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

first, but the longer he mulled over her proposition the more likely he would accept it. After all, he would be close to Accaria and could sail across the sea when the turmoil had ended. He would be with a beautiful woman and have strong children with her, assuming she was able to reproduce. Although he was not sure if a vampire could conceive, especially with a non-vampire, his lack of knowledge would not prevent him from trying. As her husband, he would have both wealth and power, two things most men desired above all else. Overall the idea had its merits, but there was still one unresolved issue that impeded his final decision. Ulam.

“What about my brother?” Amantius said, pointing to the Orc. “He just defended the Count and raised his axe against you. Will you forgive him?”

Morganna’s face softened, though her fangs were still terrifying. “I forgave you, did I not?”

A sudden optimism shot into his heart. That’s right. I had fought against her, and now I am fighting for her. Very well. If Ulam is forgiven and allowed to live here, assuming he wants to, then I will be the next Count of Silverwater.

“She is manipulating you, you fool,” Aldamar said with a bitter sigh, like a disappointed mentor watching their pupil fail. “How can you be so blind? She is just using you to get what she wants, and then when my head is on a pike she will do the same to you. Although, she might feast on your blood first.”

“Stop lying,” Amantius replied, finding the courage to stand up to Aldamar, “You turned into a vampire first and then killed everyone, you even tried killing her!”

“And I did not succeed because she was a vampire before me,” Aldamar replied. “This is pointless; you have already decided who to believe in this matter. It is a shame you have chosen her, Amantius Jeranus, your brother always spoke highly of you.” He raised his weapon into a striking position. “Well, Sister, it looks like we must settle this once and for all.”

Aldamar jumped across the room, his dagger flying at Morganna’s throat. She sidestepped with grace, the thrust harmlessly slicing the air. She then grappled with Aldamar, the two of them rolling on the ground throwing punches and kicks. While on her back Morganna kicked up with her legs, sending Aldamar straight to the ceiling, crashing with enough impact to create a fissure. Somehow on his descent, he landed on his feet, looking completely unaffected by the blow. Calmly he wiped dirt from his arms and straightened his clothes, and then lunged at Morganna’s throat once again.

As the two became locked in combat Amantius crawled across the floor to Ulam, cradling the Orc’s head in his lap. Upon first glance he feared his foster-brother was dead, afraid Jaga had crushed his skull with the blow to his head. Amantius tried to place a hand inside Ulam’s chainmail shirt to find his heartbeat, but the armor was too heavy for him to wiggle his hand under. Instead, he held his hand underneath Ulam’s nostrils, releasing a sigh of relief when he felt long breaths grazing his knuckles.

“Thank the Gods,” Amantius said as he gently stroked Ulam’s hair. Warm tears slid down his face and onto Ulam’s forehead; he had never been so worried about anything else before. Being so distracted with an unresponsive Ulam, the familial duel happening behind him did not even register in Amantius’ mind. At that moment he only cared about Ulam, and how he was going to save them both.

Amantius heard a crashing of stone, followed by a cry, and turned to see Morganna had all but defeated Aldamar. Sections of the ceiling directly above them had broken apart, with two giant stone slabs having fallen on Aldamar’s legs. It was a testament of the force both siblings possessed, the true ferocity with which they fought. Morganna was on top of Aldamar, a blade hovering inches above his throat, as he desperately tried to keep the iron from biting his flesh. Amantius noticed they both had a dozen cuts on their bodies, none of which bled, just silver scars adorning their pale complexions.

“I have waited so long for this moment,” Morganna said through gritted teeth, trying to summon the strength to finish him off. “So many years of waiting, planning. I dreamed of this moment so many times, at least when I still could dream.”

Aldamar’s face turned purple as he struggled to keep his head attached to his shoulders. He opened his mouth to speak from time to time, but the words only came out as a vicious screeching. He was able to free a hand, punching wildly at Morganna, missing with almost every strike. As her sword slowly descended towards his throat, Aldamar began to squirm in hopes of avoiding the inevitable. As he did so his cloak unfastened, exposing even more of his pale flesh. Amantius knew it was only a matter of time until Aldamar met his demise.

Morganna shifted her weight, giving Amantius a better view of the impending deathblow. From his new vantage point, he was able to see exactly where the iron blade would cut through Aldamar’s neck, a spot where the Count had two bright red dots. It was an unusual blemish on the Count’s skin, their appearance further highlighted by his ghostly complexion. Amantius assumed they were bite marks, given to him by the vampire that had passed the gift onto him. His mind then turned to Morganna’s body, finding it odd that she did not have the same markings on her neck. And he would know if she did, too, because he had seen her unclothed many times before.

Perhaps those aren’t bite marks on Aldamar’s neck. After all, I am far from an expert on vampires, Amantius thought as he saw the blade make contact with Aldamar’s skin, but not deep enough to truly wound him. Ulam would know why, probably. He has read so many books about