Page 1 of Conquest (The Four Horsemen #1)
Many millennia ago
Conquest ducked and rolled forward, narrowly avoiding the deadly spikes from the Angel's flail. Whoever said Angels were peaceful hadn’t ever been attacked by one, clearly. Conquest kicked it away as he turned and used his glaive polearm to slice neatly through the Angel’s left wing. The metal blade at the end of the pole gleamed with wet blood. The Angel’s pained scream was abruptly cut off as Conquest beheaded him.
Conquest surveyed the red and brown wasteland of the battlefield, searching for his brethren. The fires of Hell were peeking from below, through the cracks in the earth that were no doubt created by Diablo.
War was close by, locked in fierce battle with the Archangel Uriel. The flaming sword that War wielded clashed angrily against Uriel’s blade of ice. War was constantly dodging and ducking, trying to avoid the ice spikes shooting from Uriel’s large white wings. The jagged circle of ice and flames that surrounded them assured that they wouldn’t be disturbed by anyone. Conquest left them to it; he knew better than to get involved in that fight.
Conquest fought his way through the chaos of Angels and Demons locked in battle. Only a few Angels were brave enough to approach the Horseman and those that did were dealt with quickly and cleanly. He had no time to play with them. He and his brothers had lost their mares and their powers were diminished because of it; they needed to regroup and get the fuck out of the way of this mayhem. Once Death completed the final stage of the Apocalypse they would be free. Conquest refused to stay any longer than necessary and risk becoming fodder for Diablo’s war against the Heavens.
He felt Death before he spotted him. He was further away, out amidst the chaos, but he couldn’t hide from Conquest any more than Conquest could hide from him. The slashes of power he was conjuring, the black cloudy whispers surrounding him, lit up his aura in a way that Conquest could pick up from anywhere in the universe. Death’s black armor was cracked open in several places, blood leaking through at an alarmingly steady pace that didn’t seem to be affecting him. His black whispers were being cut through by God, who was hovering near him. His white projections, almost a mirror image of Death’s power, were trying to devour the darkness around them. His white robes were streaked with blood, and a large gash was open on his cheek.
Before Conquest could move forward in aid of his eldest brother, the screeching that always came when Famine was unleashing his power rolled over the field like thunder. Conquest winced as he bolted towards the source of the sound. He found Famine standing back-to-back with Diablo, both of them looking worse for wear. Famine was favoring his left side and chunks of Diablo’s leg had been cut away, revealing tendons and bone beneath. The dead creatures and insects that were crawling from below them made quick work of the Angels that were vying to kill them, but there were just too many of the winged vermin; they were descending from above at an overwhelming pace. Famine flipped his double-sided blade and cut one Angel in half while disemboweling another with a deep cut across its stomach. Diablo was burning through the Angels with his hellfire, but he was slowing down. They were all slowing down.
They weren’t going to win this fight. Conquest was certain of it. They needed to get the fuck out of there. Diablo’s agenda wasn’t worth dying for. It was a disappointing end, after everything they had done to get here, but there was nothing they could do about it.
Something blindsided Conquest, and he cursed as he went flying. He hit the ground, his back snapping and pain flaring down his spine. He grimaced and waited a moment as the bones repaired themselves. They finished healing just in time for him to roll away from the foot that came down where his head had been. He used his glaive to deflect the sword that tried to remove his head from his shoulders. He leapt gracefully to his feet and brought his weapon up on the offence. He snarled when he spied his attacker. “Abaddon, what the fuck? Too stupid to remember what side you’re on?”
“Oh, Conquest, don’t act so surprised. We aren’t winning this fight,” Abaddon said blithely. “So, I’ve come to collect my prize.”
“Ever the opportunistic motherfucker. Go back to Hell, I don’t have time for your bullshit.”
“Now, now, there’s no need to be rude. I told you that you were next in line to be my new plaything and so here I am.” Abaddon’s teeth were bright and bloodstained.
“I’m flattered,” Conquest said, trying to recall what conversation that had occurred in. It could have been any of the thousands they had had throughout their long years of battles. “But I think I’ll pass.”
“I don’t believe I gave you a choice.”
The cruel smile that graced Abaddon’s face chilled Conquest to the bone.
“Go fuck yourself,” was Conquest’s succinct response. He pulled his energy power from within himself and wrapped it around his glaive polearm, waiting for the inevitable attack. Abaddon wasn’t patient, and he never waited around when he had his prey in his sight.
Conquest readied himself.