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

With lightning speed Amantius scaled the side of Kevea’s Spear, hardly stopping to think of his next move. Within moments he passed his last remaining competitor, who stared at him quietly between the two holes cut into his emotionless mask. As Amantius continued to climb he spiraled around The Spear even more, until eventually he was on the exact opposite side from where he started. There he found an old window to jump through, falling to his knees as soon as he was inside. He scrambled out of the sunlight immediately, joy quickly filling his heart as he avoided the sun’s tyrannical rays. But that joy was short-lived, for as he rested he looked around the room, spotting thousands and thousands of cobwebs decorating every corner. A cold shiver went down his spine, for although he was not afraid of spiders, the thought of thousands of them swarming his sweat covered body was enough to give him goosebumps.

I can’t catch a break. Amantius stood up and hobbled to the window, groaning as the sunlight hit his flesh again. Though he had only been resting for a quick moment, he could already feel his muscles stiffening from inactivity.

Amantius climbed into the window sill and immediately looked down, curious as to how far he had climbed at that point. As he took in just how far he was from the ground, the strength in his legs vanished, forcing him to sit down once again. From there the people were the size of mice, their little faces all staring up at him. Ulam was the only person he recognized from such a great height, the Orc’s large green head the easiest to see. Amantius searched for others in the crowd, specifically Priestess Issa, but he was unable to find her. Panic infiltrated his spirit as he kept looking because without her to safely lower him to the ground, the smallest miscalculation would mean certain death.

“Where the hell is she?” Amantius yelled towards the ground, but he was too high up for anyone to hear. “How the hell am I supposed to get back down?” Aside from jumping.

Though his complexion was dark from years of running through fields and beaches, he could feel the sun piercing through the shield and begin roasting his skin. More out of desperation than determination, Amantius jumped to his feet and continued his climb, hoping there would be a staircase at the top that would allow him to safely descend to the bottom of Kevea’s Spear. This thing was part of the palace once; there have to be stairs inside. Right?

Amantius had spent so much time worrying about falling, he did not realize he was almost to the point of The Spear. He was so close he could even see the ledge at the very top, as well as his path there. The excitement began to build in his stomach, victory and a sense of accomplishment were starting to overwhelm his other senses. The pain in his limbs disappeared, a second-wind filled his lungs, even the sun did not seem so bright; Amantius had become drunk on the notion that he was about to become the first person in history to conquer Kevea’s Spear. There was only one more brick to go before he could hoist himself over the top, undoubtedly to the cheers of the entire city. My name will be remembered for eons. Mother and Ulam will be so proud of me…

And then he fell.

Chapter 4

Ulam

Time lurched in slow motion as Ulam watched Amantius fall from Kevea’s Spear, every heartbeat feeling like a hundred lifetimes. Only seconds before, the crowd shrieked on the other side of The Spear, where the other climber had fallen too. Ulam’s blood ran ice-cold as he saw Priestess Issa casting a spell on the other man, completely oblivious to Amantius’ tumble. He tried yelling but no words came out, the silence of his voice somehow deafening. Running out of time and with no other options, Ulam ran to the base of the tower and held out his arms as though he was going to catch his foster-brother. Deep inside he knew it was a fool’s hope, but it was the only plan he had.

Ulam watched Amantius flail his arms in the wind, still desperately reaching for the top of Kevea’s Spear though it was comfortably out his grasp. A chorus of screams grew behind him as people began to recognize the same thing he did: that Priestess Issa was engaged in lowering the other contestant. Ulam sealed his eyes shut, no longer able to watch, dread filling his soul as he expected to feel Amantius’ body go crashing through his arms at any second. Though he was not very spiritual he even muttered a few prayers to Kevea, hoping She would save his foster-brother. Please, I beg of you! Spare him!

Suddenly a crystalline sound came from Ulam’s right, followed by a blast of cool, rejuvenating air. The big Orc opened his eyes while turning around, following the lingering trail of bluish-white light to the source. In the distance behind him was Priestess Issa, her long white staff with a beryl stone pointed directly at Amantius. There was no panic on her wrinkled face, only poised confidence as she held her staff firm. Behind her was the other competitor, who was being attended to by a dozen guards. Though Priestess Issa had initially lowered him, the mystery climber had fallen unaided the last quarter of the building as the priestess turned her attention towards Amantius. At a glance, Ulam could tell the other person had sustained some injuries, none of which were serious, aside from hurt pride.

Amantius hit the ground with a thump, catapulting grass and dirt skyward. He let out a sigh, one hand still reaching for the top of Kevea’s Spear, the other clutching an ancient stone brick. Ulam ran to him instantly, kneeling in the grass beside his foster-brother. Though his face would never betray his emotions, inside Ulam was overwhelmed