by T. A. Chase
Russell shrugged. “No wonder he didn’t act upset about the whole French Revolution.”
“Whatever. Can we just focus on getting back to the house before he kidnaps me? I don’t think he was bluffing.”
War took a pair of saddlebags from Russell and put them over his horse’s withers. He helped Russell mount and went to see if Death needed assistance. The pale man studied his horse for a moment before leaping lightly up on him. With a rather smug smile, Death met War’s gaze.
“Don’t get too proud of yourself, you arrogant prick,” War muttered.
“Are you going to answer my question? Where do your horses go when you’re not being the Horsemen?” Russell returned to the conversation as they got the herd moving in the right direction.
“They aren’t real horses. They are spirits provided to us for our missions. When they are no longer needed, they disappear back to wherever they come from.” Death kept his eyes on the horses, not looking at either of them.
“I guess that makes as much sense as you even existing in the first place,” Russell murmured, loud enough for War to hear him, but not so loud that Death would. “Where are you dragging War off to now?”
“None of your business. You no longer fight, so you have no worries about where battles are taking place.” Death dismissed Russell with a vague wave of his hand.
“Why shouldn’t I be concerned where my fellow soldiers might be sent to next?” Russell spoke up, his angry tone surprising Death.
War rolled his shoulders. He was tired of their antagonism towards each other. Thank God, Death rarely hung out with him, or else he might have had to gag them both.
“Not all the battles and skirmishes War starts are big enough to be fought by armies. Sometimes it is simply a fight amongst gangs or small squabbles.” Death gestured towards War. “Little fights can have the same effect on people as great wars. His power brings those emotions to the surface and helps work out the imbalance in the world.”
“Who gives these assignments? Do you decide where a fight should break out or where Pestilence needs to appear?”
Death growled low in his throat. “I didn’t come here to be interrogated by you. I came to help and yet all I get is questions. None of what happens with the Horsemen is any of your business. You shouldn’t even know we exist, yet for some strange reason it is allowed by our superiors. I should have been given the order to wipe your brain clean and send you back to Kansas.”
He rode off, with Russell and War staring after him in shock. Russell looked over at War and held his hands up.
“What did I do? I didn’t think my questions were that bad. I mean, I stayed away from any personal stuff.”
War leaned over and patted Russell’s knee. “Questioning Death isn’t something people usually do. I don’t think he likes it much.”
Russell snorted. “You think? Well, come on. I promise not to talk at all since we need to get these horses home before you leave.”
“Yeah. Let’s do it. The quicker I leave, the sooner I can get back.”
They nudged their mounts and went their separate ways around the herd.
Chapter Twelve
Staring out over the sand, War pictured what the place had looked like the last time he’d been there. The sand was the same and he laughed. Like sand ever changed. Only the shape of the dunes had changed because of the wind. Hell, some of the grains could have been there all those centuries ago.
Missing were the tents and people going about their daily chores. The women tending the wounded were gone, along with the exhaustion that had swamped him as he’d stood on the outcropping looking down at his tribe. No rush of satisfaction at winning the battle or gut churning sorrow at what he had to do.
He turned to look at the ground behind him. There once had been a darker spot where Asad’s blood had spilt onto it, yet nothing remained of such a pivotal moment in War’s mortal life.
“Why are you here?”
He didn’t look up when Death approached him. He continued to eye the dirt, seeing in his memories Asad’s death throes and his confession of all the evil he’d done.
“Did you think this spot would look different? The terrible thing you did should have marked this place, like sowing it with salt or something like that?”
When it was put that way, War felt silly, but some part deep inside him had thought it would be different. Killing Asad had damaged War’s heart in a fundamental way. Maybe because he had been War’s best friend and had betrayed him, or possibly because his best friend had been a psychotic bastard who’d had no problem hurting girls to promote his own cause.
“You need to let go of this guilt you’ve been carrying for centuries, War. None of what happened was your fault. We’ve told you that and you nod like you’re listening, but I feel you do that because you think that’s what we want to see.”
Death’s words shattered the wall War had built around his guilt, guarding it like the Hope Diamond. Russell had created cracks with his love and reassurance, and the bricks had begun to tumble, but it took Death to take the last bit down.
“You’re right.” He glanced over at Death and smiled. “It wasn’t my fault, though I’ll always accept some of the blame for not listening when I was told no one from the other tribe had done those things to the girls.”
“Okay, I’ll give you that. You probably should have done more investigating, but hindsight’s twenty-twenty, comrade, and you had to go with what you had at the time.” Death waved a hand to encompass the entire desert landscape in front of them. “During your time, life was harsh and you didn’t have the luxury to figure out the truth. You had to act on what you knew. You’d never doubted anything Asad had told you before, so why would you then?”
“True.”
War scuffed his foot over the section of sand where Asad had died, a maniacal gleam in his eyes as he declared he was the wronged party in the whole thing. Yet the truth swirled in front of War and shone in the faces of the girls Asad had violated and killed. He’d seen cold vengeance in the eyes of his own assassin as the boy had slid the blade into his chest. Whatever sacrifice had been needed to make up for the wrong done to the innocent tribe had been paid with War’s death.
“What makes it different this time? Why are you ready to let everything go now?”
War shrugged. “I think it has to do with talking to Russell and trying to convince him his guilt is misplaced. I guess I finally listened to the words.”
“Let go of the past and go embrace your future. Russell is waiting for you to return. He needs your help to accept what he’s gone through.” Death kept his gaze on the dunes in front of them. “You have been good for each other.”
“I know.” War swallowed and said out loud what he’d been hesitant to say to Russell. “I love him.”
“I know.” Death gave him a flash of a smile. “Now go tell him that.”
“All right. I hope I don’t see you soon.” War whistled for his horse and swung astride the red stallion when it appeared. “Goodbye, Death.”
Death didn’t acknowledge him; simply waited until the clap of thunder told him War had gone. “Goodbye, Baqir. We’ll not be seeing each other again.”
His horse landed in front of War’s hut, and War climbed off. He patted the stallion on the shoulder and the horse nudged him once before whirling around and leaping into the air. Another crash of thunder and it was gone.
Russell stepped from the house, wiping his hands on a towel. “Was it successful?”
War shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. I think Death is the only one who ever finds out if what we do works or not.”
“And he wouldn’t tell you, even if you spitted him and roasted him over a fire.”
“Rather vicious, aren’t you?”
He strolled over to where Russell stood, grabbed Russell’s shoulders and brought their lips together. He took his time, teasing every nook and cranny of Russell’s mouth, and drawing moans from Russell.
Russell encircled War’s waist and pulled their bodies together. War grunted when his erection crashed into Russell’s. Finally, when both men had used up all their oxygen and their knees were getting wobbly, War broke off the kiss and brushed Russell’s hair from his lover’s forehead.
“I missed you,” War admitted.
“I missed you as well, though it was only a day or two since you left.” Russell winked. “I found I didn’t like sleeping alone.”
“I didn’t sleep at all. I tried to get done as soon as possible, so I could get back here.” War stopped, then met Russell’s gaze. “I went to the place where I killed Asad.”
Russell took his hand and led him inside to the bed. They lay back, arms wrapped around each other. War rested his head on Russell’s shoulder.
“How did that go?” Russell asked softly.
“I finally let go of all the guilt I felt, not only for going to war with an innocent tribe, but for believing Asad in the first place. I’ve listened to Death tell me over and over it wasn’t my fault. I guess I never really believed him deep inside.” War pulled back to look Russell in the eye. “It took talking to you and trying to convince you of the fact you aren’t guilty for me to accept the truth.”
Russell’s smile held a depth of caring War hadn’t seen before. “I have to confess something. I know we’ve spent very little time together when I wasn’t in the hospital, but I think I more than like you. I think I love you.”
War swallowed and nodded. “I’ll confess to that. I love you as well. I had a revelation whilst I stood in the sand. It’s been a long time since I really loved anyone. Too hard to watch someone you love grow old and die while you don’t age.”
“I can see where that would be difficult. Thank you for taking a chance on me.” Russell kissed him.
War kissed him back before chuckling and easing away. “I didn’t seem to have a choice. Death saw to it.”
“For all that he’s a cold-hearted bastard, he seems to have your interests in mind. Why didn’t he stop you from spending time with me? I’m sure he could’ve thrown his weight around and done something to make me forget all about you.”
“True.”
War rolled over on his back and let Russell settle between his legs. “I don’t want to talk about Death any more. I want you to make love to me. I want to feel you deep inside me and know I’m the only one you’ll be sleeping with for the rest of your life.”
“You’re the only man I’ve ever loved, and I don’t see that changing.”
They stopped talking and started stroking all the places they’d learnt made their desire build. Soon they were naked, and focused on loving each other. War wrapped his lips around Russell’s nipples while Russell fisted War’s cock. They wiggled and shifted, rubbing against each other.
“Where’s the lube?” War asked.
Russell stuck his hand under one of the pillows and popped the top, squirting slick over his fingers. War grabbed his knees and pulled them back, spreading wide to give Russell as much room as he needed.
“Oh man,” War moaned as Russell sank his fingers into his ass.
He closed his eyes and undulated, fucking himself while absorbing the joy of Russell’s love. Before too long, he was ready to have more than just fingers inside him. He reached down and grabbed Russell’s wrist.
“I want you in me,” he said when Russell met his gaze.
“All right.”
War groaned as Russell moved away and he heard the pop of the lube bottle again. He opened his eyes to watch Russell coat his dick before settling back between his legs. War kept his eyes glued to Russell’s as his lover sank into him, filling him the way he wanted.
When Russell’s pubic hair scraped War’s ass, they both froze for a moment, soaking in the feeling of being one body and soul. The tableau broke when War arched his back and tightened his muscles, massaging Russell’s shaft.
“Fuck,” Russell swore and began to thrust into War hard and fast.
War braced one hand against the wall above his head and fisted his own cock, pumping in time to Russell’s strokes. They moved in perfect harmony, driving each other closer to exploding with each long steady push in. Soon War balanced on the razor-shape edge and he needed something to send him over.
“God, I love you,” Russell murmured as he slammed in.
His words were what War had been waiting for. His climax shot through him, firing every nerve ending and flooding his body with pleasure. Russell threw his head back and shouted as his cum spilled into War, claiming him from the inside out. As Russell’s climax eased, he collapsed to the side of War and they drifted off to sleep.
“Holy shit!”
War jerked awake at Russell’s exclamation. He glanced around, trying to find whatever had caused his lover to make a noise like that. He stopped when he noticed Russell staring at him.
“What’s wrong?”
“Your hair.” Russell gestured towards War’s head.
“What about it? You’ve seen it before. Nothing’s changed.” He hesitated. “Has it?”
Russell nodded, but couldn’t seem to get the words out. War climbed out of bed and went to the mirror hanging on the far wall. His mouth dropped open at the image reflected there. He lifted his hand to his hair. It was no longer blood red, but black like it had been before he died. War blinked as he realised his eyes were dark brown again.
“What happened?” He turned to look at Russell.
His lover shrugged. “I don’t know. I just woke up, looked over at you and you were like this. I assume this is what you looked like before you became a Horseman.”
“Yes.” He paused for a second. “Or at least this is what I saw when I looked in water. I didn’t have mirrors or anything like that.”
Russell joined him at the mirror. They stood staring at War’s reflection.
“What do you think this means?”
“I have no idea.”
Death? War figured his fellow Horseman might have an idea.
Yes?
Do you know why my hair and eyes went back to their original colour?
Death sighed. You’re no longer a Horseman, Baqir. You’ve found love and someone who accepts everything you did. More than that, you’ve forgiven yourself. Have a good life, my friend..
War staggered and Russell caught him. Death’s presence in his mind disappeared and War realised he really would never see the Pale Rider again.
“Death said I’m no longer a Horseman. The moment I forgave myself for everything, I became mortal again.”
Russell embraced him tightly. “That’s great news.”
“I think it might take some getting used to,” he confessed.
“I know, but at least you won’t have to leave to start wars somewhere in the world.”
War eased back a few inches. “You do realise a new War will appear. There always have to be four Horsemen. Just because I’m mortal again doesn’t mean another man won’t come to take my place. It doesn’t mean all fighting has stopped.”
“I know, but, since I love you, you’re the man I’m concerned with. I didn’t like it when you were gone. In addition, knowing what you were doing and how much you hated doing it made me unhappy.” Russell kissed him before stepping further away. “You have some decisions to make.”
Yes, he did. The reason he’d lived in Mongolia was to stay as far away from human contact as possible, and because it was a lot like his ancestral lands. Now it didn’t matter and he could go live anywhere he wanted. Yet the thought of living in a town or any place except the steppes caused his chest to constrict and his skin to crawl.
“What would you say if I told you I wanted to stay here?”
Russell thought for a few minutes, and War began to worry what Russell’s answer would be. His lover grinned at him.
“As long as we can go and visit my family at least once a year, I’ll be happy to live here with you.”
“Really?”
Russell nodded and War swept
him up in his arms, kissing him with all the emotions in his heart. The way Russell embraced him convinced War the man meant what he said. Oh, he knew it would take a while for Russell to completely accept the nomadic way of life, but, as long as they continued loving each other, it wouldn’t matter where they were in the world.
Epilogue
“War is gone?”
Death didn’t glance over at Famine as they stood at the top of Victoria Falls. He stared down at the thundering water as it cascaded into the Zambezi River.
“Death, is it true?” Famine elbowed him in the side.
He grunted and shot the Black Horseman an annoyed look. “Yes, it’s true. The War you know is gone. He’s become mortal again, like our old comrade Pestilence.”
“Huh.” Famine’s response was barely intelligible.
Rolling his eyes, Death looked up to study the sky. It didn’t matter what Famine thought or said. It was only a matter of time. A clap of thunder and a man appeared on the riverbank. The red stallion grazing a few feet away from Death lifted its head. It snorted and Death nodded.
“I must go,” he said as he walked away.
“Who is that?” Famine used his chin to point at the stranger.
“It’s War.”
Famine didn’t say anything else as Death strolled off to greet the new Horseman. He didn’t see the grin on Death’s face either. The time was coming when Famine would meet his future and Death couldn’t wait for that moment.
Coming Soon from Total-E-Bound Publishing:
The Four Horsemen: Famine
T.A. Chase
Released 20th February 2012
Excerpt
Chapter One
His throat burning with thirst, Ekundayo stared up into the brilliant blue sky. He should move out from under the burning sun, but he couldn’t work up the strength to climb to his feet or anything like that. There was no water to be had in the rocky out cropping he’d taken refuge on.
