HellHunter

CHAPTER 1 : The Dream

It all started with a dream. It was a Wednesday night, pouring rain outside my window. I had just settled down for bed. I slipped my hand in the compartment under my bed feeling around. I finally found it. It was a book entitled Sorcery Of The Ages. Hardle anyone bothered keeping books at that time. Why should we? Everything was now virtual. Technology had finally caught up to Man's imagination. Books were outlawed nearly a hundred years ago. This book was nearly a five hundred years old, from the 32nd century. It was in terrible shape. My Great-Grandfather told me he rescued it from the museum he worked in that was about to be burned down. I was six when he gave it to me
"Guard it with your life, boy" he had told me.
And so I did. For the many years to come.
My eyes skimmed the pages absorbing every detail despite having read it numerous amount of times. No one knew how to read or write in my time. I started from scratch when I was seven. That was when my great-grandfather died.
That night, a particular paragraph caught my eye. It was entitled The Warlock of The People. I found that to be a strange title. The rest of the book emphasised on the destruction warlocks did to mankind when they created demons. Legend has it, warlocks existed five hundred years ago. They found out the means to create demons, but in order to do so they had to sacrifice a bit of themselves. The warlocks chose to give a portion of their intelligence, which they thought they had enough of to spare. They did not.
From the moment a demon is created, it is bound to its creator. But the warlocks never realized that the creator, too, was bound to the creation. A demon was sent to do its creators bidding and was not free unless its creator chose to free it or died. Most warlocks just destroyed them after their bidding was done. The demons were under the tight rein of the warlocks. But the warlocks got cocky. They didn't realize that their intelligence was now a part of the demons'. The demon soon realized a way to become free. Kill their creator. And so they did. Within a hundred years over five thousand warlocks were killed by the demon army. Now every demon ever created is still loose. Invisible to human eye, of course. Demons can be seen only by those they choose to be seen by and warlocks. But the warlocks had gone extinct. That's why there was no panic. People kept popping up dead and everyone soon followed a superstitious rumour that the Gods were angry.
But this particular title, The Warlock Of The People. It puzzled me. Was there, in fact, a warlock who worked for the good of mankind as a whole instead of just for himself? I decided to read the paragraph.
500 years ago, young apprentice warlock witnessed the murder of his master at the hands of a demon. The boy, fueled by anger and pain, created a demon, sacrificing his heart, soul, and brain. He gave this demon only one charge : Destroy the other demons. The boy died creating this demon and the demon set off fulfilling its destiny, destroying one demon at a time. It is believed that this demon is still alive, hunting demons and avenging its master, for whom it, it is rumoured, to have affection for.

I read the passage a few more times. Then I heard my mom's voice.
"Jon! Lights out, sweety"
"Yes, mom!" I yelled. I could hear her footsteps. She was coming up! I shoved the book back into the compartment, locked it, and dove under the covers. She came in and switched off the lights."Good night, honey".
I didn't respond. Maybe she would leave if she thought I was asleep. She did. I let out a sigh of relief. Then it hit me just how tired I was. I shut my eyes and fell asleep, dreaming of men with wizard hats point at couldron and yelling in gibberish. Then my dream began to change. I was in a small, dark room. There was a large table in the centre of the room that had one candle on it. The candle was the rooms only source of light. Then I saw something move near the large window. I looked closer and I couldn't help but gasp when I saw who it was. It was me. A couple years older, possibly 17, but definitely me. He let out a small sigh and moved away from the window.
"Erisi, va." he said to the air. More astonishingly the air seemed to respond.
"You called, sir?" It sounded like a female voice.
He switched to english. "None of that "sir" business, my dear. I believe we are past that."
"Indeed we are."Definitely female."Why did you call me, Jon? An afternoon chat over tea?"
Suddenly the smile left his face."No. No chats anymore. I-I wanted to ask you if you are sure of your decision to........help me."
"Of course. The question is whether or not you are prepared to do this."
"Yes. Yes, of course. But I just thought-I mean, you and I- we can't--"
Her voice became hard " You and I? I am a demon, you are my creator. I am bound to do your bidding. That is why I was created. I am ready."
He took a deep breath."Very well then." He picked took a large, leatherbound book from a shelf, opened it and began to read. "Raiese, de carye saimee yenesca.........." It was Warlocks' Tongue. "Rise, Carrier of Man's Burden..." Carrier Of Man's Burden. That must mean demons.
The colour of the room began to change. Purple, then yellow, pink, green. Then everything went black. A dark figure rose in the black, its silhouette painted dull among the emptiness. It spoke. "Menasei yeth carhath". "Name your charge".
His eyes looked haunted. "Nai carhath soi garth yeth kin pilei."
"Saanthe"
He placed his hand on the silhouette. "Is throth de noyi san ried poi."
The room burst into light. The creature shrieked in agony. Jon's (the other Jon's) skin seemed to wither away.
And then I woke up.
I was sweating, gasping for air. I remembered what he had said just before he died. "Is throth de noyi san ried poi." It still sent chills through my body.
"My soul lives on in the last boy."

TO BE CONTINUED