Jericho, a slender stout boy, no older than fourteen, strolled down the garden path lined with various vinery and flowers of all nature. Jericho was young in the face and slender in body, but it only apparent when he was naked. The boy was clad in baggy, loose-fitting clothing; a jacket; faded blue, a navy blue sleeveless shirt, and faded grey trousers that drooped around his heels. His hair was the only odd part about him; his bangs were white as the back was jet black. His eyes were a turquoise mix that seemed to change with every new wind.
Flora bloomed on either side of him and birds glided lazily overhead from tree to tree in search of food. Jericho walked with a basket in his right hand hanging low to the ground filled with the flowers he had picked. He strode to the front gate past the fountain where two lovers sat whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ears. Jericho paid no attention to them and walked through the high brass gate and closed it behind him.
He walked along the line of shrubbery that acted as a fence of sorts for the garden to the west side where the sun was setting just over the ridgeline of the mountains not too far off. At his next turn he turned into the main street of his town; a little cramped town with houses stacked one on top of the other with only one main road stretching the entire length with alleyways breaking off to branch out and connect the rest of the town. Shops lined the main street thus bringing in a flood of people making it difficult for Jericho to even move through, but he was use to this.
Not a day had gone by without his trip to the gardens a back through the evening rush at the market. He knew the times at which the traffic was fair to horrible. As usual he saw the same people lined the street, not necessarily selling anything; the priest who stood on a crate to elevate himself o speak to all those who still listened to him, the homeless man who sold flowers that he had swiped from the gardens, only a fool would buy his dying flowers. The last, but not least was the harlot and her friends hiding in alleyways in plain sight to attract customers.
Jericho never really liked to hang around the market place itself, if he absolutely had to, which was when either his mother was buying groceries or his father was on patrol, he would sit on the concrete edge of the fountain basin in the center of town. Today however, he had to hurry home back to mother.
The young boy ducked under a fruit stand snatching an apple and dashed down the alley behind it, scaling up the building, and climbing up onto the roof. He covered the inside of the basket with a woven plate and hooked it under his shoulder and took off leaping from rooftop to roof top, not once breaking his stride. He strode right past watchmen who didn’t even realize his Jericho was there even after the young boy had put a substantial distance between themselves.
Finally Jericho caught the edge of a building and stalled there for a moments to catch his breath before letting himself drop right in front of his door. His home was nestled in a small alcove surrounded by other homes and a courtyard walled off headed by an archway. Stairs lined opposite sides of the wall leading up to the porches of the other homes. Jericho’s father thought it would be a safer environment for Jericho to grow up in.
Old Lady Malia watered her plants from the top most terraces. She smiled and waved at Jericho softly. The young boy gave a half hearted smile back before walking up to his door and slipping in silently. Jericho’s home was centered by the dining room, a little shabby, but Mother always kept it in pristine condition. Off to the left were two doors, one to the kitchen, and one to the master bedroom. To the right were two more doors, one to his room, and the other to a family room. Further past the family room was Father’s study.
“Mother I’m home!” Jericho called setting his basket down and walking towards the kitchen.
“Welcome home honey,” she called back chopping at some greens and throwing them into a pan to simmer.
“You’re cooking dinner?” Jericho asked rolling up his sleeves and nudging his way into the cooking process. “Mom, I’m home I’ll cook.”
“No Jericho, please” she huffed putting her knife down. “I want to make dinner for once.”
“Let the boy cook dear,” Jericho’s father called from the family room.
Jericho tensed startled by his father’s voice. He glanced at his mother and lowered his voice to whisper. “He’s home?”
“He came home early from patrol,” she whispered back.
“Wonderful,” Jericho said sarcastically.
“Now Jericho,” his mother started.
“Did you want the meat grilled or pan fried Mother?” Jericho cut her off changing the subject.
Jericho’s mother leaned back and let him continue cooking dinner with masterful ease. She stood barefoot in a long navy blue dress tied by an apron around her waist. His hair was long and dark as the night sky mirrored by her crystal eyes as the moon. She pulled down four place settings from the cupboard and went into the other room to set them. Jericho continued to do one task with one hand, another with the other, occasionally using his mouth to act as a third appendage.
“Jericho my boy,” the powerful voice of Jericho’s Father bellowed as he entered the room. He sniffed the air and smiled through the handlebar mustache that adorned his upper lip.
The burly man that stood at the doorway was the chief of the town law enforcement and was proud enough to admit it. He was dressed in a similar fashion to Jericho, only he filled his clothing a lot better. He did not wear a coat like Jericho but on his wrist was a time piece with the force’s insignia incrusted upon it.
“Evening Father, how was patrol?” Jericho asked not looking away from his work.
“Droll as usual,” his father replied with a satisfied, almost arrogant tone, “no one in this town tries to break the law; they know the consequences when I wear the badge.”
“I’m sure, Father,” Jericho replied dishing up the food he had prepared.
“And when you wear the badge, they will all give you the same respect they give me,” his father continued, “You will be a great chief Jericho.”
Jericho did not respond but stepped past his father carrying out the serving plates of food to the table now set with candles in the center. He strategically laid them down and took his place on the right side of his father, his mother on Father’s left, and Father at the head. Jericho’s mother sat with a smile on her face gazing up at her husband who stood at his seat.
“Well family,” he exclaimed, “a sweet smelling ending to a fruitful day, let us eat.”
Jericho served himself and ate without speaking much except to answer few questions as simply as possible for his father and or mother. The family seemed very distant but the only one who really cared was Jericho. His father always went on about how he is the greatest officer the law enforcement has ever seen and how Jericho will one day fill that spot. Jericho’s mother on the other hand was always too busy thinking about something else to ever pay attention to the connection of the family.
Dinner ended as it usually did, Father got up from the table leaving everything askew for Jericho and his wife to clean up, and Jericho’s mother found something more important to do so abandoned Jericho to do the dishes on his own, but he didn’t mind. He liked the alone time with his thoughts; not like he didn’t already have that by the hour load.
“Jericho, honey,” his mother cooed from the kitchen doorway as he scrubbed dishes.
“Yes, Mother?” he answered softly.
“Thank you for the flowers,” she said in a sweet voice, “beautiful as always. You have a good eye for beauty.”
Jericho didn’t turn to face his mother but smiled as his face turned red slightly from the love brimming off his mother’s words. He knew how much his mother loved flowers, but since she was always so busy she never had time to go pick some for herself in the gardens, so that was the little gesture Jericho did for his mother every day. She actually appreciated him and his hobbies.
“Good night Jericho, I love you,” she said with a smile and walked into her bedroom.
“Good night Mother,” Jericho replied then waited till he heard the door shut, “love you too.”
- -
The days Jericho decided to skip anything that his town had prescribed him and the rest of the youth, he’d wander the streets, more appropriately the roof tops, and building his stamina. He never really had a reason for it; he just did it because he wanted to.
He didn’t have very many people he called friends, since he was never at school, so he mostly kept to himself getting lost in the gardens or lounging on the edge of a rooftop eating an apple he had liberated from the nearby fruit stand. The people of the town only knew him as “the son of the Chief,” whom didn’t set well with Jericho; he loathed his father after all.
Today was just another one of those days. He had taken his usual route to the perimeter of the town, where the brick buildings met the tree line and four trees deep protruded the rugged mountain face that shielded their town from the north. He was sitting on a bench watching the flocks of travelers flood in and out when something caught his eye, someone who didn’t appear to be a traveler, at least not one he had ever seen.
A woman by the look it trudged through the throngs of people holding her weary self up by a staff ripped from a tree and marked by any manner of tool, clad in a tattered dulled cloak, hood drawn over her head to cover her face, along with an animal fur of some kind from the canine family. Jericho could just make out woven boots pushing through the dragging of her lengthy robes. Long tangled strands of black hair cascaded from off her shoulders, but he face was undetectable from behind them.
Jericho watched her nonchalantly as she passed but once she had left his sight he got up from the bench and dove into the crowd, drawing his hood over his head, spotting her staff almost immediately. The young boy tailed her down the street, watching her walk up to a stand and cast her gaze over the produce then advance to the next. She went on in this pattern with every stand and finally Jericho decided to give up his unproductive tail.
He didn’t know what it was but there was something about her that he didn’t find right, something told him she was no good. Jericho ducked his way out of the ceaseless moving throng down an alleyway. He leaned up against the side of the shadow cast building and maintained a silent vigil over the crowd.
“Now Jericho, honey, you are cute but I can’t make you one of my customers,” came a seductive voice from down the alleyway.
Jericho was startled but tried to hide it by shaking his head. “Melanie,” he huffed, “why do you have to surprise me like that?”
Melanie chuckled stepping out from a little alcove a few feet away. Melanie, an alleyway harlot, and long time unofficial friend of Jericho’s was a semi-attractive woman in the face, flush with outrageous amounts of make-up, with long dark brown hair. Her body was extremely curvy, due in part to her frilly corset that pronounced her breasts, atop a scarlet dress with a split up the left side. The whole ensemble gave her a perfect hourglass figure.
“Because you know how much I care about you sweetie,” she replied positioning herself to be against the same wall as Jericho but out of plain view of the street.
“Why are you here Melanie?” Jericho asked returning his gaze to the street.
“This stop is on my route,” she said drawing a cigarette from her dress pocket, lighting it with a match and tossing the match away before taking a long drag on it.
“Ah, that’s right,” Jericho replied not really caring for what she was saying. “Is your appointment late or am I keeping him or her away?”
Melanie stepped closer leaning herself off Jericho’s back, being significantly taller than him and peering out over the crowded street squinting her eyes to block out the sun rays. Jericho just hunched his shoulders and pretended he didn’t feel the heat emanating from her breasts. She soon backed off and leaned once again against the building shaking her head.
“Nah,” she said flatly, “seems like you scared him off.”
“Sorry about my impudence,” Jericho replied rolling his shoulders.
Melanie laughed, “Jericho you educated boy you!” she bent over and gave him a little peck on the cheek. “You know I don’t know the meaning of those big words. I started this life when I was a little younger than you.”
Jericho finally turned to Melanie and shook his head with a soft smile. “You do too have an education, just in a different sort of language.”
Melanie giggled and gave the boy another peck on the opposite cheek. “You are too sweet kid,” she said with a grin, “if only you were a little bit older, we might be a little closer.”
“If I was a little older I’d run this town,” Jericho replied turning away from her and seeming to resume his gaze. “And give people like you a reason to better yourself and not have to live a life like you do.”
Melanie smiled warmly though Jericho could not see it. “You care about people who are only seen as toys and otherwise trash, that’s why I like you Jericho; you are pure, unlike me. You are going to go far with whatever you do.”
There was a noise from the other end of the alleyway. Melanie looked and saw the familiar face of one of her customers and sighed. “Take care Jericho, you might want to get out of here. Tell your mother I say hello!” Jericho nodded and without another word the two parted.
Jericho made his round past the center of town stopping to splash his face with water from the fountain. He glanced around and found that no one but a couple small children stood near the fountain, they just focused on the day-to-day business at the market. Jericho drew a coin from his pocket and flipped into the fountain making the same wish he always did. He stood there to watch the ripples wade out when a voice sounded softly from behind him.
“What did you wish for my boy?” sounded the voice
Jericho whirled around frightened not having expected someone to speak to him and found himself starring into the face of the strange traveler that he had tailed not too long ago. She leaned against her staff with her dark eyes peering through her lengthy strands of hair. Her nose poked out as well but only just the tip. Though her eyes were dark and mysterious, they were inquisitive and haunting.
Jericho hesitated trying to pick his words before speaking them. “I, um,” he stuttered not knowing how to respond.
The woman cackled and moved to the fountain. “I know what you wished for boy,” she said to him, “it is written all over your heart.”
“What do you mean?” Jericho asked more interested in her now.
The woman moved sluggishly around the perimeter of the fountain dragging her finger on the cold concrete. A smile spread across her face as she gazed at the fountain with its cool flowing water. She kept her gaze on Jericho as she spoke, “most young people your age wish for petty things, money, women, fame, as I said, petty things. However, in you I see something different. You don’t concern yourself with the material world do you?”
Jericho didn’t respond but kept his ears keen to what she was saying.
“You come from a family that you are just a small part of, but you feel as insignificant as the dirt under our feet,” she continued, “that is how I know what lays in your heart, your deepest desires.”
By this time, the creepy woman had made her way completely around the fountain and back to Jericho. Clearly she had no position on personal space, but Jericho made no point to build that wall, he was too mesmerized with her words. She was right, but at the same time, he wasn’t sure he knew what she thought his wish was.
“What’s going on here?” sounded the stern voice of Jericho’s father as he approached followed by a patrol.
“Nothing officer, just a conversation,” the woman responded.
Jericho looked at his father with an expression that expressed anything less than admiration of his timing. “Everything is fine Father,” he said.
“Is it?” his father replied, “because it appears to me you are trying to whore out this woman Jericho!”
“What?” Jericho spat appalled.
“Jericho, you know better,” his father scorned him; “I would have thought you would have known better than to gorge yourself in the ways of the trash that plagues our city.”
“Sir, I am sorry, but you couldn’t be any more mistaken,” the woman pressed with a slight laugh. “This, Jericho, and I were merely discussing the magic of wishes.”
Jericho’s father slapped the woman across her face knocking her back to the ground. “Silence your snake-like tongue you temptress bitch!” his eyes were ablaze with fury, “I will not let you taint my son!”
“You are so full of shit!” Jericho shouted at his father to where the whole square now let their attention down upon the quarrel.
“What was that Jericho?” his father replied turning his gaze to Jericho, but his son didn’t back down.
“Your pride as being the Chief has completely clouded your Judgment,” Jericho exclaimed, “you have no idea of the inner workings of this city! The brothels, the drug trafficking, the crime that you swear that you have single-handedly taken care of, but you haven’t! You have done nothing but take up space!”
Jericho’s father glanced around at the looks of doubt and scorn hailing him from the people that surrounded the square. His forehead was sweating from fear of being deposed from his title, but his knuckles were white from clenching them, he was enraged at Jericho.
From the ground the woman began to cackle maniacally, her shoulders rocking with her torso from the spasms. Her laughter rose above the crowd and all attention shifted to her. She rolled back onto her knees and dug her nails into the wet dirt then tossing it aimlessly in various directions. All were confused, but none so much as Jericho.
“And so the battle lines have been drawn!” She announced hoisting herself up by her walking stick, leaning on it for support. “Choose your side citizens of this feeble town! Choose and pray to whatever higher power you praise that you chose right, for in this bout, even a witch like me cannot fathom who shall reign victorious!”
“What are you droning on about scourge?” Jericho’s father cut in stepping towards her to grab hold of her.
The witch recoiled and swatted his hand away with her stick then pointed a boney finger in his direction, her gaze haunting, and her voice bone chilling. “Your end is coming,” she cooed, “All your ends are coming! I am merely the messenger from the world afar, the damned plane of existence ruled by horrors, I myself cannot describe!” she threw her arms out and all the skies began to grow dark with clouds, fog crept over the town and winds began to roar and whip. “This land will be covered in fire, your homes and livestock decimated before your very eyes! The whores, the masterminds and even the innocents shall all perish one by one, no one shall be spared! All bearing the blood of the Ancient mortals shall die! So speaks He!”
The witch’s winds and torrents had shaken all those in attendance and the many around who could hear her voice. All had fallen to their knees or into some position they could find comfort and security. Jericho held onto the wall of the fountain gazing in awe of the spectacle. He was terrified, but at the same time in awe of the terror she predicted.
The witch turned her gaze to Jericho and flashed him a warm smile that quickly faded to a malicious grin. She spoke again; “You, one who has no binding to this material place shall alone have a choice in your fate!” she drifted to him. Jericho tried to move, but he found himself frozen in his place. The witch placed a finger in the center of his chest and on contact Jericho felt an intense searing burning on his skin. He cried out in pain but couldn’t move. “I will grant your wish, but you alone must fulfill it, your wish is one only you can perform, not hope to happen! Satisfy this curse mark and see your mortality restored, until the time comes where you complete the charge you wished, you will remain immortal in body and soul to watch as you try and fail, try and fail. Your wish is more difficult to complete than you think.”
Without another word the witch was sucked up in her swirling tornado of dust and wind into the clouds and disappeared. Jericho breathed heavily and slumped down the wall of the fountain staring blankly into the abyss. The pain in his chest was unbearable, so immense he couldn’t move his limbs.
“Jericho!” his father’s voice hollered.
Jericho felt his senses fade in and out, his hearing was overcome by the ringing of being struck in the head, his sight blacking out though his eyes remained open, he felt weightless as if he was floating, and his sense of smell felt non-existent.
“Jericho!” the voice came again, “Jericho, Jericho!”
Jericho was gone.
- -
Weeks passed after the town was shaken by the proclamation from the witch and then her sudden disappearance. Jericho had been carried to the nearby Doctor for examination and stayed there for four days before coming out of the coma his pain had caused him. He was left with a crude linear curse mark that took up most of his chest resembling a horned head with devilish wings and arachnid legs.
The boy hadn’t spoken a word since he had woken up. His voice was silent to all, even his mother, whom had sat by his bead side everyday till he woke up. When he came home, his father and he didn’t have much interaction, words did nothing for Jericho would listen but never respond.
He traded in his breathable undershirts in for tight zip-up long-sleeves with binding collars. He tried to go back to his normal everyday activities, but it was difficult since word had spread to basically everyone in the city about what happened. He was subtly ostracized seen as a freak or a provoker of bad omens.
Melanie had left town not too long after the incident without a word to Jericho, though he didn’t go looking for her. He went back to spending most of the day in the gardens watching the animals and the flowers. On occasion he would sit by the water of the fountain and find his coin wondering if maybe, if he took his coin out of the water, he could take it all back. Many times he pondered this, and many times he decided against it.
“Did you hear about the Chief’s kid?” they would mutter to each other.
“What about him? I heard he got cursed by that witch but that’s all.”
“Yeah, but he won’t speak.”
“Is he traumatized or something?”
“Some say he won’t speak because the curse prevents him to.”
“No, it’s because he is ashamed of his father for provoking the witch.”
“Really?”
“Doesn’t that make sense to you?”
“Well maybe, I mean, if he had just shut up for once, his son wouldn’t be cursed.”
“His son wouldn’t be cursed, this city wouldn’t be cursed, and we all wouldn’t be cursed.”
“It’s his entire fault!”
“Hey, nothing has happened yet.”
“True, guess we’ll have to wait it out.”
They always thought Jericho could never hear them. That the ill-cursed was always out of ear shot, but Jericho could always hear their remarks, he could feel their stares. He resented them, he hated them.
- -
On the day all things fell into Hell, it started like any other day; the sun rose, the shops opened up, the officers took their guard posts, and the people rose and went about their daily chores. The air was hot, but a cool summer breeze drifted down over the mountains cooling the town. The sun balanced the cool air and cast shadows over the narrow streets.
Jericho sat by the fountain dipping his finger in and out of the water then flicking the droplets to land and ripple where they may. He stared down at his reflection for a long while not saying a word, just thinking to himself. Above him the sky was bright blue with few clouds, a normal day. He sighed letting out his agitation he’d built up from the past week and glanced around the square.
Faces turned away as his gaze panned, he knew they were watching him, but he knew that there was nothing he could do about it. They were entitled to their opinions, even if they were built on false pretenses. Jericho had lost interest in the mind set of his peers a long time ago, this was no different, and so he returned his gaze to the pool of water.
The picture was as he left it, so he set his chin down on the rim of the concrete and rocked his head back and forth. Suddenly something bright caught his gaze, something reflecting in the pool other than the coins. The sky seemed to dim leaving a darker hue over the land, which wouldn’t have been weird, astronomically, a cloud passed over, but no cloud moved. Jericho looked up into the sky to confirm the reflection was just that, and found himself horrifically affirmed.
Blazing and racing towards the city were a multitude of flaming asteroids, more than Jericho could count all at once. The boy wasn’t the only one to notice this change; others noticed the dim of the sun and glanced up to see what was going on. Many stared and pointed in amazement, but s the balls of fire neared, as did the fear of collision.
Suddenly Jericho felt his chest begin to throb and ache. He lurched forward and spat up blood. In the back of his head he heard the witch’s voice calling out, “It’s coming! It’s coming!”
Jericho struggled but managed to stand just in time to witness the balls of flame streak just above the town and down the main drag. People screamed and ran for cover as the flying obstructions crashed into buildings and the streets. Very few zoomed past the city limits just around the mountain bend. Pieces of shrapnel caught few unlucky souls as they fled in feeble attempts to save themselves.
The city was in disarray for a long time as the fires died out and the smoke slowly rose from the crash sites. Jericho took a safe cover spot in an alley under and between an assortment of crates and closed his eyes waiting it out. Many others did like-wise while others tried to douse the flames from the buildings and recover the wounded or dead.
“What the heel was that?” a citizen called pulling an injured man from under a collection of rubble.
“Who knows, just keep digging people out, we still have a bunch of injured in the wreckage.”
Two men tirelessly tore away at rocks and debris searching for any survivors of a leveled house. Not having much luck they slowed their efforts brushing away the dust until the stone was bare.
“There is nothing here,” one man said.
“Seems like it,” the other replied.
The first man glanced at the mass that sat in the wreckage that was once the asteroid that devastated this house. “What do you think it is?”
“An asteroid, like the rest of them, keep digging, it’s just a rock.” The second man said continuing to shove crumbled stone out of the way.
“I know, I know,” the first replied, but his curiosity got the best of him. He climbed the rocks and thatching from the roof to get closer to the mass.
Up close he could feel the heat emanating from it, he felt very wary being so close to the thing that leveled his neighbor’s house. Steam and smoke billowed out from it’s under side. But that wasn’t the oddest part of this asteroid; the man thought he heard it breathing, as if it were alive. The man glanced around inspecting the asteroid trying to find the source of this sound but could find none. He felt his heart pumping and eventually settled on that maybe he was hearing himself and the fear from the situation was setting in.
“Hey are you going to help me?” his friend called.
The man turned, “Yes, sorry I got distract…“ His words were suddenly cut of by a brutish thrust of a horn piercing the man completely through his skull. His body fell limp in an instant. The asteroid uncurled itself revealing bulky and horrifying sight. The remaining man took one look at the sight and screamed just before he too felt the sting of death take him.
In the square of the town many others were busy helping whomever they could with the recovery when they heard the scream. All stopped what they were doing and looked in the direction of the cry confused. Jericho crept out of his hiding place and stood amongst the other people, his eyes pointed with theirs.
Suddenly a fear stricken man rounded the corner screaming, “Run! Run for your lives!” he barely rounded the corner before a boney and demonic tail whipped out encircling his neck and jerking him back. The citizens were then subject to a symphony of blood curdling screams, snapping of limbs, and the crushing of bones. Then silence.
The worst kind of silence befell them all; the purest of silence, where no sound can break until the rulers of the universe decree it may be broken. Jericho stood frozen in his place unable to move, just like that day. The only thing he felt was the throbbing pain of his chest and the curse mark. No one else moved, all just stared down the corridor of the street waiting for something to happen.
Suddenly the sound of heavy footsteps broke the silence, and everyone took a quick breath only to hold it again. Thud after thud rang through the ears of the crowd who still couldn’t find the strength to move. They were all too terrified of what was coming for them.
Jericho’s eyes caught movement coming from an asteroid, it was slight, but enough for his eyes to catch it. The mass of the rock began to uncurl and define itself as another mass, a gnarly and decrepit mass with eyes, and more horrifying than that, teeth. Jericho looked back to the sound of footsteps and saw the beast rounding the corner with a blood soaked carcass dangling from one of its two horns atop its head. This creature was lanky but its muscles were over whelming in definition. Its face was reptilian with the most fearsome set of teeth in it mouth Jericho had ever seen. The Demon’s feet were clawed as was his four fingered hands.
A scream rang out again as another person noticed the other creature rolling over and poising its cat-like body to pounce. All of a sudden, screams of horror and shouts of agony could be heard from all over the town and in a moment’s notice, the burly demon at the end of the street let out a boisterous roar and charged. The cat-like creature leapt latching its jaws around the neck of the nearest woman and threw her to the ground tearing out her esophagus.
“Run!” Jericho screamed finally. At that moment, all found feeling in their legs and took off in complete chaos.
Jericho was able to dash into a nearby alley just in time to avoid getting mowed down by the bigger of the two demons. There came the sound of scrapping and more four-legged demons leapt overhead on the roofs pouncing on fleeing people. Jericho tried to shield his eyes but he couldn’t bring himself to look away from the gore that was happening mere feet away from him.
Fear took hold of his body and he jumped up and ran as fast as he could down the alley into the next street, but the scene wasn’t any much better in that street. Bodies lay strewn across the dirt as those who still lived ran all around trying to escape. Demons soared and swooped overhead snatching up whomever they could and carried them up only to drop them to their deaths.
Jericho kept running scaling the nearest building and making his way from roof to roof heading for his house. He dodged a swooping demon just barely, but his adversary wasn’t going to give up that easily. He came back around for another try, but Jericho slipping into the first drop he could and continued on foot. As he stepped out of that alley, his scent was caught by a demon who had been feasting on some poor unfortunate soul.
The demon lunged at Jericho only to be smacked down by a flying piece of debris from another demon crashing through building after building. Taking advantage of the friendly fire, Jericho sped off stomping on the demon’s head with his boot. In the midst of his stride, Jericho picked up a fishing spear and continued running using it to smack obstructions out of his way. As he passed a harlot being dragged by a demon he whirled around and hurled the spear at the demon. A successful hit led to the harlot’s escape, but Jericho found himself now racing against a malevolent demon.
As he neared his house, his pursuer closed the distance between them drawing a crudely forged machete attached to a chain at the butt end. Jericho didn’t know how he was going to do it, but he knew he had to get home. Something about his home rang out as a safe haven, even if he knew it’d fall like the other buildings in the blazing town.
Jericho tripped on a bump in the road which turned out to save him from being cut in the back from the machete that hurled past him. The boy turned around only to see the reds of the rising flames silhouette the demon bearing down upon him. The machete swirled on the end of its chain as the demon leapt at Jericho screeching in delight of his new kill. Jericho closed his eyes waiting for death.
“Stay away from my son you nether-worldly bastard!” A powerful voice rang out followed by a firm thwack of a club on skin.
Jericho opened his eyes to see his father tossing a club to the side and drawing a broadsword. His father reached out and picked his son with one hand while covering his body with his blade. His eyes were flaming and his muscles rippling and rolling with sweat. Jericho noticed only one imperfection in his father’s figure, three gash marks from a claw on his left side seeping blood. After the blow was struck in a moment of safety, his father must have burned the wound to stop the bleeding but it was in haste and Jericho could tell.
“Jericho,” his father stammered keeping his eyes on the demon, “are you alright?”
Jericho didn’t respond but looked bewildered at his father.
His father took a coarse breath then stepped forward. “Get in the house and find your mother,” he said. “You two need to wait till the coast is clear then make a break for it, with or without me.”
Jericho couldn’t believe what he was hearing he shifted his footing so as to take a stance by his father but just as he did, his father pushed him back and brought up his sword to meet the steel of the demon. The two clashed and after a moment Jericho’s father kicked his opponent back.
“GO!” he roared and charged his adversary.
Jericho took off in the opposite direction as soldiers flooded the street coming to the Chief’s aid. Man after man swarmed the demon, but few even managed to get close before its devious blade hacked them down in their tracks. Jericho’s father dodged and dove around the fray nearing his adversary trying to cover his men as much as possible.
The boy hid behind the archway in front of his home listening to the clash of steel, the agonizing cries of pain and the roars of the demonic hordes that swarmed all around. He quaked with fear not knowing what to do. His hands shook violently to the point he couldn’t hold them still no matter how hard he tried.
A soldier plastered himself against the wall and crumbled falling just to the right of Jericho, blood seeped from his lips along with his left eye which dangled by the arteries out of the socket. The sight caused Jericho to lurch forward and vomit. He shov3d the body over so he would see the damage, but the back wasn’t much better, his back was flayed like a pig.
Jericho looked around the corner and regretted his decision the moment after; bodies lay strewn all across the street, demon and Human alike. The Chief and the demon stood alone locked in ceaseless uninterrupted combat. It didn’t look like Jericho’s father was going to be able to hold out for much longer, the demon was the only one on the offensive, the Chief having to block or dodge every blow.
The demon screeched and flung his arms around as if it were nothing, just a dance to slaughter human after human. He moved with such quick and fluid motions it was astonishing that such a being could exist. Jericho reached for the sword lying on the ground beside the dead soldier, but before he touched the cold steel he heard the bellowing cry of his father.
The Chief fell to his knees dropping his sword while the demon’s machete protruded from his back laced with fresh blood. Jericho’s eyes flashed and his mouth dropped in horror. His blood rushed and without thinking he snatched up the blade on the ground and took to the rooftops, his target the demon.
“Hurts don’t it?” the demon cackled wrenching the blade up. The Chief coughed up blood hacking and screaming at the constant pain. “I’m surprised you’ve managed to hang on this long mortal.”
“Bastard,” the Chief muttered.
Jericho’s heart pounded in his chest with every step. Tears streamed down his face as he gritted his teeth. His knuckles were white from his iron grip on his weapon. His eyes flashed with hatred and fury, not thinking of how he was going to act, just knowing he was.
The demon placed a foot on Jericho’s father’s shoulder and jerked the blade out letting the defeated man squirm in agony on the ground and laughed turning his back to him and placing the machete on his shoulder and gazed at the sight of the burning city. His laugh started low but grew sporadically.
Jericho’s father felt the hand of death coming over him, but before he left he noticed the reflection of his son clamoring to him in the machete. With what very little strength he had left he looked to Jericho meeting his son’s gaze. Jericho felt time slow when he met his father’s eyes, they were full of pain and remorse.
“I’m sorry Jericho,” He mouthed and dropped his head, his color leaving his face, breath gone, and life vacant.
With one last touch on the roof Jericho roared leaping at the demon and adjusting the direction of the blade. The demon noticed the cry and turned slowly around expecting a mourning soul at his fallen foe, what he didn’t expect was the air borne avenger.
Before the demon could react, Jericho was on top of him, burying his slender bade through his throat and severing his vertebra. The blade snapped but Jericho used the piece he still had to rip sideways out letting the spray of blood gush out over his arm and the pavement. Gash after gash anointed the demon’s body as Jericho let out his rage drenching himself in the spray.
The demon was dead before Jericho was finished, his face still locked in the look of shock he bore as the first strike was administered. By the end of it all, there was little left to recognize him as anything other than an amorphous shape. Jericho had crushed his bones and shredded his muscle. The fragment of the blade stuck out of the side on his neck and the hilt lay at his side.
Jericho twitched as the last of his rage faded from his heart. He straddled the remains of the demon fidgeting with the air. His ears rang only permitting the pounding of his heart sound in the depths of his ear canals. He looked up and around dazed seeing only fire and destruction in the distance. Demons glided across the sky, demons raced across the rooftops, buildings exploded with rising demonic forces.
Jericho noticed the glint of the machete and reached for it without thinking. He wrenched the dismembered hand from the hilt and felt the hate infused in the blade overcome him. His eyes became completely black. Jericho reinforced his grip with his second hand and the pain was lesser then.
A demon rounded the corner and raced at Jericho. One look and the demon become fear stricken in mid-stride. Jericho arched up hacking the demon in two. Jericho used the momentum to launch himself up and dashed down the street after a much larger demon. The machete glowed and black magic coursed from the blade.
Demons saw the boy running and the thought passed through all their minds to give chase, but then they looked again and saw the machete, not one of them gave chase to Jericho, they fled in search of another quarry. They knew who the owner of that blade was and if a human was now carrying it, their master was going to be furious.
The burly demon of the group lumbered through knocking down and crushing humans where ever they ran. He turned to see Jericho running towards him followed by a wave of black magic. The demon didn’t know what to think except to charge. Jericho used a stack of crates to jump up at his foe holding the machete behind his head. As the distance between them closed Jericho brought the machete up in an arch, bringing it down on the demon’s head in a crash of deadly magic and sheer force.
The creature had no time to react.
- -
A demon scout stormed down the long and crudely decorated hallway to the Throne room of the Demon Lord’s citadel panting hard, his chest expanding and barely having time to release before expanding further before taking another breath. He broke past the two gnarly guards at the door as the heavy metallic broad doors creaked open. The demon lost his footing and tumbled forward conveniently landing in a penitent posture before his Master.
Anchiseus peered at the sniveling and exhausted whelp from his thane peering over his scaled left hand that rested on the arm extension on his throne. On his left stood Shari a little disgusted at the creature that interrupted his conversation. On Anchiseus’ right stood the cold Sirenia clad in a foot-long deep blue cloak with the hood drawn over her head.
“Master Anchiseus,” the scout stammered still having trouble finding his breath.
“Speak when you find ample breath to do so scout,” Anchiseus exclaimed not shifting his position. “I assume you have news of the raids?”
“Yes, sir,” the scout huffed sweating profusely, “Forgive me Lord, there is bad news to couple the good.”
“Well speak the bad first,” Shari cut in,”if the bad news is that the Elves have gotten involved, that is no concern to his Majesty.”
“No, sir,” the demon lifted his weary head to shake it then let it drop again. “The humans stand alone, not even an angel has drawn a sword to their aid. The annihilation is going as planned.”
“Then have you found him?” Anchiseus asked.
“Apologies my Lord,” the scout stammered coughing harshly, “The half-demon has not been located yet, but we continue or search day in and out.”
Anchiseus furrowed his brow and stroked his chin slowly pondering the situation finding it troublesome that he had annihilated at least three human cities and not one contained his spawn, the current bane of his heart’s existence. Shari was the only other one who knew what had happened while Anchiseus was in the Natural plane. Sirenia had only overheard the name “Xekiel” mentioned in passing conversations between her father and Shari.
“If that is all the news, you are dismissed,” Anchiseus dismissed the scout and turned to Shari.
“No my Lord, that is not all the news!” the demon spat out in a panic. All eyes fell on him with cold, hard stares. “Akon, my Lord.”
“What of Akon?” Anchiseus asked leaning forward in interest.
The demon shivered in fear at the set of eyes upon him, he didn’t have good news and he knew it wouldn’t be greeted with kindness. “He… has fallen my Lord!” the demon spat out slamming his head on the floor hoping the impact would end him, but it didn’t.
“What?” Anchiseus and Shari both growled taking an intimidating step at the scout. “Explain yourself!”
The demon regrettably still retained consciousness and attempted to tell the story for his Master. “Akon was fighting in a secluded area of the town and when a contingent of us went to his ad, he sent us elsewhere, claiming he could handle it. A hound who was nearby told me of how he cut down countless humans, but when he was leaving the area, a small Human child surprised him and bore out his throat and chest leaving little for us to recognize him as Akon.”
“And his weapon he carried?” Shari barked worriedly. “What happened to the machete?”
The demon began to sob and finally raised his head speaking through his blubbering. “The Human took it-“he was cut off as his head sprung loose from his shoulders and collided with the wall dropping to the floor. His body lurched forward and fell in a heap on the ornate floor. Anchiseus was not amused.
“My Lord,” Shari exclaimed, “let me go and I shall retrieve the weapon and punish the whelp who took it!”
“You know very well what that Machete does to our kind,” Anchiseus replied in refusal.
“But in the hands of a weak Human it shall be simple-“
“I said no Shari!” Anchiseus cut him off abruptly.
Shari fell silent and Sirenia couldn’t help but smirk to herself in approval of her father’s firmness with the prick. Anchiseus fumed at the news, his nephew Akon was dead, one of his best soldiers since Axel was out of commission, and to top it all off, the demon-slaying machete he acquired from a previous war with the Devil clans was now in the hands of a human he had no idea who. He strode to the balcony just off his throne room and peered out over the decrepit land clenching the railing of the alcove stiffly.
“Shari,” he finally said.
“Yes my Lord,” Shari replied stepping forward to attention.
“Send a message to the forty-seventh company,” he ordered. “They are to immediately make all haste to the village nestled in the mountain spine to enforce the attack. Leave none alive, and find me that damned machete!”
- -
Jericho stood before the forest, singed ad blackened from the soot of burning leaves and bark, reeking of the smell of smoke and rotting corpses. His body twitched and his hands shook violently from under the long blood stained sleeves of his worn and slightly tattered blue coat. Slung over his back was the crudely shaped machete he acquired mere days ago, hours it felt like to Jericho. But what ailed his mind was the visual before him.
A woman’s body hung, her neck wedged between two branches, from a tree surrounded by countless others. Her toes and fingers were gone, non-existent, her body was naked except a few shreds of clothing, but her dried and crusted blood served as garment enough. Her skin was burned and peeling from her shoulders and face. Along her arms and legs were deep, ridged gashes and cuts dried out. Her eyes were lifeless and barely closed; a defeated expression adorned her face.
Jericho drew his machete and plunged it into the ground beside where he stood and clawed at the ground, continuing even when the tears began to burst from his eyes like a broken dam. Not long thereafter, the hole was a few feet deep, deep enough for a body. Jericho struggled to climb the tree and drew a knife, severing the rope and letting the body crumple on the ground in a disgusting heap.
Jericho climbed down and rolled the body into the mound and knelt over her figure, face-to-face. He couldn’t speak, nor did he want to. He placed two fingers over her eyes and drew them closed then pushed the dirt over the body patting it to set upon his other’s resting place. Then, he dug another ditch for the next body, as he would for the hundreds others that dangled from the dead forest.
- -
A little girl sprinted through the streets of a burning city carrying her little puppy with a sprained ankle, cradled in her arms, fleeing the hell that was erupting all around her. Behind her bounded a hulking demon with a poor unfortunate soul dangling from one of his bull-like horns. The demon roared as he close the distance between himself and the girl.
The girl’s blonde hair and terrified blue eyes moved frantically together seeking out a shelter, but everywhere she look was fire and gore, traumatizing for a girl of her age. The puppy in her arms barked as they ran, as they passed a demon enjoying the flesh of a still breathing, still screaming human he growled, but a snarl from the demon shut the dog up. The pursuing demon neared.
Suddenly the puppy slipped from the girl’s arms as they neared the edge of town, but the girl was a few steps before she noticed. She screamed and turned around reaching out to the puppy. She took a step towards him but the demon roared again and the girl halted in her tracks stricken with fear. Her joints locked and she felt her heart stop as she faced her doom. The puppy snarled and barked, but the demon advanced, passing the mutt.
Without any warning, a booted foot made contact with the demon’s skull, crushing a few teeth. The demon fell back completely taken off guard. The puppy fell silent as the demon passed over him again only staggering. The figure was hooded by a tattered blue coat, in his right hand flashed a machete coursing with energy.
Using one foot to land and that same foot to lift up the hooded hero bounded over the dog leaping at the demon and cleaving a gash in its chest. The demon swung, but it became short of a full fingered hand. The demon wailed and breathed fire at the warrior. In a swift motion, the figure snatched up the puppy and pushed him into an alley and with not moment to catch his breath scaled the wall and dove at the demon, saddling its shoulders. The demon bucked and thrashed about trying to free itself from his adversary’s grip, but he wouldn’t be broken.
In the midst of relentless thrashing, the warrior threw off his hood revealing shimmering black hair framing white bangs. Jericho spun his slaying weapon around once, twice, a third time then plunged it; tip down, into the spinal column of the demon. A pillar of blood spurt from the wound, gushing into Jericho’s face. The demon dropped to its knees and the fell forward, his horns shattering under the force, the body that decorated its horn regrettably was crushed further, but Jericho rolled off and wiped the blood from his face and shoulders.
The puppy barked and crawled towards Jericho barking at their blood drenched savior. Jericho picked up the puppy gently and scratched the behind it’s ears. The puppy yipped cheerfully as Jericho approached the girl who had moved from terrified to awestruck. She barely responded when Jericho held out her puppy to her.
The puppy yipped again and the girl snapped out of her trance and found words. “Thank you mister,” she said with a hint of serenity.
Jericho nodded and turned pulling his hood back over his head and glancing out over the newly burning city. He had work to do. He looked behind and shot a warm smile to the girl and darted off disappearing in a rising cloud of smoke.