a while, I found myself missing the trees, or more importantly, the shade they provided, as the direct sunlight covered us with its warm and blinding rays. I tried resorting to my shaders, but Father said we couldn’t keep relying on them. “Being solely dependent on something is dangerous,” he said. “It’s a weakness that could be exploited.”

After a day or so of traveling without seeing another living soul, the air grew stale. It stunk of decay.

“What’s that smell?” I finally asked, pinching my nose with one hand.

“That’s the Slags.”

“The what?”

“The Slags. It’s a marsh just north of here.” He pointed off to the left.” It runs between Norshag and Oswell.”

“That’s the city where the contract is, right?”

“Yes. The marsh runs for days in both directions. It feeds off the Shemoa River.”

“Why does it stink like that?”

“It’s filled with bog holes that emit gases from under the soil.”

“Why?”

Father groaned. “I don’t know, but you never want to get close enough to find out. A lot of dangerous predators live in there, including razorbacks.”

I’d read about razorbacks. They were monstrous lizard-like creatures that devoured anything stupid enough to wander too far into their territories. We had cave lizards back home. I’d even kept a few as pets, but they weren’t much longer than my forearm. It was hard to believe that these razorbacks could grow as large as twenty feet.

Father smiled at my plugged nose. “The winds are coming from the north. That’s why the strong smell. Once they shift, you’ll never know the Slags are even there.”

Somehow, I doubted that. I found myself sleeping with one eye open and jumping at any unnatural sound, wondering whether or not it was a razorback come to eat us.

A full week had passed since our narrow escape from the mountain people of Norshag. Of that, five days had been spent traveling parallel to the marsh, and five days we’d been forced to bear the stench of its bog holes. If it smelled this bad from this distance, I couldn’t imagine what it must be like up close.

Two days later, the smell finally lifted. I almost didn’t notice. I’d grown so accustomed to the lingering stench that it took my father calling my attention to it for it to register.

“We should reach the Shemoa by tomorrow,” he said. It was a good thing too. I had already drunk most of my water skin and we only had one spare between the two of us. It had been days since we’d come across a viable water source. The ones we found smelled as bad as the marsh. We didn’t dare fill our skins from them. If the foul water didn’t kill us outright, it probably would have turned us into bog toads, or worse. At least, that was what I imagined would happen if I was ever desperate enough to drink the dark liquid.

We bedded down in a small clearing completely surrounded by high grass, which helped block some of the cold winds gusting across the open plain. We dug our pit much wider than usual. The last thing we wanted was to accidentally ignite the brush.

We ate in silence, enthralled by the dance of the flames.

The horses made soft sounds as they chewed on their feed, swishing their tails as they did. I looked up at the stars. The thick billowing clouds that had been there for the last few days had moved on, revealing a sky so wondrous it could steal your breath. More stars than I could count in a lifetime lit the heavens like a traveler’s map pointing our way. I took a deep breath and slowly released, mist fanning out in front of my face before disappearing.

“Better turn in,” Father said from his side of the pit. “I’ll take first watch.”

I nodded and crawled the rest of the way under my blanket. It didn’t take long for sleep to arrive. Sitting all day in a saddle tended to be more tiring than a hard day’s march. I’d barely nodded off when something jostled me awake. I tried to say something, but Father clamped a hand over my mouth, a finger pressed to his lips.

I nodded and he released me. Neither of us moved. All I could hear was the wind whipping through the grass. I concentrated. What had he heard? I continued listening, and was rewarded for the effort. It was faint, but it was like nothing I’d heard before. It was something between a hiss and a deep-throated grunt. I heard it again, this time closer, more distinct.

Father leaned in and whispered, “Razorbacks.”

That was all I needed to know. I leapt from my bed, dragging it behind me as I rushed for my horse. She began stomping the ground, sensing the approaching danger. Most of our gear was already packed. I stuffed my blanket into the satchel on the side of the mare and spun at the sound of another hissing grunt behind us. The razorback was close enough to hear the grass swishing around it.

We swung onto the horses and yanked them around, hoping to make a run for it when another loud hissing-grunt sounded directly in front of us. There was more than one and they had us surrounded. I still couldn’t see them. I’d grown so accustomed to the light that I was finding it difficult to pierce the darkness as I once had. Father grabbed his bow and nocked an arrow before I had time to even consider my options.

The horses moved closer to the fire and away from the edge of the grass. I grabbed my bow as well and waited for something to shoot. That was when I saw it. The first creature rose out of the grass about ten feet from the edge of the clearing. It was even bigger than I had imagined. I wondered how something that size had managed to get so close without being seen.

I turned my horse at the sound of the second creature. It was directly behind us. It was almost as big as the first, maybe seven feet tall. It pushed its way out of the grass and my jaw dropped. It was at least twenty feet long. Its back was armored with thick scales, and there were a number of flat spikes running the length of its spine, no doubt the reason for its name. The razorback opened its mouth and released a screeching hiss so loud that I let go of the bow string. My arrow flew across the campsite and bounced off the creature’s protected hide.

“They won’t penetrate!” I called over my shoulder as I fumbled for another shaft. My horse was in a state of full panic. It was taking all my effort just to hold her in place. Both creatures were out of the grass now and circling. “Why aren’t they attacking?”

“I don’t know,” Father said. “Aim for the eyes.” I heard the twang of his bow behind me and the first razorback reared and screeched. I glanced over my shoulder to see my father’s arrow sticking from its left eye. That was when it charged. I was struck by a vision, but there was little I could do from the back of the horse. My father whipped his out of the way just in time, but the creature spun and its enormous tail hit my horse, knocking her to the side. She didn’t go down, but her whinny let me know she’d been hurt.

The second razorback charged as well, but like the first, it stopped before reaching the fire and tried using its tail for a second strike. This time, using the vision, I was able to maneuver her far enough over that the tail hit the ground beside us. Both times the creatures had purposefully kept away from the center of the camp. It had to be the fire.

Without stopping to think, I jumped off my horse. I held on to her reins in case she tried to leave me behind like she had done at the pass.

“What are you doing?” My father released another shaft, but I heard it bounce off the razorback’s scales.

“They don’t like the flames.” I grabbed a stick of wood from the fire and waved it out in front of the razorback’s face, hollering as loud as I could. It recoiled, hissing at me as it did. I pushed forward. The creature withdrew, backing around to where the first razorback stood screeching at the shaft sticking from its eye.

I knew one small torch wasn’t going to be enough. The flames were sure to burn out and then it would be over. In a move of desperation, I leaned over and lit the grass in front of us. The dry weeds ignited and the fire spread like it was alive, creating a wall between us and the creatures. I threw my makeshift torch at them and jumped on my horse. One look at the flames and the two razorbacks turned and retreated the way they had come. They cut a trail straight for the Slags.

“Pray the wind doesn’t shift!” Father said, giving me a hard look as he turned his horse east and snapped the reins. I did the same and we let them run. Galloping blind or not, we couldn’t afford to get caught out in the middle of the grasslands with a fire on our heels.

Behind us, the sky burned a deep orange. The wind was coming up from the south, which with any luck would continue to do so and send the fire directly into the swamplands. I shook my head. I hadn’t been away from home two weeks and I’d already burned down part of Keldor. Not exactly the most promising start as an Upakan warrior.

WE RODE THROUGH THE NIGHT, and by the end of the next day had reached the edge of the Shemoa River. All hint of the fire had disappeared from view. Even the smoke we had seen rising into the sky earlier that morning was no longer visible. I hoped it had hit the Slags and burned itself out.

Father directed us north along the river’s bank. I’d never seen so much water. It made the underground river back home seem like a mere trickle in comparison. I tried throwing a stone across, but it barely made it half way.

We continued north until we reached a small outpost that looked to have been built by the same craftsmen responsible for designing Norshag. The quality was definitely no better.

There were a couple of rundown buildings that looked to serve as a way station for travelers, and a long set of stairs leading down to a dock with a large flat boat.

“What’s that?”

Father turned to look. “That’s a ferry. It’s going to take us across the river.” On closer inspection, I saw that the boat was connected to a thick cord spanning the entire width of the river.

“The horses too?”

“That’s right.”

I gripped my reins tighter with excitement.

“I guess we made it just in time,” Father said as he turned in the saddle to get a look at the sun’s position. The sky had already begun to color, signaling the close of another day. “We’ll bed down here for the night and cross in the morning.” He guided his horse down the path to the front of the first building. It was the only one with smoke rising from its chimney.

We hadn’t made it past the gate when the front door opened and a rugged-looking man stepped out. He was about my father’s height but a good bit rounder in the chest. His hair was thinning on top, and his arms—where the sleeves had been rolled up—were dark from too much time in the sun. In those arms, he held a rather large crossbow, which he aimed casually at us.

“You’re the first to travel through this way in nearly a moon. Where you headed?”

“Oswell,” my father said, coming to a stop at the foot of some steps leading up to a full wraparound porch.

“Oswell?” The man leaned against the door frame and spat off to the side, wiping his mouth with the top half of his sleeve. “No need to tell me where you’re traveling from. I can see by your eyes you’re from the Lost City.” He stood there a moment without saying anything. He appeared to be weighing his options. I noticed he didn’t lower the bow. “You ain’t here for me, are you?”

My father chuckled. “You wouldn’t still be standing there if we were.”

The man grunted. “Good point. I take it you’ll be looking for a ride across, then.”

“We will, plus some shelter for the night if you have the room.”

“Aye, plenty of room. I’m the only ferryman around these parts. Few people travel east from here. They prefer the longer route further south, keeping as far from the Slags as they can.” The man chuckled. “Personally, I don’t know what they’re all so afraid of. I’ve lived here close to twenty years, and the most dangerous thing I’ve seen were some of those folks coming out of Norshag.”

I smiled. I liked the friendly sort of way the ferryman seemed to babble on. I wondered if he lived here alone.

The man lowered his bow and started down the steps. “I’ve got some bunks out back, five coppers for the room, three more for grub.” He glanced at the horses. “I’ll even throw in some hay at no additional charge.”

“Much appreciated,” my father said with a slight bow of his head.

“The name’s Hobb.” The man paused at the bottom of the steps and looked at us.

“I’m Narris. And this is my son, Ayrion.”

Hobb nodded. “If you follow me we’ll get you tucked in for the night.” Hobb took us around back past the long flight of stairs leading down to the dock. There was a small stable between the two buildings, no more than a couple of stalls, but dry enough to give the horses a place out of the weather. We tied them off and then joined our host as he worked to turn the apparently stubborn lock on the building in which we were going to stay.

“No telling what shape she’s in. Like I said, I haven’t seen another soul in quite some time, and they didn’t stay the night.”

“As long as there’s a roof and a mattress, you won’t get any complaints from us.”

“Well, you’ll certainly find those. And I can vouch for the stew.” His mouth curled into a wicked grin. “Caught some fresh coneys this morning. Pesky things won’t stay out of my cabbage.”

My mouth watered at the thought of a hot meal—anything besides salted pork.

The lock finally snapped and Hobb pushed the door open. The hinge whined the entire way, stopping only when the door hit something on the other side.

“Here, just a moment.” Hobb laid the bow down on one of the bunks and pulled a small tinderbox from his pocket to start a fire in the hearth. “There you go. She’ll be warm in a jiff.” He grabbed his bow from the bed. “By the time you finish unpacking, I should have supper ready. Come on up to the house and I’ll set you each a bowl.”

The ferryman opened his hand and waited.

Father lifted his coin purse from under his shirt and counted out eight coppers.

The ferryman jostled them in his palm. “Right then. I’ll be seeing to your meal, gentlemen.” With that, he turned and walked out the door, shutting it behind him.

“He seems nice enough,” I said, dropping my pack on the cot closest to the fire. I sneezed at the dust I’d disturbed on top.  “Nothing like those people in Norshag.”

“Not everyone is going to be as hostile as they were, but it doesn’t mean you can blindly trust people either. Best to always err on the side of caution.”

We finished our unpacking and then unsaddled the horses and made sure they had plenty of water before heading up to the main house.

“Come in. Come in,” Hobb said when Father knocked. Father opened the door and I followed him inside. Hobb’s home was cluttered with all sorts of knickknacks, tools, and lumber. It looked like he’d been living on his own for quite some time. If he’d been married, I couldn’t see his wife letting the place get like that. The small home had all the makings of a fine workshop.

“Have a seat. Food will be ready shortly.” Hobb stirred a large kettle hanging over the fire. Whatever it was smelled wonderful. He dished up three wooden bowls and placed them in front of us. Steam curled around my face and I took a deep whiff, savoring the smell. He poured us each a glass of something from a pitcher he had sitting in the middle of the table and then sat down.

“Eat. Eat.”

Eat we did. In fact, we didn’t stop eating until we’d emptied every last scoop in the pot. You’d think we hadn’t eaten in days the way we stuffed it in. The pitcher turned out to be watered-down ale. Even that tasted good to me tonight as I shoveled down Hobb’s excellent rabbit stew.

“That’s quite the healthy appetite you have there,” the ferryman commented as I started on my fourth bowl of stew. He lit his pipe and took a seat by the fire.

“So, tell me of your travels. I don’t get out much myself, and when I do, it’s only to Oswell for supplies. It’s always nice to hear what’s going on in the world.” He puffed out a couple smoke rings, which circled his face before fading against the rafters above.

I didn’t say much, this being my first time out in the world, as he put it, but Father spent some time regaling him with a few of his expeditions. Hobb paid attention, but I think he was more interested in the company than the stories.

Once Father finished with his adventures, he asked Hobb about Oswell.

“The city seems to be doing better ever since Magistrate Egleman was ousted and this new fella, Sirias, took his place. Things are beginning to quiet down. I’ve even heard talk of expansion.”

Father slowly directed the conversation. The questions were subtle, innocent enough, but I recognized the information he was trying to gather—Oswell’s politics, leaders, militia—information he would probably need to fulfill his contract. He absorbed every detail. With all the excitement of being able to accompany him on this mission, I’d forgotten to ask him the particulars. Who were we supposed to kill?

After a few more well-placed questions, my father finally stood. “We better be turning in if we plan on getting an early start.”

“I’ll have breakfast ready before you go,” Hobb said as he stood from his chair and walked us to the door. He’d barely gotten it open when a loud crack of thunder shook the house. We stepped outside and followed him to the edge of the porch. “Looks like a bad one.” He rubbed the top of his head where his hair was thinning and stared out across the water on our left. “It’s gonna flood the banks for sure. Passage tomorrow will be difficult at best.”

We said our goodbyes and thanked him once again for the food and the company. We stopped to make sure the horses were secure in their stalls then headed for our bunks.

“Will they be okay?” I asked when a flash of lightning streaked across the sky, followed by a deafening roll of thunder.

“They’ll be fine,” father said, but his face held a hint of concern as the first drops hit the tops of our heads. I was feeling very thankful for the shelter. I would have hated to have been caught outside on a night like this.

I plopped onto my cot as my father stoked the fire. I was too tired to do much more than remove my boots. By the time my head hit the feather pillow, all thoughts of finding out more about the contract had been forgotten. Rain drummed on the roof, and the soft sound lulled me into sleep.

MORNING BROKE and so did the storm.

I awoke to a strange animal making all kinds of ruckus outside our window. “What in the name of Aldor is that?” I tried blocking out the noise with my pillow, but it did little good.

“It’s a rooster.”

“Well, kill it. It sounds like it’s dying anyway.”

My father laughed as he got out of bed and walked over to the window to take a look. “Storm’s passed. Looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day.”

I yawned. Getting out of bed was even harder when the place you were staying was dry and warm. Unlike most mornings when I woke to the sound of my own teeth chattering and a face covered in dew, I had no desire or need to go stand by the fire. I was already in a state of complete relaxation. Eventually, Father managed to coax me up.

Actually, it only took two words.

“Get up.”

We packed our bags, made our beds, and tidied up the bunkhouse before heading to breakfast. We stopped at the river and rinsed off as best we could. The water was freezing, but it felt good to be able to wash off some of the smell.

“I know a place in Oswell where we can stay that has a tub on every floor,” my father said as he pulled his shirt back over his head. “We’ll be able to get a thorough cleaning there.”

“Good,” I said, trying to hold a serious expression. “‘Cause you stink.” It faltered when my father lifted his arm and took a deep whiff.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” With a smile he turned and walked out to the end of the dock.

I decided while I was there to go ahead and dunk my entire head in the water. It felt like a thousand small needles all poking me at once. I shook the droplets from my hair. I was certainly awake now. I joined my father at the dock’s edge and stared out at the river.

“That water’s moving awfully fast,” Father said. He looked concerned as he watched the ferry bump against the dock’s braces.

“Aye,” a voice called out behind us. The dock shook slightly as the ferryman joined us. “Her banks are higher than I expected.” Hobb rubbed his chin as he took a moment to study the current. “I don’t care for the look of it. Best we wait a couple days for her to get it out of her system. Rains came from the north, which means more flooding. Yep, I’d say two, maybe three days.” With that, he turned and left. “You coming? Food won’t stay hot forever.”

We left the river to its meanderings and followed Hobb up to the house.

The next couple of days were a relaxing break to the dreariness of more riding. Father spent most of his time up at the house talking with Hobb. I, on the other hand, spent as much time away from it as I could. There was nothing more exhilarating than exploring new places. As long as I didn’t wander too close to the Slags, I was free to roam wherever I wished. After our run-in with the razorbacks, I had no desire to get anywhere near that foul-smelling swamp. I confined my explorations to the land south along the riverbank.

The days came and went at an alarmingly slow pace. By the end of the third day, my father looked ready to swim the river himself just to get underway. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy the ferryman’s company, or mind sharing his table; he just wasn’t one for sitting around. My father needed something to do.

We woke the fourth day to a knock at the door. Father was the first out of bed. He crossed the room and opened to find Hobb standing there with a wide grin on his face and an unlit pipe in his mouth. “I believe she’s down far enough to give her a try if you’re up to it.”

My father didn’t have to be told twice. We were up, dressed, and heading out the door for breakfast before Hobb even had a chance to set the table. After a hot meal of oats with a little dab of honey, Father and I rounded up the horses and followed Hobb down to the ferry.

The water was as murky as dirt soup, but had dropped considerably since the morning after the storm and the boat no longer thumped against the dock.

“Careful with the rope,” Hobb said, already standing on the ferry. “You don’t want to snag their heads.”

I lifted the heavy cord while Father coaxed the two horses on board. The large boat rocked back and forth in the current. I was grateful for the railing around the outside to keep us from falling off the edge.

“She still has some life in her,” Hobb said, looking out over the water as he waited for us to get our gear stowed.

“Is it safe enough to cross?” Father glanced over the side. “The boat’s already rocking.”

Hobb waved his hand. “No worries. I’ve crossed in worse, trust me. I’ll have you on the other side in no time.” He released the last of the lines and the boat started to move. The current tried its best to pull us downstream. If not for the rope, which spanned the river, it would have. “All hands to the line,” Hobb called over his shoulder as he grabbed the rope and yanked.

I joined them and started to pull. A few minutes of heaving and I could see why Hobb’s arms were so big. My shoulders and back were on fire and we’d barely left the dock. My fingers were a little stiff from the cold morning air, but the rush of blood from heaving the rope quickly warmed them.

It was kind of fun. The horses didn’t seem too bothered by the movement. It probably had something to do with the hay Hobb had piled for them in the middle of the raft. The man certainly knew what he was doing.

“The current’s stronger than I thought,” Hobb said, straining under the weight of the rope. He looked upriver. The tone of his voice didn’t sound very encouraging, but his face was calm despite the effort it was taking to keep the ferry on course. The water was now lapping over the sides of the boat and onto the decking.

“How do you plan to get back across?” Father asked. “The current’s too strong for one person to manage.” He grabbed the rope and started to pull, but his foot slipped on the wet planks and he lost his grip. He reached for the rope, trying to hold on with one hand, but his other arm swung wide and he went down.

A quick warning from my magic and I jumped back out of the way, but not before hitting a patch of slick board myself. My feet flew out from under me. I hit the small railing at the back and started over, but my father somehow managed to catch his fall and grab the front of my trousers before I did.

He yanked me back on board and I stumbled to my knees beside the pile of hay. My heart was racing. I tried to catch my breath as the thought of what had nearly happened hit me. I glanced at my horse and she glanced at me. With straw hanging from her muzzle, she shook her head and nickered. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who thought I looked foolish.

“What do you two think you’re doing back there? This ain’t no time to go swimming. Get back on the line before I lose her.” I stood and brushed the muck off my pants from where I had slid across the ferry.

“Blazes! I spoke too soon.” There was something in Hobb’s voice that had Father and I scrambling for the rope. The ferryman pointed upriver. “Look!”

I gasped. An enormous tree was heading directly for us.

Father grabbed the rope. “What do we do? Should we try going back?”

“Won’t help. Pull!”

We were barely halfway across the river. I grabbed the line and heaved with all my might. It felt like I’d lassoed a mountain. We didn’t seem to be going anywhere. I’d seen rock slugs travel faster. I glanced at the approaching tree and wished I hadn’t. We were still in its path, and it was coming fast. There was no way we were going to get clear in time. It seemed my luck was just as terrible as ever.

“Pull! Pull!” Hobb kept shouting the same order as though it was going to produce a better result. The horses continued chomping away, unaware of the danger.

The tree was close enough to see that it was an enormous mountain pine. There was nothing we could do.

“Brace yourselves!”

The tree hit the left side of the ferry, throwing Father and I into the horses. The horses screamed in terror as they fought to keep their footing.

“Help!” came a panicked cry.

I turned to see Hobb hanging off the front of the ferry, clinging to the rope for dear life.

“Pull me in! I can’t swim!”

What kind of man takes a job on the water when he can’t swim? I scrambled after Father, but the line behind us snapped with a loud crack. My father grabbed for the ferryman, but Hobb plunged head first into the ice waters of the Shemoa, still clinging to the rope.

“Hold on!” Father shouted.

“Tie it off! Tie it off!” Hobb bellowed.

I turned around. Tie what off?

Father flew past me and wrapped what was left of the rope around the closest corner-post. The slack in the rope snapped taut and the boat started swinging back toward the far shore like a pendulum.

“Help!” Hobb cried as the sudden tension in the line jerked him clear out of the water. He lost his grip and landed a few feet away from the boat. He went under only to reappear on the opposite side of the boat, arms flailing. He wasn’t lying when he said he couldn’t swim.

“We need to help him!” I shouted as Hobb went under then bobbed up again, spluttering.

“There’s nothing we can do for him now. Keep those horses calm.”

The horses. I grabbed my mare’s reins and swung into the saddle.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Going after him.”

“The blazes you are! Get off that horse!”

I didn’t bother looking. I could already guess the expression on my father’s face as I dug in my boots. My horse crashed through the railing and over the side.

“Ayrion!”

I hit the water, the icy cold stealing my breath. I clung to my horse as she fought to keep our heads above the river’s current. I aimed her for the ferryman. The current was powerful. On our right, the last of the great pine’s branches passed us. I kept us back enough to keep from getting caught in them.

“Hold on! I’m coming!”

Hobb heard me shout and tried to fight the current to reach us, but with little success. We were being pulled back toward the middle of the river. Soon we were going to be too far out for the horse to ever make it back. I was surprised the mare had lasted this long.

“Swim! I can’t get to you. You need to swim!”

Hobb swung his arms with everything he had, but the current was just too strong. I was within twenty feet. “Come on. You can do it,” I said to the horse, urging her to keep going. We were so close.

I wrapped the reins around my left hand and leaped into the water, swimming out as far as the leather straps would allow.

“Almost there! Just a little more.” I stretched my legs out as far as they would go and Hobb grabbed my ankle. I wanted to yell for him to hold on, but the icy water had stolen my breath.

I pulled with all my might. I wasn’t sure if I was moving us toward the horse or the horse to us. Either way we both managed to grab a hold of the saddle. “Don’t get on her,” I said, spitting water with every word, “or she’ll never make it.” At this point, I didn’t think she’d make it either way.

“Hold on! I’m coming!” Father shouted, galloping down the bank with a coil of rope over his shoulder.

I gaped as he flew past us. He halted further down the bank.

“Catch!” He threw the rope and it struck the water right in front of me. I let go of the horse and grabbed hold, my entire body going numb. I could barely feel my fingers so I wrapped the rope around the saddle’s hand grip instead of trying to tie it. As soon as I waved, my father slapped his horse and it started towing us in.

In a matter of moments, I was sprawled out next to Hobb in the mud, neither of us able to move much beyond offering a satisfied smile at having survived what should have been a watery grave.

“That’s quite the boy you have there,” Hobb said. His teeth and body were trembling against the cold.

“Yes, he can be quite stupid sometimes.” My father shook his head, but there was a proud smile on his face.

“Where’s my ferry?”

“She’s safe. I managed to tie off the line like you said and ride her to shore.”

Hobb released a sigh of relief. “I owe you my life.”

“No. You owe that to Ayrion. You owe me another ride back across on our return.”

The ferryman smiled and reached over to pat my arm. “You’ll have a free place to stay any time you need it. And that’s a fact. There will always be an extra seat at my table, anytime.”

I wished I had one of his steaming bowls of delicious coney stew right now. The thought of it almost made me forget the chill in my bones. Almost.

“We just might take you up on that,” my father said as he stood to his feet. “But for now, I think we need to get a fire started before the two of you freeze to death.”

It didn’t take him too long to gather some semi-dry wood from a nearby thicket. Pretty soon the two of us were sitting naked by the fire while our clothes dried on a line.

As we continued to dry, Father went through what was left of the supplies. “Most of the food is ruined. The pork and cheese will be fine, but the rest is like soup. We should have enough to get us to Oswell if you don’t decide to stop and take another swim.”

I smirked.

My father turned to Hobb. “What will you do about the ferry?”

Hobb turned to look at his boat. The force of the current had buried the right side deep into the bank. “Nothing for now. At least not until the river lowers, which will probably take a few days.” He stretched his hands toward the fire. “If you gentlemen don’t mind, I’ll ride along with you into Oswell. I’ve got friends there I can stay with. I’ll borrow a horse from them and ride back. If the current’s still too strong, there’s a crossing about a day’s ride south of here.”

I looked at Father and he looked at me. “I have no objection.”

“Don’t worry about the food.” Hobb said with a wave of his hand. “When it comes to rustling up some game in these parts, there’s no one better.”

Father nodded. “We’ll have to take turns walking. I don’t want to wear the horses out by riding double while carrying supplies.”

“Won’t get any complaints from me,” Hobb said with a bright smile. “I can walk for miles. That is, after I get some feeling back in my toes.” With that, he lifted both legs and waved the bottoms of his feet at the open flames.

I started to laugh. It was hard not to, looking at the naked man with his feet in the air. The other two joined in. This was definitely turning out to be quite the adventure. I couldn’t help but wonder what sort of disaster would befall us next.

HOBB WAS TRUE to his word.

He didn’t complain once about the rotation for walking, and each night there was fresh game he’d managed to hunt during our time on the road. He seemed to have the eye of a hawk when it came to spotting coneys. I’m not sure what he had against the fluffy things, but I didn’t care as long as his disdain resulted in a hot meal.

For the next few days as we continued crossing the plains between the Shemoa River and Oswell, I followed Hobb around while he taught me the art of tracking. He showed me how to hunt off the land: how to spot rabbit holes, pigeon cubbies, even wild boar wallows. He explained the difference in tracks, rubs, and rooting. I wasn’t sure how useful it would be to see caked mud on the bottom of a tree and know a hog had been that way, especially when the only time we saw a pig in the Lost City was when the market carts rolled in from Chorazin and Pinnella to sell their goods, but I soaked up the knowledge anyway.

The journey took longer than we had planned, but that was expected considering we were short one horse. Father didn’t seem to mind, and I was having too much fun learning how to hunt to worry about how it might affect our contract.

By the fourth day, we found ourselves standing outside the gates of Oswell. A large wooden wall surrounded the city. According to Hobb, it had been built to keep out some of the more dangerous creatures living in the Slags. He said the marsh was close enough that it wasn’t unheard of to have the occasional razorback venture out in search of food.

At the gate, Father and I kept our hoods up and let Hobb do the talking. He seemed to know one of the guards. During their rather lengthy conversation, the guard kept looking our direction. I could tell that my father was getting anxious. His hand slid toward his sword. A few more exchanges and Hobb finally walked back over and the watchman waved us through.

“That was Treppin,” Hobb said as he led us through the gates, “my late wife’s younger brother. I told him my predicament and he agreed to let me borrow a horse to take back in a day or two. Unfortunately, I might have overestimated his willingness to offer me a room, so I guess I’ll be joining you in looking for a place to stay.”

“What did you tell him about us?” Father looked tense.

“The truth. I told him you were a couple of travelers that fished me out of the river and saved my life. Don’t worry, your identities are safe.”

Hobb turned and we started up one of the streets on the right. “This will take us into town. I know a couple of good inns if you’re looking for a hot meal and a bath. The price is fair and the food fresh. I’ve stayed at both. Although,” he said with a slight grin, “I’d suggest the Golden Tassel. Best pie in town and the service is excellent. Milly will do us right.” The way he said her name indicated there was more to his choice than the food.

Finding the two inns didn’t prove difficult. They were hard to miss. The Golden Tassel sat on one side of the road and the Cockatrice on the other. Both establishments appeared well kept. Their signs were newly painted, their porches swept and lined with occupied chairs. They even had curtains in the windows. The upper rooms had vases of wild-flowers on the sills.

Both establishments seemed inviting. If it hadn’t been for Hobb, it would have proven a difficult choice. The only noticeable difference, apart from the name on the signs, were the curtains. Those hanging in the Golden Tassel were a deep yellow, no doubt due to its name, while those at the Cockatrice were soft purple.

“Just get a whiff of that, would you,” Hobb said as he directed us behind the inn toward the stable. “Smells like Milly’s already in the kitchen.”

I followed his advice and breathed in deep. Something did smell good.

“Greetings, and welcome to the Golden Tassel,” a boy said, standing just outside the open doors leading into the stable. He was about my age. He seemed overly dressed for someone who worked outside. His vest and tunic were clean and he wore a sash of yellow material that hung from his neck down to his waist. It matched the cap on his head. “Will you be staying long?”

“One night,” my father said as he dismounted. “Two at most.”

The boy’s smile was as bright as his vest. “Very good, sir,” he said with a tip of his cap. “Shall I take your horses? They’ll be watered and fed with the finest oats in Oswell.” I wanted to like the stable-hand but he seemed a little too friendly. I’d never met anyone, other than my sister, who was that cheerful without an ulterior motive. His wide smile and eager disposition faltered momentarily when he walked over to take the reins from my father and got his first good look at our eyes. To his credit, he didn’t gasp.

Before I had time to swing off my horse, his smile was back in place as he guided the horses inside. He found two open stalls near the back, away from the others. “Will these do, gentlemen?”

My father studied the two stalls and pursed his lips as if having a hard time deciding. “I suppose they’ll do,” he said before tossing the boy a couple coppers. “There’ll be double that in it for you if you keep a close eye on our gear.”

The boy’s eyes widened, and for the first time, the expression on his face seemed genuine. He pulled the cap off his head and placed it over his chest, offering a deep bow. “Yes, sir. I’ll make sure no one comes near it. You have my oath.”

My father grabbed his weapons along with one of the smaller carry bags and I did the same. “We’ll be back for the rest later.”

The stable-boy bowed again and then proceeded to scoop some oats from a large grain sack in the corner. We left him to his work and headed back outside. Hobb looked impatient.

“Good. Now let’s get a room so we can eat.”

My stomach growled at the thought of food.

“I think the folks inside might appreciate it more if we had a dunk in the tub before we did,” Father said, pointedly staring at Hobb’s mud spattered clothing.

Hobb looked down. “You might be right.” He pulled back the top of his tunic and sniffed. “No, you’re definitely right. Milly gets one whiff of this and she’ll try to drown me herself.” A mischievous grin spread across his face. “I think we’ll go this way.” He nodded toward the back of the building.

Father hefted his sack and bow. “Lead the way.”

In addition to the stables, two sheds and an extensive clothes line running between them were behind the inn. A large woodpile leaned against the smaller of the two buildings and a well sat just off to the side.

Hobb passed the first door into the inn and made his way to the second. There was a nervous twitch in his eye as he grabbed the handle and turned. Instead of opening, he peeked inside. The size of his grin let us know he had found what he was looking for. Putting his finger to his lips, he opened the door the rest of the way. Without turning to look, he motioned us to follow.

I pushed my way past Father to get a better look. I wasn’t sure what all the secrecy was for, but I was happy to join in. Father closed the door quietly behind us and we watched as Hobb tiptoed his way across the kitchen. On the other side of the room, a woman hummed as she stirred a large mixing bowl. Her back was to us.

I realized I was holding my breath. A couple of the attendants saw Hobb and smiled, but no one said anything. Like us, they stopped what they were doing to watch.

Hobb made it all the way up behind the lady without her noticing. She was still humming along when he reached out and grabbed her by the waist and growled.

The woman screamed. Her bowl flew into the air, its contents spilling over the counter and floor. She spun around, still screaming. When she saw who it was, she slapped him and proceeded to beat him on the arm with her stirring spoon for good measure. “How dare you scare me like that, you sorry excuse for a man!”

The workers smiled, some openly laughing, but a single look from the innkeeper sent them rushing back to their duties. I happened to be one of those who had been laughing. My father elbowed me to be quiet.

“You told me I’d better stop by the next time I was in town. So . . .” Hobb spread his arms wide as if expecting a warm embrace. “Here I am.”

“I have half a mind to throw you in the oven for scaring me like that.” The innkeeper waved her spoon in Hobb’s face threateningly.

Hobb’s lower lip dropped. “Milly, sweetie. How long’s it been?”

“Don’t you sweetie me, you old bear.” She turned up her nose. “What’s that smell?”

Hobb smiled. “Natural attraction. It’s the smell of a man who’s traveled a great distance to see you.”

“It’s the smell of a hog’s wallow.” She pointed her spoon at him again. “If you think you’re coming within ten feet of me looking and smelling like that–think again.” She noticed Father and I standing at the back door and lowered her spoon. “Who’s this you got with you?”

“Ah. Allow me to introduce my rescuers.”

“Rescuers?”

“Aye. The river flooded a few days back. I nearly lost my boat and my life. If it weren’t for these two gentlemen jumping in to pull me from those icy waters, I wouldn’t be here today.”

She struck him once more on the arm, but not quite so hard as before. “I told you that you were going to get yourself killed one of these days living out there all by your lonesome.” She walked across the kitchen and held out her hand, but when she spotted our eyes, she recoiled. She grabbed Hobb by the arm and pulled him to the side. “They’re Upaka.”

“Good to see your eyes still work.”

“We can leave if it’s going to be a problem,” Father said kindly.

“No problem at all,” Hobb said with a bright smile as he looked at Milly for a response. “Right?”

Milly didn’t look as convinced, but she nodded. “Right. No problem. The Golden Tassel prides itself on its hospitality. What kind of host would I be to turn away a couple of rescuers?” She looked at our gear. “You’ll be wanting a room?”

“If you have one to spare.”

“Better make it two, Milly my love. You’ll get to enjoy my company for a few days while I wait for the river to lower.”

She crossed her arms and snorted as she slowly scanned him from head to toe. “I don’t know how enjoyable it will be with you smelling like that.”

“Then how about you show us to our rooms so we can wash off some of this travel.”

“Ronan can get you settled,” Milly said, pointing with her spoon to a lanky man who was busy pulling a fresh loaf of bread from the oven. “But make sure you soap those clothes while you’re at it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“All our clothes got soaked in the river,” I said, not wanting to upset the innkeeper by redressing in the same smelly garments as before.

Milly smiled. She wasn’t what I would have called beautiful, or even easy on the eyes for that matter, but there was a warmth about her that reminded me of my mother.  “That’s fine, dear. I’m sure I have some extra changes on hand for such an occasion.” She turned back to Hobb and her demeanor hardened. “No food until you scrub that hide.”

Hobb grinned and then snuck a quick peck on her cheek. He hopped backwards, barely dodging her spoon. “This way, my friends,” he said, quick stepping his way towards the kitchen door where Ronan waited for us. “I guess we better get to cleaning.”

The thought of getting out of my filthy clothes and into some hot soapy water had me pushing my way past Hobb and my father in hopes of being the first into the tub.

I WAS THE LAST in the tub, but it turned out to my benefit. Being last, I was able to take my time and relax. I didn’t have to worry about being rushed in order to let the next-in-line get their chance. By the time I got out and dried off, the skin around my fingers and toes had wrinkled. It was the first real washing I’d had since leaving home. I didn’t realize how dirty I was until I got out. My bathwater was muddier than the river we’d swam through.

During our time in the tub, Milly had our clothes washed and on the lines outside for drying. She had somehow managed to rustle up some outfits that almost fit. It seemed she had quite the collection thanks to guests who’d been unable, or unwilling, to pay. Instead of making good on their debts, they had left their belongings behind.  The outfit I was wearing, even though clean, was a little large. I had to keep pulling up on my trousers to keep from tripping. I hoped my clothes dried quickly.

I forgot all about it when we sat down to eat. Milly opened one of the private dining areas in the back so we wouldn’t have to endure the nervous stares that came when a couple of Upakans enter a room. I wasn’t sure if it was for our benefit or for her guests.

“Milly, you’ve outdone yourself this time,” Hobb said as he stuffed a heaping bite of stew into his mouth. “With food this good, I might reconsider moving over here.”

Milly crossed her arms and started tapping her foot. “I’ve been waiting ten years for you to make good on it, and all I get are empty promises. I’m quite the catch, you know.”

Hobb smiled as best he could with a mouth full of carrots and potatoes. “There’s no denying it.”

“I have plenty of other gentlemen callers who’d drop to one knee in a heartbeat if they thought for a moment they stood a chance.”

Hobb choked, spitting part of a carrot on the table. “Are you trying to kill me, woman? What kind of talk is that to be having in front of guests?”

Milly shifted her attention to us. “Well, what do you think? Is it right to string a woman’s heart along like that and never propose marriage? A woman has needs too, you know.”

This time, it was my father who choked. “I, uh . . .” He beat his chest as if trying to force the food to go down. “I believe if a man and woman feel that way about each other, they should certainly discuss it.”

“Hey, whose side are you on?” Hobb pointed his spoon at my father in warning.

“There, you see,” Milly said with a look of victory on her face. “You should listen to him. And now that you’ll be around for the next few days, I’d say we have plenty of time to talk about it.”

Hobb’s face whitened. He dropped his spoon in his bowl. “I think I’ve lost my appetite.”

“Well, I’ve got chores to attend to, so I’ll leave you gentlemen to it.” The innkeeper leaned over, grabbed Hobb by the chin, and twisted his head around. Before he had time to protest, she planted a hard kiss on his mouth.

I turned my eyes. I couldn’t believe the way these two were acting, especially in front of others. I smiled. It was the most fun I’d had the entire trip, apart from jumping into the Shemoa to rescue him; also, not forgetting our battle at Norshag. But those were probably more terrifying than fun.

After the meal, Father had Hobb sketch out a small map of the city to “keep us from getting lost while we had a look around.” Father didn’t say it at the time, but I’m sure his looking around had something to do with our contract.

He had the ferryman include some of the major landmarks like the Justice Hall, the patroller offices, and anywhere the city’s leadership might assemble. He even had him add the new magistrate’s personal estate. Hobb said you couldn’t miss it. It was the largest one in Oswell. Every former magistrate had lived there. It sat on a small hill near the center of town, overlooking the city.

We left most of our weapons in the room and opted for our long daggers and knives. Nothing screamed up-to-no-good like a couple of hooded travelers walking down the street carrying longbows. We didn’t want to draw attention while getting the lay of the land. That was one of the first rules drilled into us. Avoid conflict on unfamiliar ground.

We hadn’t been walking long before the magistrate’s estate came into view. Just as Hobb had described, it sat on a small hill above the rest of the city, like a watchtower, keeping an eye on the citizens below.

“So, who’s our contract?” I asked as we quietly made our way down one of the main roads leading toward the center of town. Up until now, I’d been content with waiting on Father to find the time to fill me in on the details of our job, but ever since our arrival in Oswell, I was starting to grow anxious. If I was honest, I wasn’t exactly sure I wanted to know.

It was one thing to kill in self-defense like those crazy people in Norshag had forced us to do, but it was another to sneak into someone’s bedroom and slit their throat. I figured I’d get used to it. Our people had been doing it for generations, I guessed I could too.

“This is going to be a challenging contract to fulfill,” he said, passing a serious glance my way. “In fact, it’s the largest contract I’ve ever taken, and the most difficult.”

That piqued my interest. The largest contract? And the most difficult? I waited for him to explain. When he didn’t seem to be in any hurry, I finally asked, “Who’s the target?”

Father took a deep breath. “There’s more than one.”

I slowed. “More than one? How many more? Who are we getting paid to . . . you know . . .” I scanned the faces of the people walking by to make sure they weren’t listening in.

Father waited for us to pass a young couple, who were more preoccupied with each other than anything going on around them, before answering. “We have a contract for Magistrate Sirias—”

“Magistrate Sirias?”

“—and his entire family.”

I stopped, all but tripping on my own feet. The breath caught in my throat. His entire family? How could we be expected to kill an entire family?

“Breathe, Ayrion.”

I suddenly realized my father was standing next to me, his hand on my shoulder.  I did as he said and forced a slow breath, and then another. A cartload of questions ran through my mind, but only one managed to make it out. “Does Mother know about this?”

Father released my shoulder. “I never tell your mother about my contracts and she doesn’t ask.”

“The magistrate’s family? Who would want to kill an entire family?”

“Quiet.” Father pulled me to the side. “Here, sit down.” He directed me to a covered well and I took a seat on the outer lip.

This was more than I had bargained for, and yet this was what I had been training to do since I was old enough to walk. I guess I’d never really thought about the details before. I just wanted the honor of being an Upakan warrior. I wanted to be the best. I trained hard every day to be given the opportunity to earn my own contract. But, now, being faced with reality of what that meant, I wasn’t so sure anymore. “Don’t you ever wonder why you’re being asked to do it? What if they don’t deserve to be . . .”

Father sat down beside me and stared at the people making their way up and down the street, going about their lives, seemingly without a care in the world. “I asked my father the same question when I was your age. He said, ‘It’s not our place to question. We are the tool. A knife doesn’t demand to know why it’s being used. It merely responds to the wielder. We are the same way’.” Father patted my leg. “We aren’t getting paid to ask questions. We’re getting paid to act. It’s best not to dwell on it.”

How could I not dwell on it? My father had quite the reputation amongst our clan. He was known as the Cleaner. When he finished a contract, there was nothing left. It was like the person had never existed. It had earned him a fair amount of respect among the other warriors, and up until now, it had been a dream of mine to watch him work and learn his secrets.

“I’m going to need your help, Ayrion. It’s one of the reasons I brought you along.”

“But . . . but it’s an entire family. What if they have kids?” My head rose. “Do they have kids?”

Father nodded. “They have two. A girl about half your brother’s age and an infant.”

This was getting worse by the moment. I glanced at my feet, studying the prints my boots left in the dirt. I wasn’t sure I was cut out to be an Upakan warrior after all. “I . . .” I couldn’t raise my head to look in, what was sure to be, disapproving eyes. “I—”

“What is it, Aryion? Spit it out.”

“I don’t think I can do it.” I released a quick exhale of relief. There, I said it.

“Do what?”

“I don’t think I can kill them.” I waited for the rebuke, but my statement was only met with silence, which was actually worse. Why wasn’t he saying anything? He was probably too ashamed. It felt like I’d been staring at my feet for hours when Father’s voice finally broke the silence.

“Good. Neither do I.”

My head lifted. “What?”

My father was smiling, the way he would whenever I did something he was proud of. “I have no intention of killing them.”

“You don’t? Why not?” The question sort of blurted out before I thought about how stupid it sounded. “I mean. You can’t quit a contract once it’s been taken. It’ll be a mark against our family. And besides, you’re the Cleaner. There’s never been a contract you haven’t completed.”

My father cocked his head. “You sound like you’re trying to talk me into it.”

“No. I’m just . . .” I swallowed nervously. “I’m just worried about what will happen to us if we don’t.”

My father rested his hand on my shoulder once again. “Don’t worry, Ayrion. I have every intention of completing the contract.”

My mouth slacked. “Wait, what?” I stared into his face, trying to understand. “I thought you just said you weren’t going to . . .” I finished the rest of the sentence with a whisper. “Kill them.”

“I’m not.”

I scratched the back of my head. “I’m confused. How are you going to fulfill the contract if you aren’t going to fulfill the contract?”

My father smiled and stood. “Come. I’ll show you.”

I WAS A NERVOUS WRECK by the time Father walked into our small room at the Golden Tassel and gave me the nod, letting me know the hour had arrived. It was hard enough waiting for the time to pass while sitting quietly in our room, but knowing what awaited us this evening, I couldn’t help but let my imagination run wild at all the possible ways this could go wrong.

We had spent the better part of the day mapping out the magistrate’s estate, making sure not to look overly conspicuous as we walked its perimeter at least half a dozen times. We counted out the guards: their postings, their rotations, and their attentiveness to their duties. Father pointed out which ones took their job seriously and which were there just for the pay.

From the top of a nearby building, we studied the grounds—looking for weaknesses in the estate’s protective wall, the best places to breach, and the route with the most natural coverage between the wall and the buildings.

Lastly, we studied the home itself. It wasn’t too difficult spotting which of the rooms were the residences since none of the curtains had been drawn. Each of the family’s personal bedchambers was located on the second floor. I was grateful for that, considering some parts of the estate had four to five floors. Each room had its own separate balcony. I couldn’t figure out how one family could live in something so big. A building like that back home could have housed at least half-a-dozen families.

I followed Father down the inn’s stairs and out through the door at the back of the kitchen. This time when we left our room we took everything with us, everything except the horses, of course. We needed stealth, which would have been difficult to accomplish on horseback rather than on foot. The hitch was that I was forced to carry all my equipment, including my short sword, bow, and quiver. It felt good to be back in my own clothes and not constantly worrying about tripping over my pant legs.

It was well after midnight and the city seemed deserted. A stillness lay across each street like a heavy morning fog. I could almost hear my own heartbeat as we navigated our way from one side of the city to the other. We followed a route of backstreets and alleyways Father had laid to memory that afternoon. It was the most direct route from Milly’s to the magistrate’s estate without having to cross any of Oswell’s main thoroughfares.

The only movement we spotted as we clung to the shadows was the occasional mutt or alley cat searching for their next meal. It took us at least an hour to circumnavigate the maze of narrow side streets before stopping across from the section of the wall where we had decided to enter the estate. We waited at least a quarter-hour for the outer sentries to make their sweep. Each pass around the wall took twenty minutes.

The wall surrounding the estate was built of riverstone. Even without the help of a nearby maple, we could have scaled it by hand, but since we had to get our packs over too, the tree made climbing a lot easier.

Once the guards had made their first pass, I followed Father across the street. We stopped at the wide-limbed tree and he was the first one up. I handed him one of my packs and swung onto the first limb. We sat in the tree for a moment as we scanned the grounds for patrols. Nothing moved. Father signaled, and from there we climbed on the top of the wall and dropped to the other side.

We landed behind a row of trimmed shrubs.

“Leave the bags,” he said, keeping his voice barely above a whisper. “We’ll get them later.”

I wasn’t exactly sure why we needed them at all. Most of our supplies were with the horses. The bags we carried now were filled with more of Milly’s abandoned clothing. I hid my pack under one of the prickly bushes and waited for Father to do the same.

“Bring your bow.”

I nodded. Father grabbed his and slung a large coil of knotted rope with a grappling hook over his shoulder. We wouldn’t have to climb very far, but the grapple would definitely make it easier.

We worked our way around the shrubs to the first of several openings. The family’s rooms were located on the west side of the building where we were, one of them being that of Magistrate Sirias and his wife. Father had decided theirs would be the first we’d visit. We had chosen the west side, not just because of its closeness to the family’s bedchambers, but because it also provided the most cover. The other sides of the estate opened to the gardens, but a small grove of trees ran the full extent of the west side of the house and stopped not a stone’s throw from the balcony we wanted. It was the perfect cover for us, and poor planning for the defense of the grounds. I doubted that keeping a couple of Upakans from sneaking in to assassinate the owners had been a design consideration.

We crept through the trees, our footsteps silent on the thick carpet of grass. Once reaching the edge of the tree line, we knelt and waited. The area between us and the magistrate’s home was open ground, no cover to hide our approach.

Voices loomed as a couple of guards meandered their way past one of the fountains in the courtyard. They were too far for us to hear what they were saying.

After what felt like a very long time, but was probably not much more than a few minutes, Father motioned us forward. We stayed low to the ground as we rushed across the open yard toward the side of the building.

A loud sound came from our right and we dropped to the ground. I clutched my bow to my side, but relaxed when I realized one of the guards was laughing. His companion elbowed him and he clamped a hand over his mouth and turned. They were looking right at us.

I didn’t move. I didn’t even breathe. Why were they looking in our direction? Had they spotted us? Then it hit me, the magistrate’s bedchamber was right in front of us and the guards were probably worried they’d woken him. When the two men finally turned back around and continued with their rounds, I breathed a deep sigh of relief.

Father was the first to move. He was up on one knee and signaling me to follow. As fast as we could, we raced the rest of the way across the yard, stopping at the wall below the second balcony. Like most of the other rooms in the house, the lights had been extinguished. Other than the torches lining the garden area, the only luminance was the half-moon, and it was shrouded in clouds.

We hid our bows in a flower bed. I kept watch as Father unraveled the grappling hook. Instead of throwing it, he laid the rope back on the ground and cupped his hands, making a motion I unfortunately recognized. He wanted to toss me.

I looked up at the balcony and cringed. It suddenly seemed a lot higher than it had a moment ago. There was a railing surrounding it with spindles large enough to grab. I just wasn’t sure if I could. I nodded that I understood and placed my foot in the cup of his hands and placed my hands on his shoulders for balance.

A single tap to his arm and he launched me into the air. I reached for the railing. My first hand missed, but I managed to snag a spindle with the second. I hung by one arm, the sharp edges of the square base cutting into my fingers. I looked down and Father pointed at the balcony as if I didn’t already know it was there.

I pulled myself up far enough to grab hold of the floor. From there, I was able to swing my leg up. There was enough of a lip on the outside edge for me to rest on without climbing over.

I watched and waited for him to toss me the hook, but he didn’t. Then it occurred to me, he didn’t want to leave the grapple hanging from the balcony for all to see while we dealt with the family. I wanted to slap myself for not thinking of that sooner. It was pretty clear what he had in mind, so I scooted away from where the balcony connected to the outside wall and made room.

My father backed up as far as he dared and made a dash straight at the building. He leaped at the wall. His foot caught one of the decorative ridges and with a hard push, he sprang into the air. He didn’t make it high enough to grab the top of the railing, but he did manage to reach the floor. I grabbed an arm and helped him up. We were both over the railing and up against the wall before the next patrol passed.

From our vantage point, I could see all the way to the outer wall surrounding the estate. It didn’t appear anyone had spotted us. Father moved over to the doors and tested the handle. They were unlocked. With guards on patrol, I guessed the magistrate had no need to fear for burglars, let alone assassins.

Father leaned in close and whispered in my ear. “You handle the wife while I deal with the magistrate. Make sure she doesn’t scream.” I drew my dagger, but my father shook his head. “No killing . . . at least not yet.”

Not yet? I hadn’t meant the gesture to mean I was going to kill her, I just figured an armed assailant was more threatening than an unarmed one. I nodded to let him know I understood; although, I started to wonder by his statement whether I might have misunderstood his intentions. I didn’t think we were going to be killing anyone.

Father slid open one of the doors and I followed him through the curtains. We moved to the side of the opening so the light from outside wouldn’t throw shadows of our silhouettes across the adjacent wall. It didn’t take long for our eyes to adjust.

The room was large, larger than our family room and kitchen combined. It was lined with furniture: tables, chairs, dressers, desks, and a whole lot of other things I had no idea what to call. The magistrate’s bed butted against the wall on the far right, and there was a small fire still simmering in the hearth in front of us. The warmth was welcome, especially on my hands and face. The days seemed to be getting colder as winter drew near.

We studied the two lumps in the bed on the other side of the room. Neither moved. As silent as the gentle breeze rustling the long curtains behind us, we crept across the room. My father took the side of the bed with the largest lump and I took the other. The covers had been drawn to their chins and looked thick enough to need a sword to penetrate.

Slowly, we stood with our weapons at the ready. My heart was racing. I could see the slow rise and fall of the comforter covering the magistrate’s wife. I couldn’t believe I was standing over some strange woman in her bed, with the possible intention of killing her. Apart from the thrill of getting this far unseen, there was the disturbing chill up my back as to what we had been hired to do: murder an entire family. I hoped my father was true to his word about not planning to kill them, though. I still wasn’t sure how he was going to fulfill the contract unless he did.

Father looked at me and made a simple gesture of cupping his hand over the magistrate’s mouth. I nodded and made ready to do the same to his wife. Father had his long dagger out and at the ready.

My hands were shaking as I followed his example and slowly leaned in to grab the lady’s mouth. I stopped just a few inches from her face and looked across the bed, waiting for the signal. A single nod from my father and we attacked.

I threw my hand over her mouth and pressed down as hard as I could. Her head sunk into the thick pillow as her eyes ripped open. There was a brief moment of shock before recognition set in and she tried screaming. I could feel the warmth of her breath on my hand as I continued to hold my grip.

She started to thrash in the bed. It was getting harder to keep her down. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the magistrate doing the same, until my father leaned in and showed him his blade. The magistrate went still. Using his example, I did the same and brandished my dagger in front of the woman in a threatening way, and she too went motionless.

“Do you recognize what I am?” my father asked as he leaned in close, close enough to let the magistrate get a good look at his face. The room was dark, but there was enough light coming from the fireplace to reflect in his eyes.

The magistrate nodded. He was smaller than I would have assumed. Upakan leaders earned their place because of their ability to fight, but this man seemed too scrawny to claim such a title as magistrate. I doubted he’d ever seen a single day’s labor in his life.

“Good. Then you know why I’m here.”

Again, the short, lanky man nodded. There were tears in his eyes as he tried turning his head to look at his wife, who was already crying. I felt sorry for them in a way. I wondered what it would be like to be awoken in the middle of the night by a couple of assassins ready to slit my throat. They had to know their lives were over.

“I have been contracted for you and your family.”

At the mention of his family, the magistrate started thrashing once more. His wife did the same. I had to all but sit on her to hold her down.

“Quit moving or I’ll bring your kids in here and let you watch them die in front of you.”

The magistrate and his wife went deadly still, and so did I. “What? I thought—”

“Quiet.” The tone of my father’s voice was all that was needed to keep me from finishing. He turned back to the magistrate. “Today’s your lucky day, Magistrate.” The poor man looked bewildered. I couldn’t help but agree. “If any other of my clan had claimed this contract, you, your wife, and your two children would be lying in your own blood right now instead of whimpering in your sheets.” Father lowered his blade slightly.

The magistrate’s wife turned her head to see what was going on. She had calmed down enough for me to let go of her arms.

“Unlike many of my fellow Upaka, I tend to have a certain distaste for cold-blooded killing. But to be clear,” Father said, leaning in far enough for the magistrate to get a good look at his face, “I have no qualms with killing the two of you right here if you test me.”

Father waited for the man to acknowledge he understood before continuing. “You have a choice. You can either pack your things and leave quietly with us tonight, never to return, or I can fulfill my contract in a different way.” He raised his blade once more and the magistrate sunk further into his pillow. “One way or another, your life is going to change tonight. Give up your title and leave Oswell, or . . .” He flicked his blade in front of the man’s nose to make his point. “The choice is yours.”

Father lifted his hand slowly from the man’s mouth.

The magistrate didn’t say anything at first. He turned to look at his wife and she nodded, her tears still moistening my hand. The man looked at me briefly then back to my father. “It appears I have no choice.”

“I thought you’d see it my way.” Father stepped back from the bed and motioned for me to do the same. I released the woman’s mouth and stepped away.

“Pack whatever you value most, but pack light. If anyone sees you leave, I won’t have a choice but to finish the job.”

“We understand,” the magistrate said, his voice shaking as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

“Good. One more thing. I need your seal of office.”

“It’s in my study. Why do you need it?”

“Proof of completion. Now hurry. Dawn is coming and we need to be out of the city before it arrives.”

The magistrate hopped down from the thick mattress and turned to look at his wife. “Get the kids. I’ll start in here.”

“WHAT IS TAKING SO LONG?” It was impossible to miss the impatience in my father’s voice. “And where’s that seal?”

“Oh, I almost forgot.” The magistrate pulled a small golden object out of his pocket and handed it to Father. He turned to his wife. “Hurry, Meralin.”

The magistrate’s wife was even shorter than he was, and a bit on the hefty side. Her hair was barely long enough to cup her cheeks. She waddled frantically from one side of the room to the other, collecting valuables and trying to get their two wide-eyed children ready.

“Where we going, Mamma?” their daughter asked. She couldn’t have been much older than five or six.

“Away,” her mother said as she tucked her daughter’s long auburn hair up under a colorful bonnet. “It’s a secret. Now get your shoes on.”

Father continued pacing in front of the hearth, stopping every so often to peek through the balcony curtains. Each time, he’d grunt and walk back over to the fireplace to continue his pacing.

The magistrate and his family spent the better part of an hour packing small knickknacks, clothing, jewelry, and an assortment of other items they were going to have a hard time fitting into the three bags they had managed to find.

I wondered what must it be like to be forced to leave your home, your friends, and your life behind. To start anew with nothing more than what you could fit into a couple of bags? I glanced around the room at all the expensive furnishings and wondered what I would choose to take in such a situation. I was thankful I didn’t have to find out.

“Are you ready?”

The magistrate took one more look at his family and nodded. He grabbed the girl’s hand and started for the door that led to the hallway.

“Not that way.” Father pulled one of the long curtains aside. “This way.”

“That’s the balcony,” the magistrate said. “There are no stairs.”

“I know.” Father stuck his head outside, checking for sentries. “How do you think we got in here?” He motioned and I was the first on the balcony. The magistrate and his family quickly followed. “Stay below the railing,” he said, gesturing for them to get down.

They hunkered near the entrance to their bedchamber. “How do you expect us to get down?” the magistrate’s wife asked. “We have children.”

As if in answer, Father looked at me. “Get the hook and toss it up.”

I nodded and climbed over the rail. Father grabbed my arms and lowered me as far as he could. I let go and rolled when I hit the ground. I brushed myself off and located the grapple, tossing it high into the air. Father caught it and secured the rope end around the magistrate’s wife. I kept checking over my shoulder for any sign of the patrols. Father lowered the woman and her infant son slowly over the side of the balcony. I forced myself to remain calm even though I chaffed at how long it was taking to get the family out.

I untied the rope from her waist and they pulled it back up. The little girl was next. Father had to pry her off the magistrate before he could lower her over the side. As soon as he did, she started to cry. The rope went slack and I dashed over to catch her, covering her mouth when I did.

Her mother tried comforting her. “It’s alright, Rosella. See, wasn’t that fun? It was like a swing.”

The little girl stopped her crying long enough to look at her mother, who was trying her best to smile. Rosella wiped her eyes.

I untied the rope and tossed my end up. Father grabbed it and secured the hook to the railing. He tossed the family’s bags down to me. I nearly collapsed under the weight of the last one, which must have held the magistrate’s jewels and coin.

I looked up in time to see Father frantically motioning for us to get down.

“Down, down,” I whispered to the woman as I pulled Rosella down to the grass with me. I placed my hand over the little girl’s mouth, checking to make sure the magistrate’s wife had done the same with her infant. I held my breath as a pair of guards strolled by, close to the tree line.

Once they were out of sight, Magistrate Sirias shimmied down the rope. He checked on his wife and grabbed two of the bags. I carried the third.

Father unhooked the grapple and lowered himself over the side. He dropped softly to the ground. “Grab your bow. We need to get to the trees.”

We joined the others at the edge of the building. A couple of guards were walking across the front courtyard on our left, but their backs were to us. If we were going to go, now was the time.

“Keep the kids quiet and head for the trees,” Father whispered. He motioned for me to lead the way. I rushed across the open lawn in a crouch, thankful for the thick clouds that obscured the moon.

By some miracle, all six of us made it into the trees without being seen. We reached the outer wall and followed the thick shrubbery around until we found the place where Father and I had hidden our sacks. I pulled them out from under the bushes.

Until this point, I hadn’t understood why we had brought them, but now it made perfect sense. What better way to hide the magistrate and his family than to dress them in well-worn leftovers from Milly’s stash? Who would expect to find the leader of the city dressed like a commoner?

“Here, put these on,” Father said as he started passing out bits of clothing from the sacks.

“What, here?” The magistrate’s wife looked aghast. “Out in the open for all to see?”

“Yes, we can’t have you wandering the streets of Oswell dressed like that.”

“Like what?” The woman glanced down at her clothing. “I’ll have you know—”

“Quiet, Meralin,” her husband said, giving her a harsh look. “Just do as he says.”

The magistrate’s wife stomped her foot. “You should have had us change back in the room—”

“No sense carrying extra weight when we might not have needed them,” Father said.

She paled when she realized what he had meant and started working on the buttons of her dress.

Father turned my head to give them some privacy. I hadn’t even noticed I was staring. It was the first time I’d seen a woman’s undergarments, if you didn’t count my sister’s when we went down to the pools to swim.

We stuffed their fancy clothing in the bags and Father scaled the wall.

Once at the top, he waited and watched.

“What’s he doing?” the magistrate’s wife asked impatiently. “Are we going or not?”

“He’s waiting for the patrols to pass,” I said. “They circle your estate every twenty minutes.”

“How would you know that?” the magistrate asked.

“Because we spent all day today timing it.”

The magistrate raised his brow but didn’t say more.

“They’re gone,” Father said as he climbed back down. “Let’s go.”

Getting over the wall wasn’t quite as time-consuming as lowering everyone from the second-floor balcony, but it wasn’t exactly quick either. Father showed the magistrate where to climb and then he took both Rosella and her little brother over himself before coming back to help me with the magistrate’s wife.

I was the last one over the wall. We didn’t waste any time getting across the road and into the shadows of the narrow alleyway on the other side.

“We will need to stop for horses.”

“Where?” the magistrate asked. He pointed back toward his house. “We have a stable on the estate. We could grab a couple—”

“And how would we get them out the gate without your guards seeing us?”

The magistrate wrung his hands. “Right, I didn’t think of that.”

“Don’t worry,” Father said. “I know just the place. Besides, there’s someone we need to collect before we leave.”

I passed Father a suspicious glance. “You’re not talking about . . .”

Father didn’t say anything. He just smiled.

It took us an agonizing amount of time to cross the city. We stopped frequently to make sure we hadn’t been seen and kept a slow enough pace for the magistrate and his family to keep up. It was a wonder we made it at all.

My tension eased when we reached the stables at the Golden Tassel. I was happy to see the place. It meant we were getting close to completing our contract. All we had to do now was make it outside the city undetected, a goal I wasn’t sure how we were going to accomplish. Father always seemed to have a plan, though. I hoped this time was no different.

“Get the horses ready,” Father said before heading around the back of the inn. I knew where he was going. I almost wished I could go along just to see Hobb’s face when he woke to my father standing over his bed.

“Come on.” I motioned the others to the livery. We opened one of the doors and stepped inside. The stable was almost full. It looked like a number of new occupants had come to the inn since we’d left that morning. Our two horses were right where we left them at the back. I saddled them and loaded on our weapons and gear.

“What about us?” the magistrate asked as he watched me going about my work. “What are we going to ride?”

“Pick two and start saddling,” Father said as he walked through the front. “You stuffed plenty of gold into that satchel of yours. You can leave payment for a couple of horses and their gear.”

“What’s going on in here, Narris?” Hobb said grouchily. His hair—what was left of it—stood on end and he was still trying to get his left boot on as he fumbled through the doors. “It’s bad enough having to wake to an Upaka standing over my bed, but now you got me slinking off in the middle of the night like a common purse snatcher? “

Father motioned him over. “Hobb, I’d like you to meet Magistrate Sirias and his family.” He turned to the magistrate. “Magistrate, this is Master Hobb, ferryman extraordinaire.”

Hobb choked, his mouth hanging opened like he was about to stuff it with a helping of Milly’s fruit pie.

“A pleasure, Master Hobb.”

Hobb just stood there. “I, uh . . .”

“I assure you, that was my reaction as well when these two showed up in my bedchamber this evening,” the magistrate said with a slight smirk.

Hobb shifted his attention back to my father. “What’ve you gotten me involved in?”

“Remember how you said that you owed us your life? It’s time to collect.”

IT DIDN’T TAKE LONG to grab a couple of saddles for the three extra horses. In fact, it took Hobb longer to clear the fog from his head than it did for us to have all five mounts ready to ride. I lifted Rosella up to sit in front of Magistrate Sirias when a confused voice behind us brought everything to a halt.

“What’s . . . What’s going on here?”

I turned around. It was the stable-boy. He must have been asleep in one of the empty stalls at the back. With all the noise we’d made, I couldn’t believe he hadn’t awoken sooner. He was no longer wearing his hat. Actually, he wasn’t wearing much more than his underpants. He tried wiping the sleep from his eyes as he stood there looking bewildered, perhaps wondering if this was a dream.

“We have a long journey, so we’re getting an early start of it,” Father said as he made his way around the horses. He motioned with his head for me to get the others moving when he passed. He stopped in front of the stable-hand. “Be sure the owners of these horses receive this payment, will you?” He handed the boy a small pouch. “I think you’ll find it generous. And here’s a little something extra for you, lad. You did a fine job with our stuff and a man is worthy of his hire.”

I dared a quick glance over my shoulder as I walked two of the horses towards the front. The stable-boy tried to smile, but I think he was too intimidated by who was standing in front of him to do more than that.

I had always admired my father’s ability to understand what motivated people. He seemed to always know exactly what to say. Confusion was replaced with delight when the boy finally looked down at his open palm. Whatever he’d been given had certainly done the trick. Father closed the stable doors behind us and we mounted.

“How are we going to get through the gates without anyone noticing?” the magistrate asked. He looked as antsy as his horse.

“We’re not,” my father said. “At least not all of us.” That didn’t seem to make the magistrate feel any better. “We can’t take a chance on you being seen, and a group this size would never make it through the gates in the middle of night without raising suspicion.”

“Aye,” Hobb said. “They shut the gates at night, but there’s also fewer guards standing watch. They aren’t that worried about people trying to leave the city. I usually travel at night myself, especially during the summer months, but with this many, you can be sure they’ll want to know what’s going on before they let us leave.”

“Hobb and I will take the horses through,” Father said. “We can tell them the extra mounts are for hauling his ferry out of the mud, which isn’t too far from the truth.”

“Not far at all,” Hobb said with a stout grunt.

“While we are getting the horses out, Ayrion and the rest of you are going to meet us at the second guard station on the west wall. It’s the only station that can’t be seen by the others.”

“What do we do when we get there?” I asked, still not understanding how this part of the plan was supposed to work.

“You’re going to lower them over the side, like we did on the balcony.”

“But what about the guards?”

“From what we’ve seen, most of the stations are manned by only a single guard. Nothing you can’t handle.”

I straightened, pride flooding my chest. “We’ll be there,” I said, sitting as high in the saddle as I could.

Hobb rubbed the top of his head. “It might look a bit suspicious with us riding out with three extra horses, and their saddles.”

“Yes. I thought as much.” Father looked at the rest of us. “We’ll ride as far as we can, and then you’ll have to make it the rest of the way on foot. You’ll also be in charge of carrying the additional saddles. You think you can manage?”

“Yes,” I said, not waiting for anyone else to say otherwise.

Father nodded and we left the Golden Tassel behind. I wondered if I’d ever get the pleasure of seeing it again. Maybe another contract would bring us back this way. I had a sinking feeling that after word got out about the disappearance of the magistrate and his family, Milly wouldn’t be all that prone to letting us stay again. I briefly wondered how this would affect her relationship with Hobb, then pushed the worries aside. I didn’t have time for them. I had to focus on what lay ahead. How was I going to get the magistrate’s family over the city wall?

The streets were empty. The horses’ hooves clopped on the cobbles, grating on my nerves as I tried to think of a solution. Father stopped us a couple blocks from the city gates. I still didn’t know how I was going to get my charges out of the city unseen.

I handed Father my reins and climbed down. We quickly went about unsaddling the three horses. Hobb pointed to a crossroad a block over. “Take Willis Lane. It ends at the wall. The guard station will be on your left. Can’t miss it.”

Father handed me my bow. “You might need this.”

I slung it and the quiver, along with the grapple and rope, over one shoulder and hefted one of the saddles on the other. I glanced over my shoulder at the magistrate, who was busy trying to shoulder one of the saddles himself while dragging the other one behind him. I wasn’t sure if we were going to make it or not. I turned around and looked at my father. I didn’t know what else to say, so I said the first thing that came to mind. “I’ll get them across.”

He smiled and then remounted. “Use your head. A simple solution is generally the best.”

I nodded and watched as Father and Hobb disappeared around the corner with the horses. I still couldn’t believe he was leaving me with such an important task. This had been the first time this entire contract that my father hadn’t been there with me. Was it a test?

“We should probably be going, don’t you think?” the magistrate suggested, his face a little contorted with the strain of the saddles. Beside him, his wife was carrying their youngest in her arms. The boy’s eyes were closed and his breathing was steady. I envied him momentarily. Rosella clung to her mother’s skirt.

“Yes.” I squared my shoulders. I had to look like I knew what I was doing. We crossed to the street Hobb had indicated and started down. We couldn’t travel very fast on foot, especially with the added weight, but I urged them to keep going. I needed to make sure we had plenty of time to deal with whatever awaited us at the guard station. I glanced at the sky overhead, but the clouds were covering the moon. I wondered how much time we had before dawn. It couldn’t have been much.

After what felt like hours, I caught my first glimpse of the wall ahead. Our pace had slowed. Rosella kept stopping to point out every little thing she saw, and the magistrate’s rest periods were growing more frequent. Only once did we see someone else, but like us, they were in too much of a hurry to even look our way.

A loud crash to our right had me tripping over my feet to stop. The others did the same, the magistrate dropping his saddle on my foot in the process. I hardly had time to hop around when a large vase flew out the second-story window of the house next to us and shattered a few feet from where we were standing.

“I told you, if you ever came home drunk again, it would be your last!” an irate woman’s voice said. There was another loud crash, followed by a dull groan. We didn’t stick around to see what happened next. The magistrate grabbed the fallen saddle and we took off. I glanced over my shoulder, half-expecting to see the woman’s husband flying out the window, but he never did.

“This way,” I said, motioning the others behind me over to the side of the street. We stopped just shy of the last home. It was dark like all the others. I peeked around the corner. Just as Hobb said, the guard station was about two streets up. A staircase wound its way to a small platform at the top of the wall, large enough for four or five men to stand on. At present, there were two.

“What do we do now?” the magistrate asked. He leaned over me to get a better look. I studied the scaffolding leading to the platform. “We aren’t going to do anything. It’s my job to get us up there, so that’s what I’m going to do.”

“But there’s two of them.”

“I’m Upaka. Only two guards—hardly seems fair for them.” I mentally slapped myself when I realized I sounded just like Flon. I grimaced. “Just stay here. I’ll signal you when I’m done.”

The magistrate grabbed my arm. “You’re not going to kill them, are you? They’re just doing their job.”

“I won’t. At least, I’ll try not to.” I was starting to like the magistrate. He might not have been the most intimidating figure, but he seemed to genuinely care for the people living here. I wished we hadn’t been contracted to get rid of him. He probably would have been good for the city. “Here, watch this.” I dropped my saddle and handed him my bow and quiver.

“Aren’t you going to need that?”

“Not if you want me to get us up there without killing anyone. Besides, the bow would have only worked if there had been one guard. By the time I got my first shot off, the other would sound the alarm. Wait here.”

The magistrate nodded and I edged my way around the corner of the building. I kept to the shadows even though the guards’ backs were to me as they studied the surrounding woods. I was able to close the distance fairly quickly. I kept my hand on the grapple to keep it from bouncing against my hip as I ran.

I stopped across the street from the base of the stairs. It was taller than it had looked from two streets back. I could barely see the guards’ heads from where I crouched. How was I going to reach the platform without them noticing? And once I did that, how was I going to incapacitate them without one of them sounding the alarm?

I studied the wall. Scaling it was out of the question. The grapple would make too much noise and I’d be easy to spot. I could climb the scaffolding under the stairs. I studied the network of boards that constructed the underbelly of the platform. It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. I’d climbed to the top of Dragon Fang. This would be nothing.

Then the solution dawned on me. It was so simple I wanted to laugh. I was a thirteen-year-old boy. It was time I acted like one. I lowered my hood, walked across the street, and leaving the grapple at the base of the stairs, I started up.

I climbed as quickly and quietly as I could, stepping only on the outside edges of the boards and not the centers where it would be more likely to creak. I paused a few steps from the top and peeked over the edge. The guards still had their backs to me. The shorter of the two was about my father’s height, but stockier. The second was at least a head taller, and lanky. The brass warning bell hung from a large hook on the right side of the platform. Beside it was a mallet. Whatever happened, I had to make sure the guards never reached them.

I tried to see if I could spot the magistrate and his family, but they were nowhere to be seen. Unable to think of any other reasons to remain hidden, I took a deep breath and continued, purposefully tripping on the last step so I wouldn’t take the guards completely by surprise. They turned and grabbed for their swords as I stepped onto the platform.

“What do you think you’re doing up here, kid?” the shorter guard said as he released his grip on the blade. “Why aren’t you in bed? You live around here?”

I kept my head lowered enough to keep them from seeing my eyes, pretending to be interested in something on the other side of the wall. “I just wanted to see what it looked like from up here. My friends dared me to take a look.”

The taller man chuckled and slapped the shorter. “It’s alright. Let’m have a look. Not much longer and he’ll be old enough to stand watch himself.”

“I suppose,” the first guard said as he gave me a suspicious look. “But make it quick. I don’t want your momma comin’ after me ‘cause I let you up here.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, sounding as eager as I could. I headed straight for the far side of the platform where the bell hung. I wanted to position myself between them and the alarm. I glanced over the wall at the surrounding trees, wondering if Father and Hobb had managed to make it out with the horses yet. “How does this work?” I asked, picking up the large mallet. I pretended to swing at the bell.

“Whoa! What do you think you’re doing?” the taller guard asked as he headed across the platform in my direction. “That’s only for emergencies. Don’t go swinging that around.”

The other guard shook his head. “Told you he’d be trouble.”

“Here, give me that.” The second guard stood in front of me with a frown as he held out his hand.

“If you insist.” I spun on my heels and slammed the ball-end of the mallet against the side of the guard’s head. The man’s eyes rolled and he collapsed at my feet.

“What’s this?” The short guard grabbed for his sword and charged across the platform. He managed to get about halfway when a loud crack sounded and he dropped and rolled to a stop against his comrade. Behind him stood the magistrate, holding a long piece of wood that was cracked from where he had clobbered the second guard’s head.

“I figured you could use some help,” he said with a proud smile.

I wanted to laugh. “Good timing.” I looked at the two guards and scratched the back of my head. Father had been right. Simple was best. By the time the guards woke, we’d be long gone.

The magistrate dropped the plank and walked back over to the stairs where he had apparently stashed my bow and quiver. He gave it to me and motioned for his family to join us.

His wife carried their youngest up, Rosella close on her skirts. The little girl held the grapple, half the rope dragging behind her. “I carried it all the way by myself.” She made a noticeable grunt as she held it out for me to take.

I gave her a warm smile. “You’re a strong girl.” She smiled back and reached for her father’s leg.

“Let’s get the rest of the gear,” I said to the magistrate as I headed for the steps down. It took two trips but we managed to get the saddles up to the top of the platform. I walked to the wall and glanced over the side. There was no sign of my father or Hobb, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. The magistrate helped me tie the rope into a harness for his wife. We helped her up onto the wall and I handed her the boy before we lowered them down. Once at the bottom, she untied the rope and we pulled it back up.

After doing the same to Rosella, I anchored the grapple to one of the sturdier beams and helped the magistrate over the side. He swung my bow and quiver over his shoulder and carried them down. Once at the bottom, I dropped the saddles over.

I was the only one left. This time I unhooked the grapple from the top. I couldn’t leave it behind for the guards to see, and unless I planned on dropping fifteen feet, I needed to come up with another way to get down. If the guards found it when they woke, they might grow suspicious, especially after word of the magistrate’s family disappearing got around.

Luckily, I knew how to tie a slip-knot. I dropped the grapple’s end over the side and it hit the dirt below with a thud. Taking one last look at the two unconscious guards, I slipped over the wall.

It was a quick hand over hand descent. At the bottom, I grabbed one end of the rope and pulled. The knot released and the rope dropped.

“That’s a neat trick,” a familiar voice said behind me. “I’ll have to remember that the next time I decide to climb over Oswell’s wall in the middle of the night.” Hobb walked out from the surrounding trees, leading his mare and the magistrate’s wife’s horse.

Father was behind him with the other three. “How’d everything go on your end?”

I didn’t get a chance to respond.

“I clubbed one of the guards on the head,” the magistrate said with a hint of pride as he mounted his horse.

“And I carried up the rope,” Rosella added, making sure everyone knew she had helped.

“A tough job to be sure,” my father said as he lifted her up in front of her father.

“What now?” the magistrate asked.

“Now we ride. Dawn is nearly here and we need to be as far away from this place as possible.”

I tilted my head. Between the clouds, the stars had faded from view and the sky was shifting to grey. Father was right, we didn’t have much time. I turned my horse, and with a gentle prod I urged her forward.

THE JOURNEY back to hobb’s outpost was a tiring one, considering we didn’t stop other than to rest the horses and catch a few hours’ sleep. Father wanted to put as much distance between us and the city as we could.

Once we reached the river, I rode south with Hobb and the magistrate’s family to the next crossing while Father stayed with the ferry. It took us nearly two days, but we finally made it back around to the way station.

Father shot an arrow with a thin line across the water. The line was connected to the ferry’s guide rope, allowing us to pull both across to our side. From there, the horses towed the ferry out of the mud and dragged it and Father across the river. The water was still up, but the current had slowed considerably. Hobb said he wasn’t too worried about stretching the guide rope back across any time soon. He didn’t get much traffic that way as it was. I think he was still contemplating the idea of moving closer to Milly.

“Where will you go?” Hobb asked Sirias as we all sat around the hearth that evening in the main room. We had just finished a hot meal of rabbit stew and the kids were fast asleep on the floor in front of the fireplace.

“We’ve got family in Makeda—”

“Then you can’t go there,” Father cut in, leaning forward in his seat. “Everyone needs to believe you’re dead. The last place you should be is with people who know you. Word travels.”

The magistrate lowered his head. “Of course you’re right. I didn’t think about that.”

“Your family hated me anyway, Sirias.” His wife seemed pleased by the news.

“I guess we’ll head south then. I’ve always wanted to see the coast. Maybe I can find something in shipping. I’m very good with numbers, you know.” Meralin nodded. It wasn’t exactly an enthusiastic motion, more of a serious deliberation.

Hobb took a sip from his mug and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “What are your plans, Narris? The two of you heading back to that Defiler-forsaken land of yours?”

Father gave Hobb the eye. “Watch it. You’re talking about my home.”

“Only an Upaka would want to call that cursed place home. I guess it’s fitting, though.”

“How so?”

“‘Cause only the toughest sons of faeries would ever be able to handle it.” They both chuckled and Hobb raised his tankard in salute before taking another long drink.

We stayed another day, helping Hobb with damages from the storm while the magistrate and his family decided where to go. Father offered what knowledge he could from his extensive traveling, but there wasn’t much more we could do beyond that. Eventually, it was time to go. The next morning we packed what provisions we could, wished everyone a fond farewell, and turned our horses west.

“It’ll be good to get home,” I said as I twisted in the saddle and watched the way station slowly disappear behind us. “I’m going to miss them.”

“Who?”

“Hobb, Milly.” I turned back around. “Even Magistrate Sirias and his family.”

“Yes, that’s the difficult part about making new acquaintances. Soon enough, you’ll have to leave them behind.”

“I’m thankful we have our family. I don’t like saying good-bye.”

“We are blessed. For better or worse, Upaka stick together.”

The trip home was far less exciting and dangerous, though I did get to see the destruction caused by our run-in with the two razorbacks. The grassfire had burned a swath all the way to the Slags and ran for miles east and west.

Once through the lower plains, Father took us on the longer route around the southern tip of the mountains instead of through the Squeeze. Neither of us wanted to see Norshag and its town of crazy mountain people again.

The days passed quickly. Being on the road wasn’t without its enjoyment, but I was looking forward to sleeping in my own bed. My heart raced as we crested the final rise and caught our first glimpse of the ruins in the valley below. The broken stone had never looked so good.

“It’s about time.” I snapped the reins, urging my horse to quit its dawdling. “Hurry. The pools are calling to me.”

Father laughed as he caught up. “Your mother is calling to me, those warm arms and soft lips—”

“Ick! That’s gross.”

“Far from it,” he said with a laugh. “It’s the reason you’re here.” I clamped my hands over my ears and Father shook with laughter.

We rode down the hillside and through what was left of the outer wall, which was little more than chunks of stone scattered in piles as far as the eye could see.

I hadn’t thought about it until we started working our way through the rubble, but I was about to leave the sunlight for the dimness of our city below. It had been weeks since I’d worn my shaders. I wondered how difficult it would be to readjust to the caverns.

We left the horses with the stable-hands. After Father paid what was owed, we carried our gear back to the tunnel entrance. It had been nearly a moon since we’d passed this way. Somehow, the experience made me feel older.

The same two guards were stationed at the doors when we entered.

“I see you made it back in one piece,” the guard at the desk said as he scribbled something in his ledger. He glanced at me. “You as well.” He sniffed, as though he hadn’t expected me to return, or perhaps not in one piece.

I smiled and straightened my shoulders. “Did you doubt it?”

The guard didn’t say anything. He finished his writing and placed the quill back in its jar and turned around. “Anything to report?”

Father shook his head. “Other than another completed contract, no.” He handed the guard the official seal of Oswell that he’d collected from the magistrate. “Make sure Fanon gets that. Proof of completion.”

The guard nodded and laid the stamp aside. “Everything looks in order. Welcome back, Narris.” He looked at me and grunted. I figured that was as good a welcome as I could expect.

Father put his arm around my shoulders and we headed across the cavernous foyer. We stopped at the mouth of the tunnel and he lit one of the torches. The darkness ahead seemed harder to pierce since spending the last moon out in the sun.

I was excited to be home. I had to keep slowing my pace so Father could catch up. I couldn’t wait to tell the others about everything that had happened to us. It was a tale worthy of song. We’d battled fiery serpents, fought bloodthirsty cutthroats, suffered the Slag’s stench, swam the icy waters of the Shemoa, moved through Oswell unseen, rescued their leader and his family from certain death, and then escaped over the city walls without anyone knowing we were there . . . well, other than Hobb, and Milly, and not to forget the stable-boy or the two guards we’d knocked unconscious. Either way, it was definitely a contract worthy of a hefty price. I wondered if Father would give me any of it for my part.

Father opened the front door to our home and I rushed through in front of him, tossing my bags to the side as I ran past. “We’re back!” I proclaimed, a wide grin on my face as I braced myself for what I was sure would be a big hug from my mother, and possibly Rianna. I didn’t figure Jorn would be all that eager to hug me.

Mother stepped out from the kitchen with Rianna right behind. I hoped they were making supper. I couldn’t wait to eat. I was going to go mad if I had to suffer through another meal of dried meat and hard cheese. The last decent food I’d put in my mouth was Hobb’s stew.

The expression on my mother’s face wasn’t exactly what I had expected. In fact, I didn’t get so much as a pat on the head. The two of them just stood there, their expressions reminding me of the time they had told me my pet wolf pup had died.

“What’s wrong?” Father asked.

Mother wiped her hands on the front of her apron. “Ayrion’s been chosen as a challenger.”

Father dropped the gear bags on the floor. “A challenger? That’s ridiculous. What idiot would choose to go against Ayrion for their testing? Who named him?”

Both Mother and Rianna looked at each other and then at me. “It’s Flon.”

“FLON? Has he lost his mind?” My father started to pace, something he did whenever troubled or in deep thought. At the moment, it seemed he was both. “That doesn’t make sense. Flon’s too much like his father. They’re schemers. He wouldn’t choose Ayrion as his challenger with something as important as his advancement on the line. That would be foolish.”

“Not as foolish as you think,” Mother said as she moved further into the room and leaned against one of the dining room chairs. “It wasn’t Flon who announced it. It was the Primary himself. He came by the house personally. He didn’t look happy to find you and Ayrion were out on contract. He made it very clear that unless his son won the challenge, our family could forget receiving any future contracts.”

“Brim doesn’t have that kind of authority.” Father struck the top of the table with his fist. “Blood and fire! Why does he keep coming after us?”

“Because he’s scared of you, Narris. He can’t accept anyone who doesn’t cower in front of him.”

Father finally stopped his pacing and looked at me. “You’ll need to let him win.” He ran one hand through his dark hair and shook his head. “The last thing we need right now is to lose what little contracts we’re still managing to get.”

I didn’t know if I could let him win. It was Flon. He deserved to fail. He deserved a whole lot worse. He hated me and I hated him, but at least my abhorrence came from a legitimate source. His stemmed from the fact that I was better than he was and everyone knew it. His father pushed him, pushed him hard. Brim expected to see his son become Primary one day. As ruthless as that family was, Flon stood a good chance of succeeding his father.

I took a deep breath and slowly released, feeling my chest deflate, along with the last of my pride. I nodded. “I’ll let him win.”

Father walked over and placed his hand on my shoulder. He looked me in the eyes. “I know how hard this is. It’s never easy to lose, especially to someone like Flon. But we need to pick our battles wisely.” He stared at me a moment. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.” I did understand, but it didn’t mean I had to like it.

“I’m proud of you, Ayrion. Always remember that.” Father released my shoulder and grabbed two of the travel bags we’d left at the door. “Where’s Jorn?”

“He’s in class,” Mother said. “He’ll be home later.”

Father laid the two satchels on the table and stretched. “Woman, your man’s been gone for nearly a full moon; I expect some attention over here.”

Mother raised her brow. “I could say the same.”

They met with a firm embrace and a hard kiss. I turned my eyes about the time Rianna engulfed me with a big hug. “Welcome back. How did it go?”

“Yes,” Mother said as she pulled away from Father’s arms. “How did it go? Did you complete the contract?”

Father looked none too happy with having his affection cut short, but he finally agreed as we gathered around the table for the retelling of our adventures. Father was a natural storyteller. He knew exactly how to draw us in, how to enhance the story without completely breaking from the reality of what had truly happened.

I enjoyed watching Mother and Rianna’s faces as they listened intently to the exciting story Father rewove of our quest: the dangers we had faced, the friends we’d made, the places we’d seen, even our run-in with the huge razorbacks. It was a proud moment for me. It was almost enough to take my mind off Flon and the upcoming challenge. Almost.

I did notice that Father tended to leave out some of the more gruesome details, such as our battle in Norshag. If he hadn’t, Mother would have probably never let me go on another one of his contracts again. He also didn’t reveal anything about helping the family escape. He simply said the contract had been fulfilled and he was going to collect the payment for it in the morning. It seemed he wanted to keep the fact that he wasn’t killing his targets a secret, even from the family.

After spending the rest of the afternoon unpacking our gear, I grabbed some soap and a drying cloth and headed for the pools.

“Hold up, I’m coming too,” Rianna said before I had made it halfway out the door.

I took a lantern. My eyes hadn’t completely adjusted and I needed the extra light. After a long walk down through the north tunnels, we stepped into the main cavern and the roar of Triple Falls enveloped us. I’d forgotten how much I missed the noise. It tended to wash away all other distractions.

“Come on. I’ll race you in,” Rianna said as she headed for the water below.

We were tripping over our own feet the entire way down as we attempted to strip while we ran. We left a trail of clothes behind us. With nothing but our underclothes, we hit the edge on the first pool and leaped in.

The warm water had never felt so good. I didn’t want to come up. I rubbed my hands thoroughly through my hair and let the water rinse out the dirt before bursting to the surface to inhale a mouthful of air. Rianna was already swimming around the outer edge of the pool, pushing off the rock and stroking as hard as she could. It was her routine. She always made one full lap whenever she first entered the water.

If I hadn’t been there, she probably would have taken the rest of her undergarments off as well. They made it harder for swimming.

I was halfway around my first lap when I stopped at the sound of voices behind us. I turned, half expecting to see Jorn coming down to join us for a swim. We weren’t so lucky.

Flon, along with three of his friends, stepped out from the mouth of one of the smaller tunnels. Flon, like Brim, stood head and shoulders over the others. He was already taller than my father and more muscular, thanks to the Primary seeing to his training personally.

“I heard you were back,” Flon said as he and the other three began collecting our clothing on the way down. I had a feeling he wasn’t doing it to be nice. He held Rianna’s top to his nose and took a long whiff. At seventeen, he was a year older than she was, and four years older than me.

“Give me my shirt back, Flon.” Rianna hissed.

Flon smiled. It was anything but pleasant. It was the smile of someone who felt he had just cornered prey and was about to pounce. “You smell good, Rianna. My offer still stands for Mal’Jinto. It’ll probably be the only offer you ever receive as long as you claim relation to that menace,” he said, pointing at me with her shirt.

“I’d rather die unbonded than to be forced into bed with the likes of you.”

Flon’s face reddened. He twisted her clothing in his hands. “Any girl in our clan would kill to get an offer from me.”

Rianna sneered. “I’m not that desperate.”

I wanted to laugh, but I also didn’t want to worsen the situation, not after the talk I’d just received from my father.

Flon’s anger was momentarily diverted as his attention passed to me. “Have you heard the news?”

It didn’t take a scholar to know what he was referring to. “Yes.”

“Good. Then I’m sure you’ll behave accordingly.”

“‘Accordingly’ being that I put you on your backside in front of the clan? Sure, I’ll behave accordingly.”

Flon raised his finger in warning. “You try anything stupid and I’ll make sure the next time you’re chained to the whipping post, Dorin doesn’t stop until he’s emptied you of every last drop of your blood.”

Flon’s cronies chuckled.

“You hurt him,” Rianna said as she started to climb out, but not before I pulled her back in, “and I’ll cut off your shrunken twiddle and you’ll never bond with any girl.”

Flon looked like he was ready to throw himself in the water after her, but he didn’t. Instead, he turned and stormed out, but not before ordering the other three to take our clothes and drying cloths with them.

Needless to say, our trip home was more than a little embarrassing.

After hearing about our little run-in with Flon and his friends, Mother and Father were even more convinced of my need to give the Primary’s son his victory. This challenge was going to be the hardest thing I’d ever had to do.

THE DAY OF THE BIG FIGHT was like any other. I woke early, ran through my morning workout down at the pools, ate breakfast, helped Mother with the chores, and spent every last waking minute of it stressing over all the ways this fight could go horribly wrong.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t fought Flon in the ring before. I’d done so numerous times, but this was the first time I’d been required to lose, to let this pompous excuse for an Upaka beat me; worse yet, to let him do it in front of the entire clan. My father had tried teaching me the art of masking my feelings. It was one skill I hadn’t mastered. In fact, I wasn’t even close.

Flon had chosen me on purpose. He knew that he could get his father to force me to lose and in doing so, not only assure him his promotion to the next stage in his training, but make me look the fool in the process. The Primary would have wanted his son’s win to put him in higher standing. That could only be accomplished by challenging a strong opponent. What kind of victory would it be for Flon to face off against a less worthy fighter?

When the time of the challenge arrived, my family escorted me to the center of what the Orpa Clan claimed as their section of the city. The fight was to be held in the arena. Other than the ruins on the surface, it was the largest open area available that would allow for the seating of the entire clan. The enormous chamber had once been home to some kind of assembly room for the Keldoran Senate, back before the great quake. Now, it had been converted for the use of public gatherings, which typically ended up being some kind of match. And there were no matches more entertaining than those for apprentice advancement.

All eyes focused on me as we passed through the crowded foyer and down the hall toward the back, where the arena was located. Hushed whispers, and some not-so-hushed whispers, filled the air around us as people slowly stepped aside to let us by. It was amazing how easily people were swayed to one side or another without knowing the first thing about either. They reminded me of the sheep we tended up on the surface, blindly following the sound of their master’s voice. Brim had made sure his voice carried the furthest.

If the Primary hadn’t plotted and schemed his way to the top, and someone more like my father had been given the seat, then none of this would be happening. After the first couple dozen harsh glares, I concluded: people were stupid. I wondered if they were like this everywhere or if this was a condition that only afflicted Upakans. Maybe it had something to do with spending so much time underground. Either way, it didn’t matter, at least not at the moment. I had more important things to worry about.

I followed Father through the arena’s open doors. He stopped long enough to get his bearings.  The room was already half-filled, and the sound of a hundred conversations reverberated off the stone walls.

We were on the second level. There were at least a dozen steps leading down to the main floor. At the center lay the ring, which had been layered with packed dirt and sand carted in from above. I could almost smell the excitement in the air.

“This way,” Father said as he directed us to the bottom level. There was an opening on the first row for the immediate families of those scheduled to fight. Thankfully, as Primary, Brim sat on the opposite side of the ring on an elevated platform for the members of the Pel’tok. He enjoyed setting himself apart from the rest of the clan. This was one time I was glad he did.

Father pointed to a vacant section on the front row and we took our seats. Those sitting nearby scooted down. From the looks on their faces, it had less to do with common politeness and more with not wanting to be associated with me.

Flon was seated on the other side of the ring, just below the Pel’tok’s raised platform. His entire family flanked him on all sides, like a wall, protecting their favorite son from harm. He smiled at me when he saw me looking. It was worse than cruel. It was the smile of someone who already knew he was going to win.

“Don’t look at him,” Rianna said, placing her hand on my leg. “You’re only giving Flon the satisfaction of knowing how much this hurts.” She was right, as usual, so I looked away.

It didn’t take long for the rest of the seats to fill, some by members from other clans. Advancement competitions from any clan were always the most fun to watch. I’d attended a number of them myself. However, looking at it from this perspective, I didn’t find anything fun about this at all.

Ness, the second member of the Pel’tok, stood and walked to the edge of the platform. She held out her hands and the audience quieted. “A challenge for advancement has been made by Flon, son of Brim.” Her voice rose above the crowd as they applauded. The natural acoustics of the chamber amplified her words, and their clapping. “He has chosen as his challenger: Ayrion, son of Narris. And his challenge has been accepted.”

At my name, the room was silent, except for a few members from some of the other clans who didn’t know any better than to applaud me. The short burst of claps quickly died away as they realized their mistake.

Father patted my leg. It was meant to be an encouraging gesture, but it only intensified the reality of what was about to happen.

“Will the two fighters take their places?”

“Remember,” Father said as he leaned in to keep from being heard. “You know what to do. I know you don’t like it, but for the sake of keeping food on the table, make sure he wins.” He winked. “I’m proud of you.”

Mother smiled, but I could see the tears building at the corners of her eyes. It was another reason why she generally didn’t attend these sorts of events. Rianna squeezed my hand and Jorn just sat there. My younger brother was a much better student at controlling his emotions than I was, or maybe he just didn’t have any. There were times, like now, that I couldn’t tell.

I stood and walked to the edge of the ring. Like Flon, I removed my boots and socks, then my shirt. A murmur rose from those behind me when I did. My scars from Dorrin’s whip were there for all to see. I don’t know why I was so embarrassed by them. Most trainees showed off their scars, but since mine were given to me rather than earned, I wasn’t all that proud of displaying them right now.

I left my clothes lying beside the stone partition that separated the sand from the rest of the floor and stepped into the ring. The rules were simple. Once I stepped in the ring, I couldn’t leave until I had either won, lost, or the judges ruled it a draw. Not wanting to be forced to watch my defeat twice, I placed a barrier in front of my magic, blocking its use. Like the whipping post, I didn’t want to see the visions of what was to come. It was almost liberating in a way, taking away my advantage and placing me on the same level as the rest. Whenever I stepped in the ring, I usually did so without the use of magic just to make sure that my victories were legitimate.

At some point during the fight, I was going to have to turn it back on. I would need to use the visions to see how to make Flon’s victory look real without doing too much damage to my own reputation. For that, I needed magic.

I was the first in. I watched as Flon took his time with his shirt, making sure to flex his muscular frame as he did. I didn’t know if he was trying to intimidate me or play to the crowd. Knowing him, both. He laid his shirt on top of his boots and took a moment to stretch before turning and waving to the audience. The Primary started to clap, which of course meant the rest of the audience had to follow along. I rolled my eyes.

After a few more minutes of pandering, Flon finally decided to step across the barrier and face me. There was a momentary look of uncertainty on his face. It was brief, but it was there. I was sure those watching didn’t notice since it was immediately replaced with his typical smugness. I smiled on the inside. He was nervous.

“I’ll try not to make you look too bad,” Flon said as he worked his way slowly around the outer perimeter of the ring. His voice projected for the crowd to hear.

“Don’t worry,” I said with the same amount of volume. “You’ll never get the chance.”

Flon snarled, but that brief look of uncertainty reared its head once again before being replaced with anger. A quick glance over my shoulder toward the council let me know that Brim was anything but pleased by my response as he leaned forward in his seat and stared me down. The look in his eyes said that he wanted to bash my head in with a very big mallet.

I continued to pivot from where I was standing at the center of the ring, watching Flon as he circled. He was head and shoulders over me, but as my father was quick to point out: “size doesn’t always matter.” In Flon’s case, I knew it to be true. What normally made for great intimidation also took away from his speed and agility.

I was faster, more flexible, capable of dodging and weaving in a way that someone of his size and bulk could not. The downside was that most strikes would prove far more damaging to me than to him, which meant I needed to be extra careful. The state Flon was in, I was pretty sure he wouldn’t stop with just a single takedown blow. While he had the chance, he was going to do his best to make an example of me. I might be forced to let him win, but I’d be hanged before I let him humiliate me in the process.

I was getting tired of spinning around. “Are you going to keep circling me like a constipated nanny goat or are we going to fight?” I wanted to get him riled up, and since Flon was never one for being mocked, it was the one sure way to force his hand. The tactic worked. Flon’s face hardened, and his eyes burned. The veins in his forehead and neck bulged as he threw caution to the wind and charged. He roared all the way across the ring.

I ducked and spun to the right. His fist flew over my head. The wind from its passing let me know that he was out for blood. He didn’t just want to humiliate me. He wanted to kill me. If it wasn’t for the laws written in the Shal’Noran, preventing any Upaka from taking the life of another, Flon would have certainly done his best to try.

He turned and punched with his other hand. This time I blocked, letting his swing spin him further to the left than it should have. He was still too caught up in the rage to notice. I could have broken his leg while he was off balance. It took a lot not to. Instead, I hit him in the back with a quick strike to the kidney. It wasn’t a serious blow, but I knew the pain would stick with him.

He flinched and pulled away, but then he turned with a powerful backswing, forcing me to retreat or get knocked to the side. He came at me again with a series of punches and kicks. He was playing to the audience, a stupid mistake that I was going to take advantage of. I blocked and dodged each strike, until finally spinning with a sweep to Flon’s legs that sent him careening face first into the dirt.

He rolled and was back on his feet before I could maximize on the victory. He put at least four feet of distance between us and started circling once again. This time, I joined him. Both of us watching, studying, looking for a weakness to exploit.

“What’s wrong, Flon?” I said mockingly. “You seemed to be favoring your left side. Next time, don’t leave it open.”

Again, he charged, this time without the roar. He punched with his left, faded and kicked with his right. I blocked the first, sidestepped the second. “You’re slowing down,” I chided. “You sure you don’t need a break?”

He growled and spun low, trying to sweep my feet as I had done to him, but I was too quick and jumped over his leg. I blocked the next punch and threw a couple of my own. He blocked and countered. I whipped a kick at his chest and he spun to dodge, but tripped. I didn’t hesitate that time. With my right leg, I pivoted to land a hard kick to the side of his ribs, only to find he had feigned the stumble. Halfway into my kick, Flon turned and caught my leg. He punched me hard in the stomach, and I went down.

I could hear the Primary yelling encouragement to his son. The crowd seemed to echo his enthusiasm as they shouted.

It felt like he’d cracked a rib. I hit the dirt hard and rolled just in time to miss Flon leaping through the air. He landed on one knee, expecting to crush me, but by the time he struck dirt, I was up and spinning around. This time, my foot didn’t miss and I caught the side of his face before he managed to get his guard up.

Flon’s head whipped to the right and a couple of his teeth went with it. It was the most stirring sight I’d seen in some time. Flon and his gap teeth.

The crowd went silent, except for my father. I heard him shout behind me and I smiled.

Flon charged. His eyes were on fire. He’d lost all sense of reason. Blood ran down his chin.

I tried getting out of the way, but he threw a fistful of sand in my face. I flung my hands up to protect my eyes, but without my magic, I was too late. I hadn’t seen it coming soon enough to counter. Now, I couldn’t see anything. I angled far enough to the side to keep from catching the full brunt of Flon’s frame, but he hit both my legs with one arm and I went down. Blinding your opponent in an advancement fight was considered cowardly. It seemed Flon didn’t care.

I tried to roll free, but he was quicker than I expected and caught me by the back of my pants, nearly jerking them off when he yanked me back. He crawled over top of me and started punching. All I could do was throw up my arms to protect my head. I could hear Rianna screaming somewhere off to my left and Brim shouting from his pedestal on my right.

If there was ever a time to resort to magic, it was now. I released the barrier and it flooded through me with an overwhelming surge. The visions struck all at once, leaving me disoriented as I watched Flon’s fists continue coming.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he said as he fought with everything he had to land a solid hit to my face. “I’m supposed to win. You embarrass me like that again and I’ll make sure your family suffers.” His words were soft, just loud enough for me to hear over the noise of the crowd.

I did my best to divert his strikes, but he was much stronger than I was and no amount of magic could stop that. If I didn’t do something, Shal’Noran or no Shal’Noran, he was going to kill me. I only had one move left. Flon, in his rage, had straddled my body in an attempt to keep me from wiggling free. What he didn’t consider was that in doing so, he left one very important area open.

With no other option, I grabbed Flon by his hanging parts and squeezed with all my might. I’d never seen anyone that size jump so high or squeal that loud.

The Primary was out of his chair in an instant. I thought he was going to jump into the ring, but one look at the crowd and he slowly sat back down. I had a feeling that I’d somehow crossed the line on this one.

Flon lay on the other side of the ring, writhing as he protectively held on to his shrunken twiddle, as Rianna had called it. I was too busy trying to catch my own breath and test my ribs to worry about finishing the job, not to mention I was supposed to be letting the oaf win. I wiped the blood from my mouth and crawled backwards toward the stone partition where I attempted to clear the dirt and sand from my eyes as I waited for whatever was coming.

I didn’t have to wait too long. Flon pushed his way to his feet. He turned and looked at me. I didn’t see the rage that had been there before. I didn’t even see embarrassment, which I found a little surprising given the circumstances. All I saw was an eerily calm composure, a lack of all emotion. It was like looking into the eyes of a dead man. I’d never seen Flon look like that before. It was troubling.

He started across the ring. He didn’t run, didn’t yell, didn’t even snarl. He simply walked calmly over to where I stood and stopped within arm’s reach. The crowd was so loud I could no longer distinguish the voices of my family from the rest.

I knew it was time. I couldn’t put it off any longer. As much as I wanted to make sure Flon never reached his advancement, I didn’t want my family suffering for it. The Primary’s influence was too powerful.

“I’m ready,” I said, looking for some sign of understanding in Flon’s face. So far, nothing. “Go ahead, let’s get this over with.” I raised my fists. Flon did the same. I scooted away from the partition and circled back to the center and waited. I hoped he knew how to improvise because I wasn’t sure what I needed to do to make this look convincing. Flon closed on me.

I started with a punch to the chest. He blocked. I kicked at his ribs. Again, he blocked, but this time he countered with a punch to the gut, then to the head. I blocked the first, but pretended to miss the second and jerked my head to the side just in time to make it appear like he had landed a solid blow.

I spun around and stumbled backwards, as though the strike had left me spinning. That was when Flon made his move. I saw it coming and immediately blew out all the air in my lungs and tightened my abs. The punch hurt, but it wasn’t crippling.

He kicked at my head and I ducked and spun to the left, but not before I let him catch me in the arm with his elbow. I bore it, but the force of the hit caused my arm to spasm. I stumbled to the left, making it look like Flon’s earlier punch to the head had done more damage than it really had.

Flon kicked me in the back of my legs and I went to my knees. He wrapped his arm around my neck and lifted me up. I held onto his arm to keep from being strangled as he twisted one of my arms behind my back, holding me there for everyone to witness. He slowly turned, presenting me to the crowd. Brim was at the edge of his seat, a wicked smile on his face. He didn’t seem to be looking at his son, though. His gaze was too high. He was staring at my father.

The crowd went wild with excitement at seeing their favorite son coming back from what they thought had been a sure defeat. I knew this was it. At least I wouldn’t be losing in complete disgrace.

Flon was behind me now. I could feel his breath against the back of my neck.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Get it over with.”

Flon leaned in and whispered in my ear. “I told you if you embarrassed me again, I was going to make your family suffer, and you didn’t listen. So, now, I’m going to have my father banish them from the Lost City. You know what the rest of the world thinks of us, so you can imagine what that will be like, going from town to town being shunned by all. Maybe not Rianna.” Flon chuckled in my ear. It sent a chill down my back. “No. It would be downright shameful to let something that good-looking go to waste. I’ll make sure she spends the rest of her days bonded to me.”

Something in me snapped. This time, it was my turn to lose control. Before Flon could finish choking me out, I bent over, forcing him to do the same. With a quick snap upwards, I rammed the back of my head into his face.

Flon’s arm around my neck released and I staggered forward, trying to catch my breath. It was one thing to threaten me; it was another to threaten my family with banishment and my sister with being forced into the bed of a pig like that.

My magic flashed another warning and I turned to face it. Flon raced across the ring. He yelled as he leaped into the air. He kicked out with both feet straight for my head. If he landed such a hit, it wouldn’t just be the end of the match, it would be the end of my life. My body took over. Instead of diving out of the way, I bent at the waist and tucked my shoulder up under his legs. With all my might I pushed upwards, causing Flon to flip in mid-jump. His legs went up and his head went down.

There was a loud snap when he hit the dirt and Flon’s body went limp.

The audience was silent. No one said a word. I was almost afraid to look down, but I did. Flon lay there staring at me. I thought his eyes had seemed lifeless before. Now, they really were. His head was bent unnaturally to the left. I knelt beside him and gently shook him. “Flon? Flon?” Fear took over. This was not what I had intended to happen. I only wanted to make sure he didn’t pass his advancement.

“What have you done?” Brim shouted as he leaped into the ring.

Before he could reach me, my father was there, pulling me away from the body. “Get back, Ayrion.” He dragged me to the other side of the ring and away from Brim.

“No! No!” The Primary dropped to his knees beside his son. He cradled Flon’s head in his arms, rocking him back and forth. Flon’s mother screamed and was out of her seat, running for her son, with half their family behind her.

The other two members of the Pel’tok quickly made their way down the platform stairs. They stood to the side and watched in silence. The crowd did the same. No one moved. Most were probably too afraid, considering what had just happened. Mother, Rianna, and even Jorn met us at the edge of the ring.

“What do we do?” Mother whispered.

“I don’t know.” There was fear in my father’s voice. It was something I’d never heard from him before.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” I said, my whole body shaking. “I wasn’t trying to kill him.”

“What were you thinking, Ayrion?” The scolding from my father hurt worse than anything else. “I told you to let him win.”

“I was, but . . .”

“But what?”

“But he threatened to have you banished. And he said he was going to force Rianna to bond with him.”

“Over my dead body,” Rianna said, half spitting the words out as they came. “If you ask me, he got what he deserved.”

Flon’s mother’s wails intensified, bringing a quick halt to our conversation. Those members of Flon’s family surrounding the body suddenly parted as Brim stepped through. He got one look at me and headed across the ring. There was no questioning what he intended to do. It was written all over his face.

My father pushed me back against the partition and stepped out between me and the Primary. “It was an accident, Brim. We all saw it.” He raised his hand for the big man to stop. “He didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“Get out of my way Narris,” Brim said as he continued coming, “or I’ll put you in the dirt beside him.”

Before the Primary had made it across, my mother and sister hopped the partition and joined Father in forming a barrier in front of me.

“You don’t want to do this,” Father said as Brim stopped barely an arm’s length away. I could see my father’s right hand angled to grab one of the knives I knew he kept hidden up his sleeve.

There was murder in Brim’s eyes.

The other two members of the Pel’tok rushed over. Ness was the first to speak. “Primary, might we have a word?” She kept her voice lowered so as not to be heard by the surrounding audience. “You don’t want to do this, there’s too many people watching.”

Brim paused long enough to gain some composure and to notice all the eyes staring at him. He took a deep breath and pointed directly at me. “I want him in front of the council . . . immediately!” He looked me in the eyes. When he did, my knees trembled. Brim snarled and then turned and marched back across the ring. The other two council members left as well, but not before Ness passed me a brief, but sincere, look of pity.

I gulped. Of all the ways this could have gone wrong, I would have never imagined this being one of them.

“BANISHMENT? For what? For winning?” My father was beside himself with rage. “The laws of Shal’Noran don’t apply here, Brim, and you know it! Flon’s own actions brought this about. Now I hate that the young man was killed, but my son can hardly be blamed for what was clearly an accident.”

I stood beside my father in front of the council, Mother to my left. It was all I could do to keep my hands from shaking as I watched my future unravel before me like one of my mother’s poorly knit socks.

Brim leaned forward in his seat at the center of the platform and sneered. “If I’m to be forced to live without my son, then so will you.”

“This isn’t justice. It’s vengeance!”

“Your son’s a menace to our way of life!” Brim said, pointing straight at me. “Be thankful I’m not ordering his execution.”

“That’s exactly what you’re doing. You banish him and you’re taking away his life, his family, his home.”

“Which is exactly what he did to mine!” Brim hit the arms of his seat.

I knew there was nothing my father could say that would change Brim’s mind. He’d just lost his son. The only thing Father was going to accomplish was to give the Primary the means to banish the rest of my family along with me. This all felt eerily familiar: me standing quietly before the council while my father tried unsuccessfully to argue my case. Why did this keep happening to me? I wished I’d never been born with these stupid gifts. The last time, I had been sentenced to twenty lashes from Dorrin’s whip. This time, I was to be a castaway, a reject, forced to leave everything I loved behind. I would have preferred the whip.

Before my father could say anything more, Brim leaned forward. “Arguments are over.” He glanced at the other two members, and each nodded. Ness’s nod was at least reluctant. “The sentence stands. Ayrion will leave the Lost City by dawn. Any attempt to return is punishable by death.” He looked past us to the armed men at the back of the room. “Guards, take Ayrion to the cells. Let him spend his last day enjoying the solitude of what awaits him.”

“You can’t do this!” My father started to rush the platform, but I grabbed his arm and held him back. “You can’t banish him without giving him a chance to collect his things or say good-bye.”

Brim hopped to his feet. “Did I get the chance to tell my son good-bye?” The hatred on his face was enough to silence my father. Mother pulled him back.

The Primary stepped down from the dais. He barely glanced at me as he passed, his eyes cold. I watched as he and the other members of the council left the room.

“There’s nothing you could have done,” I said, hoping to ease my father’s rage. “It was my fault.”

Father turned and pointed directly at my chest. “Never think that. None of this is your fault.” There were tears in his eyes. “You can’t help who you are. And you should never apologize for being exceptional.”

Mother wrapped her arms around me, sobbing as she did, but the guards pulled us apart. “No. You can’t take my boy.”

Father held her as she wept. “I will pack your stuff tonight,” he said. “We’ll have everything ready for you by dawn.”

The guards dragged me from the room and from the faces of my parents, leading me down to the lowest levels of the Justice Hall where they kept the prisons. I’d never seen them before and the fact that they would be the last thing I’d see before being forced to leave my home was growing more depressing by the moment. The keeper of the cells unlocked one of the doors and shoved me inside. “Enjoy your stay, as brief as it is.” He chuckled slightly and the three men left, taking the torch with them.

Darkness enveloped me, a fitting end to the circumstances of my life. If there was a higher power at work, he must have really had it out for me. I pressed myself against the back wall of my cell and slowly slid down the cold stone into a sitting position. I pulled my knees to my chest, wrapped my arms around them, and began to cry. I was surprised by how easy the tears came. Warriors weren’t supposed to cry, but no matter how much I wanted to stop, they just kept coming. I sat there and contemplated what I was about to face, the possibility of never seeing my family again, of wandering from one city to the next with nowhere to belong, of being alone.

It was during that time of uncertainty that Magistrate Sirias and his family came to mind. I thought it ironic. It wasn’t two weeks ago when I had pondered what it must be like for them to be forced to leave everything they knew behind, and here I was about to share in their fate. I suddenly wondered where they were, and if they wouldn’t mind taking me with them. I dismissed the idea as soon as it came. The last thing they would ever want was to drag along the very person who’d put them in that situation in the first place.

I rested my head against the wall and closed my eyes. Sleep never came. Needless to say, it was the longest night of my life. I had cried until the tears would no longer come. I had tried a couple dozen times to consider what I should do once I left the Lost City, only to have each attempt shattered by more crying as I thought of what I’d be losing. I was the most pathetic warrior I’d ever seen. I doubted if even Flon would have acted like this.

By the time I heard the key twisting in the door’s lock and the latch being thrown back, I was completely drained of all emotions. When the guards stepped inside and tried rustling me to my feet, I found I could barely stand. I felt like I’d just undergone another session with Dorrin and his whip. It took a moment for the blood to circulate back to my legs as they dragged me into the corridor between cells and marched me up the long flight of stairs to the Justice Hall above.

I stepped outside the Hall and onto the open landing that led down to the street below. Instead of finding my family there waiting to see me off, it looked like the entire clan had shown up to witness my banishment.

“Ayrion is forthwith banished from the Lost City,” Brim said to my right, causing me to flinch since I hadn’t seen him standing there. He projected his voice across the cavern for all to hear. “Any attempt to return will be punishable by death.” Brim turned and walked to where I stood between the two guards. He kept his voice lowered so only those standing there could hear. “As you spend the rest of your miserable life alone with no home or family, you remember my son. I pray what time you have left will be long and excruciating.” The Primary took a step back and nodded for the guards to continue.

The street below was lined on both sides with the members of our clan. Brim had made sure that my banishment was as public and humiliating as possible. With what strength I had left, I held my head high. There was no way I was going to give him the satisfaction of breaking down in front of them. I was feeling thankful I had cried out all my tears last night. It allowed me to present a stoic face as I was marched through the throng of watchers.

The crowds eventually thinned the further we got to the tunnels leading up to the surface, and so far, I hadn’t seen my family. I started to panic as we headed into the tunnels. What if Brim had forbidden them to see me? What if he had made sure they couldn’t give me supplies to survive on?

We reached the channel’s exit and I held my hand over my eyes to hide the light from the broken windows. The two guards gestured for me to continue, but instead of following, they turned and headed back down the tunnel, shaking their heads as they went. With the threat of death hanging over me if I attempted to return, they apparently felt there was no need to stand watch.

There was a small gathering waiting about halfway across the foyer. The tears I had been holding back began to flow as soon as I recognized the faces. It was my family. “I didn’t think you were coming,” I said as I ran to meet them. “I figured the Primary had ordered you not to see me.”

“Oh, he tried,” Father said, laying one of my carry bags down beside my bow and quiver. “But I still have some influence. He doesn’t know we’re here.”

Mother and Rianna rushed me at the same time, both squeezing the air from my lungs as hard as they could. It was wonderful. Even Jorn attempted a hug.

“Inside your sack, I’ve left you half the money for our contract,” Father said. “You earned it. If spent wisely, it should get you to Aramoor with enough left over to live on until you can find some form of work or apprenticeship.”

“Aramoor?”

“Yes. It’s the largest city in the five kingdoms and your best opportunity to find work. It’s also large enough to stay hidden in if the need arose. I was giving this some thought last night. I suggest you stay with Hobb for a little while. He’ll be able to offer some assistance. At the least, he can help you rustle up a horse and some supplies for the journey.”

I was, now, feeling very thankful for the instruction the ferryman had given me in tracking. I was going to need it to survive. “You might try finding passage working on one of the barges traveling the Shemoa River. They could take you all the way to Aramoor if you’re lucky.”

I didn’t know what to say. My mind was racing with everything he was telling me, as well as an endless number of other possibilities.

“Ayrion, I want you to have this.” Father pulled off his signet ring and placed it in my hand.”

I looked at it sitting there. It felt heavy in my palm. “I can’t take this. It’s yours.”

“I don’t need a ring to tell me I’m a warrior. I already know it.” He closed my hand around the black onyx band with our clan’s white rune. “I want you to have it.”

I tried sliding it on my finger, but it was too big and fell off.

Father knelt and looked me in the eyes. “Every time you see this ring, I want you to remember your family. I want you to remember who you are. No matter what the council says you are an Upaka. And the day this ring stays on your finger is the day you’ll be old enough to claim your right as an Upakan warrior.”

I wiped my eyes and looked at the ring. I’d longed for the day I would claim my own ring, but this was hardly the way I wanted to get it. I needed to say something, but my throat tightened as I fought back the tears. Before I could try again, my father wrapped his arms around me and held me tight. I didn’t want him to ever let go.

After some very emotional hugs and kisses from my mother, Rianna, and even Jorn, we started for the front doors. Father led the way, letting Mother and Rianna walk beside me. Both were holding on to me, not wanting to let go. For the first time I wasn’t embarrassed by the display of affection.

Father made sure I had my shaders with me. I pulled them out and hung them around my neck.

“You be sure to wash every week,” Mother said, cupping my face, fresh tears running down her cheeks. “I know how you get. You’re too much like your father.” She broke into sobs. “I love you, my sweet boy.”

Rianna hung on my neck. “I’ll think about you every day, especially down at the pools. Don’t break too many girls’ hearts.”

I hugged Jorn. “Take care of the others while I’m gone,” I told him. “I know you’ll make a great warrior one day.”

Jorn smiled. He looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how, so he punched me in my shoulder instead and stepped back.

My father gave me his hand. “You’ve got a good head on those shoulders, Ayrion. Be sure to use it. Don’t let others intimidate or misuse you. The world is a hard place, but if there was ever anyone I thought strong enough to make it, it would be you. And who knows, we may yet meet again. I’ll be looking for your face with ever new contract I take.”

He took a step back beside my mother and we all stood in silence, memorizing each other’s faces. I wondered how long it would take for them to fade. Taking a deep breath, I strapped on my sword, hung my bow and quiver around my neck, hefted my large travel sack over my shoulder, and lifted my shaders into place.

With a smile on my face, I turned and waited for the guard to open the door and then stepped into the early morning light. I knew I couldn’t look behind me, it would be far too painful, so I focused on putting one foot in front of the other. I wanted my family to see how strong I was. Maybe that would help them not to worry so much about me when I was gone.

I didn’t stop until I reached the top of the hill outside the ruins. With tears streaking both cheeks, I turned and stared down at the home I was no longer welcome to share, the life I was no longer welcome to live, and the family I would most likely never see again.

With a broken heart, I turned my back on the Lost City and started walking. Where my path would lead me I wasn’t sure, but I was determined that no matter where I ended up I would survive. Not only would I survive, I would make something of myself. I was going to prove them wrong, all of them. I wasn’t worthless. My life had meaning.

One way or another, I was going to make it count.

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Street Rats of Aramoor | Book 2:

“Hurricane”

Author Note

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Acknowledgements

I THANK GOD for the doors and windows He’s allowed to open in order for me to reach this point.

I want to thank my parents Mickey and Julie Wisehart for their unending loyalty, encouragement, and support over the years. None of this would be possible without you—Love you both.

I want to thank my Author Team, whose endless talent, time, and dedication has made this project possible:

AUTHOR TEAM

To my illustrator and sister, whose creativity and talent continues to impress—Janelle Wisehart

To my content editor, who managed to take a floundering script and turn it into something readable—Danae Smith

To my line editor whose patience has managed to surpass my continual lack of commas—Mia Darien

To my cover artist who has taken a concept in the back of my mind and turned it into a breath-taking reality—Whendell Souza

About The Author

MICHAEL WISEHART graduated with a bachelor’s degree in business before going back to school for film and starting his own production company. As much as he enjoyed film-work, the call of writing a novel got the better of him, and on April 14, 2014 he started typing the first words of what would be two new epic fantasy series: The Aldoran Chronicles and Street Rats of Aramoor.

Sneak Peek

Street Rats of Aramoor

Hurricane

MY JOURNEY was nearing its end.

After nearly six months of traveling from one side of Aldor to the other, I found myself bouncing along in the back of a wagon I’d been sharing with half-a-dozen large melons and a barrel of cucumbers that smelled of last week’s pickings as opposed to the “fresh cut” label on the front.

A farmer and his wife and son had been good enough to give me a ride. They told me no thirteen-year-old boy should be out on these roads by themselves. There could be highwaymen just waiting to snatch me up. Their son, who was seated across from me on a small crate of lettuce, was several years younger and definitely not shy about speaking his mind.

“What’s wrong with your eyes?” he asked, his head cocked slightly to the side. “They look funny.”

“Hush, Enon. That’s rude.” His mother was trying her best not to stare herself.

Enon reminded me of my younger brother, Jorn. He was about the same age, and just as feisty.

The little boy folded his arms. “Well, they do.”

I smiled. Having passed through as many cities, towns, and villages as I had on my way to Aramoor, I’d grown accustomed to the stares. It would seem colorless eyes were something of a rarity. Growing up in the Lost City of Keldor, I’d never known any different. I was just as amazed at the variety of color I’d seen.

“All of my people have the same eyes.”

The farmer’s wife twisted in her seat. “Your people?”

“Upaka.”

The woman’s expression darkened and her husband threw me a sharp look over his shoulder. “Upaka?” There was a hint of concern in his voice. “That’s a name I haven’t heard in quite some time. What are you doing this far south?”

“It’s a long story,” I said, not feeling in the mood to share the tale of my banishment with strangers, even strangers kind enough to give me a ride.

They got the hint and didn’t pry further. I doubted their silence had anything to do with common courtesy. After all, my people were well-known as mercenaries for hire.

A gust of wind caught my hair and sent it whipping behind me. It had grown long enough to tickle my shoulders, nearly half as long as my sister Rianna’s, which would have earned me some time with mother’s shears, were I at home.

We crested a small rise and I could see Aramoor looming in the distance. It was larger than anything I had imagined. The capital city of Elondria was the home of the High King. It was also the largest city in the known world. Nothing in the five kingdoms came close to its magnitude. The thought of calling it “home” both excited and terrified me.

“So, this is your first time to Aramoor, is it?” the farmer asked. He’d turned his attention back to his team as the horses plodded down the main road leading toward the city.

“Yes, sir.”

He smiled. “Bet you’ve never laid eyes on the likes of it before.”

“I haven’t.”

“That wall is one of Aldor’s great wonders, if you ask me.”

I stared off into the distance at the protective barrier surrounding the city. Its white stone could be seen for miles in all directions. The city itself seemed to stretch on forever.

“It’s huge.”

“Aye. They say it was built by wizards after the defeat of the Kuhl hordes. It was probably one of the last great feats of magic before the Purge.” The farmer shook his head. “It’s hard to believe something as evil as magic could create such beauty.”

I bit my tongue. Magic was no more likely to make someone evil than having too much gold. I’d seen the lust for wealth have more of an effect on people than magic. And since I happened to be one of those wielders who kept their abilities hidden for fear of being imprisoned within the White Tower, I felt like I could speak from personal experience.

The road grew more congested the closer we got to the city’s eastern gate. It was as though the townsfolk from the surrounding communities had decided to make a sacred pilgrimage to the capital, all at the same time.

We passed a number of other wagons toting wares to sell to those living within the protection of the great wall.

Our pace slowed as we reached the first of two gatehouses leading in. This close, I could see that the blocks used to build the fortification were as wide as the farmer’s wagon. I wondered at the amount of magic it must have required. The wizards from that age must have been truly powerful.

A sentry waved the cart in front of us on through and we pulled forward to the first checkpoint. “State your name and purpose,” the guard said. He bore the insignia of the Elondrian Lancers—a high sun overshadowing a golden crown.

I’d seen pictures of that emblem in my studies back home. As an Upaka, I had been required to learn of the various militaries within the five kingdoms. Their crests and colors had been just as important to memorize as their styles of combat.

“The name’s Neelan, from Cadwyn.  This is my wife and my two boys. We have fresh produce to sell at the lower market on South Avis.”

The guard passed a quick glance our way, not overly worried with a young mother and her two boys. He stepped over to my side of the wagon and looked in. Thankfully, my back was to him so I didn’t have to worry with hiding my eyes. One quick glance and he was walking back around to the front. He waved us forward. “Move on through.”

We passed a second guard station once we were through the gate, but no one bothered stopping us. The lancers at that station were concerned with traffic leaving the city.

“Where would you like us to drop you off?” Neelan asked as we started down the main thoroughfare leading into the heart of Aramoor.

In the distance, I could see great domes and spires rising above the dwellings we were passing between. They reminded me of the snowcapped peaks of the Northern Heights back home.

With this being my first time inside the city, I needed to get my bearings before attempting to explore any deeper.

“I’ll get off here, thanks.”

“Here?” The farmer’s wife turned in her seat. “Do you have family nearby?” She looked at the closest buildings as if expecting to see some nice couple standing there waiting on me.

“Uh, yes,” I lied. “Uncle Fen . . . der . . . stad.” Of course, I didn’t have an uncle, and if I did, his name certainly wouldn’t have been Fenderstad, but when asked to produce a name with no time to consider my options, it was the first thing out of my mouth. I wished I’d given it a little more thought.

The farmer directed the horses over to the edge of the road and stopped the wagon. “Are you sure? It’s easy to get lost in here if you don’t know where you’re going.”

“I’ll be fine. He doesn’t live far from here.” I grabbed my travel bag and slung it over my shoulder before hopping down from the back. “My parents gave me directions. Thank you for the ride. It was most kind.” I waved, not giving them a chance to argue. I was too embarrassed to tell them I was homeless with nowhere to go.

“Well good luck to you, lad,” Neelan said with a slightly worried look and a polite wave. “If you change your mind, we’ll be on South Avis. It’s off of King’s Way East.” He pointed at the wide cobbled road in front of us leading into the heart of the city. “Just follow this to the main square and then turn left. You’ll find us somewhere near Marrow Lane in Cheapside. You can’t miss it. We usually sell out before dusk, so if you can’t find us by then, just wait for us at the east gate.”

“Thank you. I will.”  I waved once more and casually walked down the first street on the right. I hoped it looked like I knew where I was going. Behind me, I could hear the farmer snap the reins and the wagon wheels thump over the cobblestones.

I stopped at the corner of the next building and listened as the wagon blended into the cacophony of noise coming from those on their way to market. I took a deep breath and slowly scanned the street, mesmerized by the flow of the crowd. I was surrounded by more people than I’d ever seen in my life, and yet I had never felt so alone.

After being banished from my home for breaking Shal’Noran, my father had given me as much coin as he could afford to help me make a start of it. He said it would be enough to help me purchase an apprenticeship with a local merchant wherever I ended up. I hoped it would be enough to last me until I was able to find some work.

At the thought of my father, I lifted the thin chain from where I had it safely hidden under my tunic and stared at the ring hanging from its end. The black onyx band had a single white rune at its center, the crest of my clan. It represented my clan’s place within the greater Upakan society. The ring was only given to those who had earned the right to be called Warrior. My father had given it to me as a way to remind me of who I was. I had repeated his words over and over in my mind since leaving the Lost City: “You are still Upaka. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”

After tucking the chain back into my shirt, I pulled the hood of my black cloak up to hide my eyes and made my way north up the street. I let the natural flow of the people move me along. The farther I walked the more the crowds began to dwindle. I kept an eye out for a place to stay. I didn’t want to get too far away from the eastern gate in case I needed to take Master Neelan up on his offer.

I was looking for somewhere reputable, but not too reputable. A respectable establishment came at a cost. One I wasn’t too keen to pay, considering my limited funds. I would have been fine with four walls and a mattress, as long as it came with clean sheets and an owner who wouldn’t try mugging me in the middle of the night, unlike the first small town I had stayed in after leaving home. I had learned very quickly what to look for when choosing a place to stay.

The further I traveled from King’s Way East, the more dilapidated the buildings became, not to mention the people mingling around them. I generally judged a location by the hairs on the back of my neck. So far, they hadn’t risen, which meant it was a reasonably safe place to find a room, but I couldn’t quite shake the feeling that someone was watching me.

Across the street, a sign swung back and forth with a rusty moan. The faded gold letters under the painting of a large buck proclaimed it as: THE WHITE STAG. It seemed a typical name for an Elondrian Inn. Many carried the label of wild animals—The White Stag, The Wild Boar, The Dancing Bear—though I found the thought of a bear dancing hard to imagine.

The building looked reliable enough. A couple of windows on the upper floors were lit, letting me know it was in use, so I headed across the street. I reached for the front door, but a sharp cry kept me from entering.

“Help!” Someone please help!”

A young boy, several years younger than myself was being dragged by two older boys into a narrow alley a few buildings away. The biggest of the two slapped the kid across the face. “Shut your mouth or I’ll slit your throat.”

I looked to see if anyone was going help, but the few people I saw didn’t seem to care enough to stop what they were doing. For most, that meant sitting around smoking pipes and nursing drinks while pretending nothing was amiss.

I knew I shouldn’t get involved. I looked away, but the boy’s desperate pleas stopped me and I turned back.

What kind of citizen would I be if I just let this kid be taken without trying to help? My father’s voice answered from somewhere in the back of my mind. “A smart one.”

I sighed, dropping my hand to caress the hilt of my dagger. With a quick readjust to my travel sack, I took off for the alley. “It’s just a way to test my training,” I told the voice in my head. “Don’t want my skills to get rusty.”

I didn’t believe that for a minute.

Get the book here:

HURRICANE (Street Rats of Armamoor: Book 2)

Glossary

Ayrion [air-ee-un] 13-year-old Upakan. Born with two magical gifts.

Brim [brim] Head of Ayrion’s clan in The Lost City.

Flon [flon] Son of Brim. Ayrion’s rival.

Talarin [tuh-lar-in] He is the second member of the Pel’tok. Cousin to Brim.

Ness [ness] She is the third member of the Pel’tok, the ruling council of Ayrion’s tribe.

Narris [nar-iss] Ayrion’s father.

Lea [lay-uh] Ayrion’s mother.

Rianna [ree-on-uh] Ayrion’s older sister. Age 16.

Jorn [jorn] Ayrion’s younger brother. Age 10.

Fanon [fuh-non] One of the Upakan men in charge of dispersing contracts.

Dorin [dor-in] One of the Upakan trainers who preferred using a whip to get his students to obey.

Selfer [sel-fir] Older Upakan man who raises mountain wolves.

Heflin [hef-lin] An Upakan warrior.

Nykl [nih-coal] An Upakan warrior.

Lorna [lor-nuh] Helfin’s wife.

Orvil [or-vil] Grizzly of a man who owned the stables in Norshag.

Haran [huh-ron] – Friend of Orvil in Norshag.

Hobb [hob] Shemoa River ferryman. Living west of Oswell, just south of The Slags.

Magistrate Egleman [eg-el-mun] Former ruler of Oswell. Ousted by a rebellion. Has a contract placed on Sirias’s head.

Magistrate Sirias [sir-eye-us] – New leader of Oswell.

Treppin [trep-in] Hobb’s late wife’s younger brother.

Milly [mil-ee] Innkeeper in Oswell who Hobb has feelings for.

Ronan [roe-nun] One of The Golden Tassel’s kitchen staff.

Meralin [mare-uh-lin] Magistrate Sirias’s wife.

Rosella [roe-zel-uh] Magistrate Sirias’s daughter. Five years old.

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