He used a sleeve of the bearskin cloak gifted to him by Morganna to wipe the sweat beading on his forehead, fearful if it froze to his skin he would succumb to the elements. He knew if he had any chance of finding the highway he would have to do so before nightfall, otherwise, he was doomed to wander the Silverwood all night without provisions of any kind. His only other option was to turn back, follow the path back to Home, and hope Morganna and the others had not noticed he was missing yet.
Amantius kept his head on a swivel, taking turns looking at both directions, weighing his options. One direction is Ulam, possibly, and a cold night without blankets or a bed. The other is hot food in my belly, a warm bed, and a beautiful woman to fill it. Hopefully. No matter how hard he tried to justify continuing towards the highway, in the back of his mind he knew to do so at this time of night, in this weather, with all sorts of creatures roaming about, was practically suicidal.
“Forgive me, Brother,” Amantius said as he stood, his eyes transfixed on the silhouette of the crippled wagon, “I’ll come for you some other time. I just hope you’ll still be in Silverwater when I do.” And I hope we’ll be on the same side.
Amantius turned his back and began hobbling towards Home, eventually breaking into a leisurely jog. He had covered a lot of ground during his dead sprint earlier, and his legs were screaming for rest, but he wanted to be back before the last ray of sunlight disappeared. He prayed his absence had gone unnoticed and that he had enough time to clean up before seeking out Morganna.
How am I going to explain the cuts? Amantius was worried about the myriad of red slashes across his arms and face from the briars, thinking their presence would betray him. It was one more reason why he wanted to hide from everyone until he could wash himself, hoping some basic salves would camouflage the smaller scratches. I have to clean them out first, the sweat in the cuts makes my arms feel like they’re on fire.
As he strolled up to the main gate Amantius was relieved to find the palisade wall was still unguarded. Immediately he went to the nearby stream and plunged his arms into the icy water, only stopping when they were completely submerged. His arms instantly stopped itching, the burning extinguished by the freezing temperature. For a moment Amantius enjoyed the sensation, until the brisk current began to numb his limbs. He pulled his arms out, using the dripping water to wash away some of the sweat on his face, tasting the saltiness trickling onto his lips. He then used his cloak to wipe his face and arms before the water could refreeze to his skin. Don’t want to get frostbite.
“There you are,” Jaga’s gruff voice said from behind him. “Been looking for you.”
Seems like someone noticed I was gone. “Well, I’m right where you last saw me.”
Jaga grunted, arched an eyebrow. “Yeah. But you didn’t have those on your arms and face. Where did you go?”
Of course he sees those, but to be fair, they do stand out on my skin. “Oh, yeah. I chased a rabbit through the woods. Briars cut me to pieces.”
“A rabbit, eh? What made you think you could catch a rabbit?” Jaga said, the look in his eyes suggesting he did not believe the lie.
Seems like he’s not buying it. “It was a fat rabbit, and I’ve done it before. It got away though, maybe next time.”
Jaga grunted, though his expression was unchanged. “You’re more likely to sprain an ankle. Anyway, we’re having a meeting and the Countess wants you there. If you need to keep washing yourself then do it quick.”
Amantius wiped as much dirt and sweat from his skin as he could and then hurried inside the walls, following Jaga’s trail to the Great Hall. Even though he seemingly convinced the old warchief that he was only chasing a rabbit, he knew he would also have to repeat the same lie to Morganna too. Deep inside, he did not like the idea of lying to her, feeling like she did not deserve such deception. She had never done anything to warrant it, at least to the best of Amantius’ knowledge. She had always treated him with respect and honesty, and even shared a bed with him. A little flare of guilt sparked inside of him as he thought about lying to her, but he quickly banished the feeling from his heart. It’s for the best that she doesn’t know the truth. How could I possibly explain that I was going to Silverwater without her permission?
Amantius followed Jaga into the Great Hall, sneaking in quietly as a few men argued over something. Their voices died away the moment they saw Amantius, both wearing the same unsure expression on their faces. Amantius noticed everyone was sitting around the hearth, Morganna at the head. She sat with her back straight, hands folded over her lap, a serious expression on her face.
“Thank you for joining us.” Morganna’s voice was cordial, neutral. Amantius could not tell whether or not she was pleased to see him. At the very least, she’s not angry with me. He turned his attention to the other faces in the crowd, receiving a mixture of responses. Some faces were friendly, some not. Then there was Movan, lingering in the shadows behind Morganna, his cold dead eyes fixed on Amantius. By the Gods he makes my skin crawl.
“It’s my pleasure.” Amantius felt a quick jab to the ribs from Jaga. “My lady.”
Morganna bowed her head and then immediately turned her attention to the assembly.
“Friends, it is time,” Morganna started, provoking murmuring. “Our wait here is over. Soon we will assault Silverwater.”
The murmurs grew into open conversations, some elated by the news, others not. Amantius had mixed feelings about Morganna’s statement. In some ways he wanted to leave tomorrow, to go with her and overthrow Aldamar and be reunited with Ulam in the process. But in other ways he was scared, petrified that convincing Ulam to switch camps would prove impossible, that they would be on opposite sides of the battle. He wanted a little more time, just enough to go to Silverwater, find Ulam, and persuade him to fight for Morganna as well.
“When will we leave?” One of the men said over the commotion.
“If the past few years are any indication, Aldamar will begin hiring mercenaries as soon as the New Year arrives,” Morganna said as the individual conversations faded away. “My brother is a creature of habit, and I fully expect him to do the same thing this year as well. I propose we strike now before men and women from all over the continent come seeking fortune. If I am to be honest, I am not sure if we can hold out much longer here. Each successive warband seems to penetrate the Silverwood a little further. It is only a matter of time until they find us.”
Morganna looked at every single person in the room, saving Amantius for last. When her dark eyes made contact with his ocean blues, he felt his heart leap to his throat. He had to use all his remaining energy not to smile or wink, instead focusing entirely on holding her gaze. She eventually looked away, her complete lack of emotion irking Amantius a little. Even though he knew it was absurd to think she would show him any affection at a time like this, he still felt slighted by the lack of recognition.
Morganna held up a hand, nonverbally demanding the assembly’s attention once more. “Over the next few days we will discuss the logistics, but as of right now I suggest you all return to your homes and get some rest. If the weather permits, we will leave in five days. You are all dismissed.”
One by one the members of the assembly exited the Great Hall, until only a few people remained. As Morganna continued issuing orders on the other side of the room, Amantius turned his attention to Jaga and noticed a small frown creasing his lips. From a distance, it would have been imperceptible, but at close range, Amantius could see the displeasure written on the man’s face.
“You don’t like the plan, do you?” He asked the old warchief in a voice barely above a whisper.
Jaga shrugged. “The plan is fine enough. I don’t like the timing. We barely have enough people for an ambush, let alone a coup. But, she is right, we’re running out of time. In a month Aldamar will begin buying a new warband, and within two we’ll have an enemy at our doorstep. And with the flow of recruits coming to a trickle, we won’t have the numbers to repel them.” J
aga turned away, heading for the exit. He stopped as he put his hand on the door, opening it just enough for a chilly breeze to filter into the Great Hall. “She also probably wants to go while you’re still with us.”
Amantius’ face turned as red as a rose; he could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks. “W-w-what do you mean?”
Jaga shook his head slowly. “I might be old, lad, but I’m not stupid. You weren’t chasing a damn rabbit.”
Jaga stepped outside, leaving Amantius alone in the Great Hall.
Chapter 30
Ulam
“I found it. I found the Mad Raven’s lair.”
Ulam had spent an entire day scouting the enemy’s base, being careful to stay far enough away that a sentry could not spot him. He took heart in the state of the defenses, believing in the event of a siege the fortifications would be easy to overrun since sections of the palisade wall had fallen into disrepair. He spent two more nights in the abandoned wagon, hoping with each following day Amantius would come close enough to rescue. But as time went on Ulam ran out of provisions, and after two long days of waiting, he began the trek back to Silverwater, even spending a night in the same inn at the edge of the Silverwood. Upon returning to the city he first sought out Captain Karraman, and together they went to the castle to inform Count Aldamar.
Ulam had been functioning on pure emotion for days, reinvigorated by his discovery and all its potential. Despite his excitement the Orc knew he had to resist the desire to push the Count too hard on sending an expeditionary force to attack. He realized there was something about the topic that made Aldamar uncomfortable, whether it was nostalgia or something else Ulam could not tell. In the event that the Count would dodge the subject again, Ulam was already planning the logistics of a covert operation to find Amantius. He decided if he must save his foster-brother alone, he would have to bring enough provisions to last a week or more. Ulam figured the abandoned wagon would suffice as his base of operations since it was close enough to reach the Mad Raven’s lair within a few hours of walking, but far enough away that no one would accidentally discover him.
Count Aldamar had been sitting on his high chair at the end of the grand hall, his crescent-engraved wine chalice attached to his lips. The news did not affect his disposition at all, if anything the Count looked annoyed.
“And pray tell, where is it?” Aldamar said with a wave of his hand.
“Where I thought it might be,” Ulam replied, “it’s your childhood home.”
Count Aldamar sighed. “Do not waste my time, Ulam. There is no way you traversed the Silverwood by yourself, with no map, and returned safely. In less than a week, nonetheless.”
Ulam felt a little offended by the Count’s lack of trust. He did not think the distrust was justified, for he had succeeded in everything that had been asked of him. A surge of pride swelled in his heart, causing him to stand taller and puff out chest. “I do not lie. I have found the Mad Raven’s lair.” He said again, louder and with more conviction. “It is where I told you. If you do not believe me, I will take you there.”
Before Aldamar could reply, Ulam recounted his trip to the Silverwood and back. He spoke of the inn along the Western Pass, where the proprietor openly lamented the lack of protection. He then told the Count about discovering the ambush site, as well as the hidden trail through the forest north of the road. He spared no detail of what he saw, including giving an accurate account of the unguarded palisade with its decrepit defenses. Ulam then speculated the neglect was because the Flock believed their remoteness was more than adequate protection against intruders.
“Makes sense,” Captain Karraman chimed in, “it sounds like they are so deep in the forest they don’t expect us to ever find them.” He grinned. “But we found the bastards anyway, it’s just a matter of time until we can muster the strength to attack. Good work.”
“Yes, excellent work,” Count Aldamar echoed, though the tone of his voice seemed hollow to Ulam. “As Jalkett says, though, there is nothing we can do until we raise a warband. And I have told you on various occasions, this will not happen until after the beginning of the year. Perhaps in a few months.”
Ulam felt the wind in his sails leave; he still had hoped Aldamar would agree to attack sooner rather than later. His only solace was knowing that he knew the way to the Mad Raven’s lair, and by extension, Amantius as well.
“And I forbid you from seeking out your brother,” Aldamar said as he stood from his chair. He crossed the room, as quiet as a ghost. “If you get caught, then they will know we know their location. It is more tactical to be patient and strike when ready.”
Ulam grunted. Waiting is more tactical, but he is mad to think I will wait. I’m leaving at the first opportunity. I just need to buy some more food and refill my skins of water.
“Do you understand?” Aldamar’s voice was stern, so much so Ulam shuddered a little.
“Yes.” I understand, but I will not abide.
“Excellent.” Aldamar walked away, eventually vanishing into the shadows of the castle.
“Come on, Ulam,” Captain Karraman said with a jab to the shoulder. “Let’s celebrate at the Bride’s Oasis. You’re probably starving. I’ll even pay.”
Every fiber of Ulam’s being wanted to collapse into a bed and not wake for a week, but the mere mention of food caused his stomach to growl. He had rationed nuts and dry fruits for days, his limited provisions having dwindled quicker than he expected. The idea of freshly smoked herring or a slab of mutton sounded like a godsend to him.
Ulam followed Captain Karraman to the Bride’s Oasis, where he devoured two plates of smoked fish that Korso had brought him. He had never been so hungry in his life, eating so quickly he choked a few times. He washed it down with two or three ales, the alcohol relaxing his muscles as it spread throughout his body. I needed this.
The meal had sapped the rest of Ulam’s energy, his levels so low he questioned whether or not he had the strength to return to the barracks for the night. As he sat on the stool he remembered the tavern had lodging in the attic and thought maybe he would spend the night there. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a couple of copper coins, and tossed them on the counter.
“Will that cover a bed for the night?” He asked, too tired to care about manners.
Korso swept the coins off the bar and nodded. “Sure will.”
Captain Karraman gave Ulam a sidelong glance. “Too tired to walk back up the hill to the barracks, are you? Surely you’re not drunk already; you’ve only had three beers so far.”
Ulam did not respond, he was too tired to care about forming sentences. His eyes were so heavy that his vision became blurred; he was no longer able to make out individual faces in the tavern. After Karraman departed for the castle, Ulam climbed the loft, each step feeling as though his legs were made of lead. When he reached his bed he fell face first onto the straw mattress, his body quickly fusing with the blankets. Within minutes Ulam slipped into the dream realm, so exhausted was he that he did not even take off his boots first.
That did not last long. At least not long enough.
Ulam stretched, his muscles warm but tired. He rubbed his eyes, picking at the gunk that had collected in the corners. A lazy yawn escaped as he rolled out of the bed and continued stretching. Afterward, he turned to the bed and frowned, discovering he had stained the sheets with mud and grime. He grunted. Probably should throw Korso a couple more coins, just to be courteous.
The Bride’s Oasis was eerily quiet, the only sound a scratching noise from a mouse chewing on a table leg. Ulam approached the counter, left a few extra coins for the barkeep, and then exited the tavern. The air was chilly but not as frigid as it had been in recent months, something else for which he was thankful. He looked to the sky and smiled, for it was the first day in a long time that the sun was not cloaked in ash gray clouds. Though the sun’s presence was brilliant and spiritually uplifting, Ulam could not enjoy the moment for long. I need to return to Home and find Aman
tius. But how many more times can I disobey Count Aldamar?
By the time Ulam reached the castle the sun had risen enough to bathe Silverwater in a golden aura, a heavenly sight for anyone awake to witness. In a way he felt special, as he seemed to be the only person in the entire city, the only one allowed to enjoy such a beautiful morning. He crossed the courtyard and entered the barracks, expecting to find people still sleeping. But much to his surprise the building was empty, even though a freshly built fire was crackling in the fireplace. I am not going to complain about a warm room, but where is everyone? Is there an assembly somewhere?
Ulam tossed his backpack on his bed, not bothering to unpack its contents just yet. Aside from a dagger and a handful of nuts, there was not much inside. He took off the leather vest he had been wearing the last few days and slipped on some armor, the standard-issue made by the castle’s quartermaster. He then grabbed the jade green axe he found in the Orc Sanctuary, taking a moment to marvel at the craftsmanship once again. Though he did not understand why he felt such a strong spiritual connection to the weapon, he could not deny that such an enchanting magnetism existed.
Ulam returned to the courtyard and immediately felt something was amiss. Like the barracks, the courtyard was empty as well. No one stood guard over the gatehouse, no one sparred in the training grounds. He climbed a watchtower and looked over the city, the hum of civilization reaching his ears as the locals began their day. But behind him, there was only quiet, as though the castle had been abandoned overnight.
Where is everyone? Ulam thought as he looked around. Perhaps the Count will know.
The Mad Raven's Tale (The Accarian Chronicles Book 1) Page 24
