Alan Price and the Horsemen of the Apocalypse

by Jonathan Yanez

  “Whatever you say, Poseidon.” Gabriel shrugged. “Let’s get this over with then.”

  Gideon looked to Raphael for instruction.

  Raphael nodded to the angel.

  “Miss Turner, would you assist me?” Gideon asked as he cautiously made his way to where Gabriel stood, still chained to the cell wall.

  Danielle’s brow furrowed as she tried to make up a reason to say no. The last thing she wanted to do was move even an inch closer to the deranged murderer. Before she could think of something to say, Gabriel eyed her with a piercing stare. “Don’t be scared, Nephilim; I won’t bite.”

  Instinct kicked in and Danielle began to move forward. “I’m not scared of you,” she lied.

  Danielle stood next to Gideon and Gabriel. The Fallen Archangel looked her up and down, laughing. “You’re terrified of me.”

  Anger boiled inside Danielle as Gabriel’s laughs rang through the cell. “Gideon, how do we put the leash on our animal?”

  “Yes, of course,” Gideon said jumping as if he was being interrupted from some deep thought. Gideon lifted the silver collar over Gabriel’s head and lowered it gently around his throat. The green indicator light shone bright in the dark interior of the prison cell.

  “If you would close the clasp on your side, Danielle,” Gideon said.

  Danielle reached forward with trembling hands. Gabriel smelled horrible. The lack of a bath in the days he had been held prisoner had created an aroma around him that smelled like a mixture of sour milk and sweat. Danielle cringed as her fingers touched the cool metal around Gabriel’s neck. With one solid push, she felt the collar lock in place with a click.

  A similar click came from the other end where Gideon locked the choker in place and pressed a button on a handheld device, activating the collar.

  Both Danielle and Gideon took a few steps back as Raphael approached with a ring of keys. Raphael began unlocking the bonds holding Gabriel in place one by one.

  Danielle turned her head to the side to make sure the guards stationed at the open door to the cell were still there. It was a meager relief to see them standing ready. A dozen warriors led by Esther stood fully armed and ready should anything happen.

  Esther caught Danielle’s eye and gave her a firm nod. Danielle returned the gesture, although not as firmly, before turning back to Raphael.

  As Raphael turned the key in the last lock holding Gabriel to the wall, he moved in close to whisper, “You can be better. I’ve seen it. Telling yourself it’s too late to change your path is only a lie you’ll tell yourself to avoid the long journey of absolution.”

  Gabriel looked into Raphael’s eyes without a word.

  Danielle and Gideon were the only other two besides Raphael and Gabriel close enough to catch the interaction. The hope and love Raphael still had for his fellow Archangel moved Danielle in a way she didn’t think possible, redefining her definition of forgiveness.

  The last chain fell from Gabriel’s wrist. The Fallen Archangel stretched and groaned as he was able to move in positions foreign to him for so long. Everyone except Raphael flinched as Gabriel strode out of his cell. His tattered black robes fell around him like a shadow. “Well, what is it we do next?”

  “Next we fight,” Esther said from the doorway.

  “Good,” Gabriel said, walking past Danielle and Gideon then past Esther and the guards at the door as if they were some kind of annoyance. “I feel like killing someone.”

  Chapter 14

  His head pounded like never before. Even as Alan opened his eyes he thought to himself, How many times have I been knocked unconscious? This can’t be healthy.

  With a groan, he lifted himself from the rough floor. He was in another dark cell, this one made of grey stone on every side. There was no light in his prison, the only glimmer coming from somewhere outside his chamber through a small barred window in an ominous wooden door.

  “Alan, is that you?” Kyle’s voice asked from somewhere in the darkness.

  “Yeah, yeah I’m here.”

  Alan worked his way on his hands and knees toward the sound of Kyle’s voice. Alan’s skull continued to throb as he crossed the room in darkness.

  “There you are,” Kyle said.

  Alan could barely see Kyle’s outline. He was propped in a sitting position on the cell floor.

  “Is anyone else in here with us?” Alan asked, squinting into the dark.

  “No, I think it’s just us. They must have taken everyone else and divided them into different cells. What happened? I couldn’t see much. Did … did Triana betray us?”

  Alan thought back to the events that landed him in the gloomy cell with Kyle. It came back to his aching mind in a flash. “No, she reached the stone and threw it to the ground to break it, but it just bounced off the floor. She was as stunned as I was that it didn’t work. I could see it in her face.”

  “Great. Well, at least we don’t have to feel like total idiots for trusting her. So, what now?”

  Alan let a long sigh escape his lungs. “I don’t know, but I’m not giving up. Whatever happens next, we have to believe that the others will come. Cratos is coming back, and Esther and Angelica will strike when he does. We just have to survive. We have to find a way to stay alive.”

  “I’m with you,” Kyle said.

  The two sat in silence, each lost to his own thoughts. Alan’s throat was raw, his head in agony, but past all of this he was thinking of Seraphim. He remembered her last words, how she looked so small, so helpless lying on the bench of their previous cell.

  Anger rose within him, a rage he knew he had to subdue if he was going to honor her last request. Not vengeance, Alan thought, his hands balling into fists, justice.

  Alan wasn’t sure how long they spent in the cell … hours, maybe even a full night. Sleep was still far from his mind when he heard the sound of marching feet.

  Alan struggled to a standing position, weak from the lack of both food and water. Kyle did the same beside him. Soon, keys were being turned in the locked door and a large group of Sodom’s guards entered, carrying torches.

  The lights from the flames were blinding. Alan blinked a dozen times before his eyes adjusted and he was able to see who stood in the room. Accompanying the guards stood Trubic, wearing a bright-orange suit of gilded armor more befitting a parade leader. “Feeling well, Horsemen?” Trubic asked with malice in his voice. “Thought you could flee this place with that traitor, Triana?”

  “What do you want?” Alan asked, checking the urge he felt to lunge at the demon.

  “It’s not what I want, oh no, no, no,” Trubic said, taking a step closer. “If I had it my way, you all would be dead already, right alongside that Death Angel tramp you called—”

  Alan couldn’t stop himself. Justice would have to wait for another day. Summoning the last of his strength, he jumped toward Trubic and wrapped both hands around the screaming demon’s throat. Before Alan could manage more than a second or two hold, he was torn off Trubic by the army of guards at hand.

  Blows struck his torso and face as Alan was slammed back against the cell wall. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Kyle given similar treatment beside him.

  Trubic recovered from his initial scream. He pushed the guards away who tried to assist him from his position on the floor. “Get back! Back, you dogs! I can take care of myself!”

  Turning on Alan, he fixed him with a stare full of hate. “If I had it my way, you’d all be dead, not preparing for another round in the coliseum.” Trubic straightened his armor and the long crimson cloak that fell behind him. “My uncle thinks it’s important that the men see you fall. He wants your death to be the horn calling our army to war. He wants the death of the Horsemen heralding the coming Apocalypse.”

  “So spare us the speech and let’s get on with it, already,” Kyle said to Alan’s left. Still held in place by the guards, Kyle spit blood down at the floor near Trubic’s feet.

  “I would love nothing more,” Trubi
c said, licking his lips, “however, killing you would be a direct violation of my uncle’s orders. He didn’t say anything about beating you though.”

  At once, Alan understood why Trubic had come: his enemies—wounded, cornered, and injured. He had come to gloat and inflict his own punishment on them. The soldiers moved first to Alan, and then Kyle, restraining them. Trubic turned to a soldier on his right and took a whip from the man.

  Alan refused to grimace or groan. When each blow fell, he retreated into himself. His thoughts were on those he had lost, those who still needed him, and the justice he promised he would bring Seraphim.

  Wet oozed down Alan’s back as wounds were opened and blood poured free. The pain he experienced then was nothing to the loss he felt at Seraphim’s death. Physical pain he could handle. To Kyle’s credit, he was much the same. Alan winced for his friend as he heard the whip strikes land like some kind of searing thunder.

  Then it was over. Both men were left to slump to the ground as pain numbed their back and fatigue from the loss of blood set in.

  “There we are,” said a panting Trubic, who was trying to hide the physical exertion whipping them had taken on his body. “Now let’s see you best the centaurs in the coliseum.”

  Without another word, Trubic turned on his heel and headed for the door. Alan and Kyle were dragged through the long halls of the underground cells and taken to a familiar set of doors.

  Roars permeated the barrier as the crowd from the arena shouted their approval. Sodom’s voice could be heard over the now quieting mob as he addressed his army. “Five enemies of the Apocalypse remain. Among them, two of the Four Horsemen of this age. Today they die, and their deaths will mark the beginning of a new era. When they fall, we march to claim the power of the last Horseman, Disease, and by doing so begin the reign of the Usurper!”

  Another intense round of shouts made the ground vibrate under Alan’s feet. At once, the doors to the coliseum were thrown open and Alan and Kyle were forced to the middle of the arena.

  The first thing Alan noticed was the time of day. The sun was just rising over the edge of the coliseum. It was hard to believe yet another twenty-four hours had passed in their living hell.

  The next thing Alan noticed was the other three members of their group huddled together in the middle of the arena. Bobby, Triana, and Rana all bore similar wounds on their back. Each of them blinked against the light and wobbled on unsteady knees.

  “So this is it,” Bobby said, wincing as he straightened his back. “We die here, beside Horsemen who have chosen the Light.”

  “I can think of worse ways to go,” Rana said as they all took position in a small circle.

  Backs facing one another, eyes directed to the gates destined to open for their executioners, they waited. Boos and jeers from the crowd mixed in with Alan’s thundering heartbeat. He was prepared to die, his only regret not bringing those responsible for Seraphim’s death to the end they deserved.

  A sick, gnawing feeling ate at his insides as he determined to fight as long and as hard as he could.

  The feeling grew in intensity as the gates around the pit began to slowly open. “Whatever is coming out,” Kyle said, both hands clenched into fists, “we can be sure there will be a lot of them. Sodom won’t make a mistake this time.”

  “Agreed,” Alan said. “We have the best chance of survival if we stick together.”

  Alan was going to say more. He was going to give the four people around him some kind of speech or pep talk, but the sound of hundreds of running hooves drowned out any further words they might have been able to hear. Louder and louder, the noise echoed through the tunnels until the floor shook and Alan’s insides vibrated under the onslaught.

  Creatures in full battle gear erupted from the tunnels. Hundreds of beasts, man or woman from the waist up and horse from the waist down, circled the small group. Brilliant armor protected their chest, arms, and head. Each warrior was equipped with a shield, spear, and sword or bow at his or her back.

  Alan’s mouth dropped open. Not only had he never seen a centaur before, but the sheer number of them was staggering. It seemed every available foot of the arena was used to accommodate their collective mass.

  One centaur strode forward, his tail swishing violently from side to side. With one hand, he removed his helm, revealing a clean-shaven face and long dark hair. He spoke to them all in a deep voice that reflected pity and shame rather than malice. “Understand, my kind take no pleasure in this. If there was any other way, we would have chosen to fight alongside the Light.”

  With that simple statement, he replaced his helm and nodded to his soldiers.

  Sensing his one and perhaps only opportunity escaping, Alan took a step forward. Immediately, dozens of lances were pointed at his chest. Hands up, Alan addressed the centaur who had spoken. “You don’t have to do this. There is another way. Fight with us. Together we can defeat Sodom.”

  The crowd noise intensified, as bloodthirsty members of the Demon Army grew impatient to see the execution of Alan and his friends.

  The lead centaur hesitated. Just as Alan thought there may be a way to reason with him, Sodom’s voice boomed over the crowd. “Lavos, proceed as instructed. You know the consequences of your disobedience.”

  Alan and the centaur both swung their heads to look up at Sodom who sat flanked by Trubic and Rolf. The general motioned to some men behind him who dragged a figure bound in chains.

  At once, Alan understood the situation. The creature four guards pulled forward was a female centaur. She was regal despite her situation. Long snowy hair matched the hue of her horse’s body perfectly. Although she was bound, she stood tall, glaring at Sodom and the guards around her.

  “Kill them, or I kill your queen,” Sodom ordered.

  As if to emphasize his resolve, Rolf stood from his seat. Walking forward, he pulled a long sword from his side and brought it to rest right under the centaur queen’s chin. To her credit, she didn’t flinch.

  The centaur named Lavos turned from the sight and shook his head. With eyes full of anger and sorrow, Alan had his answer. “I am truly sorry, Horseman, but this is the only way.”

  Before Alan had a chance to reason further, Lavos nodded to his men. Lances lowered, the Centaur Army moved in for the kill.

  ---

  Ardat noticed the ground shaking still a mile out from the enemy camp. Loose stones rattled and bounced on the ground as if an earthquake was slowly beginning to pick up momentum. “Wait here,” she instructed a wide-eyed Tracy.

  Lifting from the ground, Ardat shot skyward. Gaining altitude, she searched the landscape in every direction. Far off to her left she saw the large black mass that was Sodom’s forces. Looking to her right, Ardat’s heart caught in her throat. Another army was on the move. This one far smaller than Sodom’s army, but one that was approaching quickly.

  Her eyes fought through the cloud of dust rising from the trampling feet. Then she caught it and couldn’t believe what her eyes were telling her. A bright-yellow flag bore the emblem of a black, raging bull. The Minotaur Army was on the move. For a moment, she allowed herself to believe the unthinkable. But that moment was soon gone and Ardat was forced to realize the Minotaur Army, which had never intruded in the war between the Light and Dark, could just as soon be joining Sodom’s forces as enlisting in their own.

  There was only one way to be sure. Throwing caution behind her, Ardat sped forward to intercept the army of gigantic soldiers. As she came closer, guttural shouts and roars erupted from the scouts that preceded the main unit.

  For a brief moment, Ardat weighed the odds of her survival, should she choose to engage the main force. Just as soon as the thought came to mind, Michael’s face crossed her thoughts. Not now; this isn’t the time to strike first and ask questions later. There may be a chance, she thought to herself.

  Lowering to the ground, Ardat touched down and put both arms in the air. Eight towering minotaurs approached. They carried heavy slings w
ith stones the size of Ardat’s head. Already the rocks were swirling in their brown leather pouches.

  “I wish to speak to your leader,” Ardat said in a clear, calm tone.

  The minotaurs looked to one another. One scarred minotaur with a white shock of hair across his forehead addressed her in a rough voice, “What does a demon want with Queen Baymore?”

  “This demon is brining the Horsewoman of Disease to join the fight against Sodom’s forces. Do I speak with an ally or an enemy?”

  The minotaur huffed, sending a cloud of dust shooting from his thick snout. “We are no friends to Sodom.” With a nod of his horned head, he motioned to one of his solders, who stomped his hoof in return and took off at a run.

  “I should warn you, demon, if what you speak is a lie, I will kill you where you stand,” he said.

  “I’m sure you will try,” Ardat said with a smile.

  The silence lengthened between Ardat and the seven remaining minotaurs. The minotaurs may has well have been statues the way they stood, backs rigid, eyes unmoving from their target.

  Ardat, on the other hand, felt anxious to be on her way. Tracy was alone with her horse and the phoenix, no doubt wondering where Ardat had gone. Just as Ardat was considering taking to the air again to find Tracy, a group of warrior minotaurs appeared.

  Flanked by a contingent of personal bodyguards armored so heavily even their horns were incased in steel, a female minotaur approached. Ardat had never seen the queen that ruled the Minotaur Nation, but she had heard stories. There was no doubt this was her.

  Tall, with wide shoulders and adorned in her own golden armor, she advanced. “I am told you are an ally and have a Horsewoman with you?”

  “I do.”

  “And you, of course, have proof of this?”

  “Of course; however, what proof of your allegiance do I have? You could be lying to me to trap my Horsewoman and take her to Sodom.”