Page 4 of Conquest (The Four Horsemen #1)

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One moment Raziel was hurtling through a black fog, and the next he was hitting solid ground.

He kept his eyes shut as he knelt on all fours on something cold and hard. He was terrified of what he would find when he opened them.

It was so loud. Movement, screeches, rumblings in the air like thunder. God, where was he?

Raziel squeezed his eyes tighter, his body tensing. He didn’t want to be here, he didn’t want this. He was so scared. He just wanted to go home.

A shove from the side sent him sprawling face first onto the ground, the rough surface scraping his cheek that stung where his skin was ripped.

His eyes flung open and he flinched back from the barrage of sights. He was on a grey surface, with mortals walking in all directions around him. Dozens of them, hundreds even. He took a deep breath, willing himself to calm. He pressed his palm onto the surface he was sitting on. Knowledge came pouring from within.

Concrete; cement and water mixed together into a hard composition.

Raziel stood gingerly, frowning at the concrete. He didn’t like it. It was hard and horrible, with no give beneath his bare feet. He missed the clouds already.

He touched a finger to his burning cheek, coming away with blood on his fingertip. He’d never seen his own blood before. He touched his thumb and index finger together, feeling the sticky substance between them. So strange.

Raziel was shoved again, a mortal slinging harsh words at him. He tried to move out of the way, get out of their path but there were so many of them. They all growled, shoving him, their voices louder.

Raziel turned to run and slammed straight into a large hard object. He pressed his hands to it. Car; a motor vehicle for transportation. Blue Kia Cerrato. Flashes of fire, of screaming and pain burst across Raziel’s mind and he ripped his hands away from the car in shock.

“The freak convention was last week, loser. Get the fuck out of my way.”

Raziel blinked as a large man pushed past him, hip-checking him painfully.

What was a freak convention? What was a convention?

He tried to pull up what little knowledge he had about Earth.

Horses. He remembered pictures of horses. Where were the horses? Where were the trees? The small thatched structures? The land ? There was nothing around him but the horrible concrete and structures that stretched high.

Raziel looked up in horror as he realized how many large structures were surrounding him, so high they blocked out the beautiful blue sky. He remembered the pictures of Earth being so much cleaner. Incredible vast landscapes, oceans, forests. Had the Archangels sent him to the wrong dimension?

“Archangel Uriel,” he called. “Archangel Raphael. Please, help me.”

The mortals passing him looked at him funny, but no-one stopped to help him and neither of the Archangels responded. He huddled against one of the large structures, trying to get away from them all. He reached behind him, flattening his palm against the cold surface. Window; glass opening in a wall. High-rise; tall building made from different materials. This one held offices, restaurants, and a bakery on the ground floor. Each item flicked through his mind, the information sinking inside him.

He craned his neck to the sky as he waited. No Archangels dotted the sky to rescue him. They said they’d help him. Where were they? What was he going to do?

Raziel escaped into one of the structures, following the scent of something amazing. It only took a few steps before he stopped short at the sight before him.

Food. Glass shelves filled with foods of all kinds. Some Raziel recognized from his studies, but others were a mystery. And they smelled divine.

He’d never tasted food; Angels didn’t need that kind of sustenance. But oh, how he’d wanted to. There had been something in the back of his mind, some buried memory that sang to him whenever he found a book about mortal food. He’d always wondered if he could just see it, feel it, touch it, then maybe those memories that were lost to him would return.

Raziel approached the glass, stepping around the few mortals that were lingering in the room. He was unsure how to get through the glass, how to get the food out.

He spotted a round piece of bread on the top of the glass cases, within his reach. It looked different than anything he had seen before. It was like the bread had been twisted together to form a swirl that got smaller towards the center. Something white was drizzled over the top. Raziel picked it up carefully.

Cinnamon roll; sweet baked dough made with cinnamon and sugar and topped with sticky sugar glaze.

Raziel sniffed the roll, closing his eyes in ecstasy. No amount of reading could have ever described that sweet smell. More memories teased at the edges of his mind but he couldn’t quite get a hold of them. And then they were gone, like always. Frustrating, but something he was used to.

He gave it a small lick, the taste dancing on his tongue. He wondered why Angels didn’t just eat anyway, if things tasted like this? Just because they didn’t have to, didn’t mean they couldn’t. Maybe that was why Angels clamored to be assigned the tasks that took them down here?

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”

The voice had Raziel flinching so violently he dropped his treat. He looked forlornly at it, upside down and looking so sad on the dirty surface.

“That isn’t yours!”

Raziel didn’t understand. What wasn’t his? He ducked to pick up the roll but was pushed forcefully into the glass. He winced at the pain in his chest and down his ribs.

“You better be paying for that!”

Paying? Oh. Money. Coins. Raziel looked down at his white robe, his bare feet. He didn’t have any gold coins. “I don’t - I don’t have-” Raziel stepped back, the look in the man’s eyes pushing his panic button. He was an Angel in name only and he was no match for a mortal three times his size. He wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong but the mortal did not look happy with him. “I don’t have coins,” he sputtered out.

“No money? Then get the fuck out! We aren’t a goddamn charity!”

Raziel furrowed his brows. A Charity? They weren’t a virtue? What?

The scary man descended upon him and Raziel left quickly. He at least understood enough to realise that he wasn’t welcome there.

The rush of noise and chaos overwhelmed him once more as he stepped outside onto the sidewalk.

What was he supposed to do now? How was he going to find a Horseman in all of this?

* * *

Raziel felt like he had been walking for hours. His feet were dirty, and aching. He was so weary . It had taken him a while to realize what the sensation was. Immortals didn’t get tired, didn’t need sleep, didn’t need sustenance.

So why was he tired? What was wrong with him?

He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw a break in the suffocating, endless high-rise buildings that surrounded him. He picked up his pace and cried out in happiness, flinging his arms wide when he passed the last of the giant structures.

The mortals gave him a large berth, parting around him. Raziel didn’t care, he was out. He was free!

He froze when he took in the area around him. Was that the ocean?

Raziel ran, stumbling over the hem of his robes in his haste. He dodged around the myriad of mortals, and the cars. The cars screeched to a stop as he passed them, and they made loud sounds at him as the mortals stuck their heads out of the windows and screamed obscenities at him.

Raziel ignored it all. He didn’t understand what their issue was, and didn’t care to.

He ran across the wooden platform and into the fence enclosing it. He gripped the fencing with both hands and stared in wonder. The ocean was below him, in front of him, all around him as far as the eye could see, and it was magnificent.

The sun was high in the sky, creating a sparkling sheen over the water as it rocked in gentle waves. Pictures could never have done it justice. The sounds of the waves, of the birds flying over it, the smells.

Raziel wondered what it would feel like. Warm, cold? How would it move around him? If he’d had wings, how would the water feel against them?

“Outta the way, you hippy freak!”

Raziel jumped and pressed himself against the railing as someone whizzed past him, standing on some kind of long board with wheels. He couldn’t gain the knowledge of what it was without touching it and he doubted the mortal would allow him to do so even if he could catch up.

This world was confusing.

What was a ‘hippy’?

Raziel crouched down and touched a hand to the wood below him.

Pier; a raised structure over water, supported by pillars for access to offshore areas.

He wandered slowly down the pier, taking in all the sights. It was filled with mortals who were gathered in groups. A lot of them were eating some sort of melting delicacy in a cone shaped edible. They were all different colors, some multiple colors. What were they?

He wanted one.

He remembered that he didn’t have any gold coins to barter with and his heart sank.

How could he get some? The Archangels had said they would look after him, so where were they? Why had he just been abandoned here?

Was there even a task for him? Had they been lying about Conquest? Had it just been to get rid of him? Surely there were easier ways, especially for an Archangel.

Raziel stared in awe at the large contraption he was approaching. It was a giant wheel, with seats that mortals were occupying. They were going so high into the sky. Weren’t they scared? They didn’t have wings, couldn’t fly. Wouldn’t they die if they fell?

The fencing around the structure meant that Raziel couldn’t get close enough to touch to find out what it was. An opening in the fence had a long line of mortals streaming from it. A single mortal was at the front, letting some of the others pass at intervals to get onto the seats as the wheel stopped and started.

Raziel got into the line, ignoring the curious and hostile looks that he was getting from the mortals around him. He knew it had something to do with his attire; he hadn’t seen anyone else wearing a robe. At least here he wasn’t the only one that wasn’t wearing footwear.

When he got to the front of the line, so close to the large wheel he could almost stretch out and touch it, Raziel smiled at the mortal man who was standing at the gate.

The mortal didn’t smile back. “Ticket.”

Raziel’s smile faltered. “Ticket?” What was a ticket?

The mortal pointed somewhere behind Raziel and he turned to see. A small building further down the pier had a large opening where another mortal was standing and giving out small pieces of something to the people in line. Mortals really seemed to enjoy lining up for things.

There was a sign that said ‘Ferris Wheel tickets’. Ferris Wheel? What an odd name.

“If you don’t have a ticket, you can’t get on.”

“Come on, man,” someone whined. “You’re holding up the line! Piss off!”

Raziel stepped away from the line, frowning.

He checked the ‘ticket’ building but it required gold coins to purchase. Well, he’d seen a gold coin. There were also silver coins, and strange paper money he had never seen before. Others were using some kind of hard, shiny card to pay as well.

He didn’t know what any of it was, and his first attempt at trying to touch some of it had been met with screeching and screaming about thieves and muggers, whatever they were. He had left quickly and learned not to touch any of the types of money, which was all he had managed to learn.

He had learned that the frozen treat that the mortals were eating was called ice-cream and that to get one also required money.

Why was everything here so hard?

Why had the Archangels just left him here with nothing? They had to have known how little knowledge of Earth he possessed, how little power he possessed in general. He was useless in the Heavens, why did they think he would be less useless here?

Raziel trailed back the way he had come, dragging his dirty feet.

He had no idea what to do, where to go, where to even start looking for the Horseman Conquest.

Following the signs he found a way to get down to the beach. The moment the sand touched his toes, his jaw dropped.

Oh, wow.

He wriggled his toes, giggling at the way the sand felt around them. It was so soft, so squishy. It took him a few steps to find his balance, the way he kept sinking in making it hard to keep his footing.

Raziel found a warm spot away from the mortals and sat. He scooped a pile of sand into his hand and watched in fascination as it sifted through the space between his fingers. Maybe he could smuggle some of it back with him to the Heavens. He could make his own beach, his own little slice of paradise.

He was mesmerized, watching small mortals creating a sculpture with the sand. They were running to the water, gathering it in buckets and taking it back to their area of sand. They poured the water over the sand, which changed its texture and then molded the wet sand into shapes.

They created a beautiful castle. And then jumped all over it, destroying it.

Raziel frowned, feeling decidedly less enthralled by their actions. Why would you take the time to build something so extraordinary and then just… tear it down? It felt so wasteful, so pointless.

He wiped away the single tear that trailed down his cheek.

He didn’t like it here, not really. There was beauty, but there was also so much darkness.

What was he supposed to do now?