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

“He woke up today,” Ulam replied, “he has been in counsel with Count Aldamar for half the day. No one seems to know what happened out there. I have heard all kinds of rumors, but I am not sure if any are true.”

“What have people been saying?” Amantius asked. He found it kind of odd that Ulam knew more of the local gossip than he did. The Orc had never been one to tell tales or spread stories.

Ulam grunted. “Nonsense mostly. Dark magic, monsters, the usual. I am sure those are all not true; they were probably ambushed in the forest somewhere. If I were the Mad Raven, that is what I would have done. You have seen how thick the brush grows here; you can hide a whole army in it and still have room for the horses. We will have to keep an eye out for traps like those when we go looking for her.”

Amantius felt a sudden tremor shoot through his whole body. He knew it was a possibility, but he did not want to think about hunting down someone, or something, that had so easily killed an entire warband. “When? How do you…”

An uncomfortable look flashed on Ulam’s face for the briefest of moments, but the Orc quickly settled back into his natural countenance. “I might have overheard a conversation…”

Amantius started laughing, the raucousness interrupting Ulam’s words. “You were eavesdropping? You, the one who told me to keep my nose out of the Count’s business, spying on…”

Ulam shot a fatal glare as he began to growl. “Be quiet you nitwit! Are you trying to get both of us killed?”

Amantius shook his head, still smiling. He did not care who heard him, he simply found too much humor in Ulam admitting to spying. His joy was short-lived, however, as the reality of their situation started to take hold. What am I going to do? I’ve never fought in a battle before!

Amantius heard the sounds of a metal boot on gravel approaching from behind, the familiar clinking of iron on rock indicating one of his comrades was approaching. He turned and saw Emmon, the man left in charge of the Castle Guards in Karraman’s absence. Amantius did not know much about the man, other than what he could see on the surface. Unlike Captain Karraman, Emmon was shorter, with an average build and a calm, collected way of speaking. He was a man of few, but important words.

“I have been looking for the both of you,” Emmon said as he approached, the same indifferent look on his grizzled face, “I have called a meeting inside the barracks; it is mandatory.”

Amantius did not like the sound of that, but he figured he was not going to like the sound of anything soon. “Is this about Captain Karraman’s return?”

Emmon gave away nothing, instead rolling his eyes in annoyance in lieu of a reply. Quietly he returned to the castle, leaving Ulam and Amantius alone once again. After giving Emmon enough of a head start, the pair followed, heading for the barracks as soon as they were indoors. As they entered the barracks they were met by a large number of their comrades, none of which looked excited by the emergency meeting. Though no one openly spoke about Captain Karraman and his failed expedition, everyone knew precisely why they had been assembled.

“Everyone here? Good.” Emmon said as he surveyed the room. He then ceded the floor to Count Aldamar, who had been lurking a few steps behind him.

“Captain Karraman is conscious once again,” Aldamar said, starting a chorus of whispers, “food and rest have brought him back to life, Gods be praised.”

Some of the men repeated the phrase, Amantius arched an eyebrow. How can a man so inherently malevolent praise the Gods? He shuddered at the thought.

“Though most of his warband has been…lost…they succeeded in other ways.” Aldamar began pacing the room, a faint smile on his lips, or so Amantius believed. “The Mad Raven’s lair has been located; we now know where she and her Flock have been hiding. According to Captain Karraman, their numbers are not so great anymore. If they had not been ambushed, he believes his warband would have prevailed.”

“So they were ambushed.” Someone said towards the back of the room. It was not a question, more of a statement.

“Yes.” Count Aldamar fixed his gaze upon the man in the crowd, cold and fatal. Amantius shivered and thought he could feel a collective ripple as the Count’s dark eyes shot a hole through their ranks.

“No doubt people have heard rumors; it is only natural that these things happen in a time such as this.” Aldamar began to pace once again, not focusing on anything as he walked. “I am sure you have heard rumors about the Mad Raven herself. Supposedly she is three times the size of a man, can use dark magic, and cannot be killed with iron. Her Flock are monsters themselves that eat human flesh and use claws instead of swords and spears.” He looked at the crowd once again, a playful smirk on his face. “Come now, this is absurd.”

A few of the guards in the room laughed, their level of discomfort obvious in the intensity of it. Amantius was more unsettled by the strange expression on the Count’s face. Somehow, he thought the man was telling the truth, and that was far more terrifying.

“Now that we know where she lives, and that her numbers are diminished,” Count Aldamar continued as the laughter stopped, “another warband will be sent to strike her lair.” He turned to Emmon, “I am naming you warchief for this expedition. Take as many of these men as you wish. Your warband will be bolstered by local warriors and militia loyal to Silverwater, unlike that mercenary rabble I wasted money on. Your numbers will almost double those of Captain Karraman’s warband, which should be more than sufficient to defeat her. I wish for you to leave at the first