Book 1: The Mob Invasion
Chapter 8: Jericho (Pt. 1)
Days Since the Mob Invasion: 748
Running. Hunter could feel the cold, winter wind as it stung his lungs with each gasp of air he took in. The dead, black trees were a stark contrast against the canopy of freshly fallen snow that covered the forest like a blanket. His eyes were wide open with fear as he ran, dodging any trees or dead branches that were in his way. The sun was setting, and nightfall was creeping up on him. Slowly but surely he was running out of time.
"I gotta find him," he muttered out to himself mid-panting. He had found tracks not too far from the riverbed where he had last seen him, but the recent snowfall had covered any useful footprints or markings that he could have used. They had been separated for three days now, and Hunter knew that with each passing hour, the odds of finding his father got smaller and smaller.
His eyes were darting all over the forest, desperately searching for any signs of life. Finally, out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement.
"Dad?!" Hunter called out, turning in the direction of the person in the distance. It appeared to be someone crouched over a tree stump looking at something. "Dad!" Hunter again called out as he sprinted through the snow to the shadowy figure. As he got closer to him, tears began to roll down Hunter's face. "Dad! I've been looking everywhere for you! I thought-" Hunter stopped.
That wasn't his father.
The figure stood up from its crouched position and turned towards Hunter. Even in the dim lighting, Hunter could tell what it was. A zombie. The creature's rotting skin and black, hollow eyes weren't any indication enough, the dripping blood from a fresh kill was freely flowing down the zombie's chin. Hunter opened his mouth to scream in horror, but nothing came out.
"Graaaagh!" the zombie groaned out as it started to lunge towards Hunter. Hunter snapped out out it and quickly unsheathed the dagger on his hip. Hands shaking, he waited for the zombie to lunge forward, then quickly stabbed the dagger in the middle of the mob's eyes, destroying the brain. Hunter felt the resistance of the skull as it broke from the pressure of the blow, and the rotten, putrefying blood came squirting out of the wound and onto his hand and wrist. He had to choke back his vomit as the dagger slid out of the skull as the zombie fell backwards into the snow, staining the white blanket with rotten, infectious blood.
Panting, Hunter wiped the blood from the dagger on his pants leg before slipping it back into its sheath. He inspected the zombie for a split second. Tattered clothes, completely rotten skin, exposed bone. This zombie had been dead for awhile at this point. What Hunter was most curious about, though, was the fresh blood dripping out of the zombie's mouth. This zombie had eaten... recently.
Shaking, Hunter slowly followed the trail to the tree stump. The specks of blood on the snow slowly started to get larger and larger. The fresh smell of blood filled the air as Hunter's senses were assaulted by the overwhelming aroma of iron. Eyes wide, Hunter slowly circled around the tree stump to see what was on the other side. Hunter felt his hands start to shake, but it wasn't from the cold.
Under the dark, overcast sky, he saw it: pale, cold, and lifeless. Hunter couldn't help but stare through the tears at the sight that laid before him. His own father, dead and badly mauled with his intestines ripped from his stomach.
"DAD!"
Hunter jerked awake in his bed, a cold sweat causing the sheets to cling to his skin. He sat up in bed, his breathing heavy and rapid. He reached up and held his chest; his heart was pounding. The morning sunlight was just barely starting to shine in through the cracks in his window's blinds.
"Just a dream, Hunter... Just a dream. You're okay," he calmly reassured himself. He held up his hand and noticed the involuntary muscle spasms that he was all too used to by this point. He let out a dry laugh. "Heh... withdrawals are a bitch."
He reached over and picked up a bottle of whiskey and shot glass that he kept next to him at all times on his nightstand.
"Can't even get a full night's sleep without this crap," Hunter muttered as he unscrewed the top of the whiskey. Hands still spasming, he shakily poured the whiskey into the glass, spilling a few drops during the process. A half-full cup was still better than an empty one, Hunter figured.
He downed back the shot and slammed the shot glass back on the nightstand along with the bottle. He closed his eyes on concentrated for a second on relaxing his muscles. After about two full minutes, he finally felt his hands stop twitching and he let out a sigh of relief. Every time it took longer and longer for them to stop. Pretty soon, he was worried that they wouldn't stop at all. Hunter groaned then laid back down in bed, pulling the covers up to his chin as he stared at the ceiling.
"I don't think I'm going to leave the bed today."
Frederick was sitting at his desk reading a book, using the morning rays of sun coming through his window as a light source. Frederick lived in the back room of the community center for Hunter's Watch, which just so happened to be one of the biggest bedrooms in the community. Early to bed and early to rise had been Frederick's life motto, even after arriving in Hunter's Watch. It was almost as if he held a contest with the sun every morning to see who would get up first. Nine times out of ten, Frederick won. Since he was the de facto leader of the little community, he figured it would set a bad precedent if he ended up sleeping all day.
The book he was reading was an old book of war written by Commander Steve, Notch's military commander during the Baron Wars. Frederick had read it twice before, but considering that there weren't many new books being published nowadays, he had to make due with what he had. After turning a few more pages, he marked the page he left off at before standing up from his desk and stretching. He scratched his chin which was starting to grow some white stubble on it.
I'll have to fix that, he thought to himself. He hated the feel of stubble, and mentally chastised himself for allowing some to grow. He walked over to the corner of the room that he had designated as his personal wash area and began his grooming. Bucket of water, mirror, shaving spices, soaps, oils; Frederick didn't let the mob invasion stop him from spoiling himself. After about 20 minutes, his face was smooth and his scent was clean.
He smiled to himself, "Good, good." The other members of Hunter's Watch were either indifferent to personal hygiene, or saw it as a straight up waste of time since the mob invasion. But not Frederick. In Frederick's mind, this was one of the only things separating himself from the savages outside the gates. Plus, it was nice to have a daily regiment of some sorts. Kept the mind in check.
Suddenly, there was a loud pounding on his door.
"Who is it?" he asked, slightly annoyed at the interruption. Without bothering to ask permission, Lana busted through the door in a hurry. Her long, red hair was disheveled, and her eyes darted around the room until she saw Frederick in the corner still wearing his sleeping gown.
Her breathing was heavy. "Frederick, you need to come quickly!"
Frederick seemed caught off guard. "Lana? What's wrong? What happened?"
"It's Daren," she explained. "He's been shot with an arrow."
Frederick's face immediately turned stern at this as the severity of the situation sank in. He told Lana that he'd be just a second, and she ran out the room apparently to go check up on Daren. Frederick quickly got out of his sleeping gown and put on his robes. Before he left to leave the room, he pulled out a large box under his bed. Quickly opening it, he pulled out the contents: One officer's saber with a golden hilt, and a polished leather cuirass. Quickly tying the cuirass over his robes, he ran out the door with his sword in hand, hoping for the best, but expecting the worst.
"Hold still, Daren," Alan firmly commanded as he inspected the arrow sticking out of Daren's shoulder.
Daren grunted, "I'm trying, Alan..." He sounded annoyed by Alan's request. It's not like it was Daren's fault that his nerves were twitching, he had an arrow sticking out of him.
Lana came rushing over to them. "I got Frederick, and Zeke was still asleep before I woke him up. They should be out in a minute," she panted.
"Should I go get Hunter?" George piped up next to Daren. Him, Alan, and Lana had formed a small semi-circle around Daren as he lay sprawled on the ground from his injury.
"I'll get him," Lana panted before immediately rushing off to the other side of town to Hunter's house. This left just Alan and George with Daren.
"Daren, I'm gonna try to remove it, okay? I got a potion of healing right here, I'm going to apply it soon as I pull it out, alright?" Alan spoke reassuringly, like a doctor that had done this sort of thing before. Daren had originally attributed Alan's generosity and friendliness to weakness, but he was clearly wrong. Alan didn't seem the least bit shook up by the sight of an arrow sticking out of his friend's shoulder. Not like how Lana was when she first saw him like this.
Daren sighed, "Just make it quick, Ala-AGH!"
The quick sting of the arrow being pulled out interrupted Daren mid-sentence. He was about to start cussing Alan out, but the sudden relief of the healing potion being poured onto his wounds quickly eased his anger.
"Wonderful, you're doing great, Daren. Just let the healing potion do the work," Alan spoke softly, tossing the bloodied arrow over the side as he watched the healing potion slowly start to have it's desired effect on Daren's shoulder.
Within a minute, the bleeding had completely stopped, and the wound was healed.
"Alright, you're good," Alan smiled.
"Does this mean I can stand up now?" Daren looked over to Alan. Alan nodded. Without wasting any time, Daren quickly picked himself up and rose to his feet. His ribs were still a little sore from the fall, but other than that he felt fine.
"You're lucky you were wearing that chainmail," Alan pointed out. He picked up the arrow and held it up for George and Daren to both see. "Only the tip was able to break the skin," he pointed to the bloody iron tip of the arrow, but the shaft of the arrow was completely clean. "Without the chainmail, though, would have went in much deeper. Probably would have splintered some bone. Would have required more potions."
Daren reached over and took the arrow from Alan's hands and he rolled it around his fingers for a split second, watching the blood as it began to drip down the wooden shaft..
Wait... wooden shaft?
"That's not an arrow from a skeleton archer..." Daren realized as his eyes widened a bit. George looked over at the arrow to confirm this. Daren was correct.
"No, it's not," Alan agreed, seemingly unsurprised. "I noticed when I first saw it. The mobs' make arrows out of their own teeth and bone, not woode. This is a griefer's arrow, which means whoever did this could still be outside those gates..."
Daren and George looked at each other, both showing a little worry in their eyes.
"Daren!" Frederick's voice filled the sudden silence as he and Zeke came rushing out of the community center together. Zeke was carrying his large claymore with him, and Frederick himself looked like he was ready for battle.
Daren sighed and turned toward the both of them, "Frederick. Better late than never."
Frederick seemed offended by this. "I came as quickly as I could, Daren... Where did you get shot, I don't see any wounds?" he asked, looking over his friend for any signs of damage.
"It got better, thanks to our alchemist here," Daren pointed toward Alan, who gave a small smile. Frederick laughed at this, relieved.
"Ah, good, good. Once again, I'm glad we accepted you, Alan!" he walked over and gave Alan a firm pat on the shoulder for a job well-done. "So what was it, a skeleton archer?" he asked, out of the loop.
Alan shook his head as Daren stepped forward with the arrow. He handed it over to Frederick who looked over it curiously for a second before his eyes shot open.
"But-... but skeleton archers use arrows made out of bone. This is wood," he observed. Zeke sighed loudly behind him.
"So it was a griefer then?" Zeke's booming voice concluded. "Did you get a good look at him, Daren? Which way he went? I swear, I will slice him down the middle if we were to ever find him again!" Zeke proclaimed loudly, brandishing his sword for emphasis.
Daren rubbed his head, "No. I didn't see him. He shot from the treeline. I didn't see where he went either, but I'm sure he's long gone now."
Briskly walking, Lana came up the group. She gave a slight smile at the sight of Daren on his feet again and healed. George noticed she was alone, however.
"Lana?" George asked. "Where's Hunter?"
Lana let out a tired sigh. "He's, uh, not really feeling so well, guys."
"Not feeling well?!" Frederick scoffed loudly. "Why, Daren here just got shot by some griefer that's heaven only knows where by now, and Hunter's the one that's not feeling well?!" Frederick seemed livid at Hunter's unusual absence, but his yelling only seemed to piss Lana off, who was showing visible signs of frustration. "Fine!" Frederick concluded. "I will go fetch Hunter, since he seems to think that-"
"ATTENTION ALL RESIDENTS OF THE COMMUNITY!"
A woman's booming voice came out from the other side of the gates, cutting Frederick off.
"COME OUT WITH YOUR WEAPONS SHEATHED AND YOUR HANDS ABOVE YOUR HEAD AND YOU SHALL NOT BE HARMED!"
For a second, nobody in the group dared to move. They all looked over at each other, clearly waiting for someone to be the first to make a decision on what to do.
"Who the hell is that?!" Lana whispered to Frederick.
"I don't know!" Frederick whispered back.
"What should we do, Frederick?" George asked as he started to panic.
"I don't know!" Frederick repeated, clearly overwhelmed by this recent turn of events.
Alan looked around surveying the emotions of the group. Fear seemed to be the primary emotion, except for one person: Daren, stonefaced and calm as ever.
"Daren?" Alan whispered out. Daren looked over at him and nodded. "What should we do?" he asked.
Everyone looked over at Daren, waiting for his response. Daren furrowed his brow as he concentrated, then looked up at the sky as if he'd find the correct answer written in the clouds. Finally, Daren looked back at the group, his face more determined than ever. The change in his demeanor was visible.
"Alright, we don't know how many there are or what they're equipped with other than a bow, but we have the defending position's advantage. Zeke, George, and Alan, come with me toward the gate with your weapons unsheathed. These people need to know that we're armed and ready." Alan and the others nodded at this, grateful to have instructions on what to do. Daren pointed at Frederick in the corner of the group, "Frederick, come with us and see if you can't try to be diplomatic. Hopefully we'll be able to resolve this matter peacefully." Frederick nodded, though fear was clearly painted on his face as beads of sweat began to form on his brow. "Lana, get Hunter and tell him what's at stake here. We need every available man, understood?"
Lana was breathing heavy and shaking a little bit, "Daren, he's barely responsive. I-I think he drank too much, I don't know if I can-"
"Make him get up, Lana, this is not open for discussion!" Daren ordered with the tone that you'd give an insubordinate soldier. Lana quickly nodded and ran off to find Hunter.
"COME OUT WITH YOUR WEAPONS SHEATHED. WE WILL NOT ASK AGAIN!" Once again the voice boomed out from behind the other side of the gate.
"Coming!" Daren shouted out behind him. Then he turned to the others, "Okay guys, this is it. On me, don't let them get a clear shot at you, okay? Follow me."
With his plain sword in hand, Alan followed closely behind Daren with George, Frederick, and Zeke as the five of them made their way to the gate. They followed alongside the stone wall around Hunter's View until they reached the iron grated gate. Daren signaled them to hold up a second, as he slowly peered his head around the corner. He quickly shot back around and turned to his brothers-in-arms behind him.
"Three," he whispered, holding up three fingers. They all collectively let out a sigh of relief. "Don't let your guard down," Daren warned. "Engaging in verbal contact with them now."
"Hello?" the same voice that had been issuing them orders from behind the gate spoke up yet again.
"Hello there," Daren said, stepping from behind the corner and in front of the iron gate. The gate was made of iron, but the grating allowed plenty of room to see on the other side of it. Daren quickly inspected the three people who stood on the other side.
On one side, a woman. She wore heavy chainmail similar to his, with a longsword sheathed on her side. Her hair was cropped short and was dark black which sharply contrasted against her pale skin. A Northerner, Daren figured, and a young one at that. She looked as if she couldn't even be in her mid 20s. Her eyes were blue and piercing, like she was ready for a fight at any moment. Her's was the voice they had been hearing issue orders.
One the other side, a man in long, dark robes stood. He was a tall, lanky man with skin much tanner than his female companion's. It was possible he was a native Southerner. He seemed very relaxed for the situation. Daren noticed a small dagger attached to his belt, but nothing else in terms of weapons. He had dark brown hair, brown eyes, and a middle-aged complexion.
And in the middle of both of them stood what Daren could only assume was their leader. Wearing what appeared to be heavy plate armour made out of a golden alloy, he seemed to emit an almost heavenly light as the morning sun reflected off of his polished armor. His sword was sheathed on his back, but it too seemed to have a golden handle. He was a tanned individual, but not enough to be considered a true Southerner; he was most likely mixed. He was clean-shaven, and he appeared to only be in his 30s. He had sandy brown hair combed neatly to the side, and bright green eyes that were staring directly at Daren and the others through the gating. He smiled.
"Salut les amis!" the man greeted, bowing slightly. "My name is Jericho, and these are my two loyal officers: Amelia and Liam," he pointed to the two figures standing beside him, respectively. Liam nodded, Amelia did not. Jericho turned back to look at Daren and smiled. "May I ask what your name is, monsieur?"
Daren frowned, not buying the nice-guy act from Jericho. "What do you want?" he asked bluntly.
Jericho put up his hand wagged his finger negatively. "No, no, no, monsieur. That's not how this works!" Jericho laughed as if he were explaining something to a small child. "When a man asks for your name, you tell him your name. You know our names, so it is only fair, no?" Jericho finished his sentence with a devilish smile.
Daren pondered his options for a second, then conceded. "Daren," he responded bluntly. Jericho laughed, clearly pleased at this.
"Daren! Wonderful! Nice to meet you Daren!" Jericho once again gave a curt bow. "Why don't you open up those gates so we can talk face-to-face. It is rather rude to not invite your guests in, no?" Jericho winked, the same smile plastered on his face.
Finally, Frederick stepped from behind the corner, with Alan, George, and Zeke with him, all brandishing their swords. Jericho and his companions were outnumbered.
"Oh, and what do we have here? Company? Very good, my friends, very good! What is the saying that you people have? 'The more, the merrier'?" Jericho finished, clearly not intimidated by the numbers or the fact that they were all brandishing weapons.
Daren recognized the accent. It was an accent from the Northern parts of Minecraftia, below the Capitol. The Edgelands.
"You called me 'monsieur' just awhile ago. That's a dead baron language, why use it?" Daren asked, though he already knew the answer.
Jericho shrugged, "Not everyone adopted Notch's language after the Baron Wars, Daren. Oh, sure, the Imperial tongue was the official language of the Empire, but that didn't stop some ethnic groups from passing their language onto their sons and daughters. Like my dear maman and papa." Jericho laughed heartily at the small history lesson. "Besides, I think my language is a bit more... élégant."
"You're from the Edgelands," Daren pointed out. Jericho held up his hands, in an exaggerated gesture of yielding.
"Haha! You got me, Daren. What can I say? My accent is pretty thick!"
"If you're from the Edgelands, then you must have heard some stories about the Impaler, right?" Daren asked, feigning curiosity. Frederick and Zeke both quickly looked over at him, there eyes wide.
George tapped him on the shoulder, "Daren!" he whispered urgently. "What are you doing?!" he asked. Daren waved him away dismissively. He knew what he was doing.
Jericho rubbed his chin, thoughtfully. "Hmmm... Yes, I know the story of the murderous, honorless, imperial bitch. Why do you ask?" Jericho's eyes squinted slightly, but he still had that small smile on his face.
Daren laughed a little at Jericho's words, clearly amused. He picked up his spear and started inspecting it for show.
"You know... I always wondered what happened to that guy, you know?" Daren admitted as he tested the sharpness of his spear's blade. "Last I heard, after the mob invasion, he went south. Far south. Even to the Iron Mountains." Daren wiped some dirt off the spear's wooden shaft as he continued speaking.
Jericho's small was starting to gradually turn into a frown the longer Daren spoke. "Is that so...?" he asked, clearly suspicious. What is he up to? he wondered.
"Oh yeah," Daren replied. "He kept going after the Iron Mountains though. See, he was looking for fresh water. Eventually, though, he was able to find a gated community near a freshwater lake... Calamari Lake. You've heard of the place, right?" Daren looked up from his spear and asked.
Jericho, Amelia, and Liam all shuffled a little at this as they looked at each other. Jericho no longer seemed amused anymore.
"What are you saying, Imperial?" he demanded, the previous humor in his voice gone.
Daren chuckled softly before throwing his spear over his shoulder and resting it there.
"That 'murderous, honorless, imperial bitch' you were talking about? Funny thing... You're looking at him." Daren's expression suddenly turned serious as his brow creased in anger. "That's right... I am the Impaler."
Alan saw through the grated gate as, for a split second, Jericho's expression showed a ting of fear. He looked over to his right and left at Amelia and Liam, who both has equally concerned expressions.
"You're lying!" Amelia spoke up as she pointed towards Daren, her Edgeland's accent even thicker than Jericho's.
"Am I?" Daren simply asked.
Amelia opened her mouth to speak again, but decided against it at the last second out of fear. Daren's physical features matched up exactly to the stories she had heard of the Impaler... maybe it was him. She turned to Jericho and awaited further instruction.
Jericho rubbed his brow, apparently annoyed by the recent turn of events.
"You are putting me in a difficult spot, dog." He looked up at Daren, clearly frustrated. His humor had left him as well as his smile. "Begone, dog, let me speak with your leader. I am through with you," he waved his arms dismissively.
"No, Jericho, we're through with you. Leave, now, while you still have the chance." Daren commanded, brandishing his spear.
Jericho sighed as his mouth made an almost comically exaggerated frown.
"I did not want to have to do this, monsieur, but you leave me no other choice," Jericho sighed dejectedly. He put his fingers to his lips and whistled loudly.
For a split second, there was quiet... then, almost instantaneously, rustling in the treeline. Daren looked past Jericho and saw some figures slowly start to come out of the forest. His eyes shot open in shock.
"Shit..." he involuntarily let out.
Warriors. Some on horses, some not, but all of them with weapons and armour. They crawled out of the treeline, one by one as they formed a horizontal line behind Jericho, Amelia, and Liam. Jericho's smile had suddenly returned as he let out a laugh.
"Bwahah! What? You didn't think we'd try to take you on with just the three of us, did you?" he asked, wiping a tear of laughter off of his face. "Now, are you going to open the gates, or not?" Jericho asked playfully.
One...two...three...four...five...six...seven...eight...nine...ten...eleven...twelve...thirteen...fourteen... Fourteen. Alan counted fourteen people, not including Jericho and his two officers, that had come out from the treeline. Five of them on horses. Alan, looked over at George who looked back at him. Their faces both had the same paled look of fear. This was bad.
"I believe you've already gotten acquainted with our archers," Jericho gave a mischievous smile at Daren as he pointed to the longbow archers behind Liam.
"Enough!" Frederick proclaimed, pushing Daren out of the way and stepping in. "I am Frederick, the leader of this community, and I believe that we can all come to some sort of agreement here," Frederick said, attempting to offer an olive branch to Jericho.
Jericho raised his eyebrow and chuckled, "You? You're not who we thought the leader was."
Frederick looked over to Alan, Zeke, and George. They all shrugged.
"And who did you think it was?" Frederick was clearly insulted by Jericho's questioning of his leadership.
Jericho hummed quietly to himself as he looked over the faces of the people behind the gate. Dissatisfied, he shook his head.
"I don't see him. Where is the man with the fur armour and blonde hair? Bring him to me," Jericho asked.
"Hunter..." Daren muttered in realization.
"Somebody called?" Hunter's voice came out behind them. They all turned to see Hunter walking towards them with Lana following close behind. He had on his fur and leather armour, but other than that Hunter looked as if he had just rolled out of bed.
"Hunter! Where the hell have you been?" Frederick scolded, clearly frustrated. They were surrounded and outnumbered and Hunter was sitting in his house doing sleeping?
Hunter chuckled, "Sorry, Freddy, I was feeling a little under the weather. Hope you don't mind. Now, where is the-" Hunter stopped the second he saw just how many people were waiting for him behind the gate. He couldn't see all of them, through the grating, but he knew it was more than a dozen.
"I-I... they weren't..." Lana stuttered as she saw the reinforcements that Jericho had brought in for the first time. She wasn't expecting that many.
"Well, well, well, I did not know that a lady was present! Bonjour madame!" Jericho gave a quick bow at Lana's sudden presence. "And you there, in the fur armour!" Jericho pointed to Hunter. "You are just the man we wanted to talk to! Please, come closer so we can talk to you!"
Hunter looked around at his friends, clearly confused. None of them said anything, but they prefered to wait for Hunter to make the first move.
"Uh, sure, one second." Hunter leaned over and whispered something into Lana's ear. For a second, Lana didn't look like she understood, but then her eyes widened in realization.
"What?! We can't-"
"Yes, we can," Hunter whispered, cutting her off as he gave her a look that told her she shouldn't say anything else. She stared back into his eyes for a split second as she searched for an answer, but she eventually just nodded and walked away back in the direction of his house.
"Hey, where is she going?" Jericho asked, clearly suspicious.
"Her?" Hunter echoed as he took a step closer to the gate. "She's just going to get me another drink. I do better when I'm a little tipsy, know what I mean?" Hunter let out an exaggerated laugh. Frederick moved forward to protest.
"Hunter! Are you seriously-" Frederick's sentence was cut off by Hunter squeezing his arm as he walked by him. Hunter looked over at Frederick and gave him the same look that he gave Lana. He didn't want Frederick saying another word. Frederick, although curious, didn't say anything else.
Jericho smiled at this, "Well good, good! Never trust a man that doesn't drink, no?" he laughed. "You must be Hunter then, correct?" he asked jovially. Had it not been for the circumstances, Jericho would seem like a very pleasant man to have a conversation with. Like many people from the Edgelands, he was an excellent public speaker.
"Yep, that's me. And you are...?"
"Jericho. Well-met, friend!" Jericho beamed, giving a curt nod in Hunter's direction, which Hunter politely returned. "We wanted to talk to you because you are the leader of this community, correct?"
Hunter crossed his arms and deliberated for a moment before replying, "What makes you think that?"
"Oh, don't be coy, Hunter!" Jericho exclaimed, nudging Amelia with his elbow. "Amelia," he asked, "What did you and your scouts see the other night outside of the Testificate village?"
"Two people," Amelia spoke up, matter-of-factly. "The man with the fur armour was leading."
"And where did your scouts track him to?" Jericho inquired.
"Right here, on the outskirts of Calamari Lake," she answered. For a younger woman, she spoke as if she had military experience, and the stare from her eyes felt like they were going to cut right through the iron grating and into Alan's heart as their yes briefly met. Alan looked away, unable to maintain eye contact with her.
"Wait," Hunter spoke up, softly. "The Testificate village...? That was you guys?" Hunter's voice was barely able to hide the rage under her breath.
"But of course," Jericho admitted. "For they would not convert." Jericho stepped aside and starting slowly pacing back and forth as he elaborated. "The Testificates were a stubborn people set in their ways. They rejected the teachings of our lord for their trade and their emeralds." Jericho spat on the ground, clearly disgusted. "That, my friends, is sin. Sin can only be purged from this world by the sharp edge of a sword. Afterwards, we burned their bodies as well as their material possessions. They wouldn't be needing them anymore." He stopped pacing and turned back towards Hunter. "Do you understand?"
Hunter's knuckles were white from the grip of his fist. Had the iron gate not been there, he would have beaten Jericho to a bloody pulp right then and there.
"You killed the Testificates –my friends– over a fucking religion?!"
Jericho sighed and rubbed his forehead. He looked as if he were trying to explain something to a child that wouldn't listen.
"Watch your tongue, knave!" Amelia shouted out, taking a step forward and unsheathing her longsword. She took clear offense to Hunter's tone. Jericho caught her by the arm and stopped her, causing her to return to formation, albeit with her sword now drawn.
"Not just any religion, Hunter. The religion," Jericho explained, his voice full of a fire and fervor that he originally did not have. "The religion that will end the mob invasion. The religion that will bring peace to all of its followers. All you have to do... is convert," Jericho exclaimed, holding a fist high above his head for emphasis. "What do you say, Hunter? Open your gates now, and allow yourself to be converted. Join us. Join La Sainte Armee des Calamars and we promise that you shall not be harmed. We will teach you our ways, and we will join our forces together for our lord. Otherwise..." Jericho slowly held his sword up and pointed it towards Hunter behind the gate. "We will be forced to purge you from this world," his voice hissed menacingly as his eyes narrowed.
For a long time, Hunter was quiet. Alan wondered if it was at all possible that Hunter was actually considering Jericho's proposal with the amount of time it was taking him to respond. Jericho clearly had them outnumbered in terms of men. Sure, they had the wall, but Jericho spoke as if it wouldn't be any hindrance at all to them. It was true that a few well placed detonations of TNT could get rid of the gate. Jericho also promised that they wouldn't be harmed if they joined them, but maybe that was just a ruse for them to let their guard down? Alan looked over at his companion's expressions. Daren looked hardened, ready for a fight. George and Frederick appeared terrified, and Alan couldn't blame them; he was scared too. Zeke looked like he could go either way. His body looked tensed up and ready for battle, but his face was covered in sweat. He was nervous. It was only then that Alan realized that someone was still missing.
Where was Lana?
"We're going to need an answer, friend," Jericho asked impatiently, his sword still pointed toward Hunter.
Hunter looked behind him, looking toward Daren for some sort of answer. Their eyes met, and they stared for a while. Finally, Daren shook his head, not wanting anything to do with Jericho or his army. This seemed to be the answer Hunter was hoping for. He turned back toward Jericho stared him down.
"I am going to kill you," Hunter spoke loudly enough for every one of Jericho's soldiers to hear. "You're all going to die. Right here, right now."
Jericho's face slowly started to turn red in anger at this, as the veins began to bulge out of his temples. He turned toward Liam and whispered something in his ear. Liam nodded and immediately started jogging to the back of the formation of soldiers lined up at the tree-line.
"Amelia!" He barked as he turned toward his army. "Ready the TNT charges. I want this gate open now! Slit their throats and burn their bodies! Make sure no one leaves here alive!" He turned back towards the gate and pointed at Hunter. "Bring me his head!"
"Hunter!" Daren quickly grabbed Hunter by the shoulder and practically yelled into his ear. "We need to find a defensible position! They're going to-"
"GUYS!"
Alan turned behind him to see Lana running out of Hunter's house waving her arms frantically.
"GET AWAY FROM THE GATE!" she screamed.
Before Alan or the others had the time to respond, they were met with the explosive force from the shockwave of about 200 sticks of TNT dynamite.
KA-BOOM! CRAAAAAASH!
Alan, Hunter, Frederick, George, and Daren were all thrown back several feet away from the gate by an enormous explosion that rocked the very foundation of Hunter's Watch.
Alan writhed on the ground in pain holding his chest as his ears rang. His eyes were shut tightly and he was almost certain that he was now deaf. The explosion was large enough to feel as if he was just slammed into the chest by a racehorse traveling full speed. How he wasn't dead, he didn't know. Eventually, the ringing subsided and he was able to start to pick up bits and pieces of sound.
A horse's whinny. Window panes falling to the ground and shattering. Screams. Blood curdling screams coming from the other side of the gate where Jericho and his religious army was.
He opened his eyes to see that Hunter's Watch was covered in a heavy sheet of smoke and dust. He could barely see anything. Wincing, he raised himself up from the ground and was miraculously able to get to his feet.
"Alan!" Lana run over to him, desperation in her voice. "Are you okay?!" She placed her hand on his shoulder to check and see if he was alright.
"L-Lana... What happened?" Alan tried to take a step forward but immediately had to stop due to the pain in his stomach.
"I'll explain later! Are you hurt?" Lana was genuinely concerned about her new-found friend. They may have started out on the wrong foot, but Alan more than proved that he was a good person last night at the pier. She didn't want to lose him, or any of her other friends. Not even Frederick.
Alan opened his mouth to say respond to Lana's question, but once again the pain stopped him. The smell of freshly detonated explosives and ashes filled his nostrils as he looked up through the smoke to see if any of his friends had also survived.
Daren seemed to be fairing the best of them, standing on his feet with little apparent difficulty as he stared into the smoke outside the gate. George, Frederick, and Zeke seemed to be fairing worse, though, as they were barely able to stand up to their feet. Alan could tell that they were very hurt. He had seen what explosives could do to a person before. Even if you weren't caught in the blast, the force from the shock waves alone could be enough to break bones and collapse your lungs.
"We... have to help them..." he wheezed out as he looked up at Lana. She smiled at Alan's thought of putting the others first above himself and nodded in agreement. She slung Alan's arm over her neck for him to lean on as they started to walk toward the others.
CREEEEAAAK!
The sound of iron bending in on itself pierced the air as Alan quickly looked up toward the gate.
"No..." he whispered in disbelief.
Slowly but surely, the iron gate's hinges slowly broke out of place from the stone wall, the force of the explosion way too much for them to bear. The iron gate fell backwards towards them, clearly twisted in ward from the explosion, as it landed on the ground kicking up even more dust into the air with a thundering crash!
Alan and Lana both looked on in horror, helpless to stop it. The gate was down. Hunter's Watch was effectively defenseless.
Next Chapter: Jericho (Pt.2)
A/N: Okay, so, this chapter was so large, that I actually decided to split it into two parts. If I didn't, it would just be a very unnecessarily long chapter, and I didn't want that. BUT, I already have Jericho (Pt. 2) written, I just need to do some quick editing and proofreading for typos, and it will be posted within the next 24 hours, that's a promise! (Unless something seriously drastic happens to me) :D Enjoy!