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

Like a ghost Count Aldamar then silently crossed the courtyard, disappearing into the depths of the castle. Ulam hesitated, initially unsure if he wanted to follow. He held no ill-will towards the Count, though in his head he heard Amantius’ voice telling him not to trust the man. Typically Ulam would not have paid any heed to that voice, but after two destroyed warbands, both of which were massacred in the same forest, the words seemed to carry a little more weight. Although Ulam was still not convinced of Aldamar’s treachery, he trusted the man far less than before. He could have intentionally sent us to our deaths, but what would have been the purpose? Why spend so much gold on mercenaries just to see them killed? What is the point in that?

Ulam decided to follow Aldamar, mostly out of a sense of duty. As he entered the castle a blast of cold air swept over him, bringing a stale aroma to his nostrils. The interior of the castle had the appearance of a cellar, with every surface covered in a fine layer of dust. Cobwebs hung from every corner, with only half the torches burning in their sconces, the other half having burned out long ago. Though Ulam had spent hundreds of hours patrolling the castle, every time he stepped inside he could not help but shiver. Whether it was the cold air or the atmosphere he could not tell, but there was something about Silverwater Castle which unsettled him.

At the end of a long hallway was a large oak door, the other side of which Ulam had never seen. The door had always been locked, though that had never stopped Amantius from trying to open it. Ulam chuckled softly to himself, the sound enhanced by the narrowness of the hallway. In his mind, he saw Amantius struggling to open the door, so sure Count Aldamar performed dark deeds in the room behind. It was a bittersweet memory for Ulam, because while he found humor in the shenanigans he also found sadness in the emptiness left by Amantius’ disappearance.

The specters created by Ulam’s mind disappeared as soon as he reached the end of the hallway, where Count Aldamar waited by a lit brazier. Without speaking the Count pulled an iron key from a pocket and turned the handle in the lock, the metallic clicking as loud as thunder in such close quarters. With a great heave, Aldamar opened the door, revealing only a set of stairs leading into darkness.

Ulam was disappointed, not on his behalf, but for Amantius. While he did not believe he would find a sacrificial altar on the other side of the mysterious oak door, he thought there would be something of interest. Or, at the very least, something other than stairs. Amantius would be so angry if he were here. I have to tell him when he returns…if he returns.

Count Aldamar grabbed a torch from a nearby wall before continuing, leading Ulam downstairs into a labyrinth of rooms and hallways. Ulam was only able to get a quick glimpse of the rooms they passed, most of which were either empty or appeared to be untouched for centuries. As they delved deeper into the bowels of the castle he became more fascinated with the structure, surprised that these rooms existed within the building’s frame. I have read stories of secret tunnels allowing forbidden lovers to meet, but I did not think I would see this with my own eyes. Of course, I doubt Count Aldamar uses these rooms for that purpose.

At last they came to the end of the maze of hallways, where a second large oak door opened into another dark room. Ulam stood in the entrance, watching the red-orange glow of Count Aldamar’s torch cross the room. Even with the light, Ulam’s visibility was minimal, the far reaches of the room still cloaked in darkness. It was not until Count Aldamar had ignited enough torches that Ulam discovered where they were. Excitement filled his stomach with butterflies, his eyes were wide with awe.

They were standing in the center of the largest library Ulam had ever seen, one larger than he could have ever imagined. There were shelves three times his height, filled to the edges with books, all across the room. He thought there must have been thousands of texts within the shelves, all waiting to be read. And if Ulam could have his way, he would grant their wishes immediately.

“I expected that reaction,” Count Aldamar said, a soft laugh escaping. Ulam had been so enthralled by the sight of the library, he did not realize the man was standing beside him. “I have observed you reading before, engrossed in whichever book rested between your hands. I must say, I am quite fascinated with you.”

Ulam returned his attention to the Count, wondering where this conversation was heading.

“Not one for small talk, are you?” Aldamar said with a smirk before taking a seat at a desk. “I suppose that is typical of your race; I have never met an Orc that enjoyed speaking in great lengths. However, I have also never met an Orc with a thirst for knowledge, for reading, such as yourself. I find that fascinating. You are not from a Sanctuary, are you? You were raised somewhere else, maybe even in a royal house. That explains why you love reading, or even why you are able to do so.” His words trailed off until they were an incoherent mumbling. He was no longer speaking to Ulam, but having a private discussion with himself.

“Accaria,” Ulam said, answering a question the Count had not asked him. “I was raised in Accaria. In the household of Amantius’ mother.” Who was royalty in her own way, Ulam thought, but did not add.

“Accaria you say? The small island kingdom? I suppose that makes sense.” Count Aldamar appeared satisfied