Conquest: Rise of the Fifth Horseman (The Fifth Horseman Series Book 1)
Page 21
“You’re a Seraph!” she spoke matter-of-factly, “Who are you?”
“My name is John.” he stared at her with the same curiosity, “You’re not from this world, are you?”
“No, I’m from Earth.” she explained, “My name is Lily.”
A look of recognition crossed his face, “Ah. You’re Allan’s girlfriend. Have you seen him?”
He watched as tears formed in her eyelids, “He’s... he’s dead.”
“But that’s impossible.” John scoffed.
Lily had a faraway look in her eyes. As he stared into the depth of her soul however, he watched the scene of Allan’s death as the memory replayed in her mind.
“This...” John stammered in shock, “...this cannot be! He is the Final Seraph! He still has a destiny to fulfill!”
Lily slumped to the floor and covered her face with her hands as she resumed moaning. John stared at her in disbelief and shook his head.
I must see this for myself.
Before John could turn away, Lily grabbed at his tunic.
“Please…” she pleaded and pointed toward the open staircase, “…the people…”
He deciphered the alarm on her face, and read Timur’s last command to his priests from her eyes. In reaction, he ran up the staircase and into the light. He was somewhat blinded by the glare, but forced himself to squint. A large commotion mingled with screams could be heard outside the walls of the Temple.
His army of rebels followed closely at his heels as he charged into down the corridor toward the front doors. Two guards stood at the massive doors, who looked terrified by the hoard of rebel warriors barreling down on them. The two of them started yelling and charged toward them at full speed.
John parried a blow from a particularly large guard and they clashed together for several minutes. The guard was no match for John’s prowess however, having been trained as a protector and guardian during his reign in Zion. John parried another blow and drove the large guard back with several strikes of his own.
He heard the slight rasp of material ripping and felt the warm ooze of blood on his forearm. An aura of white light surrounded him and quickly healed the wound. The guard staggered backward with eyes full of surprise. John seized the moment and plunged his sword through the guard’s chest.
Retracting his sword, the man crumpled to the ground. The other guard had already fallen, and the doors had already been forced open. John ran outside to join the fight, and parried a blow from a new assailant.
His head throbbed from the sounds in the courtyard. Peasants were being hacked down like cattle ready for slaughter by Timur’s wicked priests, while his rebel warriors tried their best to defend them. The battle all around him grew ever louder as his comrades continued to pour in from the massive doors to join the fight.
His second assailant crumpled to the ground, and John went on the offence. He attacked a priest who had been assailing an elderly woman, knocking him to the ground in a pool of his own blood. The elderly woman cried in relief and praised John in gratitude.
An excruciating pain erupted from his chest. He staggered as his assailant retracted the blade, and John’s aura surrounded him again and quickly healed the wound.
John turned to face the horrified look on his assailant’s face, and he hacked him aside. From the top of the stairs he looked out across the courtyard, and was troubled by what he saw. He had been far too preoccupied to determine who was winning the battle, but it looked like they were in for some trouble. Hundreds of priests were gathering from every corner of the city to join in the fight, and the rebel warriors were dwindling quickly.
In alarm he was about to charge into the crowd, but then suddenly stopped cold as he recognized the body lying on the ground before him.
Allan?!
He quickly dropped to his knees and attempted to feel for a pulse. The body was still warm, but completely lifeless.
John’s hands trembled.
This can’t be happening!
It was clear from the dried pool of blood that Allan had been mortally wounded, but it seemed his aura had already healed the wound. Apparently the aura somehow was insufficient to save his life.
We’re doomed.
A piercing pain then erupted from his left shoulder. He staggered, dizzy. He then recognized the dart sticking out of his arm just as several members of the Creed of Nephilim surrounded him on all sides. His body fell limp and his sword clattered to the ground.
Chapter Fifty: Re-Awakening
And God didst abide with his Malakhim for a time, and then He departed hence. The Malakhim in heaven know not where He doth dwell, but that He shall return on the Great Day of Judgment…
– Methuselah 13:5 –
A loud gasp of breath erupted through the small room as Allan awoke with a start and he bolted upright. Cold sweat glistened from his forehead and the silver light emanating from his wide eyes was slowly dimming. He instinctively grasped at his chest where the sword had pierced him, only to find that he was wearing a strange orange jumpsuit. He was unsure if the long dream had been another one of his many nightmares, but the Land of Zion had felt so real. Staring at his hands, he clenched them tightly together to fight off the swarming visions from the night.
In that moment however, he realized he wasn’t staring at his hands after all. These hands had short swollen fingers and his palms were huge. His brain then registered that the small room where he had awoken was a prison cell. Trembling, he approached the small mirror attached to the wall above the sink next to his cot. His eyes went wide as the swollen face staring back at him in the dim light was completely unrecognizable, and he let out a screech of terror.
Moments later a correctional officer appeared at the cell’s door.
“James, what’s wrong?”
Allan stretched the skin on his foreign face in horror as he tried to find his own face hidden somewhere beneath this strange mask.
“James?” the officer cautiously placed his hand on his Taser.
“It’s Allan.” he insisted, “What happened? Where am I?!”
A look of understanding fell across the officer’s face as he picked up his radio receiver, “I’ve located the disturbance. It’s James again.”
The officer listened to the voice on the other end through his earpiece and then responded, “I’m afraid he must have missed a dose of his medication. I think he’s developed another new personality. This time the name is Allan.”
The officer shook his head in annoyance and walked away. It appeared to be sometime in the middle of the night. The silence was disturbing, but it was short-lived.
A dark voice then echoed in his mind: I saved thee. Thou shalt now follow my will.
Allan continued to stare at the mirror in shock, “Yes Master.”
About the Author:
Husband to a gorgeous redhead, father of two little boys. Currently working on a Bachelor’s Degree at Brigham Young University.
Richard began his writing career on accident when he unsuccessfully tried to impress a girl at age twelve. Six years later in November of 2003, Richard became the 18-year-old published author of The Secret Journal. Now thirty, he continues the writing career that he started at an early age.
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