Alan Price and the Horsemen of the Apocalypse

by Jonathan Yanez

  “I know, I know,” Tracy said, struggling to her feet and slapping her hands together, trying to dispel the sand, “more training. Before you throw me around again, can I ask you a question?”

  “What?”

  “Who’s that old guy over there by the lighthouse?”

  Ardat turned quickly. Tracy was right. Somehow, the Shaman had snuck by her and was sitting on the railing of the stone bridge that connected the beach to the island where the lighthouse stood. He wasn’t alone. A large red bird was perched beside him.

  “Take a break,” Ardat said to Tracy before she took off across the beach. As she closed the distance between herself and the Shaman, her suspicions were confirmed. The blood-red bird that sat beside the Shaman was the Horseman of Death’s steed. How he had come to possess the animal was something not even Ardat could guess.

  “Hello, Ardat,” the Shaman said, stroking the ostrich-sized phoenix.

  “How, did you awaken the phoenix? He’s not ours to handle.”

  “Oh, you mistake the events that transpired,” the Shaman said. “The phoenix came to me. It’s time.”

  Ardat felt her stomach drop inside her. “She’s not ready. Another day, maybe two, at least.”

  The Shaman shook his head. “It has to be now. Two of the four are in mortal danger. We wake Tracy’s steed and we fight.”

  So many questions were going through Ardat’s mind, she couldn’t think straight. First and foremost was the strange feeling of responsibility she felt for Tracy’s safety.

  You’re a fool, she told herself. You knew this was coming. You did the best you could with the time you had. You part is played. Tracy must do the rest.

  “Your concern for Tracy is admirable,” the Shaman said with a nod. “However, neither of us can stop the course of events unfolding around us.”

  Ardat waved his praise away with an open hand. “If I feel anything for Tracy, it’s only the need for her to succeed so I can see Michael once again.”

  “Whatever you need to tell yourself,” the Shaman said with a smile. “Ahhh, here she comes now.”

  Ardat turned to see a timid Tracy approaching behind her. The girl’s eyes were huge as she looked the phoenix up and down. Ardat couldn’t blame her; seeing the creature’s crimson feathers and its piercing yellow eyes for the first time could be a bit much to handle.

  “Sorry, if I’m interrupting. Should I go?”

  “No,” Ardat said, looking from Tracy to the Shaman. Her eyes wavered on the Shaman as she gave him a disapproving stare. “Apparently, the time has come to unite you with your steed and ride to battle.”

  “What?” Tracy said, taking a step back. “Are you kidding me? I’m not ready to go. I don’t know how to fight.”

  “You know enough,” the Shaman said with a smile. “You’re stronger than you think you are. While we travel to rein in your steed and to the battle, Ardat will continue to teach you. However, the time has come. Have faith in yourself and those around you, Tracy.”

  Tracy’s mouth was still open as she blinked, trying to process the events surrounding her. “Well, where—where is it that we’re going? What’s my steed to ride into battle?”

  “The Horseman of Disease rides a—a type of horse into battle,” Ardat said.

  “Oh, well, that doesn’t sound so bad,” Tracy said, exhaling.

  “Wait until you see,” Ardat said.

  Chapter 9

  “Cratos said five days, correct?” Raphael asked.

  “Yes,” Esther said, looking at the map that covered the table in a large room deep within the Temple. “That was two days ago now. We’re running out of time.”

  “And so is Alan,” Danielle said.

  The room sat quiet. All in attendance knew Alan, Seraphim, and the others could already be dead.

  “We should go now,” Kassidy, the Horseman of Famine, voiced. “I owe Alan my life for taking my place.”

  “I admire your courage,” Raphael said with a smile, “however, if we strike without Cratos and the minotaurs, we won’t stand a chance. The Angelic Army has been reduced to hundreds and even with my strength as an Archangel, it will not be enough. Sodom’s ability to sap the power from other supernaturals makes him a formidable opponent. My guess is that he already has Alan’s power and yours. No doubt he’s hunting for the other two Horsemen as well.”

  The room sat silent. Danielle looked to Raphael, Esther, Kassidy, Angelica, and Artemis. The only person who looked as though they had any idea as to how to mount an attack was Artemis. The little girl was smirking.

  She caught Danielle’s eye and winked. “I have a crazy idea,” Artemis said.

  “Go on,” Raphael answered.

  “Well, maybe we’re not accounting for all of our assets. I know he’s not the most popular person right now, but ...”

  Danielle felt her mouth open in shock. Without even saying his name, she knew to whom the young prophet was referring. It seemed she wasn’t the only one.

  “I’m going to pretend I’m not thinking you’re referring to the person I think you are,” Angelica said with a look that was both disapproving and full of shock.

  “I am,” Artemis said.

  “I’m super confused,” Kassidy chimed in from her seat.

  “Just so were all on the same page,” Esther started, “Artemis is suggesting we try to reason with Gabriel. The person who started these events and the reason we’re all in the mess to begin with.”

  Danielle looked at the young Horsewoman take in the information. There was no way Kassidy would be able to grasp the absurdity of Artemis’s thought. Kassidy had already been captured by Sodom and his forces when the fight with Gabriel had taken place, resulting in his capture and the loss of hundreds of supernatural lives—including Seraphim’s entire command of Death Angels—and Michael’s disappearance.

  “Oh,” Kassidy said, confirming Danielle’s prediction.

  “I have to agree with Angelica on this one,” Esther said after a moment of silence. “While Gabriel’s power would tip the odds in our favor, there is no way of controlling him. He’s too much of a wild card and his word would mean nothing. There’s no guarantee if we freed him to help us, he’d follow through on the deal.”

  Danielle nodded along with Esther’s words. From everything she knew of the Fallen Archangel, Esther was right on point.

  “There may be a way to secure his aid.”

  Five pairs of eyes swung toward Raphael. “How?” Danielle asked in disbelief that the Archangel would even entertain the thought. “He stole your powers. He tortured Kyle. He disfigured Seraphim. He killed the Death Angels. The list goes on and on.”

  Raphael’s piercing eyes set on Danielle, making her clamp her mouth shut. Danielle wasn’t sure where the outburst had come from, but it was gone now.

  “Artemis’s idea may work. Not because we’ll be able to control or trust Gabriel but because we know him. Gabriel has no interest in bringing about the Apocalypse. He wants to rule heaven and earth himself. Stopping Sodom would fit in line with his own plans.”

  “So we free one monster to stop another?” Esther asked.

  “Perhaps,” Raphael said, arms crossed over his chest. “I won’t know until I speak with him.”

  “And when you do speak with him,” Danielle said, finding her courage to confront the Archangel yet again, “and he gives you all the right answers then stabs us in the back like he did during the war in heaven, what then?”

  Raphael nodded slowly, considering Danielle’s words. “You are right to be skeptical, Danielle,” Raphael said approvingly. “However, we won’t be certain until we speak with him. No one is past the point of absolution. I would know that better than anyone else.”

  Danielle knew exactly what the Archangel was referring to. After the many battles he had seen, Raphael had renounced his place as an Archangel. Haunted by the lives he had taken and the friends he had lost, Raphael had lived centuries alone as a hermit, forsaking his calling and allowing
the supernatural war to continue without his aid. It was only after the finding of Kassidy, the second Horseman and her resemblance to Raphael’s most trusted friend, Uriel, a fellow Archangel, that Raphael reentered the fight.

  Danielle shrugged, still skeptical.

  “It seems the only way this will be resolved is with a conversation with Gabriel,” Artemis suggested.

  “Yes,” Raphael said, looking once again at Danielle. “Miss Turner, would you accompany me to his cell?”

  Danielle adjusted her glasses with a quivering hand. “Me? Why me?”

  “Well, as you pointed out so astutely, there are many reasons we should not allow Gabriel free. I may overlook one while I speak with him. If he doesn’t satisfy both of us with his answers, then we leave him in the cell.”

  Danielle’s mouth went dry at the thought of confronting Gabriel, but she found herself nodding along.

  ---

  The harpies were like winged razor blades. They swooped down, leaving bloody scrapes and cuts in their wake. In addition to their knife-like talons, the harpies also carried an assortment of short swords and daggers in their hands.

  The roar of the crowd was lost to Alan as he concentrated on surviving. Feathers rained down from above as the screams from the wounded filled the air. Alan ducked the outstretched claws of one particularly large harpy, its long talons leaving a breeze as it ripped by Alan’s head. Out of the corner of his eye, Alan saw Bobby wrestling a knife from the hands of a harpy he had managed to tackle to the ground. Seraphim was following suit as she braved the talons of another harpy, taking it to the hard arena floor.

  Alan looked all around him as the crying harpies flew through the air. If he wasn’t careful, one of them would attack him from behind. As one of the beasts whizzed past him, Alan saw Kyle being clawed by two of the creatures. To his credit, survival instinct had kicked in and he was doing his best to fend them off, but without his powers or a weapon to use, he was losing.

  Without thinking of his own safety, Alan ran to his aid. At full sprint, Alan collided with one of the creatures, sending a shower of dirty feathers into the air. The creature shrieked, dropping the small axe it was using and flapping its wings hysterically to try to keep its balance.

  The remaining harpy, seeing its counterpart blindsided, screamed in indignation. One long leg reached out and swung at Alan. Alan felt hot needles scrape his left shoulder and chest. Despite the searing pain that sought to overwhelm him, Alan forced himself to focus and find the axe, now lying somewhere in the arena sand.

  Come on focus, you’ve been hurt worse before. You gotta find that axe if you’re going to have a chance.

  Alan dodged another attack and flung himself to the ground in search of the weapon. On hands and knees, Alan crawled toward what he thought was the axe buried headfirst in the sand. Only a dark, wooden handle was protruding from the coliseum floor, but this had to be it.

  Alan could hear the harpy stalking him as he maneuvered through the sand. The deep, dull thuds of the harpy’s feet were unmistakable. Fear was unraveling inside the pit of Alan’s stomach as he reached for the weapon. As his hand grasped the hilt of the axe, he was grabbed by a rough claw and thrown over.

  Alan found himself looking up into the mad eyes of the harpy. The monster was so close he could see saliva running from its beaked mouth. With one fluid motion it raised a talon in the air, ready to strike.

  The pain in Alan’s shoulder growing, he concentrated past the blood flowing down his arm and torso. As the harpy’s talon descended, Alan raised the axe in his right hand to meet the attack.

  The axe’s blade sunk deep into the harpy’s scaled leg, hitting bone. Shock spread over the creature’s face, followed by a piercing wail of pain. Alan wrenched the axe free and prepared to strike again. Before he could gather the strength, the harpy flexed its wings and took flight, losing itself among the other of its kind that still coursed through the air.

  Fighting past the pain, Alan rose to his feet. Kyle had made it to Bobby’s side, where a small remaining group of survivors had formed a circle. All around the coliseum, bodies lay strewn like a deck of cards thrown into the air. Angels, demons, and harpies alike lay motionless. Alan grimaced at the pain that throbbed in his shoulders as he kept his head on a swivel and moved toward the group. Outnumbered and without weapons at the beginning of the fight meant most of the bodies Alan stepped over belonged to the demonic and angelic race.

  “There he is,” Bobby said, motioning Alan to hurry. “Hurry up, they’re gathering for another attack.”

  Alan looked behind him and regretted the act immediately. There had to be dozens of harpies still swarming in a mass around their leader, while Alan could count on one hand those on his side still standing and able to fight; Bobby, Kyle, the female demon who had spoken when they first met in the coliseum dungeon, and—no sign of Seraphim.

  “Where’s Seraphim?”

  Bobby shook his head and looked to a figure lying on the ground behind him. “I tried to help her, but by the time I got to her, she had killed them all and sustained some serious injuries.”

  Alan felt panic grab at his heart as he fell to his knees beside Seraphim. Blood was oozing from an assortment of wounds ranging from a cut on her forehead to a gash on her left calf. “Stop looking at me like that,” Seraphim said, breathing heavy. “I’m hurt, I’m not dead.”

  Alan bit back the lump growing in his throat and fought the tears coming to his eyes. “No, no you’re not,” he agreed. “How bad is it?”

  “Well, this was a lot easier when we were invulnerable to anything but celestial blades,” Seraphim said, wincing as she struggled to sit up. She was still gripping a knife in her right hand.

  “Stop. You have to lie down,” Alan warned. “You’ll open the wounds even further.”

  Seraphim shook her head and pushed the knife into Alan’s hands. Her eyes said what she never would—that she was in an extreme amount of pain. “You have to challenge the lead harpy if you’re going to have a chance. They’re a prideful species and won’t back away from a fight. If you can win, the harpies won’t attack you or anyone else with you, in respect. It’s the only way you’re going to survive this.”

  Alan shook his head, hating the way Seraphim had chosen the words “you’re going to survive this,” instead of “we’re going to survive this.”

  “Alan,” Bobby said from behind him. “They’re rallying again. We’ll need you when they charge.”

  “Go,” Seraphim said.

  Alan shook his head, trying to find the right words.

  “Go,” she repeated louder, practically shoving Alan away from her.

  Alan nodded and moved to stand next to Bobby and Kyle. His eyes never left Seraphim as he gripped both axe and knife in his hands.

  “We’re dead,” Kyle said as he spat blood on the arena floor. “There’s no chance the four of us are going to live through the next attack.”

  Alan finally turned from Seraphim to survey the remaining prisoners. Kyle, Bobby, and a female demon with bright eyes and short hair were already bloody. Although Kyle had been the one to voice their defeat, Alan could see doubt and fear about to capture the hearts of the other two members in his group.

  Alan looked across the coliseum to where the harpies flew, working themselves up into another frenzy before they attacked. Just like before, one harpy stood apart from the rest. It was on the coliseum floor while the others soared overhead.

  Alan wasn’t sure what the proper protocol was when challenging a harpy, but he imagined it couldn’t be too different than when challenging a human. Axe in his right hand, knife in his left, a trail of blood streaming down his left shoulder and chest, he stalked toward the grounded harpy.

  “Alan! Alan, what are you doing?”

  Alan ignored the calls from Bobby. If he was going to succeed, he had to be focused. “You,” Alan shouted, pointing the axe at the lead harpy. “I want you.”

  Alan allowed the jeers and laughter from
the crowd to wash over him and not break his concentration as he crossed the space of sand separating the two factions. The harpy Alan was pointing at clearly saw him as it unsheathed a curved sword from its belt.

  The mass of harpies in the air also took note. Three broke off from the rest of the group and raced toward Alan, talons extended.

  Alan braced himself for the fight. If he was going to die, then he wanted to die with his eyes open, fighting until the very last moment.

  Before the harpies could close in on Alan, a loud screech stopped them mid-flight.

  The lead harpy apparently had other plans for Alan.

  Three pairs of angry eyes looked from Alan to their leader as they retreated.

  Good, Alan thought, it’s working. Now all I have to do is kill a harpy and hope that when I do, Seraphim was right and this can all be over.

  Alan stopped moving forward when he was a dozen yards from his opponent. Up close, he could see why this harpy was leading the rest. It was a foot taller than any other of the beasts. A crisscross pattern of knife wounds and scars ran down its torso and the left side of its face.

  It measured Alan with a cock of its head before stretching its wings and arms and moving forward to engage.

  The two circled one another in the center of the arena. The large swirling mass of harpies had finally calmed as they hovered in mid-air, eager to witness the battle. For the first time, the arena was quiet. Hundreds of eyes looked on in bloodthirsty anticipation.

  Alan’s heart pounded in his ears as his palms began to sweat. He calmed his breathing and searched deep within him to find that special something that set him apart as the Horseman of War. Soon his heartbeat slowed. Instead of dread or fear, he felt ready, prepared for whatever came next. The exhilaration of battle was about to begin and Alan was prepared.

  The harpy made the first move, swinging wide with its sword. Alan easily sidestepped the first strike and for the next few moments, the two warriors poked and prodded trying to find a weakness in one another’s defense.

  If Alan still had his powers, it wouldn’t even be a contest. His speed and strength would have easily outmatched the harpy, but there was no use wishing or thinking of the “what ifs.” He was here now and these were his circumstances.