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

by Andrew Walbrown

  During this time Amantius approached and looked at the empty bottles in front of Ulam, punching the Orc in the shoulder. “We can only have one bottle each, Amantius,” he said, mimicking Ulam’s voice the best he could. “Either you lied or you simply don’t know how to count. Who is your friend?”

  “Forgive me,” the man said as he extended his hand, “I guess I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Jalkett Karraman, I’m the Captain of the Castle Guard. I am oath-bound to protect Aldamar III, Count of Silverwater County. And you are?”

  “Amantius Jeranus,” Amantius replied, shaking Captain Karraman’s hand. “What business do you have with us?”

  “Your friend is strong, very strong indeed, and Silverwater’s guard ranks are bare. Especially now, what with the Mad Raven terrorizing local farms and villages.”

  “Mad Raven?” Amantius asked as he quickly glanced at Ulam.

  “Haven’t heard of her, yet?” Karraman said as he swallowed some ale, “Well, you lads haven’t been in the city for long. I’m sure you’ve at least noticed the rabble that is flooding our streets and taverns? Yes? Well, the Count has promised a hefty reward for anyone who brings her head to him. So naturally, every jackass with a blade is going to offer his services.”

  Ulam grunted in amusement, he could feel Captain Karraman’s disdain for the quality of “soldier” that had taken up the sword. “So tell me, why have you chosen to recruit us and none of the others?”

  Captain Karraman thought for a minute as he washed down the rest of his drink. Using the sleeve of his tunic he wiped the foam from his mouth and then turned towards Ulam again. The burning embers from one of the nearby lanterns brought light to the other side of his face for the first time, illuminating a deep gash that ran the length of his jawline. The way the flames flickered his irises appeared almost bright yellow for a second, before becoming dark again.

  “I was there, in the market,” he said, his voice quiet yet firm, “I watched the mob try to take your heads.”

  Amantius laughed. “Yes, they definitely tried. They didn’t do a very good job, though.”

  “No, they didn’t.” Captain Karraman replied, his voice much more hoarse than before. “I saw two things during that charade. First, neither of you begged for your lives, nor did you try to run away. You both held your ground, determined to either win or die fighting. That riffraff you see on the streets? They’re farmers with pitchforks and bounty-hunters; they’ll run at the first sight of true danger. And trust me, lads, if we are sent to find the Mad Raven, we will look into the eyes of true danger.”

  Although the tavern’s walls were still filled with laughter and merrymaking, Ulam felt as though the entire building had become deathly silent. He was not one that scared easily, nor was he scared at that moment, but something unsettling was behind Captain Karraman’s eyes when he mentioned the Mad Raven.

  “And what is the second thing you saw?” Amantius asked.

  “You two have a brotherhood about you; a sacred bond that compels you to face all obstacles together. That is something we have been missing in the castle for quite some time, unfortunately, and it is something I’d like to reestablish, if possible.”

  “What does joining entail, exactly?” Ulam asked. Even though their food and coin reserves would be drained within the week, he was cautious.

  “You train in the yard with some of the other men, learn your weapons if you haven’t already. You protect the Count if you see him, though I am usually by his side. You will patrol the castle grounds, and you follow orders if given any. In exchange you get some coin, equipment, a place to sleep, food, and drink.”

  “Doesn’t sound too bad,” Amantius commented with a smile. “You have yourself a deal, then. We, or rather I, will join your ranks. I’m sure Ulam will too.”

  Ulam grunted, but it was so quiet that it was practically inaudible. He was a little irritated that Amantius volunteered without discussing the proposition with him first. However, he knew he was not going to get a better opportunity elsewhere, especially if the rest of the continent was as hostile towards Orcs as Silverwater had been so far.

  “Very well, I welcome you to the Castle Guards then.” Captain Karraman shook Amantius’ hand before turning to Ulam. “I can see you’re more cautious than he is. If you choose to join the Castle Guards as well, report at sunrise with your friend here.”

  Captain Karraman shook their hands once again and then exited the building, disappearing into the night. An hour later the barkeep evicted everyone who had not paid for lodging, leaving only Ulam, Amantius, and a few other travelers in the building. Ulam was thankful that neither of the strangers seemed interested in him, although he would still sleep with one eye open tonight. He did not want to wake up with a knife in his throat.

  The loft had many rooms, far more than either Amantius or Ulam expected. Though the straw mattresses in their room were not of the best quality, they were much more preferable than the swaying cots in the hull of the smuggler’s vessel. After the longest day in recent memory, the moment Ulam’s body made contact with the mattress his muscles ached in joy. He would have been fast asleep if not for Amantius, who would not stop talking.

  “See, Ulam, all our problems are solved!” He began with excitement beaming in his eyes. “And you were worried about our future!”

  Ulam grunted. He had been thinking of Captain Karraman’s offer since it had been given. He could not deny the positives of guaranteed food, shelter, and drink, but he also felt as though he was about to be trapped. He wanted to come to the mainland to explore, to find other Orcs and possibly even his biological family. By joining the Castle Guards he felt as though those things would never happen, that he would be stuck in this city for many years to come.

  “Everything is still not settled,” Ulam muttered.

  “Oh, come now,” Amantius replied. “At the very least, it’s far better than walking this unknown world with no direction. Besides, if we are close to Count Aldamar then there is a chance we will be able to overhear any news of Accaria. Maybe if we are lucky we will be able to return home soon.”

  The last comment saddened Ulam, not because he was homesick, but because he believed Amantius was delusional. There was no returning to Accaria, at least not as long as King Varian reigned. To set foot in Accaria would mean to forfeit not only their lives, but their mother’s as well, and that thought was too much to bear. Perhaps someday, if the King died or one of his brothers usurped the throne, they would be able to return. But who knew when, or if, that would ever happen.

  “You are such a bore sometimes, Ulam,” Amantius said as he finally laid his head on the pillow, “here we are, presented with a golden opportunity to make something of ourselves, and you need time to think. What is there to think about? We need employment. We need food. We need shelter. Captain Karraman and the Castle Guards offer all these things, even if…”

  “You must always be cautious, Amantius,” Ulam interrupted, his voice stern, “Because even if the water is still, there may be serpents that lurk beneath.”

  Chapter 11

  Amantius

  Amantius was not going to admit it, but Ulam had been right. The food Captain Karraman had promised was basic and unappealing; slices of stale bread and a bowl of bland soup every day to keep from starving. The pay was meager, and the beds were stiff and covered in the thinnest of blankets. With time and no small amount of rationing, Amantius had saved enough money to buy a wool blanket for his bed, Ulam having done the same.

  He and Ulam were often assigned to stand guard in abandoned areas of the castle, where over the duration of a day only a few people would meander by. Since Ulam was not one for a long conversation, these types of assignments wore on Amantius’ spirit. He did everything he could to pass the time, but nothing seemed to work. No matter how many times he counted the stones or cracks in the floor, there never were going to be any more or any less. On occasion Captain Karraman rewarded their patience with a stint outdoors, ord
ering them to patrol the gardens or the castle walls. These were the days Amantius came to appreciate because even the heaviest rain was still preferable to the stagnant air within the castle.

  Of everything, Amantius enjoyed their training sessions with the veteran guards the most. The sparring matches happened every day, during which he watched Ulam use brute strength to defeat the other newcomers. Whenever the Orc faced one of the more seasoned men he would lose, because they honed a gracefulness and skill that Ulam did not quite possess. Amantius, on the other hand, was quick and agile, but oftentimes would let his arrogance control him. But no matter how many bruises and verbal lashings he sustained daily, he always looked forward to the next day’s training session.

  Within a month Amantius and Ulam were no longer viewed as green recruits, but full-fledged members of the Castle Guards. Amantius was issued a light set of chainmail as well as a short sword, both tempered by the castle’s quartermaster. The first time he wore the armor he learned he did not like the extra weight, the muscles in his shoulders and back grew tired quickly and ached for days. He was supposed to wear a helmet too but he refused; there was no way he was going to let a giant piece of metal cover up his beautiful, midnight black hair.

  Meanwhile, Ulam carried a one-handed axe and wore a giant piece of chainmail, which had been created and promptly forgotten long ago by a different blacksmith. It was clunky and heavy, almost too heavy for Amantius to even lift from the ground, with rust in many of the chain links. Ulam religiously polished the metal for days, scrubbing hard, hoping to remove as much rust and grime as he could. When he had finished the piece of armor shined bright, like a shimmering lake.

  One day Amantius and Ulam found themselves on top of the battlements surrounding the castle, serving as nothing more than decorations. A breeze blew across the dark gray stones, chilling their arms and legs. Amantius had been talking about nonsensical things for hours, failing to find a conversation Ulam would want to have. He had tried everything; he spoke of Pelecia, Accaria, the architecture of the castle, his favorite breeds of dogs, he even proposed theories as to why there were no Orcs to be found anywhere. Yet no matter what he tried, nothing seemed to capture Ulam’s interest.

  “Sometimes I wonder if Count Aldamar even exists,” Amantius said. Much to his surprise, Ulam grunted. About time, I’ve only been talking for half this shift.

  “Do you ever wonder why we never see Count Aldamar?” Ulam said in a low voice, hoping no one overheard him. Although, Amantius was not sure if anyone could overhear them from their spot on top of the wall.

  “Every day,” Amantius admitted. “Why do you think that is?”

  Ulam shrugged his massive shoulders, the chainmail clinking as he did so. “I am sure he is a busy man, what with all that is happening within his city and county. Mercenaries and ruffians rule the streets, and the Mad Raven is lurking out there somewhere.”

  “Ah, yes, the Mad Raven,” Amantius said. Ulam’s words had sparked a memory, something he had intended to tell him earlier. “I overheard Captain Karraman and others speaking the other day; it seems those mercenaries and ruffians are being sent out there soon to hunt down the Mad Raven and her Flock. The Captain will be personally leading them, though I do not believe we will be leaving Silverwater.”

  Ulam grunted. “And what of the Castle Guards?”

  Amantius shrugged. “I don’t know; we’ll probably be stuck here guarding the damned pantries again.”

  Amantius had longed for some sort of adventure, anything to break up the monotony of guarding empty corners of the castle. Even though Ulam had not said anything since they joined, Amantius believed his foster-brother craved the same thing. After all, Ulam was the one who wanted to initially decline Karraman’s invitation to join the Guards and keep journeying.

  After they were relieved of their patrol they retired for the night, thankful that yet another long, uneventful shift had come to a close. As they entered the barracks they saw Captain Karraman standing in the center of the room with a strange man neither had seen before, addressing the rest of their fellow Guards. When Captain Karraman saw the two enter the room he stopped his lecture and turned to Amantius and Ulam, beckoning to join his conference.

  “Come join us, this is important,” Karraman waved as Amantius and Ulam moved nearby. “As I was saying, on the morrow I will be leading an expedition to find and capture the Mad Raven. A few of you will accompany me, but the majority will remain here to defend the castle. In my absence, Emmon will handle the assigning of patrols and other daily tasks, and he will do so until I return.” He then turned to the stranger standing beside him, “My lord, Count, do you have anything you wish to add?”

  Amantius flinched involuntarily. He had suspected the unknown man was the Count, though a part of him had hoped otherwise. In his mind, the Count would be much more buoyant and adorned in the finest clothes and jewelry, as many of the noblemen and noblewomen of Accaria were. Instead, the man that stood before him appeared sickly, deathly even, wearing a purple robe so dark the fabric appeared black.

  “There are quite a many things I would wish to add, though, I fear time is not our ally.” Count Aldamar replied, speaking with the eloquence that begat a well-bred man. Both his hair and skin were as white as milk, as though he had never stepped foot outside his castle.

  “I feared this day would come; the day in which you brave men would engage in hostilities with the dreadful Mad Raven.” Aldamar’s voice indicated that he felt deeply troubled by recent events; his gestures and expressions matching. “But alas, the day has arrived. For those of you about to depart for the wilderness, I bid thee good luck. I shall pray to the Gods for your victory and safe return. And upon your return, we shall have a great feast honoring your feats!”

  Some men cheered while others encouraged their brethren, already making plans for the prospective feast. While this happened Count Aldamar turned to leave, but he stopped by the exit to glance at Ulam. He stared at the Orc for a few moments with surprise and curiosity melted together across his face. He muttered something under his breath, words so quiet they were virtually inaudible, and then shifted his gaze to Amantius.

  As the Count stared, Amantius realized his initial observation of the man had been rather flawed. There was something fraudulent about the Count, some specific idiosyncrasy that Amantius could not quite resolve. Though he at first believed Count Aldamar was an old man with few precious years left to his life, he now saw hidden robustness within him. Where he had at first appeared old and fragile, he now appeared fierce and strong. As he stared into the Count’s eyes, he felt as though Count Aldamar was staring into his soul, reading his thoughts. In response Amantius immediately began thinking of some completely unrelated topic, hoping his silly precaution would prevent having his true feelings exposed.

  The corner of Count Aldamar’s mouth curved so slightly that it was virtually non-existent, but Amantius saw the change. He felt a chill go down his spine; the hair stood erect on the nape of his neck. His blood turned to ice, spear-shaped glaciers knifing through his veins. He tried to remain stoic with what little resolve he still possessed, but he knew even his best efforts were trivial.

  Suddenly Amantius felt a heavy blow to his ribs, the jab courtesy of Ulam’s elbow. He turned to the Orc and was about to say something, but Ulam’s expression stopped him. His foster-brother held a stern, even worried, demeanor, one that nonverbally begged him to keep his mouth shut.

  “Welcome,” Count Aldamar said, the sinister smirk affixed to his face. He then turned towards the doorway and left the room, his footsteps silent on the cobblestone floors.

  “Something isn’t right about him,” Amantius said just above a whisper. “Do you feel it too, Ulam?”

  Ulam grunted. “Perhaps, but he is a man of power, and we would be smart to not interfere with him.” He grabbed Amantius by the bicep, “What I mean is you would be smart not to interfere with his affairs.”

  Amantius pulled away, rubbing his ar
m where the Orc’s powerful hand had squeezed.

  At least if the Count read my mind he only learned that I’ve never liked blondes.

  Chapter 12

  Ulam

  Ulam could not quite understand Amantius’ opinion of Count Aldamar. For days after their encounter that was all he spoke of; as if he had become obsessed with the man. He began to loathe the moments they spent alone atop the castle walls, or in a tavern, or anywhere else. Amantius would not shut his mouth about the subject, and Ulam increasingly became more paranoid someone would overhear his ranting.

  Ulam believed the Count was an eccentric man, much unlike any other he had met before. He believed that behind the Count’s dark, brooding eyes was a gold mine of wisdom and knowledge, a level of which that far exceeded even the most intelligent of beings. Ulam respected that, and his respect for such brilliance unexpectedly bred a fiber of loyalty to the man. For all his quirks, Ulam did not suspect anything sinister about the Count. If anything, he thought Count Aldamar was a misunderstood introvert, much like himself.

  Ulam was patrolling above the castle’s gatehouse, watching as Captain Karraman’s battalion departed from Silverwater. A strong wind blew across the city, causing the banners of the departing soldiers to dance in the breeze. The warband marching to battle was quite a spectacle, far more impressive than anything Ulam had read in any of his books. He stood in silence as the entire army poured through the northwest gate and into the farmland surrounding the city, as stray dogs and supply wagons followed closely behind.

  “They’re marching to their deaths,” Amantius’ voice suddenly came from behind.

  Ulam grunted. Although he recognized the possibility of his foster-brother’s statement, he still could not come to agree. “Captain Karraman has too many able-bodied men, strong men who have seen lots of combat. They will return victorious; I have no doubt.”