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The Angaran Chronicles: An Ulterior Motive (M-violence)

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Adrassil
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The Angaran Chronicles: An Ulterior Motive (M-violence)

Post by Adrassil » Mon Jan 23, 2017 8:04 pm

Hi everyone, this is the first of a collection of stories about my world, enjoy! Teh review thread

An Ulterior Motive by Benjamin Agar
Year: 2379 A.H.V. (After Holy Victory)
Age: The Medivale age
Country: The Kingdom of Camaria

Emilia awoke, back to the pain, back to the bitter cold. Back to the blur of the starry night sky and the branches looming above.

She’d been dreaming, a good dream, a warm dream.

She shivered. The cold, it burned through the thick fur blankets wrapped around her. Her whole being ached, it almost made her forget the agony of the bite, the ragged wound on her shoulder covered in bandages.

Emilia cried out as the agony returned. She writhed, clutched at her shoulder but a strong hand stopped her.

'Emilia. Emilia. Please.'

Her breaths shuddering, Emilia rolled over to find Anargrin, the handsome, elf leaned over her. His large eyes wide with watering concern.

'Anargrin?' she managed. 'How...long?'

'About three hours,' said the Hunter and stood to his slight height, his eyes darting, surveying their surroundings.

'Can you walk, Emilia?'

'I don’t know.'

Anargrin sighed. 'I’d thought so, and I’m sorry to say, it’s only going to get worse.'

Tears welled in Emilia’s eyes. 'Why? Why did this happen to me?'

Anargrin hissed and turned to her with wide eyed sympathy.

'In all honesty, I'm sorry, I don’t know. Sometimes life is...well for want of a better word, shit. I could tell you many a myriad story that have contributed to this horrid tragedy. Some fact, some pure conjecture. But we haven’t the time. I’m sorry.'

Emilia tried to blink back the tears and sniffed. Sometimes the Hunter would say words she found too big to understand.

Anargrin turned and began to pack away their makeshift camp. Emilia managed to make out the expensive black leather armour he wore but the sword he’d fought with weeks ago was no where to be seen, she had no idea where he could be hiding it.

'Why did Jaroai abandon me?' she cried. 'Why?'

Anargrin rounded on her. 'He doesn’t exist, that’s why. And it was all because of your precious Jaroai that this happened in the first place.'

Emilia found she couldn’t say anything. Never had she heard someone speak against Jaroai. Emilia knew what happened to non-believers, she’d seen what happened to non-believers and it was beyond horrible.

No one deserved such a punishment. If Jaroai truly cared and loved her as much as they said, surely with all his power he’d have helped her or her
mother and sister, like Anargrin had helped her?

This non-believer had done far more for her than Jaroai ever had.

Maybe he was right, maybe Jaroai didn’t exist, or just didn’t care. She...she always had her doubts, her questions, but had always been too afraid to voice them- if Jaroai was so powerful, why did people need to die for questioning him? Why? If he was loving why did so many of his followers have to be so cruel in his name?

Either way it angered her, saddened her. With a sigh of her own Emilia rolled on her side.


It took Anargrin a minute or so to pack up the camp, then they were moving again. Emila rode on his back as he jumped from branch to branch, tree to tree. Making what must’ve been good two to five metre leaps sure footedly, despite the snow coating everything- he didn't disturb the branches even with both Emilia and the pack on his back.

Emilia fought for sleep but just couldn’t, the bouncing about and sickness in the pit of her stomach prevented her.

'Why can’t we just walk on the ground?' she said.

'Because it’s no where near as fast,' Anargrin said. 'They’re still after us, and if they catch up we’ll have the high ground.'

Emilia’s heart sank. 'They are?'

'Of course, it’s in their nature,' he said. 'They won’t stop chasing us until they find us and kill us. They were created that way.'

Emilia couldn’t help recall the ancient fable- she’d heard time and time again. ‘They were created by that elf sorceror, during the holy war? Who cursed that town of humans?’

‘That’s propaganda,’ said Anargrin. ‘History says that it was, indeed an elf mage, but he’d cursed an army of humans in vengeance for them invading and slaughtering the people of his city. All in Jaroai’s name.’

'Oh, I’m sorry,' said Emilia.

‘You have no need to apologise, Emilia. That was over two thousand years ago, you weren’t even a thought back then. You had nothing to do with it and it’s not fair, not right for you to have to suffer for it now.’

Emilia frowned, unsure what to think of that. She couldn’t make much of the Hunter. She’d known of the Hunters since she was young. The mysterious organisation made up of many different races, they travelled from town to town, slaying vampires, but always for a price. The priest of her village had spoken against them, hated them. He said they were selfish and evil. Doing what they did for the sake of gold, not for what mattered- the people and Jaroai.

Emilia’s priest had never mentioned them to be non-believers, but Anargrin was one and if he was, could other Hunters be the same? They said that non-believers were soulless and cruel, yet Anargrin had saved her. He’d risked himself for her. That didn’t seem to be act of someone soulless and cruel, was it?

'Although it doesn’t matter whether we leave a trail or not, in all honesty,' said Anargrin, bringing Emilia back to reality. 'They’ve your scent, your taste, that’s all they need. Not leaving a trail will only slow them down. Slightly.'

'Where are we going?' Emilia slurred.

'The only place we can go where I know you’ll get the help you need,' he said.

'Like a cure?'

Anargrin didn’t answer for a good while, he just continued leaping across gaps no normal person would be capable of.

'No,' he said. 'I’m sorry, there’s no cure for lycanthropy.'

Emila’s heart sank again. 'So why are we-?'

'Because while there isn’t a cure,' he said. 'There is a way for you to learn to control it, to save your humanity and personality. Prevent you from becoming like the mindless beasts that slaughtered your people. I can’t save you but I know those that can, we just have to...have to...'

'Have to what?' trying and failing to hide her disappointment.

'Have to cross the border,' Anargrin said, it sounded like he said it through clenched teeth.

'Cross the border to where?'

Anargrin sighed, 'I...I guess you’ll find out eventually. We...we need to cross the border to Valandri.'

Emilia’s insides turned to ice. 'But-but that’s the vampire nation.' She gasped and with her hazy vision, looked west, through the trees and to the huge mountain range still miles away- and the pitch black clouds that covered the skies beyond.

'We can’t go there,' she stammered.

'We can and we will,' said Anargrin.

'But, how can we get through the mountains?'

'We have ways,' said Anargrin. 'You needn’t worry.'

'And the vampires?'

Anargrin sighed. 'They won’t hurt you. They aren’t all evil as the church constantly claims. In fact the majority aren’t.'

Emilia was finding it even harder to breath. The fear gripped her heart and she began to struggle.

'Please, calm yourself,' Anargrin snapped. 'You’ll make me fall.'

'Please. Please I can’t go to Valandri. Please don’t make me.'

'I’m sorry, Emilia. But unless you wish to turn into a mindless beast, or for me to cut your throat and leave you for dead, you have no choice.'

'But-'

She was interrupted as he stopped and leaped off the last branch. They dropped a good six metres straight toward the forest floor. Emilia screamed, her guts dropping. He landed, sliding a metre more, through the snow before stopping. Somehow not destroying his legs.

Emilia slipped off Anargrin’s back and onto her bum, into the wet snow, and covered her face behind crossed arms. Fighting hard to hold back the tears.

'Listen to me!' Anargrin said, turning to her. 'Listen to me. I swear to you, Emilia. You have nothing to fear.’

'Why,' she whimpered, her voice muffled by her arms.

'What?'

'Why!'

Anargrin sighed and fell to one knee so they were face to face. He looked into her gaze with his large hazel eyes and it was then she realised just how very pale he was.

'Because, Emilia. There aren’t just vampires in Valandri. There are werewolves as well. Werewolves who, for all intents and purposes, are still human. They can help you, they will help you. That’s why.'

'That’s not what I meant,' Emilia roared. 'Why? Why are you helping me?'

Anargrin’s eyes widened then before she could blink he was standing, turning his back to her.

'Do I really need a reason?' he sighed. 'Tell me Emilia, how old are you?'

'Seventeen,' she said.

He turned back to her, smiling. 'Isn’t it enough for me to want to save a young girl from such a fate because she is so young, she hasn’t had the opportunity to truly enjoy her life? Because she truly didn’t deserve such a horrific fate?'

Emilia didn’t answer. She just stared up at him. Her vision blurred with tears.

Anargrin sighed yet again, scratched his head and said. 'Alright, I can understand your suspicion and I will admit I’m not exactly the typical “squeaky clean” saviour like in the story books, okay?'

He smiled and held out his gloved hand to her. 'And let’s leave it at that.'

Emilia just glanced at his hand, then to his face and there and back again for what must’ve been a good minute. But Anargrin didn’t seem to mind, he just stood, smiling.

Eventually, his smile proved infectious and she took his hand, allowing him to pull her to her feet.

'I’m sorry, Anargrin,' she said, ashamed at her actions and she swore to herself she’d do anything to try and repay him for saving her. 'And thank you.'

'No,' he said, shaking his head but still smiling. 'No, thank you, Emilia.'


From then on everything was a horrible haze to her. She fell in and out of consciousness for what may have been days. Anargrin would at times wake her beside a camp-fire so she could eat and drink. Every bite was a struggle against her sickness. But it was strange, a few times she came to, she could’ve sworn it seemed Anargrin was walking on the forest floor.

Emilia wanted to ask why, but then she was too weak and hurt so, so much. Sometimes she’d dream, fever dreams of the father she’d never known or of her mother and sister. She’d wake with tears streaming down her face.

Once she woke and found she was not on his back. A horrific feeling mixed into her sickness hit her when she realised they were high up a tree.

Anargrin was crouched on a branch staring at a road winding through the forest below. Anargrin’s gaze suddenly snapped to her and he gave her a wide, encouraging grin before everything went black again.

When next Emilia woke, she found she lay near a blazing fire. The immediate surroundings were revealed in the red and orange light. The forest further around covered by the black of night. But something wasn’t right, something Emilia couldn’t quite place a finger on. Then the answer hit her, there was no Anargrin. Usually he’d be near, always keeping watch.

'Anargrin?' she tried to call as she gazed about, panic threatening to overtake her. 'Anar-'

She was interrupted by a scream, the blood curdling scream which eclipsed the soothing, soft snapping and crackle and pop of the fire.

Fright coursed her entire being. Fright which was replaced by horrid fear, fear which clutched her heart. That scream was followed by another and another, each more pained and agonised than the last. Along with a constant crashing and snarling that was terrifyingly familiar. All of it coming from what Emilia thought may have been the east. Despite the terror tearing at her and the agony of her body she still managed to climb to her feet, and started stumbling toward the sounds. Her concern for Anargrin outdid the instinct to flee and the fatigue threatening to overwhelm her.

She must have walked for only a minute or two, but it felt like hours. She stumbled through the trees, clutching at each and every one to keep her feet. All the while the screams and snarls and growls kept going and going and growing louder. It set her teeth on edge and her courage to waver.

Finally, she found what she recognised as the road from before and what she saw made her stop and reel in horror. What had once been a large convoy of horse driven carriages, was now shattered, smashed, some on their sides and some set ablaze. The intense heat forced her to cover her face.

Everywhere, there were corpses, dozens upon dozens of them. Most were torn into pieces but she still recognised the majority wore the armour of the soldiers of Carmaria. Some in the familiar robes of the priests of Jaroai. A few were the black, malformed shapes of werewolves.

The stench of blood was overwhelming. The sudden sound of snarling and growling drew her attention and she saw much to her relief, Anargrin. He was fighting three werewolves at once. Anargrin was like water as he weaved and wound through their savage, constant biting and clawing. All three were twice as tall as him but still he fought, stabbing and slicing with the same silver sword he’d used to defend her so many days ago. Emilia stood in awe but the fight was too fast, too furious for her to follow, even if her eyes hadn't been so tired and hazy. The fight only lasted a few seconds more, as it spread the width and breadth of the destruction. It finished with the werewolves dead and Anargrin standing, unscathed. His back to her.

'Emilia,' he said without turning. 'I’m sorry you had to see that. I’m impressed that you could even get up, let alone find your way here.'

'Why?' was all she could stammer.

He turned to her, whipped the blood from his blade and sheathed it. 'This was my mission, Emilia. My true mission. So now we can finally go to Valandri and get you the help you need. This was a church sanctioned convoy, sent to attack and burn down a town they deemed heretical, south of here. It was my mission to stop them, but I couldn’t do it alone, no..'

She couldn’t find any words.

He sighed and approached her over the pile of corpses. 'Please Emilia, do not think ill of me. Think about this, I managed to complete my mission and at the same time rid us of the werewolves chasing us, they will no longer rampage through the countryside. No longer claim more lives and the villagers will be spared from the church’s wrath.'

Anargrin smiled and it chilled her every pore.

'Without you, Emilia, this wouldn’t have been possible,' he said. 'Without you, I wouldn't have been able to lure the werewolves here so they could do what I could not. So again, I thank you. I thank you from the bottom of my heart.'

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Re: The Angaran Chronicles: An Ulterior Motive (M-violence)

Post by Adrassil » Mon Aug 14, 2017 12:19 pm

Just got some of the art I commissioned a while back done, this was done by d1Sarmon1a.deviantart.com and it's Anargrin, again. This will be the cover for Hamar Noir on my Wattpad account BADAgar, enjoy!

Image

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