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

raised in a hold to the west of here, deep in the heart of Silverwood Forest, surrounded by giant trees that blanketed the sky above. My childhood home was nestled in between a giant, stone cliff and a gentle, crystalline river. Even now, many years later, in my mind’s eye, I still see the rays of light reflecting off the water; I can still taste its coolness on my lips.”

Count Aldamar was looking into the darkness, his eyes seemingly captivated by something Ulam could not see. “Our father was lord of that small village, a dozen or so families worked the surrounding land. We all worked together, in unison, for the betterment of all. My lot was hunting. I learned to track all types of animals: deer, bears, rabbits, so on. Pardon my boasting, but I must admit, I was quite good. Hardly did I venture into the woods without returning with something slung across my back.”

The image reminded Ulam to unclasp his cloak and sling it over his body; a stale chill was beginning to pierce his torso and legs. The sound garnered Count Aldamar’s attention, his dark eyes taking in the sight before him. Ulam saw a flash of curiosity on the Count’s face, though the emotion disappeared just as quickly.

“In truth, I had a little help,” Count Aldamar continued as he returned to his velvet chair, filling both of their goblets with more wine before sitting again. “My sister joined me on many hunts. Like me, she enjoyed the challenge of finding a trail in the underbrush and the thrill that came when we found our prey. We were inseparable in those days, as though we were attached at the hip. Wherever I went, she followed, and wherever she went, I followed. But then…”

Count Aldamar stopped, his face cold and blank, though Ulam could see a thousand years of pain behind his eyes. Aside from the occasional creaking coming from the far depths of an old castle, and the air escaping through Ulam’s nose, there was no sound in the room. Only absolute silence.

Just as Ulam began to wonder if the silence was going to last for all eternity, Count Aldamar took another sip of wine to wet his throat. “One day, after a steady rainfall, my sister and I were out looking for game when we came across a set of footprints. Not imprints made by iron boots, mind you, but actual feet. So naturally, we followed them, wondering who was lurking barefoot this deep in the forest. We knew it was not one of our own, one of our neighbors, because we were too deep into the Silverwood. We must have followed those tracks for hours, going forever further and further into the forest.”

“The footprints led to a cave beneath a pair of oaks with trunks as wide as the towers of this castle. The sun was fading, and I wanted to return to the hold so we could bring more people the next day. My sister, though, was adamant about finding this mystery person we had followed for leagues in the Silverwood. ‘We did not come all this way to just turn around’ she told me. So we explored.”

Count Aldamar drank from his cup, his face expressing no emotion. “We went inside, without the help of fire or any other aid to our vision. The odor was overwhelming. Foul. There was death in the air. I wanted to turn back, but she did not. She kept going, deeper and deeper, until I lost sight of her. And then…she screamed.”

“Without a second thought I sprinted into the darkness, tripping over Gods know what until I came to her. She was in a large chamber, a crack in the roof letting in just enough light for my eyes to see the horror that was before me. She was slumped over, a dark figure with bright eyes standing above her, blood dripping from fangs. In my rage I charged into the creature, hurtling it into a rock. Even to this day, to this moment, I can still hear the crack its head made. I grabbed my sister, slung her over my shoulder, and ran out of there.”

Count Aldamar’s left hand was clenched in a fist, shaking on the armrest of his velvet chair. Ulam began to fear an explosion of anger, once again hoping Captain Karraman would walk into the room. If the Captain comes, though, perhaps the Count will not keep telling this story. 

“I ran back to our home, screaming, crying the whole way. I was met by a few of our neighbors, who took her the rest of the distance.” Aldamar released his fist, stretching his long, boney fingers. His muscles had loosened as well, slipping into his normal posture. “I went back to the cave with a dozen men and women, armed with torches, knives, swords, whatever we had available. But it was gone, there was no sign of the creature I attacked, the one that had almost killed my sister. It had simply vanished.”

“Vanished? How could that be?” Ulam said, the words falling from his mouth. “You even said you heard the crack and saw the blood.”

Count Aldamar shook his head quietly, clearly still in disbelief after all this time. “I know. What we found, though, was far worse. Mountains of bones, organs, rotting carcasses stretched throughout the entire cave. Men, women, children, deer, horses, everything. We went back to our little village, and over the next few days, my sister recovered miraculously. She lost so much blood we all thought she would perish, but alas, she did not. But she did not only heal quicker than anyone could have imagined, she also grew stronger. Even wrathful. So violent, she…”

Count Aldamar looked away, his eyes focused on the chandelier. Ulam was completely engrossed by the story, so much so that he did not realize he had sat down at some point, or that he abandoned his chalice long ago and was drinking directly from