Ulam returned to his book, his big, moss-colored Orcish hands engulfing the leather-bound pages. Amantius watched a few chipmunks chase one another into a patch of overgrowth, before using a blanket he brought as a pillow. Over the years his body had grown accustomed to the cold, stone ground, though his neck and skull never had. He closed his eyes, seeing the red tint of sunlight color the insides of his eyelids. Although there was a natural awning above him, the waning hours of the day slanted golden beams into their little alcove.
He never truly fell asleep, though his body had entered a meditative state on more than one occasion. Unknowingly a smile pursed his lips, as though the solar presence nourished his soul. He did not know how long he remained on the stone ground, but he knew he would need to stand soon, for his back was beginning to ache.
Ulam flipped a page nearby and grunted, louder than normal. “Interesting.”
Amantius almost did not want to ask, because usually when Ulam read a book and muttered to himself it led to a conversation. And of course, the topic was never anything which interested him. Amantius had never been much of a reader, though he had learned how to do so at an early age. His mother had taught both Ulam and him how to read, but reading had never developed into a hobby as it had for his Orcish foster-brother. If anything the only use Amantius had ever found for reading was to record and memorize ballads that he would later recite to swooning maidens.
He sat up, thinking maybe if he could at least see the title of the book, he could pretend to care more. Unfortunately he could not; Ulam’s large hands obscured the font. He sighed and braced himself for some dull discourse that he could not possibly avoid. Amantius had ignored the mutterings before, but he was still unable to dodge a conversation. If gone unchecked, Ulam would eventually launch into a monologue, and that was much worse than having a quick discussion.
“What is?” Amantius replied.
“What is what?” Ulam mumbled without looking up from the pages.
Amantius sighed again. “What is interesting? In your book.”
“Oh,” Ulam cleared his throat and looked up for a moment, “This book is about vampires, written by a huntress who swore her life to avenge her slain husband. Anyway, she wrote if someone afflicted with the disease does not convert another, then the two red marks on their body will never disappear. However, if a vampire does turn someone else, then the puncture marks will vanish.”
Ulam continued, but Amantius quickly lost interest. Somehow, Ulam made something as exciting as vampire hunting boring and scholarly.
Time passed slowly as they enjoyed the evening at their usual scenic overlook. Practically every day they would adventure into the wilderness that surrounded Accaria, exploring their island home for hidden paradises. Amantius often wondered how many people knew of this spot, this little cliff that jutted out of the side of the mountain with a panorama worth dying for. He oftentimes could not believe that Accaria had once been home to many ancient beasts, having been driven out by his ancestors thousands of years ago. There was a part of him that secretly hoped that he and Ulam would stumble across a secret lair someday, untouched by time. He knew the likelihood of such a discovery was next to impossible, but that did not prevent him from hoping to find a petrified dragon or griffin’s egg.
Amantius shielded his eyes from the warm beams of twilight as the sun began to sink into the ocean. His stomach growled; aside from a few wild apples and berries, he had not eaten much since breakfast.
“We should be on our way,” Amantius said, “the sun will be gone soon, plus it’s about time for dinner.”
“We should have been on our way an hour ago,” Ulam muttered, then tossed a stone off the cliff. “We are going to be late again, and Mother will not be pleased.”
Amantius cackled. “We wouldn’t always be late if you could run faster. I would think with legs as wide as an oak that you would have some serious sprinting power in those. But I guess not.”
Ulam grunted, turning away from the cliff. He started back down the path towards the base of the mountain, disappearing behind a row of trees. Amantius gazed across the island once more, taking in the different sights and sounds coming from across the landscape. A flock of birds launched themselves from the forest, their feathers creating a rainbow of colors. Monkeys babbled to one another nearby, lemurs adding to the choir. Nearby he heard the gentle flow of a brook cascading over a formation of rocks. Amantius smiled; there was no place he would rather be than here. Even though he had never left this island, he knew in his heart this was the place where he wanted to spend his entire life. He could not imagine a place with a more beautiful, diverse landscape than Accaria, where even the air was sweet and refreshing. From what Ulam had shared in his books, it seemed Accaria was the very definition of paradise, and to have been born on the island was a blessing from the Gods.
“Until tomorrow,” he whispered, then darted into the forest.
Chapter 2
Ulam
“Someday, my child,” Pelecia said as they approached the house, “you are going to be so late for dinner that breakfast will be served on time.”
Ulam snickered at the jab as Amantius rushed inside. Unlike his foster-brother, he had the courtesy to remove his dirty sandals before going too far into the home.
