The Mad Raven's Tale (The Accarian Chronicles Book 1) by Andrew Walbrown (little red riding hood read aloud txt) 📕

Ulam lifted upward. He then squeezed with his big Orcish hands, so strong were they that he could crush the man’s throat if he so desired. There was a fire of unbridled rage in Ulam’s eyes Amantius had never seen before, the sight so terrifying even he began to fear for the attacker’s life. Desperately Amantius kicked Ulam, hoping the blows would force the Orc to drop the ruffian, but his attempts were only met with failure.

Meanwhile, the other members of the mob watched in terror as Ulam stood statuesque with a death-grip on the squirming thug, no one daring to rush to the man’s aid. The surrounding crowd collectively held their breath, each member understanding the man would suffocate if Ulam did not release him soon. While some urged the other attackers onward, most remained silent, alarmed the rage-filled Orc would unleash his wrath on them next.

Amantius was shocked by the sudden display of force. He had seen Ulam mad many times before, but he had never seen him this incensed. Ulam’s tusks dripped with saliva as he growled like a wolf, his eyes fixated on the man at the end of his arm. Meanwhile, Amantius did nothing, his uncertainty paralyzing his legs and his decision-making capabilities. Not only was he unsure whether or not he could resolve the situation, but he also did not know how he wanted this incident to end. This bastard should be punished for attacking Ulam, but does he deserve death? And if Ulam kills him, what happens to us after that?

“Ulam,” Amantius said as he placed a hand on his foster-brother’s massive shoulder, “put him down.”

Ulam grunted, though more like a scoff than anything else. He did not take his eye off the man, who started frantically kicking at the Orc’s ribs in an effort to escape.

“Let him go,” Amantius continued, his voice now as dire as it was loud. He realized if Ulam killed the man, then they would be labeled murderers. “You have to let him go!”

“If I let him go, what is there to stop them from killing us?” Ulam muttered through gritted teeth.

“If you kill him, what is there to stop them from killing us?” Amantius quickly retorted. “If you want them to respect you and Orcs everywhere, then show them you’re not a killer.”

With a snarl, Ulam effortlessly tossed his attacker aside. The man flew across the square, desperately gasping for air after he crashed onto the ground. A small group of people then surrounded the man, rushing him into a nearby house while the crowd began filtering away. Within minutes Amantius and Ulam were the only people left in the square, both of whom were still on the lookout for more assailants.

“Well, at least now we know why people are staring at us,” Amantius said with a smirk, hoping to break the tension.

“We cannot stay here,” Ulam replied unamused, “if everyone in this city thinks I am going to eat their children.”

“So where do we go?” Amantius asked as a seed of anxiety was planted in his gut, “We have little coin and even less food, and we do not know where any other cities are.”

“I do not know, Amantius, I do not know.”

Chapter 10

Ulam

They sat in a well-lit tavern, one located in the shadows of Silverwater’s city walls. Amantius had asked earlier if they had enough coin to drink their troubles away, Ulam responding with only a grunt. In truth, they had plenty of money to do so, but the Orc wanted to be more careful with their funds considering he did not know what the future held for them. He figured finding work in the city, especially after the display in the market earlier, would be next to impossible. The dumbest thing to do at this moment, Ulam reasoned, was to drink themselves unconscious.

He looked around the tavern and found nothing particularly special about it. It was somewhat refreshing, as every alehouse and pub in the city possessed some gimmick to beat out the competition. Most had straw mattresses or “female companionship,” while other taverns had knife throwing and other similar competitions. They had even visited a saloon with a dragon’s skull mounted above the bar, an attraction for people who had never seen one before. In the back of his mind, he wondered if there was a pub for dragons that had human skulls dangling from the ceiling. He chuckled at the idea.

This place was different, though, as if it took pride in just being ordinary. The ale was decent and fairly cheap, both of which he gave thanks. No one stared at him, they mostly kept to themselves, which Ulam found relieving. Most astonishing of all, the patrons in this bar were overwhelmingly female. Aside from himself, Amantius, the barkeep, and a few others, everyone else was a woman. It was surprising, though Ulam did not think it should have been. After all, the name of the establishment was “The Bride’s Oasis.” He thought it was a strange name for a tavern, so naturally his curious mind needed to know the etymology.

“So, you wish to know why I called this place The Bride’s Oasis.” The barkeep said with a chuckle. He was a balding older man with eyes that sparkled with humor, the kind of man that people instantly liked and trusted. “When I came to this city many years ago I opened this place but didn’t give it a name. Why should I? Do you really care about the name of the place you drink in? Of course not! Anyway, over time I noticed that a good portion of my business came from women, specifically recent brides who were hiding from their husbands, or their husbands-to-be, or their families. I guessed being in the far corner of the city, shadowed by the walls, made this place attractive to people looking to get away from something or someone. But then one day I did some digging around and discovered I have the only