The Complete Archangel Wars Series: A Shared Universe Series (The Archangel Wars)

by Jonathan Yanez

  Alan raced straight upward, trying to lead his two opponents away from anyone they could hurt in the ensuing battle. To his right and left Alan caught glimpses of airborne struggles between dark-winged Death Angels and the white-winged angelic warriors. Still, he flew straight up into the night sky.

  Finally hundreds of feet over the fortress of Golgotha, Alan came to a halt and hovered in the frigid air. At this altitude, his breath came out in white puffs of warm moisture only to disappear within seconds of their manifestation. A quick look below told Alan his plan was working. Two pairs of white eyes rocketed towards him. Just before impact, the female Death Angel disappeared again. This time Alan was ready: just before the outline of the woman turned invisible, Alan grabbed her right wrist with his own right hand. She struggled like a crazed animal to free herself from his grasp but Alan refused to let go. He knew if he lost her again, he would only be inviting another invisible assault. Doing this left him open to her companion’s attack, a risk Alan had to take.

  Alan paid for his gamble with a series of blows to his torso and face before he was able to get his left hand around his attacker’s armor. A collar of ringed metal protruded just enough from the male Death Angel’s breastplate for Alan to grip. Again and again, Alan was struck by both the male warrior’s rock hands and the invisible female’s club. Despite the onslaught of blows, Alan refused to loosen his hold on them. Blood streamed down his right temple and the left side of his lip but his grip on them was as strong as ever.

  With a thrust of his wings, Alan dragged the pair of Death Angels higher and higher into the cold night. Beating his wings behind him in quick rhythm was draining. The added weight of the two struggling angels behind him sapped his strength as he struggled to ascend.

  The night air grew colder and colder until Alan thought for sure he was gulping down actual breaths of ice. The moon and stars loomed in front of him looking so close to his oxygen-deprived brain that he could reach out and touch them. The crazed thrashing behind him began to subside as his supernatural luggage also started to feel the effects of the thin air.

  The world around Alan began to blur as only one thought came and went from his mind, Higher, need to go higher.

  By this time, the motion in each of his hands completely subsided. Alan was higher than he had ever flown. Even his trip to the mountains to visit the minotaurs had not taken him this far into the night sky.

  The moon loomed larger than he had ever seen . To his right, it gleamed its brilliant silver light against his dark bent armor. A quick look to each of his hands and Alan confirmed his two assailants were both unconscious. Alan’s wings beat at a sluggish pace, the cold air sent shivers up and down his spine. Barely able to stay in the air, Alan began his descent.

  ---

  The battle on the ground had spread to every section of the fortress and even outside the castle’s massive black walls. Alan shook his head to clear his oxygen-depraved mind as he placed the two unconscious Death Angels safely near the corner of the fortress courtyard. He hid the pair in the deep shadows provided by the fortress wall. Alan prayed no one would find them and that they would remain unconscious for the remainder of the battle.

  More than anything, one thought pressed itself into Alan’s mind. He needed to find Gabriel and stop this once and for all. Alan’s eyes frantically searched the battleground for the Fallen Archangel. More bodies than he wished to see lay strewn across the dirt ground of the courtyard while hundreds of bodies still fought one another in the midst of total chaos. The numbers still belonged to Michael and his angels but the sheer force and frenzied power of the Death Angel corps evened the scales.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Alan caught a burst of flame. Red wings mirroring his own slashed out burning anyone who stood in their way. Alan did a double-take not believing his eyes. Kyle stood smiling as he sent showers of fire back and forth across a group of screaming angels. Beyond Kyle, Gabriel wrestled with Michael, Raphael and Cratos.

  Alan couldn’t bring himself to focus on Gabriel at the moment. Despite the plan, despite what his head told him to do, Alan flew between Kyle and his next group of victims, “Kyle,” Alan said seeing but not believing, “what are you doing? What has Gabriel done to you?”

  Kyle hesitated the slaughter of those around him and fixated on Alan. A sneer crossed his lips followed by a mirthless laugh. “He’s opened my eyes, Alan. I see now what I am and what I was all along. I am Death. I was always destined to become the Horseman of Death. It has followed me my entire life, can’t you see that? First your mentors died when I found out about this supernatural war that rages around us humans, then the battle when Ardat tried to seize control. Seraphim’s near-death experience—if she hadn’t been saved by Danielle—and now, now…” Kyle opened his arms wide to take in the gory scene around him, “now all this.”

  “No,” Alan said refusing to allow himself to be brought down by Kyle’s lie, “none of that was your fault. Gabriel’s done something to your mind he’s—”

  “He’s controlling me like the Death Angels?” Kyle asked pushing his head forward and widening his eyes. “Look at me, look at my eyes, Alan.”

  Alan did with a sense of sadness. Kyle was right. If Gabriel was manipulating Kyle, it was nothing like the unfeeling movement of the white-eyed Death Angels. Kyle was talking and acting on his own. Despite this, Alan still refused to believe Kyle was completely lost, “Just stop this,” Alan pleaded. “Talk to me. We can work this out.”

  “You had your chance to talk,” Kyle said as he prepared for another attack. “You had more than your chance to see what I really was. Instead you were too wrapped up in yourself. I am Death and I will show you what that means.”

  Kyle’s wings rushed forward until both tips were facing Alan. From Kyle’s crimson wings, a mixture of energy with tongues of fire shot towards Alan. Alan was so distraught at the idea of losing Kyle, he had just enough time to deflect the attack with his own wings. A sizzling and buzzing sound ripped through the night sky as Alan’s wings and Kyle’s attack met.

  All other noise in the battlefield lessened as Alan’s ears rang with the unearthly sound of the Horsemen’s battle. Heat wrapped Alan in its smothering embrace as it sucked oxygen from around his body and threatened to suffocate him. Great, Alan thought as he struggled for an answer as to what to do next, First, I can’t breathe because I’m flying too high, now Kyle is going to kill me with heat.

  All Alan could see was his blue pulsing wings as he deflected Kyle’s attack and wrapped himself in their protection. The pain from the heat was uncomfortable but bearable. One step at a time, Alan forced himself forward. The pressure was like resisting the weight of a fire hose as he fought for every step forward. His feet slid as Alan lowered his head and walked directly into the force of the Horseman of Death.

  With every step, the heat and cracking sound of energy competing with energy grew. Sweat was pouring into Alan’s eyes but he didn’t dare look up. He wasn’t sure what would happen if his face came in contact with the deadly force of Kyle’s energy-like fire.

  Alan took two, then three more steps. The noise of such a great power source competing against one equally as strong was unlike anything Alan had ever heard. In that moment, an immovable object was colliding with an unstoppable force and the result was mind-boggling.

  Alan gasped for breath in ragged gasps. He knew he had to be getting close to Kyle. Alan could hear his counterpart grunting under the exertion of his attack. Alan’s muscles ached and his back cried out in pain as he hunched forward and took another step. Then as soon as the attack started, it stopped.

  A ringing was left in Alan’s ears as he stumbled forward in the absence of the force pushing him back. Wings separating, Alan landed on all fours panting. Cold night air never felt so good. The ringing continued as Alan searched for an answer to Kyle’s sudden break in attack.

  Alan didn’t have to look long. Esther was beside him screaming something into his ear. Alan shook his head try
ing to rid his eardrums of the incessant buzzing. Esther was filthy with blood coming off her nose. As Alan tried to make sense of his surroundings, Esther’s voice finally broke through, “Kyle left to help Gabriel. Raphael and Michael have him cornered.”

  Alan followed Esther’s line of sight to the middle of the courtyard. There, an epic scene was taking place between the forces of Light and Darkness. Michael and Raphael were engaged with Gabriel as Seraphim and Cratos circled Kyle. “The fight is turning in our favor now that we have Gabriel and Kyle occupied,” Esther explained. “They’ll need your help. Can you fight?”

  Alan nodded saving his lungs for breathing instead of words. His armor was so hot on his body in fear of being burned, Alan shed his steal frame, opening himself to attack. Esther pressed Alan’s great sword into his right hand, “Go. We’ll handle the rest of the Fallen and the Death Angels.”

  “Be careful,” Alan managed to say as his fatigued lungs heaved in another long drought of air. Alan made his way through the battlefield, stepping over bodies. He avoided the enemy where he could yet even on his way to stop Gabriel, Alan had no choice but to dispatch numerous members of the Fallen race who refused to stand aside.

  Alan’s arms ached with the lifting and striking of the sword. Even with his super strength and speed, it seemed his abilities had their limits. Over and over again Alan beat back any would-be attackers as he kept his eye on Gabriel and the ferocious battle taking place between the Archangels.

  It seemed no one from either side wanted a part in the battle the trio were engaged in. A large berth was given to the three Archangels. To their left, Kyle, Seraphim and Cratos waged their own war.

  Above all, Alan wanted to go help Seraphim. His heart told him it was the right thing to do. Yet Alan also knew his duty as a Horseman. Seraphim was in no impending danger and neither was she a damsel in distress. She could hold her own and she had proven as much time and time again.

  Pushing the notion from his mind, Alan concentrated on the battle he knew he had to enter. Blood-red fire and lightening-bolt yellow lit the night sky as Gabriel and Michael dueled. It was clear to see that alone Michael would quickly be out-matched. His lightening strikes did little to damage Gabriel. However, anytime Gabriel mounted a counterattack or got the upper hand, Raphael would dart in with his trident.

  Raphael would pose little threat to Gabriel without his power. However, dividing Gabriel’s attention was enough to at least keep Michael in the fight. As Alan got closer, he could tell Michael and Raphael were fading despite their heroic effort. So much blood was smeared across Michael’s silver armor, it was impossible to tell if it was his own or that of his enemies’. Raphael’s chest heaved with exertion as he struck out with his trident only to miss then dodge and parry Gabriel’s return attack.

  Alan entered the fight with abandon as he refused to give into the pull of fear. Great sword in both hands, Alan rushed Gabriel. The Fallen Archangel smiled as Alan sliced the air he had inhabited only a moment before. Over and over again Alan, then joined by Michael and Raphael, sought to cut down their enemy.

  Lightning flashed in Michael’s hands, blue wings pulsed with energy and crimson fire from Gabriel’s twin swords flashed through the air. Neither side gave ground. If Alan thought his entrance to the conflict would give the upper-hand to the side of the Light, he was wrong.

  Gabriel danced around their blows and beat back attacks with his twin swords that resembled tongues of fire. If their enemy was weakening, he was showing no sign. “We can’t keep this up much longer,” Michael gasped as he rolled and crouched next to Alan. Never once did he let his eyes sway from his opponent.

  “We have a plan,” Alan said as he jumped out of the way from an oncoming blast of fire that rocketed from one of Gabriel’s swords, “we don’t need to kill him, we just need to make him bleed. Cut him once and Raphael will do the rest.”

  Confusion then acceptance registered across Michael’s face. “Follow my lead and be ready to grab his attention when I am exhausted. Whatever happens, you make sure you lead them, Alan. The other three Horsemen need you, whether they know it yet or not.”

  Alan looked at Michael with confusion, a dozen questions on the tip of his tongue. But all time for talking was over. Michael’s veins popped from his neck and head, a roar escaped his lips as a crackling cyclone of spectrum of electricity swarmed around him.

  Gabriel dismissed Raphael’s latest attack and sent him into a tumbling slide beside Alan. The Fallen Archangel directed his attention to Michael’s act, “You should know, brother, even with your most powerful attack, I am still your better.”

  Alan helped Raphael to his feet, “Be ready to run in front of me,” Raphael grunted as he spat blood. Raphael gripped his trident in his right hand. With a quick slice from one of the trident’s three blades, Raphael made a shallow cut in his left palm. Then he reached down into his left gauntlet to retrieve the vial of Baymore’s minotaur blood. “This will exhaust Michael. This will be our last opportunity.”

  Before Alan could ask what was about to happen, his eyes were captured by a brilliant display of light. Channeling all the swirling brilliant electricity around him into his hands, Michael shot a beam of pure electricity at Gabriel. Instead of trying to dodge the attack, Gabriel met the assault head-on. Sending a torrent of dark, cherry red flames from both of his hands, the two streams of energy collided. Everyone was forced to look away or shield their eyes in the presence of the brilliant red and yellow light.

  “Now,” Raphael shouted over the snapping and hissing, “I’ll run right behind you.”

  It was only then Alan grasped the plan. With a quick nod, Alan splayed out his wings wide on either side of him to conceal Raphael and ran at Gabriel. It would take Alan only milliseconds to cross the distance between himself and Gabriel, but a quick look told him Michael was fading fast. Gabriel’s stream of flames ate up Michael’s line of energy feet at a time. Soon, Gabriel would completely overpower Michael and consume him in an inferno of pain.

  Alan urged his legs to pump faster. Still yards from his opponent, Alan yelled and hurled his sword as Gabriel’s chest. Gabriel finally broke eye-contact with Michael. Left hand extending, Gabriel batted the sword from the air as if he were dismissing a fly. Alan was so close to colliding with Gabriel, he was sure the plan worked. Then only feet from the Archangel, Alan was struck by what felt like a giant hammer to his stomach and chest.

  The air escaped his lungs and sent him to his knees gasping for air. Pain shot through his ribs and sternum. The world around him threatened to go black. Then, all Alan could see through tunneled vision was Raphael vaulting over him and striking out with his trident. Finally, Gabriel’s expression changed from calm and proud to fearful and shocked.

  Gabriel jerked his head to the side but not before a thin line of red showed across his right cheek. Alan looked on in horror as Gabriel reached out with his left hand, batted away Raphael’s trident and the vial of minotaur blood and caught the Archangel by the throat.

  Alan was helpless as he struggled to regain his feet. His legs churned in the blood soaked ground: standing was out of the question. His eyes traced the path of the vial. By some miracle the vessel remained intact. It lay in the dirt only a few feet from Alan.

  “Enough!” Gabriel screamed. In the next second, Michael was consumed in fire and thrown backward, slamming into Golgotha’s stonewall with enough force to crack the battlements. An avalanche of stone and mortar fell on Michael’s limp body concealing his fate.

  Alan fought back the urge to fall into unconsciousness as his body rocked with spasms. Crawling on his hands and knees, Alan reached for the vial of minotaur blood.

  “You should have remained in exile, Raphael,” Gabriel said still, holding him by the throat. “I’m going to tear you in half.”

  Raphael’s eyes bulged as he fought in vain to remove Gabriel’s grip from his throat.

  Alan reached the vial and, with one desperate attempt, yelled for Raphael thro
ugh torn lungs, “For Uriel.” That’s all Alan could think to say. He flung the vial through the air hoping the memory of Raphael’s lost friend would be enough to revive his fighting spirit.

  Time seemed to slow as the vial rotated through the air. A force far stronger than luck would have to be on their side: a miracle. Everything now depended on Gabriel not seeing the vial and Raphael being able to catch the small glass container holding the minotaur blood.

  Nothing would go as Alan planned. It seemed as though Kyle had some how managed to separate himself rom Seraphim and Cratos and had seen Alan’s desperate attempt.

  As the vial hurled through the air, the Horseman of Death intercepted the glass vial, crushing it in his right hand as he caught it. Alan felt a groan escape his mouth. Their chance at having Raphael reclaim his lost powers came to a bitter end.

  ---

  What Alan failed to see was at the same time Kyle moved to assist his master, so too did Seraphim and Cratos move to help their friends. Seraphim cleaved at Gabriel’s left wrist with her sword, failing to break his skin still succeeding in severing Gabriel’s grip on Raphael. Cratos bit down on his own left hand as he ran by, causing a stream of dark blood to quench his palm. Even as Gabriel knocked back Seraphim with a blast of fire and struck Cratos across his right temple, Cratos’ bloody hand made contact with the wound on Raphael’s left palm.

  Alan watched in bewilderment as Raphael reached up and placed his hand on the cut he had made on Gabriel’s face. The motion wasn’t forceful; Raphael was almost reluctant to take back his power. A faint whisper escaped Raphael’s swollen throat, “For Uriel.”