The Mad Raven's Tale (The Accarian Chronicles Book 1) by Andrew Walbrown (the lemonade war series txt) 📗

“There is nothing else,” Ulam replied, “as soon as we hear the knock, we need…”

With uncanny timing, a faint knock came at the door.

A hooded figure entered the room, dark robes obscuring any discernible feature. Though Ulam could not tell exactly who was under the clothing, he assumed it was Marinius. A flicker of nervousness and excitement suddenly filled his belly, for it was the dawn of the next chapter of his life.

“Everyone ready?” Marinius said as he removed his hood. “Lady Pelecia, forgive me, but you need to hurry packing.”

Pelecia frowned. “I am not going, Marinius. Ulam will take my place on the ship.”

Marinius started to say something but stopped before the words could fully form in his mouth. He nodded instead. “Very well. Both of you have twenty minutes to prepare. I will wait outside. Also, don’t pack metal, the clinks and clanks will echo across the city, and we don’t want them to hear us.”

“We do not want who to hear us?” Pelecia asked.

“The patrols searching for curfew breakers,” Marinius replied, “Two bells will ring. The first is curfew, the second will close the harbor and gates. If you haven’t boarded the ship and left the harbor by the second bell, then you will be trapped in the city.”

“Why are they closing the harbor?” Ulam asked. “Will that not hurt the city more?”

Marinius sighed, “I believe so, but Prince Varian, or rather King Varian, wants to keep everything internal. No outside influences.”

“But how do we know when the first bell rings?” Amantius asked. “Surely there is a set time.”

“No one knows. It is whenever he decides. The second is sunset, so I assume the first bell will ring soon. The first one does not matter, we will be out past curfew regardless, but the second?” His words faded away.

“Must they go?” Pelecia spoke for the first time. She was in a rare form, one Ulam had never seen before. She looked as though she had not slept in days, the restlessness adding at least ten years to her appearance. For the first time, Ulam thought she looked old, the youthfulness and glow of her skin drained.

“I still don’t understand why I have to go,” Amantius said, “I don’t want to go! We can make up some story about who my father was.”

“To stay is not only to put your life in jeopardy but your mother’s as well.” Marinius turned his attention to Pelecia, his features softening. “No, I am afraid they must leave for the mainland. Roderic would come back from the dead to personally flay me if something were to happen.”

“But he is my only child, Marinius,” Pelecia pleaded, her voice cracking. She then turned to Ulam and frowned a non-verbal apology. Ulam winked; he knew she meant no offense. No matter how much of a mother she had been to him, and as much as she owned the role and all of its responsibilities, Amantius would always be her only natural child.

“He’s not a child anymore,” Marinius replied. It was apparent to Ulam that the man was trying to be sympathetic, but his gruff voice did not allow for much empathy. “He is, by all right, the true king, and that is why he is in great danger.”

“I know.” Her words were faint and full of pain. Ulam could hear her heart breaking even more, something he did not think was possible. Though he was excited about embarking on their journey, it was tempered by the pity he felt for Pelecia. After all, she had raised them both by herself, through good times and bad. And now, she was losing her entire family. In a way, Ulam felt a great remorse building inside him, shamed by the optimism growing in his heart. How can I be eager for what tomorrow holds when I am surrounded by the agony of the only two people in this world who truly accept me? What kind of ungrateful monster am I?

“Go now and pack,” Marinius ordered, “I will be standing guard outside.”

Amantius looked dazed and confused, but he obeyed and disappeared. Ulam already had his travel bags packed; he had done so hours ago because he wanted to be ready on a moment’s notice.

He walked to a nearby window and stared at the palace as the sun began to set, its reddish-orange rays illuminating the white walls of the city. He had never truly appreciated the architecture of the building, or any other building for that matter, until that moment. A sweet, summery breeze rustled the leaves of the palms that adorned the nearby alleyways. Brine tingled his nostrils, a feeling he knew he would become accustomed to as they sailed across the sea. Dogs barked, seagulls squawked, and horses neighed as they dragged carts down the road. He was trying to capture one last mental image of Accaria, one that would live on in his memories forever. He was not a fool; he knew the impending civil war would leave wounds that would never heal. He knew if he ever returned the city would be different, both in appearance and spirit.

The first bell began ringing, low and foreboding. Each brass repetition was even more ominous than the last. After an initial shout of panic and desperation, the noise in the streets began to taper off, until nothing could be heard other than the iron boots of guard patrols up and down the cobblestone streets. The seagulls grew quiet as well; even they seemed too afraid to speak.

Ulam had accepted this to be their fate, although he was not entirely sure why he also needed to leave Accaria. He was not the bastard son of the late king; he would not pose any danger to the legitimacy of Varian or Zeno’s claim. He understood Pelecia’s logic to an extent, that she was not fit emotionally or physically to traverse the open sea, nor to live the life of a refugee. What he could not