The Angaran Chronicles: An Ulterior Motive

An Ulterior Motive

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 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 and 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, leaning over her. His large eyes were 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 has 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 said words she found too big to understand.

Anargrin turned and began to pack away their makeshift camp. Emilia managed to make out his expensive black leather armour, but the sword he'd fought with weeks ago was nowhere 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, which 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 didn't care. She had always had her doubts and 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 and 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 surefootedly, despite the snow coating everything- he didn't disturb the branches even with Emilia and the pack on his back.