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

by Andrew Walbrown

  “I appreciate your loyalty, Movan, but I can assure you he does not wish me harm,” Morganna replied, measured and with grace. “He has been given every opportunity to leave Home, and every day he chooses to stay. I can say with the utmost certainty that Amantius is one of us now.”

  Movan’s lips curled like he was holding back vomit, as though an intense disgust was building inside him. “I accept my lady’s judgment, but he will never be one of us.”

  I need to stay away from him. Amantius thought as he watched Movan return to the shadowed corner from whence he came. There was something else bothering him, though, something about the way the guard had said those last words. He will never be one of us.

  “Do not mind him, Amantius,” Morganna said as she stood, “he is fiercely loyal to me and only has my safety in his mind. So long as you do not intend me any harm, you should have nothing to worry. Now come, bring the cards, more wine awaits us.”

  Amantius gathered the deck and quickly followed the Countess, wanting nothing more than to be out of Movan’s sight. Even as he followed Morganna across the hall and behind the elaborate tapestry, he could feel the guard’s daggered eyes piercing his back. The stalking only ended when they entered Morganna’s private chambers, deep within the Great Hall.

  Amantius was immediately struck by the design of the room, the stone face of the giant cliff behind the Great Hall served as the back wall of Morganna’s chambers. Crystal clear water ran gently down a small ravine cut into the rock, green moss growing on each side. A large bed draped with fine, silk curtains sat on one side of the room, a sofa with a large table on the other. Dozens of candles were littered across the room; one by one Morganna lit them until the whole room was engulfed in a golden glow.

  “You have the cards, yes?” The Countess nodded towards Amantius, who did the same. “Good. Now get comfortable as I find the correct bottle of wine; if there is one. I am quite happy that you have helped me cull my wine stock this evening.”

  “Happy to be of service, my lady,” Amantius replied with a wink. He did not mean to wink, blaming the action on the alcohol pouring through his veins. Yep. You’re a drunk fool.

  “So tell me of your home,” Morganna said as she selected an unmarked bottle from a wine rack. “Tell me of Accaria. What is it like? I have always wished to travel, but unfortunately my situation prevents me from doing so.”

  Amantius took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He could smell the ocean in the air, and feel the sun’s warmth on his skin. In his mind, he heard the swaying of palm trees in the breeze, the songs of hundreds of birds filling the sky. When he reopened his eyes he saw Morganna was sitting across from him, quietly waiting for him to speak.

  “It’s warm, always.” Amantius started, his voice soft, like a distant echo. “No one ever wears a coat, really. In truth, I had only seen them on trade ships before arriving here. It’s an island, as I’m sure I’ve mentioned before, where everyone knows everyone else.”

  “Is it small?” Morganna asked, reclining in her seat with her goblet of wine near her lips.

  “The city? It’s bigger than Silverwater, possibly twice as big. I’ve heard stories of cities on this continent that are much bigger than Accaria, though. Outside the city are some fields with farms; cows, chickens, sheep, the usual. A few villages dot the island, mostly no more than a dozen fishing huts in each. Trees of all types form a dense forest that surrounds the mountain at the heart of the island. Mount Meganthus.” Amantius stopped, imagining the little nook he had found with Ulam years ago. He felt his heart tighten, remembering all the evenings spent together there. “I used to go there a lot, with my brother.”

  “The Orc?” Morganna said. “I do not remember his name. To be honest, I thought you feverish when we spoke for the first time in the healer’s hut. I was not even aware Orcs were still around; I cannot remember the last time I saw one.”

  “His name is Ulam. I’ve only seen one Orc in my life, and it’s him.” Amantius said with a shrug. The more he thought about Ulam the tighter fear gripped him. He worried about the Orc, forever afraid that he was no longer alive, that he had died in the meadow during the ambush or in the Silverwood afterward. Even if he received word that Ulam was still living, the news would only bring him a modicum of relief. After all, if Ulam was alive and well in Silverwater, he would still be a pawn in Aldamar’s nefarious schemes.

  “I can see the worry on your face,” Morganna said, herself appearing concerned. “There was a time when I would have felt the same about my brother.”

  “Aldamar,” The words tasted like poison on Amantius’ tongue. “He sent us to die.”

  Morganna nodded, a sad smile passing over her lips. “Men of his type will always do this. They send others to fight in their stead, to die for their cause, offering them gold in return. Unfortunately for many of those poor souls, they never see their payment. Instead, they die in a foreign land fighting someone else’s war. You know this more than anyone, Amantius. Fortunately enough for you, you are here now.”

  “Will you make me fight too?” Amantius asked, afraid that his voice would somehow reveal cowardice. Images of the man he had killed flooded his mind, as though they broke from a dam he constructed in his mind.

  Morganna sat up and took in a deep breath, smiling warmly as she exhaled. “I do not require anyone to fight. Everyone here does so because they want to, because they want to exact revenge on Aldamar for the pain he has caused all of us throughout the years. You are not the only one that used to be part of his ranks, there are a few others here that defected to our side. So no, you do not have to fight if you do not want to fight. Not everyone is a warrior at heart, despite what the tales of great heroics would have us believe. All I ask is that you do not hinder our operations, and ultimately, you do not betray us.”

  A silence set on the room, the only noise coming from the gentle pouring of the stream along the rock wall. Amantius held Morganna’s stare for a few moments, until she focused her attention on her goblet of wine. While she drank his thoughts turned to the mother and daughter he had let escape, wondering if they safely reached Silverwater. What if I have already betrayed you?

  “What is on your mind?” Morganna asked.

  I cannot tell her. What if she has me killed?

  “Amantius. Dear. What ails you?” Morganna asked again. Her voice was as sweet as honey, yet there was a stern undertone to her words.

  “Forgive me,” Amantius said as he broke eye contact, looking at the wine cup in his hands. “I’m afraid I might have already betrayed you.”

  “How so?” Morganna leaned forward, setting her goblet on the table between them.

  Amantius sighed. “When we were gone, we ambushed a passing caravan. You know the story.” He stopped, debating whether or not to proceed with the story. This is going to be your death.

  “Yes, I know. They pulled their weapons and a skirmish commenced. Jaga told me.”

  A massacre, more like. “Everyone ran off after the survivors, those who fled. Everyone but me. I stayed behind, to guard the wagons.” Not entirely true. “And I heard some whimpering. There were two people hidden in the blankets. A mother and a daughter, both scared out of their minds.” He stopped speaking, taking a deep breath, trying to gather the strength to say the next few words waiting to jump from his tongue.

  “Go on,” Morganna said.

  “I let them go.” Amantius finished, saying the words so quickly they almost sounded as one whole word. “I set them free. I covered for them so they could get away. I am, I am so sorry, my lady.”

  Amantius continued to stare straight into his wine cup, not daring to look at Morganna from fear that she was boiling with rage. With each passing second he waited for her to call the guards, for Movan to come in and strike him dead with a blow to the head. He almost welcomed the cold bite of a blade, for he was infinitely ashamed of betraying Morganna and her hospitality by giving aid to those that opposed her.

  Suddenly Amantius felt
something warm grip his forearm gently. He looked up, saw Morganna staring at him with a smile on her face, the dimples on each cheek forming. The fear in his heart, the anxiety, all melted away at that moment. She’s not angry?

  “Good, Amantius,” Morganna said as she began to caress his arm. “You did me, us, all a great service.”

  “I did?” He replied, unsure of how that could be true, “You’re not angry? You don’t want my head on a stake?”

  “I would, but I am afraid that would ruin our conversation.” Morganna laughed, her humor as dark as her hair. “That is exactly the kind of thinking our outfit has been missing for so long. We have been missing a sense of humanity. We have been so focused on defeating warbands and overthrowing my brother that we have not stopped to consider what comes afterward.”

  “And what comes afterward?” Amantius asked, though he was not sure if he should have. After all, most people still viewed him as an outsider and probably would not be comfortable if they ever discovered he knew what their plan was going forward.

  “Ah, yes, afterward,” Morganna said as she sipped her wine. “It is all a ruse, smoke and mirrors, if you will. We have caused a great deal of havoc here for some time; you undoubtedly heard the stories about the Mad Raven when you arrived in Silverwater. We need the populace to fear something, to need someone to be their savior.”

  “What if the people in Silverwater do not accept you, though?” Amantius interrupted. “What if their loyalty to Count Aldamar is strong enough that they are willing to fight against you? After all, we dress as hell-beasts from a different plane.”

  Morganna nearly choked on her wine as the words left Amantius’ mouth. “The common man does not care about coups, they only want to be left alone and not taxed too much. The real threat is whomever my brother has under his payroll when we strike, and those who are closest to him.”

  Like Ulam. The idea that Ulam may be in the castle defending the Count when Morganna launches her assault stirred mixed emotions within Amantius. On one hand he wanted Morganna to succeed, to usurp Aldamar and bring peace to Silverwater County. On the other hand, he did not want to run the risk of him and Ulam being on different sides.

  “But I digress,” Morganna continued, “our tactics are fairly straightforward, however, timing will be of the essence. We need to sneak into Silverwater, preferably in darkness, and penetrate the castle before anyone sounds the alarm. Once inside we will only have a matter of minutes to locate Aldamar and defeat him. After that is accomplished we will announce my brother’s assassination along with news that his sister will take his place as Countess of Silverwater. In the following days, I will officially arrive, send out a warband of our own, and ‘slay the Mad Raven.’ Thus making my brother’s rule appear weak and ineffective while demonstrating my value to the city.”

  Amantius mulled over the plan in his wine-soaked mind, thinking it sounded plausible. The lies and deceit needed for the scheme to succeed did not settle well with him, however not much had been agreeable with him lately. Whatever little hope he had nurtured about living an adventurous life void of hardships had been crushed out of his soul by a metaphysical mortar and pestle. Now all he could do was weigh his options, and choose the one that was easiest to stomach.

  “Timing will be critical,” he said finally. “And I guess this also explains the costumes.”

  Morganna smiled proudly. “That was precisely what I had in mind the first time we wore the outfits. The small warband will return with the ‘heads’ of the Mad Raven and her Flock. Essentially, they will gather a bunch of our helmets and parade them through the streets. The people will love us, they will love me. They will have forgotten my brother by the end of the week.”

  Amantius nodded, though there was still one more aspect of Morganna’s strategy that irked him. Aldamar’s defeat, what does that even mean? Kill him I assume, but maybe she doesn’t want to since he is family. Even if Ulam was evil I don’t know if I could do it. Probably not. “What are you going to say when you see him?”

  “Say? I do not know.” Morganna said as she began to slide her dress off her left shoulder, “But I will repay him for this.”

  Just above her left breast, near her heart, was a scar silvered with time. With her free hand she stroked the blemish, a pain washing over her face as she did so. The glow from the candles magnified the contrast between the scar and her perfect, smooth skin, which captured Amantius’ entire attention.

  “He gave that to you?” Amantius whispered.

  “Oh yes,” Morganna replied. “He tried to kill me after he murdered our father. Luckily he missed my heart; the blade only cutting deep enough to wound me. When I touch it I can still feel the ice-cold blade piercing my skin. I can see the maniacal look on his face. I can still feel the betrayal.” She looked at Amantius and reached out for his hand. “Here, feel for yourself.”

  Amantius wanted to reach out and touch her, to have his hand make contact with her skin. He could not tell if his heart had stopped or if it was beating so quickly that it had gone numb. He was not a fool; he knew what would happen if he sat by her on the sofa and felt the area above her breasts. He knew his hands, and hers, would drift to different parts of each other’s bodies. The entire night had been leading to this moment, this was only the next step. The debate was not whether he wanted to touch Morganna, to use this as an avenue for a more romantic, or passionate, evening. He had been dreaming of this moment ever since he laid eyes on her. The question was whether or not he was ready for the consequences from the next day onward.

  “Let me get closer,” Amantius said as he moved next to her, “and I can let you touch some of my scars as well.”

  Chapter 28

  Ulam

  Amantius is alive.

  For days Ulam repeated those words, the shock of the statement never truly subsiding. He spent many hours staring westward from the top of the castle’s gateway, his eyes fixed upon the distant Silverwood Forest. He wanted to pack rations and leave the city, the desire to rescue Amantius burning in his heart. He would have left already, if only Count Aldamar had not convinced him of the folly of his plan.

  “You do not know where he is,” Aldamar had said to Ulam the previous day. “The most likely result of such an adventure would be death. I would wager you would get lost within a day or two and wander until either you succumbed to the elements or a pack of hungry wolves. When the ground thaws and this bitter weather disappears we will revisit this subject. To take action now, however, would be disastrous.”

  Ulam knew the Count was right; he knew his chances of finding and rescuing Amantius were nearly zero percent. It killed him inside, to know his foster-brother was out there, and there was nothing he could do. Pelecia’s promise replayed a hundred times over in his mind, filling him with great shame. He blamed himself for the situation, for not being able to conquer his fear of fire and charge into battle. He believed if only he had been able to summon the courage, Amantius would not have become the Mad Raven’s prisoner.

  Is he a prisoner though? More unsettling than the realization that he could do nothing to help Amantius was the idea that perhaps his foster-brother had defected to the other side. That woman said he was dressed as one of them, had even killed a man. Ulam could not believe Amantius would do such a thing, to slay an innocent man defending a mother and child. He often questioned the validity of the woman’s story. Perhaps she was so distraught that she thought it was Amantius, but someone else had been the one to strike down the man. Yes, that has to be true.

  But why has he joined the Mad Raven? Has he done so out of necessity, or because he still believes Count Aldamar is truly evil? He stared at the castle, focusing on a window halfway up one of the towers. He thought he glimpsed a set of yellow eyes staring back at him, like two beacons on a midnight coast. It had lasted for only a few seconds, the eyes disappearing as quickly as they had appeared. Frozen in shock Ulam watched for a little while longer, waiting for some sort of affirmation to what he beli
eved he had just seen. But when nothing reappeared in the window, he started wondering if his mind was tricking him into seeing things that were not there.

  I am going insane. He had been seeing yellow eyes everywhere, from dark windows to kittens roaming Silverwater’s alleyways. His sleep cycle had been disrupted lately as well; he felt as though someone was always watching him. Even when he had managed to doze off, his dreams had been so intense and twisted that he often found himself drenched in cold sweat when he awoke. Ulam kept quiet about what he was experiencing, petrified that if he confided in anyone he would be thrown in a cell on the grounds of lunacy. He missed having Amantius around, knowing he was the only person in the world Ulam could have told without fear of judgment.

  I need to take my mind off things, keep myself busy. Ulam went to the arms court, hoping someone would want to spar with him. But no one was there, he assumed everyone was still avoiding the sunless sky and bitter cold. Part of him wanted to go to the Bride’s Oasis, to have a pint or two, but he knew the alcohol could loosen his tongue, and speaking was currently his greatest enemy. Having nowhere to go and afraid of Human interaction, Ulam chose to find refuge in the library, hoping a book would entertain his mind.

  For the first time he lit every lantern in the room, wanting to flood the library with light. Though he told himself it was so he could see the words on the page easier, deep inside he knew he wanted the light to shield him from any yellow eyes potentially lurking in the darkness. He then sat at the desk, a pile of books stacked on one end, and began to read. He flipped page after page, but after a while his mind was no longer comprehending the words. He could only think about Amantius, and what it would take to find him.

  Ulam retrieved the map he had found months prior, the one he had updated by drawing a brief outline of where he thought Accaria was located. He found the Western Pass and traced it with his finger as it twisted through the Silverwood Forest, noticing there were no towns or villages along the route, only a solitary marking indicating a lumber camp. He wondered how far down the highway the mother and daughter had been when they were attacked, and made a mental note to ask the mother if he saw her again. However, Ulam had not seen either victim since the night they brought word of Amantius, nor had he heard any news of them. Are they still in the city? If not, I suppose I cannot blame them.