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

“You should come,” Jaga said, the same grim expression on his face, “going out there will do you some good. If you stay in here too much longer you might go mad with boredom. And boredom may get you into trouble; if you get what I mean.”

Amantius chuckled, though it sounded more nervous than he intended. “Well, when you put it that way.” He began to follow Jaga when he remembered Morganna on the steps, but when he turned to say goodbye she had vanished. Though he could not spot her or her bodyguards, he could still feel her eyes on him. Just like her brother, only infinitely more beautiful and less terrifying.

“Check the armory,” Jaga said as they strolled across the fortress, “Wear whatever you can find. Also, find a helmet. We should have a few spares in there. Generic, some don’t even look like real animals. It doesn’t matter, people go blind when they see the fangs.” Jaga stroked the polished teeth of his wolf’s head.

“Do you trust me to carry a blade?” Amantius said as he split off, walking towards the armory. “After all, I am technically your prisoner.”

Jaga’s face tightened, and for the first time in weeks, Amantius felt as though he was being judged. “Should I not trust you?”

Amantius hesitated. You should be able to trust me, but I don’t know. This would be much easier if Ulam was here, or at least not possibly still fighting for Aldamar. 

“Suit up, Amantius,” Jaga continued, his frame relaxing. “You’re one of us, now, even if you don’t know it.”

Jaga walked away, disappearing into the group of people gathered at the gate. Amantius watched for a second, Jaga’s words echoing in his mind. You’re one of us, now, even if you don’t know it.

“Yeah, maybe I am,” he muttered, “but Ulam isn’t.”

Chapter 22

Ulam

Days passed without Ulam seeing Captain Karraman or Count Aldamar. He found it quite strange, considering their midnight mission had been conducted in secret. But he did not mind the lack of contact, though. He wanted to be alone, to give himself time to reflect on that night; the scenes of which played a million times over in his mind.

Ulam’s memory was impeccable; he could still see and feel every detail of that night. He remembered waiting on a hilltop, a brisk wind nipping at his neck. The silence was then broken by a series of screams and a thunder of barking dogs. He remembered the fear that struck him at the sound of the alarm, which only intensified when Captain Karraman sprinted by him. He remembered the stomach-churning stench from inside the bag, the squish of the organs as he tossed them at the pursuing hounds. He remembered the sound of the stream as they splashed around, washing the blood from their bodies. By the time they returned to Silverwater the sun had risen, forcing them to use back alleys to avoid the eyes of any early risers. When back at the castle Karraman had taken all the sacks of organs and disappeared in the castle, promising he would explain later.

But when will “later” be?

Ulam was in The Bride’s Oasis, working on his fourth mug of ale. He began frequenting the establishment more after that night, choosing to drown his thoughts in alcohol and friendly conversation. Korso the barkeep was always quick to provide either.

“Have you heard the latest news?” Korso said as he polished a mug, “Rumors from the south, apparently a farm was attacked by wraiths the other night...or something like that.”

Ulam grunted. “Wraiths?

“Aye, wraiths,” he put down the mug and grabbed the next. “Don’t know if I believe it or not. Never seen one. Now, that doesn’t mean I don’t believe it. Hell, after all, we have the Mad Raven running amok out there. So why not a wraith?”

Ulam grunted again. Was that us? His heart began to beat a little faster, a cold sweat forming on his brow. “How many died?”

Korso shrugged. “Who can say? One person says twenty, another says zero. That’s the best part about rumors, they’re almost always complete horseshit. Probably wasn’t anything supernatural about the attack, either. Most likely a couple of jackass kids raising a little mayhem, scaring some farm folk.” He started to chuckle. “The Gods know I did my fair share back in the day.”

Ulam did not like that Korso had news regarding a night attack on a farm community to the south of Silverwater. Not because he did not like or trust the barkeep, but he knew that such an isolated man would only know such information if someone had told him. If Korso, a barkeep in a predominately female tavern in the far corner of Silverwater, knew about Ulam and Captain Karraman’s night raid, then everyone else in the city knew as well. Hopefully, no one learns the truth. It took saving a family in a burning building just to get people to stop glaring at me with hate in their eyes. 

“Well there’s someone I haven’t seen in a while,” Korso shouted, breaking Ulam’s concentration. A blast of chilly air pushed through the front door, sweeping brown leaves onto the wood floorboards. “Been wondering if you were still alive, Jalkett.”

“I go a few days without seeing your face and you wonder if I’ve been killed?” Karraman replied, his tone light. “I’m hurt.”

“Well you never know,” Korso replied as he placed a full mug of ale in front of Karraman, “these are weird times, my friend. First, we have the Mad Raven, and now we have wraith sightings. Hell, not to mention an Orc is my most loyal patron!”

“Wraith sightings?” Karraman sounded confused, but there was something about his reaction that seemed forced. Or at least, Ulam thought he was pretending to be surprised.

“Just told your comrade here about a farm down south that was attacked by wraiths