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

“And how are you so certain of that?” Amantius asked as he joined Ulam on the rampart, “The Mad Raven, whatever she is, has her Flock. And if the stories are true, each has the strength of ten men and…”

“Stories are rarely true, Amantius,” Ulam interrupted, quickly dismissed such fears, “If stories are to be taken as truth, then my favorite meal is the raw flesh of Human children.” He cracked a smile at the lunacy of such an idea.

Amantius snickered, though Ulam sensed he was not entirely convinced. He was not too surprised, though, his foster-brother had always been more apt to believe rumors and legends. After all, this is the same Amantius who believed fairies lived inside lava and would give him magical powers if he caught one. Damn fool almost got himself killed.

“Fear not,” Ulam continued as he kept his eyes fixed on the horizon, “Count Aldamar would not send members of his own personal guard to their deaths intentionally.”

“And how do you know that?” Amantius exclaimed. “I know you do not believe me, but there is something malevolent about the man, Ulam. I can’t prove it now, but I will in due time.”

Ulam slammed his fist down on the stone parapet, loosening a rogue pebble that fell to the ground. “Again with this nonsense. I understand we have differing opinions of the man, but you need to move on. You have been trying to prove your theories ever since we were first acquainted with the Count, and each time you have uncovered nothing. Abandon this fruitless pursuit, Amantius, before you get us both thrown into a dungeon!”

Ulam returned his gaze to a spot on the horizon, where a single cluster of trees stood. He had been harsher than intended, but his words carried much weight with them. He did not think Amantius quite comprehended that they were foreigners in a foreign land, a land where no one would come to their rescue in a moment of crisis. This was painfully obvious to Ulam, perhaps because he was an Orc and knew his punishment would be far worse than that of his Human counterpart.

Amantius did not speak during the rest of their patrol, which Ulam believed to be a godsend. He welcomed the silence, the consistent hum of civilization filling the space between them. Ulam watched as storm clouds darkened the sky, flinching when the first droplets of cold rain hit his skin. He felt bad for the army marching in the direction of the blackest clouds; he could not imagine how frustrating marching in such conditions must be.

After their patrol ended they retired to the barracks for the night, the building left virtually empty from all the men who had marched off to war. Ulam found the rows of vacant beds pleasing because for the first time since coming to Silverwater he would be able to read a book by candlelight. Practically every time he had tried prior, he was interrupted by rowdy, drunken guards or men returning from their patrols. He smiled, because on this night he knew there would be no interruptions.

A few days earlier Ulam had visited a bookshop in one of the wealthier areas of the city, a place where he knew he would be able to find books. While there he used his wages to purchase a specific book, a narrative about Orcish history. It was a subject that he knew little about, which embarrassed him to no small degree. In a way, he half-believed if he read this book he would better understand his heritage, and quite possibly learn how he came to Accaria as an infant.

Ulam waited a few extra minutes until he heard Amantius snoring; he wanted to make sure before he delved too deeply in his book that his foster-brother would not start some meaningless conversation again. As soon as he heard the first few snorts, he opened the book to the first page and began reading.

Dawn arrived far sooner than Ulam expected. The first few beams of gold poured into his eyes from the windows, their presence prevented him from going back to sleep. As he sat up in his bed he heard swords cutting into wooden decoys, their clangs echoing off the walls of the nearby courtyard. Beside him, Amantius kept snoring, until the main door swung open and the overnight patrol returned to the bunkroom.

“Quiet night?” One of the guards asked the returning men.

“Quiet and wet,” the other guard groaned, “And of course the damn sun decided to come out right before our shift ended.”

“Lucky us,” Amantius said as he jumped out of bed, slapping Ulam on the shoulder as he stretched. “Come on, Beautiful, it’s our turn.”

Ulam put away his book, disappointed that he had fallen asleep during the night and was unable to read more. Not only that, but he also did not retain much of what he read before closing his eyes. Such a waste of time. Oh well, perhaps I will be able to read tonight.

Before long he found himself atop the ramparts with Amantius again, wondering if he had ever left. His previous shift seemingly blended into the current one, as though there had been no time in between. Perhaps in the past he would have cared about the lack of free time, but ultimately it did not matter. There was nothing he wanted to do in this city other than eat, drink, sleep, and read, and most of the time he was able to do at least three of those things.

“Weather isn’t so bad today,” Amantius said as they reached their posts. “How long do you think we’ll be up here? You know, until the Captain’s warband returns?”

Ulam grunted, then shrugged. “Who knows? I do not even know where the Mad Raven’s…” his words trailed off as his nose picked up some smell. Silverwater had as many odors as any city, some pleasant, some not so, but there was one that Ulam had