Amara and Rath's Tale
This story is rated for Readers Over 16 for sexual situations and violence
“Ashara would go to another planet, one filled with despair, a planet in desperate need of a protector, and she would become the one voice to give them hope. Ashara looked down at the planet and felt the pain of its people. She nodded and disappeared, becoming corporeal again, this time to do her task as she was always meant to." -- Otherworld 2, chapter 23
My name is Amara, which my mother tells me means "love," and I am the second youngest of nine children. Today is my tenth birthday. I was born in a land that should have been a paradise. It was a rich fertile valley with streams running through it and clear lakes dotting it. Crops were easy to grow in the rich, black soil, livestock flourished growing fat and producing numerous offspring, and climate was mild, the days warm but never hot, the nights cool but never cold. On all four sides of the valley, the gentle rolling hills soon became tall mountains, effectively walling in the valley.
The valley was not large; you could walk across the width of it in three days and the length in four. The village I lived in almost exactly in the center of the valley. It wasn't really even a village, being so small that it didn't have a name; it was just a few houses built around a fork in the road. As I already said, I was the second youngest of nine children, and large families were the norm in the valley. Every family has many children. Well, perhaps I should clarify that statement. Every family gave birth to many children, but there were only a few hundred people living in the entire valley and only about two dozen in my village. Like I said before, the valley should have been a paradise, but, in fact, it was a hell.
The lands behind the mountains were filled with monsters. Or demons. Or creatures. Or whatever you wanted to call them. And every so often they would come over the mountains and into the valley, to harvest their favorite food: humans. So the people of the valley had lots of children, but very few survived. I was the second youngest of nine, but only my parents and I were left alive. And in my little village, there weren't many people living in the houses, but the graveyard was full. The adults buried what they could find left after the demons finished. And usually there was not much left.
Even though today was my birthday, but there was no celebration or presents. There never was and I never expected any. Each year of life was precious and that was gift enough. Every family in the valley was very poor, and even in the fertile land, barely scratched out a living. Sure the crops grew well and the animals were fat and sleek, but there were just too few people to keep up with the work. There were no days off, no fun, and no time to just sit and watch the sun set. When I woke up this morning, I made a birthday wish. After all, I am only ten and I still believe in wishes. I wished for the time to sit and watch the beauty around me, time to count the stars at night, to watch a sunset, and, most of all, time to live without fear. But even at ten, I didn't believe my wish would come true - but it did. My birthday turned out to be the most important day of my life.
My parents and I lived about a half a mile from the village center in a tiny one-room hut near a small lake that had formed between two small hills. My clothes were very simple, a knee length shift, that hung on me like a sack. I was always barefoot. We ate mostly vegetables that we grew in the garden and bread that my mother made from corn meal.
My parents had a fairly large cornfield and they would trade their corn to the villages for anything they needed. Meat was a rarity, since hunting game meant going into the forest and the forest hid demons, wolves, and large cats. It was better to go without that to die. Livestock was too valuable to kill just for meat: cows gave milk, cheese and butter, bulls fertilized and protected the cows, sheep gave wool, and goats milk.
I was working in the garden, weeding between the squash plants. My parents were further away, in the cornfield, picking the ripe corn. I couldn't see them from where I stood, for the tall stocks of corn were obscuring my line of sight. On reflection, I am glad I couldn't see them meet their fate.
It was around noon when I heard the village alarm bell sound. Demons! Demons! It rang out. I ran as fast as possible towards the comparative safety of the village just like I was trained to. I rounded a turn in the road and painfully collided with a wall, falling backward on my butt. Looking up, I saw that it was not a wall I had run into, but a demon. I remembered what my parents had told me: the more the demon looks like a man, the more powerful and dangerous it is. And this demon looked almost exactly like a man.
He was tall and straight and dressed in ivory silks, set off by his long black hair. The high demons always dressed beautifully, and they were very careful not to get our blood on their silks. Their clothes were much more important to them than we were. I guess you could say they had good table manners. The demon looked down at me, his eyes golden, the pupils merely narrow slits. Then he smiled at me, revealing fangs, and bent down, reaching for me. I closed my eyes and I screamed inside my mind, "No, stop!!!" and waited for the pain, hoping that death would come quickly. But nothing happened. Cautiously, I opened my eyes and saw that the demon was just standing there, looking at me.
I scrambled to my feet. The demon never took his eyes off me but also never made a move toward me. He just stood there, like a toy whose off switch had been thrown. I cautiously crept around him and started towards the village again. He followed me. I stopped and he stopped. What was happening here?
Before I could say anything, the tall plants on the edge of the path parted and a low class demon, a true monster, all claws and sharp teeth, rushed out and turned towards me. I gave a shriek of alarm as he pounced on me, its fetid breath washing over me. Before it could sink its teeth into me, it was pulled off me. To my utter amazement, I watched the first demon hack it to pieces with his long sword. He had protected me!
If I had been a little older, I probably would have questioned it more. But I was only ten and miracles are easier to accept when you are still a child. Somehow, the demon was now my protector. I ran toward the village, with my demon protector in tow.
The village was in chaos, lesser demons running after people, blood everywhere. Hoping that my demon would protect more than just me, I told him to protect the people. He nodded and drew his sword again, closing his eyes for a second. Flames began to lick the sword's sharp edge. Then he went to work.
Finally it was over. All the demons had either fled or been hacked to pieces by my protector. There were about a twenty or so villagers left alive and they were busy dragging demons pieces to a huge bonfire. Black smoke filled the sky, turning day into night. Other villagers were burying the dead; my parents were both among them. I was now an orphan. Not having any place else to go, I headed home, but instead of going inside, I went to the lake. I sat there watching the water, tears running down my face. Even though death was always around us, you never really got used to it.
My demon was sitting next to me in silence. He had followed me to the lake and gracefully sat down by my side when I plopped down on the grassy shore. But now he seemed to be struggling with something - moving restlessly to and fro, stretching a leg out, and then bringing it back in. I stopped crying, my grief temporarily forgotten as I watched his ceaseless movement. He felt my stare and looked into my eyes. His eyes were glazed, the lids half closed, and his face was flushed. Was he sick? Then I noticed his hands, moving constantly, stroking his groin through the silk. I knew immediately what he was doing. A year ago I had accidentally walked into a small clearing in the cornfield and found my eldest sister and her boyfriend. Her boyfriend had been doing exactly what my demon was now doing. I quickly scooted away from the demon and he groaned.
"Please! Please don't leave me." His first words to me were a pleading moan. "You burn me!"