Street Rats of Aramoor (Fantasy Box Set): An Epic Fantasy Adventure (Books 1-3) by Michael Wisehart

Author:Michael Wisehart [Wisehart, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Easthaven Publishing
Published: 2021-03-15T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 29

WE STEPPED OUT of the narrow corridor and my jaw dropped.

There had to be at least a thousand street rats gathered, all screaming at the top of their lungs at a fight in the arena below. Where had they all come from? Were there that many forgotten children living within the walls of Aramoor? Sometimes, I failed to remember how big the city really was.

The Pit was nothing more than a large hole dug out in the center of the warehouse—at least thirty feet in diameter with a floor of packed soil and a layer of sand thrown on top. Wood planks lined every inch of the walls to keep the dirt from eroding, much like the mining tunnels on the outskirts of the Lost City.

The fights had already started. Two boys were beating each other with their fists, and not very well. They swung their arms high and wide, as if trying to maneuver a ten-pound ball-and-chain flail. They were likely to do more damage to themselves than their opponent.

The warehouse was stifling. The smell of damp soil and old pine was all but drowned out by the stench of so many unwashed bodies. The Pit was completely surrounded by wooden stands divided into five sections. Each tribe’s seating was divided from the others by colored markers painted on the back.

An open walkway ran directly behind the seating, allowing the tribes to get from one section to the next without having to mingle. It seemed the Guild was trying to prevent any unnecessary conflicts.

“This way!” Spats shouted over the crowd. I grabbed Reevie by the arm and helped him up the wooden steps toward the outer walkway. We met the other half of our tribe as they exited the opposite corridor farther down.

The first section of risers had been painted white. Before we were halfway to the next, we were met by a group of Avalanche Guards. I could see Cutter in the back, pushing his way forward. “There was a ten-to-one wager you wouldn’t even show up,” he said, stopping in front of Spats. “Too afraid to show your face outside your Temple.”

“You’re gonna wish I had stayed home,” Spats shot back, “after we embarrass you in the Pit.”

Cutter laughed. His guards laughed. Embarrassingly enough, some of our own members laughed.

Cutter eyeballed me, rubbing the scraggly patch of hair on his chin. “I believe we’re going to set a record tonight. The shortest fight in the history of the Pit. You might want to have another champion lined up, just to make sure it’s worth the crowd’s time.” He laughed again and patted Spats on the shoulder, then made his way back to his seat at the front with as much show as possible.

Spats’s face was nearly the color of Red’s vest.

Reevie passed me a sympathetic look as the tribe started forward once again.

I felt the Wildfire chief’s presence before I saw her. It was the same empty feeling I got whenever she was around, like some part of me was missing, namely my magic.

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