Hero Historia: Jericho Rising

Chapter Seven

Darkbeard, the tallest of the Elders of Jericho, lead Clay to the other side of the city. They'd offered him much honor in exchange for serving the city as her Champion, evicting troublemakers like Mad Words and standing fast against the raiders who sometimes came to harass the walls. He would be given his own home, food, beer, and the respect of those he protected, without needing to farm or perform other labors.

Clay wished he could have consulted with his brother, but Broad was off at the fields, and he didn't want to give the Elders the chance to change their minds. Even though his injuries still ached from his battle with Mad Words, the hunter had agreed to prove he was worthy of the task by evicting another troublemaking Champion, Long Fang.

"Fang comes from the river plains to the southeast," Darkbeard told Clay as he escorted him across the city. "A clan of snake-worshipers. He came to Jericho some months ago, telling the same story you did — a foreign tribe arrived and killed his people.

"They will empty the world at this rate," Clay said, hands restless on the spear they'd given him to complete the task.

"He was strong, a good worker," Darkbeard said. "We were glad to have him. At first."

"What happened?"

Darkbeard let out a long sigh. "He began to tell stories. Tales of his people, of his exploits as Champion, of his deeds. The boasting that men do. But your kind... the young of Jericho find tribal ways, the ways of their ancestors many generations ago, fascinating. And the way of the totem-touched doubly so."

"Did his stories lead them to misdeeds?"

"Lured them into his own misdeeds," the elder said. "They began to see him as their leader, a separate tribe within Jericho. They left their families to move into a granary he took at his own, and they have been demanding tribute for the grain."

"What?"

"An inconvenience, but it wasn't an important storehouse. The city can do without. It is the children that concern us."

"What has become of them?"

"We cannot tell. They never come out. Their parents demand their return, but any any who go to retrieve them — you know what a Champion can do."

Clay nodded. A grim situation.

"Go. Kill Fang, or force him to flee the city, and Jericho will adopt you as Champion."

"And the children?"

"We do not know if they are his prisoners or willing allies. Save them if you can, and their parents will be grateful."

"If he has killed them?"

"Show no mercy."

***

The granary stood almost as tall as one of the walls' lesser towers. Round in construction, its main gates were blocked off, wooden crates and clay vessels set in front of it.

Clay and the elder watched it from a nearby storehouse doorway. "What do I do?"

"Do what it is your kind do." Darkbeard stared past him towards the structure, lip curled. "Fight him until he submits, or until you've killed him."

Clay nodded. This was the life of a Champion. "Will your warriors support me?"

"Jericho has no warriors, no army. The men take up weapons when raiders attack, and we take turns at the gates, but we are farmers. Brewers and laborers, clothmakers and herdsmen."

"So I face him alone."

"It is why we need you," Darkbeard said. "It is the only reason."

The hunters never helped the Champions fight, back in the land of the Smoke Mountain tribes, but their presence at the battlefields was important. They reminded the Champions of the stakes, of their loyalties, and let them know they would not die alone.