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

attempt the climb, a strange desire in his gut compelling him to do so. Amantius could not explain why, nor was he sure if even he knew the real reason, but deep within himself, he knew he must try.

I really wish Ulam was here, Amantius thought as he looked around at the crowd surrounding him and the other contestants. He’s probably halfway through winning the arm wrestling tournament now. Oh well, looks like I’ll have to get the extra encouragement from the ladies watching. That shouldn’t be a problem.

Amantius looked around, noticing only a few women were in attendance, none of which were contestants. He shrugged. So much for that. I guess women don’t care about a bunch of guys trying to climb to the top of a tower to prove their manliness. But, now that I think about it, of course they don’t care. Why would they! We’re all going to fail anyway.

“Remember lads,” the man in charge of the event shouted, “if you think you’re going to fall, or you wish to come back down, signal for help. Priestess Issa will bring you down safely with her abilities.”

Oh good, the palace mage is here. So at least if I fall her magic will catch me. Probably. How effective can her spells be? She’s about a hundred years old.

A horn sounded and the other nine climbers began racing for Kevea’s Spear, battling for footing as they started to ascend the tower. Amantius remained still, though, watching as his opponents jostled for positioning. He traced paths up the side of the building, calculating his route in his mind. He saw the first person slip and fall, Priestess Issa quick to catch him with some form of magic Amantius had never seen outside of this yearly contest. If not for her annual appearance at this event, he would have thought magic, witches, and wizards to be nothing more than a myth. He watched the second person fall, then the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth. The seventh and eighth bumped into each other and tumbled at the same time, causing an exchange of insults as the crowd roared in laughter. Only two contestants remained, a masked man halfway up the tower and Amantius, who still had not yet begun.

“Are you going to even try?” Ulam’s deep voice grumbled from behind. Amantius turned to see his foster-brother wearing three champion’s medals around his neck, the gold from each glittering in the sunlight.

Amantius smiled and felt a swell of pride grow inside him. Though the Orc won the medals, Ulam was his brother, and his victories brought honor to the Jeranus household. “Of course. I can’t let an ugly Orc like you have all the glory, now can I?”

Ulam grunted.

Amantius approached The Spear, got a firm grip on a stone jutting out slightly further from the rest, and began to climb. He followed the same path the others had taken, stopping to rest when he reached the halfway mark, where the fifth man had fallen. His muscles began to contract, his joints started to ache, while sweat dripped from his hairline and into his eyes. There he waited for them to stop stinging, hoping his vision would soon return. From above he heard grunting as the person ahead of him struggled to climb any higher, while below only a murmur of the crowd reached his ears. There was a part of him that wanted to give up now, to fall backward off Kevea’s Spear, and allow Priestess Issa to gently guide him back to the ground. But seeing Ulam with all those medals around his neck inspired him to keep climbing, not out of envy, but because he wanted to share the fraternal pride with his foster-brother and go home as a family of champions.

Amantius reopened his eyes, focusing them on each stone brick of The Spear. He was forming a new path in his mind, determining which blocks would provide the most support. He decided not to follow the masked competitor above him, noticing the man’s progress had completely stalled. Amantius looked to his left and saw the sunlight creeping along the surface of the tower, highlighting a set of bricks that had been previously camouflaged by the backdrop of the city. A smirk spread across his face as he followed them upwards, allowing himself to believe he found his way to the top of Kevea’s Spear, the first to ever do so.

Heat radiated from the bricks directly exposed to the Accarian sun; they were hot, but not enough to burn his skin. Amantius cursed loudly, preparing himself mentally for the challenge that lay ahead. He knew by leaving the shadow he would no longer only have to fight gravity, but the sun as well. Two forces that are undefeated all-time. I like my chances.

Amantius took a deep breath, steeled his heart, and swung around the face of Kevea’s Spear. His fingers tingled as they wrapped around the first block, a wave of heat spreading into his hands and down his arms. Suddenly he felt the suffocating oppression of humidity, the invisible adversary draining his limbs of all energy. Amantius began to suck in great gasps of air, his throat burning with each sun-roasted breath, while a fountain of sweat poured down his face and back. His clothes started sticking to his skin, forcing him to instantly regret his decision to leave the comfort of the dark side of Kevea’s Spear.

Though he felt like he was melting into the surface of the tower, Amantius did recognize three major advantages to being on the sunlit side of The Spear. First, he could see his path to the top much more clearly, each progressive brick waiting to be climbed. Secondly, there was no one else on this side of The Spear, which prevented someone above him from falling and taking him with them. Lastly, and most importantly of all, the surface of the sunny side of The Spear was beginning to become so hot it served as extra motivation for