The Mad Raven's Tale (The Accarian Chronicles Book 1)

by Andrew Walbrown

  “Of course I will,” Ulam said as he hugged her.

  “Promise me,” Pelecia said, her voice muffled by his shoulder. “Say the words.”

  Ulam hesitated. A moment ago he was excited to see the entire world. He wanted to hunt dragons, drink the finest wines and beers, lay eyes on ancient cities, and experience many other things he had read in adventure novels. But now that excitement had vanished, and was replaced with the same sense of entrapment that he felt living in Accaria. He was torn. He felt selfish for wanting all these things for himself, and Pelecia’s wailing did nothing more than intensify the guilt growing within him. What she said was true, Amantius could not survive in the world by himself. Even here on the island, where every vicious monster had been slain generations ago, Amantius still found trouble in the most foolish of places.

  Ulam knew what he had to do, and knew there could be no other way. The wind in his sails had disappeared, stolen away by a sense of duty and responsibility. In a way, he even felt embarrassed for allowing himself to dream.

  “I promise.”

  Pelecia’s crying subsided, his oath having an instant effect on her. As Ulam stared at the wall behind her, he felt the weight of a new burden slowly piling onto his massive, Orcish shoulders.

  Chapter 7

  Amantius

  “Amantius, it is time,” Ulam said as he stood in the doorway, his expression as grave as always. “We must go now.”

  “Why?” Amantius yelled. “Why must we leave? No one knows the truth, no one will suspect Mother or me!”

  “We have been over this,” Ulam grunted, “It may seem as though no one knows, but there are those who remain. Nursemaids that were present during your birth, who have remained silent throughout the years.” Ulam sighed deeply, “Humans are ambitious creatures. Whoever wins this war will look to eliminate any potential threats, any other claims to the throne…”

  “But I don’t want the throne!” Amantius interrupted. He had no ambition to be a leader of any kind, let alone to be a king. The idea was absurd to him; he was as much of a monarch as he was a pelican. “Why do you not understand that? Surely both Varian and Zeno can understand, if either of them were to discover my heritage. And even if they came to arrest me, I would just flee to Mount Meganthus! They would never find me there! I could live with the shepherds until all this ends.”

  “And you would condemn them all to death,” Ulam retorted. “Innocent men, women, and children would be slaughtered on the slopes of Meganthus. Amantius, the only way to survive this is to leave the island completely. Maybe in a handful of years, we could return…”

  “Years!?” Amantius shouted in disbelief. He could not imagine being away from Accaria for longer than a week, let alone multiple years. As he waited for Ulam to reply Pelecia slipped into the room.

  “Come Amantius,” she said warmly, though the authority in her voice could not be mistaken. “Enough talk, it is time to leave.”

  Amantius reluctantly grabbed his travel bag and hoisted it over his shoulder. He tried having heavy feet to slow down their progress, but Ulam had gripped him by the forearm and was dragging him like a ragdoll. The Orc’s grip was so strong Amantius thought the bones in his arm were snapping; he had always forgotten exactly how powerful Ulam was. The pain convinced him to walk faster, as he had no intention of experiencing dismemberment.

  After carefully navigating the back alleyways of the city, taking extra precautions to avoid the roaming patrols, they finally arrived in the Whaleport. Amantius’ heart sank when he saw the last ship in the harbor, for he had hoped the captain would have become too anxious and fled the city already. He still could not believe what was happening; his whole life had been turned upside down. Only a week ago everything was perfect and serene. Now, it was confusing and chaotic.

  “That’s their ship,” Marinius said, pointing to the lonely vessel floating in the harbor, “We need to get you onboard right now, the harbor will be closing any minute now.”

  As they approached the second of the two bells began to ring, followed by the blaring of horns. Men on both sides of the harbor began working in tandem to close the Seawall, a large iron-barred gate spanning the entrance of the harbor. Amantius grew excited as he watched, his desperation allowing him to believe they were too late. The feeling quickly gave way to a sense of triumph, as though he had just won a bout against time and fate.

  “I guess that means I have to stay,” he said as he quickly turned towards home, but before he could take any more steps, a pair of hands yanked him from the dock. Suddenly, he found himself on the deck of a merchant's vessel.

  “Set sail, you worthless lot!” A gruff voice yelled over the noise. “We’ll all be swingin’ by our necks if we’re not out of here within the next fifteen minutes!”

  Amantius tried jumping to his feet, but the rocking of the ship caused him to stumble. The excitement and sense of victory were gone, replaced by confusion and terror. “The harbor is closed! Why are we still going!?”

  “Ya think this is the first blockade I’ve ever snuck past, lad?” The captain said with a sneer, “Ya don’t make a good smuggler if ya follow the rules.”

  “Mother!” Amantius yelled, ignoring the explanation. He tried to climb out of the ship, but as he stepped forward Ulam jumped onto the deck, the Orc’s massive body too huge of an obstacle for him to surpass. “Mother!”

  Pelecia practically jumped into the harbor after them both, and would have too if Marinius had not grabbed her at the last second. She was screaming, her words an incoherent mess, as the moonlight highlighted the tears on her cheeks.

  Amantius continued to yell for her as he struggled to get around Ulam, but the Orc was not allowing him to escape. No matter how hard he pushed, punched, or kicked, Ulam was as immovable as a mountain. Eventually, Amantius crashed to the deck, emotionally and physically exhausted.

  “Can we not take her with us?” Amantius’ voice was raspy from his shouting, “Why can’t we, Ulam? Why?”

  Ulam said nothing. Instead, he quietly sat down beside Amantius and wrapped a big, green arm around him, squeezing tightly. Around them, the sailors scrambled to their rowing benches as the captain barked orders at them. Within moments the ship pushed away from the dock and was heading for the edge of the harbor, the Seawall still not completely closed. The night’s wind blew hard into the sail, propelling them forward, as the sailors strained to get them through the gap.

  Amantius sat in the middle of the ship and watched with a cold numbness as his mother grew smaller and smaller. By the time they blasted through the blockade and into the open sea, Pelecia and Marinius were nothing more than a pair of silhouettes on the docks, statues at the base of a city in shadows.

  “I didn’t even get to say goodbye!” Amantius broke down into tears, shaking uncontrollably. Ulam embraced him tightly, pressing Amantius’ head against his shoulders. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye, Ulam. Or tell her that I love her.”

  Ulam patted him on the back. “She knows you love her, Little Brother, she knows.”

  Chapter 8

  Ulam

  The ship swayed to and fro, a sensation Ulam had never felt before. Though his legs were as strong as oak, he felt as weak as a newborn babe as waves crashed into the hull. He had been mentally prepared to retch over one of the sides, but to his surprise, his stomach had been remarkably calm. He thanked the Gods for this because nothing could have been worse than spending every waking moment vomiting over the side of the ship.

  The sting of saltwater pierced Ulam’s nostrils, a sensation he had never experienced. As they sailed further and further, the call of seagulls faded, and their snow-white bodies no longer dove into the sea for dinner. The only noises he heard now were those of sailors yelling to one another about riggings, the wind pounding into the woolen sails, and the creaking of wood beneath his feet.

  Ulam daydreamed about his future for so long that when he returned to reality they were a great distance away from Accaria. He co
uld not tell how far they had sailed, though he knew they could not have been close. Kevea’s Spear had long disappeared over the horizon, as had any semblance of the city. The only part of the island still visible to the naked eye was Mount Meganthus, and even it was no more than a speckle of green and brown.

  Ulam was surprised by the way he felt; after watching Pelecia and Amantius fall to pieces before his eyes he somewhat expected to join them. After all, he too had left everything he had ever known behind in Accaria. Instead, he only felt emptiness, a void taking over what he thought should have been sadness or even regret. The only part of his situation that brought him emotion of any kind was knowing he would most likely never see Pelecia again. Though she was not his real mother, he was eternally grateful for the life she had given him. He could not help but think there was something they could have done for her, some way they could have smuggled her out of Accaria as well. But as she said that night in the house, there would be no sense in doing so. She was an old woman, and she would have been too much of a burden.

  Ulam spent much of the voyage speculating what would become of Accaria, playing out every scenario in his mind. He was not a fool, he knew the war that was about to engulf the island would kill many people, most of which he feared would be innocent. He had to push away any thoughts regarding Pelecia’s fate if King Varian discovered Amantius’ parentage, because in such an event he knew she would be murdered, and probably tortured first. Please be safe, Mother.

  He shifted his thoughts to his future with Amantius; it was all he could do to keep from falling into a spiral of despair. He learned that within a month they would make landfall, and figured they should have a plan before they reached the mainland. Ulam was not entirely worried about finding work or living off the land, his large frame and immense strength would always afford him easy employment, he was more concerned about his dynamic with Amantius. To an extent they had been raised as brothers, although there had always been an unspoken separation between the two. He could not fault Pelecia for this, considering he was an orphaned Orc and Amantius was her only trueborn child. Nevertheless, they had always been family, and now that they were out of the confines of their home and away from Accarian society, the notion that they were brothers became increasingly foreign to him. Maybe we are not family after all.

  As these thoughts swirled in his head, Ulam glanced at Amantius and watched as his distraught foster-brother mourned their collective fate. The poor lad was fixated on the small lump of tropical green in the vast blue ocean, the occasional tear escaping his bloodshot eyes. Ulam felt a sickening twist in his stomach as he saw the despair in Amantius’ face, unable to imagine what he was experiencing. Because while Pelecia was not Ulam’s real mother and Accaria was not his true homeland, both of which were to Amantius.

  “Get one last look before it’s too late,” the captain shouted from the prow, “you may never see that rock again. Or if you do, it won’t look the same.”

  Ulam almost peeked at the vanishing island, his home of the past twenty years, but in the end he chose not to do so. Accaria was his past, and the world was his future.

  Chapter 9

  Amantius

  Amantius stared across the rippling blue waves of the ocean. Though they were many miles away from the shores of Accaria, he felt as though he could still see the city’s alabaster white walls ascending to the heavens above. In his mind, he saw Mount Meganthus, a pang shooting through his heart as he remembered how the morning mist would gently kiss his face. But now he was an ocean away from everything he had ever known or loved, in a completely alien land.

  “Where am I?” Amantius muttered to himself, his voice just above a whisper.

  “You’re in the southernmost reaches of the Emberi Empire, lad. Go a day’s walk north of here and you will see the City of Silverwater,” the sailor said as he pushed the small raft from the shore. “We would have taken you there, but the Empire has not been good to smugglers recently. Gods be with you, lads.”

  “Gods be with you,” Amantius repeated, meaning the words for the first time. He had spoken the words so many times in his life that the reply was automatic, much like “thank you” and “you’re welcome.” But now he believed he would need all the blessings he could get.

  Amantius and Ulam watched as the landing craft rowed away, becoming smaller and smaller until it was hoisted onto the much larger vessel anchored in the harbor. The men onboard unfurled the sails, and soon the whistling wind guided the ship back to sea. When there was nothing more than a white square in the far distance, Ulam gathered his things and proceeded towards an old stone road.

  “Where are you going?” Amantius asked.

  “North. To Silverwater.”

  “What will you do when you get there?”

  “I do not know, Amantius,” Ulam replied, his voice gruff, but sad as well.

  Although Amantius had known Ulam his whole life, he had never seen such a look of uncertainty in the Orc’s gray eyes. But of course, Amantius himself had never been as bewildered as he was at this moment. Only a month ago he was dining on crab legs in his mother’s home without a worry in the world, and now he was unsure of what his next meal was going to be, or when it would occur.

  Ulam dropped his bags on the road and trounced through the rocky sand towards where Amantius was standing. When the Orc was within arm’s length he grabbed Amantius by the shoulders and squeezed firmly, staring directly into his eyes.

  “Let it go, Amantius,” Ulam grumbled, “there is no going back now.”

  Amantius did not want to believe him; he was already concocting methods of returning to Accaria. He thought that perhaps he could gain employment in Silverwater and make enough coin to pay for passage back to Accaria despite the closure of the Seawall. There were still plenty of points on the island where a ship could land, he argued, believing no blockade could successfully stop every smuggler from landing ashore. If that turned out to not be a viable option, he thought perhaps he could plead with the local lords, hoping they would sympathize and consent to return a man of royal blood back to his kingdom, regardless of the fact that he was a bastard.

  As Amantius conceived scheme after scheme he began to realize perhaps Ulam was correct, that there was no going back. Each successive blueprint was slightly more absurd than the previous, until eventually his plans were completely senseless. It did not matter that his father was once the king because no one would care about the illegitimate son of a dead king. Sneaking onto a ship could work, but most likely he would be discovered and tossed overboard. There was still the possibility of paying for passage, but he did not see the point in doing so. Even if the ship found a receptive landing, to return to Accaria now would be a death sentence for him.

  “You’re right,” Amantius muttered finally, “I guess we should head to Silverwater.”

  Ulam grunted and slapped his foster-brother on the shoulder before returning to his sand-covered bags. Amantius followed, his legs as heavy as lead, leaving a trail of ankle-deep gashes along the beach. With every step, he was one step further away from Accaria, not just in body, but in his heart as well.

  They began their journey northward, along a twisting cobbled road. It was a path made of thousands of stones, gray and chipped from centuries of usage. It followed the coastline on the right, with the edge of an ancient forest to the left. From time to time Amantius and Ulam would peer deep into the malachite green canopy and spot wildlife that neither had ever seen before. There was a four-legged animal with horns sticking out of its head that Amantius was particularly fascinated with, which Ulam identified as a deer. He was not sure if the Orc was right or not, but regardless he found the animal subtly majestic.

  They traveled for hours, taking in as many new sights and sounds as they could. Over time the colossal brown trunks gave way to a clearing, where farmland dominated the landscape for as far as they could see. On the horizon was a walled city, the outline of a castle looming on a hill high above. As they drew nearer th
e farmlands gave way to vineyards, with supple fruits dangling from every vine.

  “I’ve never seen grapes like these before,” Amantius said as he marveled at the size and speculated about the juiciness of the fruit. “They must make the best wine here. I wonder how they taste…”

  He reached out to pluck the fattest grape he could see, but before his fingers could make contact with the fruit’s succulent magenta skin, he felt a heavy Orcish hand crash down on the back his palm. He pulled back immediately and scowled, incredulous with Ulam.

  “What the hell was that for?” Amantius yelled as he rubbed his reddening hand. He stretched his fingers time and again, hoping to ease the stinging sensation.

  “You do not know what kind of fruits these are,” Ulam said in complete severity, “they may be poisonous. Besides, I will not tolerate thievery, especially in a land where we are both strangers.”

  Amantius sneered at the first comment, but he knew the merits of the second. It was true, they were foreigners in this land, and there could have been grave repercussions if he had been caught stealing grapes from the vine. Still doesn’t mean he had to hit me.

  “Fine,” Amantius said, “I’ll just buy some at the market then, when we have some coin.”

  Ulam grunted.

  Not much longer they arrived at the front gate of Silverwater, where high above a flag of crimson and white danced beside one of purple and silver. A dozen men equipped with basic polearms meandered at ground level, while Amantius caught a glimpse of archers patrolling from the towers above the gatehouse. Getting into Silverwater was no difficult task; scores of men and women traveled through the south gate on this day. Amantius saw the usual riffraff, merchants and farmers going to market, but there was a mass of people very different from the rest entering as well. They sold a different kind of ware than the others.