The Mad Raven's Tale (The Accarian Chronicles Book 1) Andrew Walbrown (early readers TXT) 📖

get more rest.” The woman replied. “You suffered a blow to the head, I am impressed that you are awake, to be honest. I feel like most men would have died from such an injury, let alone be conscious days after.”

Days after? How long have I been here? Where was I? Where am I? Who the hell am I? So many questions…

“Can you remember anything?” A second voice asked, a man’s. It was deep, though not as deep as Ulam’s.

Ulam!

“I have a brother,” Amantius said, a spark lighting a fire in his mind. “He’s an Orc. His name is Ulam.”

“An Orc?” The man repeated, the skepticism in his voice clear. “An Orc for a brother? He’s still delusional, my lady.”

“No, it’s true,” Amantius replied, though he began doubting his own words. “He’s a wizard. And a monster hunter. An Orc too.”

What? Why am I saying these things? He’s only an Orc, not the rest!

“See, still delusional. I doubt there any monster-slaying Orcish wizards in the whole world, let alone here.” The same man replied, now sounding entire convinced. “I beg your leave, my lady, I must go see to the others.”

“You may go, Jaga. I will call for you when his mind is fully recovered.” The woman said. Amantius noticed the authority in her voice. Is she a princess? A queen even? This Jaga is referring to her as “my lady.”

“Apologies, my lady,” Amantius blurted out, surprised by the tone in his voice, “I did not realize I was in the presence of nobility.

The woman laughed quietly. “Do not fret, I am not offended. You cannot remember your own name; I do not expect you to address me properly.”

Amantius’ eyes finally focused, and he saw the woman beside his bed. He felt his eyes grow larger, his mouth drop open. She is gorgeous.

“Are you well?” She asked, clearly surprised to see his sudden change in appearance.

Amantius failed to find any words, his mind was racing. She was slender with long, midnight black hair flowing freely over her shoulders. She wore an elegant, purple gown trimmed with white, a gold sash wrapped around her midsection. Though her eyes were dark, there was a rare lightness to them, soft and delicate. She had a gentle, amiable face with dimples on each side of her mouth, both visible as she smiled at him. Though her skin was as white as porcelain, her overall complexion was dark. At first glance, he thought she might have been Accarian, for he had not seen that combination of features in a person since he had arrived in Silverwater.

“Accaria,” Amantius stuttered through his daze, more information coming to his mind. “I’m from Accaria. And I was in Silverwater.”

“Accaria? You are far from home. Why were you in Silverwater?”

Amantius shrugged, surprised he could move his shoulders. There was pain to be sure, but he was encouraged that he was regaining some of his strength. “I don’t remember, I was a Castle Guard, I think. With my brother.”

“The Orc?”

“Yes, the Orc. His name is Ulam. And I am…Amantius! Amantius Jeranus!” He finally remembered, sitting up in excitement. A sharp, knifelike pain stabbed him in the torso and shoulders, sending him reeling back into the bed. What little energy Amantius had recovered was suddenly gone again, replaced with utter exhaustion. His sudden movement had prompted the woman to retreat as two dark figures emerged from the shadows, their hands reaching for their sword hilts. If Amantius was not already weak and in agony, he may have feared for his life.

The woman held up a hand, silently commanding the two guards to return to their posts. As they retired to the corners of the room Amantius looked around, finally taking in his surroundings. Aside from the guards and the woman, he believed he was in some kind of cottage. A fire pit was nearby, the smell of burned wood lingering in the air. The only window in the room was caked in dirt, where only a single sliver of sunlight struggled to pierce through. On a table nearby were an assortment of plants, herbs mostly, positioned beside a mortar and pestle stained green from usage. A silver goblet with a raven engraving sat on the table also, the woman’s sleek fingers wrapped around the stem.

“A pleasure to meet you, Amantius Jeranus,” the woman said, her words corralling his attention, “I am Morganna, the rightful Countess of Silverwater. But, I am guessing you know me better as the dreaded Mad Raven of Silverwood Forest.”

Silence settled in the room; Amantius was not certain he had heard correctly. He thought the lingering fog in his mind had prevented him from understanding what he just heard.

“I see you are confused, if not a little troubled.” Morganna continued. “Which part do you wish for me to explain?”

Amantius let out the breath he had been holding. “Everything. Where I am, how I came to be here. How is it possible that you are the Mad Raven when, from what I have been told, it’s a deadly beast that rips out the hearts of men.”

“Well, as you can see, I am not a monster looking to rip out your heart,” Morganna chuckled softly as she took his hand and ran his fingertips over her forearm. Her skin was as smooth as silk and as warm as a hearth. The contact made Amantius’ heart beat faster, as jolts of excitement spread throughout his body like lightning in a night’s sky. “See? Proof. I am only a woman.”

Morganna gently returned his hand to the edge of the bed, smiling as she did so. She then signaled to one of her bodyguards, who opened the door leading out of the cottage, allowing a blast of sunlight to flood into the room. Morganna stood and headed for the exit, flinching as soon as she stepped into the light. Before leaving she turned to Amantius and smiled once again, her dark eyes briefly flashing yellow as the sunlight kissed her. “Rest, Amantius. I will answer any