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

shortage of tasks to be completed. He often found himself in the middle of the forest, a hatchet in hand, hacking away at the trunks of trees. He liked gathering firewood, each swing and proceeding thud easing the anxiety that permanently lived in the pit of his stomach. Mostly he enjoyed being surrounded by the giant oaks and pines, finding peace in the solitude it provided. It was just like his childhood in Accaria, save for the snow and ice.

“Never seen snow before,” Jaga said. His approach had been announced by the crunching of snow underneath his boots. “Doesn’t snow where you’re from either, does it?”

“No,” Amantius spoke, watching the steam escape his mount and disappear in the air. “They say the last time it snowed in Accaria was hundreds of years ago, something about a God who had been displeased with an impious priest. I don’t remember. It was just an old wives' tale.”

“Probably. That’s what old wives do.”

They stood together in the clearing, a dozen small logs loaded on a sled nearby. In the distance a branch heavy with snow snapped, the sound scaring away a few cawing crows. Amantius rotated his shoulders and stretched his neck, then hoisted the hatchet once again. Don’t want my muscles getting tight.

“Some of the others have noticed you haven’t been around,” Jaga said as splinters of wood fell near him. “They’ve been whispering.”

Amantius shrugged. “Let them.”

Jaga sighed. “You’re already considered an outsider, lad. No need to make things harder on yourself than you need to.”

Amantius dropped the hatchet, the blade disappearing in the snow. “Or what? You’ll have them chop me up like those poor folks we met on the highway?”

Jaga narrowed his eyes. “Don’t give me that lip, boy. They pulled their weapons; it was self-defense. Hell, you even killed a man.”

Like I don’t remember! Amantius picked up the hatchet and continued chopping at the trunk of a tree. Anger and shame fueled his arms as each progressive swing became more vicious. “It didn’t need to happen. You told me there wouldn’t be any killing…”

“Unless it was necessary!” Jaga shouted at him, his patience disappearing quicker than the breath from his words. “What would you have me do? Let any rabble of merchants and has-been mercenaries dictate who gets robbed and who doesn’t? What good are our disguises if no one fears us? Stop being a child; sometimes there are no good endings to the stories we are writing.”

Amantius returned to hacking the tree, refusing to turn to face Jaga. I am not a child! I’ve had to go through so much in the past year! First I lost my home and my mother! Then I lost Ulam! Hell, I don’t even know if he still lives! And now I am just here, and I do not know why!

Jaga sighed. “This fight against Aldamar has gone on for too long. It feels like a hundred years, to be honest. But it feels like it’s coming to an end, soon. The Countess is growing restless; she’s been telling us the time to strike Silverwater is now, while Aldamar is still weak.”

“Then why doesn’t she?”

“There’s a lot of emotions and personal feelings involved in this business, lad.” Jaga frowned. “People don’t think straight when they can’t look at something objectively. Plus, we’re being cautious. We’ve all lost a lot, some of us our entire families, and all we have left is each other. I think there’s a fear that if we attack now we’ll lose even more, possibly too much.”

“So if the time to strike is now,” Amantius replied, finally turning to face the old warchief, “then why are you here, in the middle of the forest, talking to me?”

“The Countess wanted me to find you, to talk to you.” Jaga’s face was stone cold, revealing nothing. “She has taken an interest in you and wants you to stay here, be one of us. Those whispers I mentioned? She’s heard them too.”

Amantius felt his heartbeat thunder in his chest, the flow of fresh blood warming his stiff limbs. She wants me to stay? It’s a shame she sends Jaga instead of telling me herself.

“If you stay,” Jaga continued, “I am to train you to be a warrior. To help with your swordplay, though I feel like you are better suited for a spear instead. That is if you don’t mind getting knocked on your ass multiple times a day.”

Amantius snorted at the jab. The insult did not affect him much, though, because his mind had already moved on. If I stay, will I ever know the truth about Ulam? What if we assault Silverwater, slay Aldamar, and Ulam is not there? Will I just be at Morganna’s side, much like Jaga has been, for the rest of my life?

“Regardless, the Countess wants to see you.” Jaga continued. He walked over to the sled loaded with timber and grabbed a handle. “That is if I wasn’t successful convincing you to stay. And judging by the dumb look on your face every time I mention her, we can just pretend I wasn’t successful. Now help me drag this damn wood back.”

Together they returned to the compound, toting the wood-filled sled behind them. Jaga helped unload the firewood into a storage shed before disappearing into the frozen landscape, leaving Amantius alone in the abandoned street. A part of him wanted to go back to the healer’s hut, which still served as his quarters, and warm his hands and feet. However, a more convincing voice in his head told him to go to the Great Hall and seek out Morganna. She’ll have a fire blazing in there, as well. Plus, she’s much easier to look at then that old hag that calls herself a healer.

Amantius’ nose was filled with the smell of roasting spruce as he approached the Great Hall. After two knocks the door was opened, a wave of warmth greeting him, as well as the stares of Morganna’s personal guard. In the center of the hall, the hearth was being