Ambrosia-book1-ch.2

Chapter 2

~Fourteen Years Ago~

Jael hugged his skinny knees to his chest. The glaring sun had risen high into the sky but did not offer any warmth to the land or to the boy perched on the steps of the empty cottage. Jael was alone, numb almost to the point of not caring. At the same time, a spark burned within him with such a harsh intensity, he could barely contain it. Fury.

They had left him. He had known they would, deep in his heart he had known for some time. Yet he never really expected it would happen. He kept alive a hope that he would be forgiven, or somehow cured of his agonizing “disease”. Now he realized that they had given up on him. His mother and perfect baby brother, and probably his brother’s wayward father: that damn woodsman. If ever he caught them, he’d grab that brute’s pancake-sized hands and dance him around and around, setting his veins aflame. Or, better yet, he’d seize his fat, disgustingly sun-baked face and swing him around by the jowls, listening to him scream as his mind was ripped apart. Just imagining that made Jael giggle a little to himself.

“You.”

The word came out of nowhere, spoken in a hollow tone, as if the wind itself were talking. A shadow fell over Jael, and he raised his eyes to find a dark form towering over him. He started. The form was draped in a heavy cloak and backlit by the sun. He couldn't see the man’s face, but he shivered with renewed cold and something else.

“What?” Jael asked, not so frightened that he wasn’t embarrassed at the sound of his voice cracking.

“They left you.”

Before Jael could think up a reply, a gnarled hand shot out of the shadow and landed on his shoulder, and he felt the sweet relief he always did when someone made physical contact with him. He gasped and involuntarily tried to jerk away. The man did not pull his hand back in shock, though. Instead, the hand convulsed, and talon-like nails bit into his shoulder.

“My Lord,” said the man, “you are more powerful than I expected.”

Jael reached up and grabbed the man’s hand, spuriously to try and throw it off. It was warm, rough, alive. Jael felt like a drowned cat clawing its way out of a stream as he clung to the hand, terrified and confused. “Doesn’t it hurt you?” he choked.

The man took Jael’s other shoulder and roughly pulled the boy to his shaky feet. The throbbing in Jael’s temples dissapeared and warmth flooded his extremities. It had been ages since someone had stayed in contact with him for this long; no one had been able. It felt so good, so freeing, he could barely believe it. His mother hadn’t been able to touch him for any length of time, not even when he was a baby. He could only imagine it was because she couldn’t stand to feel what he felt every waking moment. It wasn’t just the physical pain of his joints and the ache behind his eyes, the confusion and anger affected him mentally, clouding his mind. When someone touched him, though, all that evaporated. He just hung there like a rag doll.

“Do you know what you are?” asked the man.

Jael nodded dully. “Monster.”

The man made a breathy sound that Jael decided must be laughter and said, “we are two of a kind then, you and I.” The man turned so that his face was toward the sun.

Jael stared at the man’s face and gulped. The bald head was speckled with brown spots. His deep-set eyes were like black pebbles, his chin, boney and pointed, and his mouth - it was inhuman. It stretched literally from ear to ear and was filled with row upon row of white, triangular teeth.

A demon.

Jael struggled, and the stranger let go. The demonic visage disappeared, and before him stood an old man in a heavy cape, with a normal-sized mouth and dark, knowing eyes. Jael stumbled back into the doorway of the cottage, grasping the door-jam as the pain came rushing back thought every sinew of muscle, stabbing shards of broken glass through his arms and legs and chest. He was filled with questions, filled with fear. He had felt relief from the curse that had haunted him since the day he’d been born, but at the hands of one who spoke with and controlled the evil spirits that waited, just below a thin layer of magic, to once again rule the Whorld. The most powerful of magic users. A Demonbayer.

“I'm not like you,” the boy cried out. “I’m not a demon!”

“There is nothing for you here,” the Demonbayer said with a wave of his hand. “You have nowhere to go. You have no one. You know why your mother left. Follow me, and I promise I will pass no judgments. Unlike the woodsman and his lot who will be here any moment. If you want them to put you out of your misery for good, then by all means stay.”

The man turned away from him and Jael felt words of protest die in his throat. He struggled to absorb all that the man had said. There was nothing left for him here, only loneliness and pain and, if the man spoke the truth, death. But what sort of life awaited him with a Demonbayer? The freedom to explore his new-found powers. And relief. And perhaps, answers to his many questions. Why had he been born like this? What had he done to deserve this misery? This man - this caller of demons - seemed to know more about him than anyone else ever had. The Demonbayer was not afraid, was not disgusted by him. In fact, he had come to Jael, to save him from his wretched life.

Jael uncurled his fingers from the wooden doorframe. The Demonbayer was walking away, across the small clearing and towards the dim forest beyond. Jael hesitated no more and dashed to his side. The Demonbayer reached out and put his arm around Jael’s shoulders. They walked away from the cottage, and Jael never looked back.