The Fifth Horseman

Chapter 7: Full Fledged Horseman

  I land flat on my ass, Death looming above me after I failed to reverse his throw. He shakes his head as I get to my feet. "Horrible. Simply horrible." He drawls. "No talent for combat. I don't know what War saw in you. You can't even reverse a simple hold. You stumble all over yourself, your moves are clumsy, you leave yourself wide open to attacks, and you never concentrate!" He continues, knocking on my forehead with the knuckle of his middle finger at the last two words.
  I stand and rub my sore back. "Well, if you actually taught me how to use some moves, I wouldn't have this problem!" I retort. He snorts and laughs. "You will have to come up with your own styles and combat moves, you stupid little human. Did you really think I would be stupid enough to teach you what I know when it comes to combat?" He says.
  I just grumble to myself and keep my mouth shut. "Well, that's enough of physical combat training for now. Let's try some magic." I perk up a little. It had always been my childhood dream -and that of pretty much every other kid on earth- to learn magic.
  Death sits on the ground in a cross legged pose and motions for me to do the same. I follow suit.
  "Alright. Listen, and listen carefully, because I won't be explaining this again." He says, then takes a deep breath. "The ability to cast spells lies in every soul, no matter the kind. What matters is simply the unlocking of the ability, and the subsequent training to increase your reserves. Magic usually takes after one of the four elements; Earth, Air, Fire, and Water. The type of magic a person is able to cast is randomly decided. A skilled magician may even be able to cast more than one type of element, and an even more skilled one would be able to combine elements to produce even more powerful spells." He says.
  I nod my understanding, then ask a question. "How do we know what element a caster has an affinity for?" "Well, it usually depends on what element the user feels most attracted to. If he likes setting things on fire, he most probably has an affinity for the Fire element. If he or she likes getting things wet or enjoys water, they have an affinity for the Water element, and so on." He says. "Speaking of which, I need to find out what kind of magic you follow before I can continue the training. What kind of category would you fall into?" He asks.
  I think for a while before I remember how much I liked setting things on fire, which included the neighbour's dog. That, however, is a story for another time.
  "I think I might be a fire elemental." I say slowly. Death nods, orange eyes glowing maniacally behind his skull-shaped mask. "A Fire elemental? Interesting." He purrs. "Oh yes, I forgot to mention one other thing. You have your own trademark magic granted to you by the Council." I cock my head.
  "You also have the ability to apply 'darkness' to your magic." He says. I frown and ask him to elaborate. "Okay. Take me, for example. I'm a water elemental, but I'm also Death. So, that means I can form whatever water magic I want, but also combine it with my power of control over Death. For example, I summon a pool of water. If I want to combine it with my death ability, I could create poisoned water. Get me?" He says. I nod.
  "Good. Now, start with baby steps. Try to create a ball of fire in your palm." He says. I focus, trying to find some spot in my mind that I can concentrate on to draw on my magical reserves.
  I focus harder, until suddenly Death says "Stop. You're concentrating too hard. Try too hard, you'll miss the feel of the magic. This time, try to relax a bit and let it flow into you." I follow his advice, relaxing my muscles and and my mind. "Try to search for a source in your mind. It'll feel a little strange when you make contact with it, but that's all I can say for now." Death says.
  I start to probe my mind for what he described, searching for some sort of magical source. I pass myself through my mental scrutiny over and over without success, getting more and more desperate with each failure.
  Finally, it hits me. So slight, I hadn't noticed it at first. A feeling of being drawn it. I decide to let go and follow it. The feeling gets stronger and stronger as it pulls me deeper into my memories.
  It takes me so deep, I can't even recognize the memories. Sifting slowly backwards, it starts at my most recent, then going progressively backwards. Before the destruction, at school; it left no stone unturned while reading my mind like an open book.
  Finally, it pauses at one particular memory. The time I almost burned my hands. Then, it starts going through every memory I ever had of my interactions with fire.
  The stove, the bonfire, the neighbour's dog, matches, lighters, everything that was a source of fire seemed to agitate the force, making it whirl through my memories faster and faster.
  Then, all of a sudden, a blinding white flash of light, and a sudden feeling of weightlessness. Did I somehow blow myself up?
  Apparently not, because when I opened my eyes, the world -and Death's masked face- were right in front of me. I stumble backwards from the abrupt invasion of my comfort zone. "So, I take it you found the source?" He drawls. I nod, not sure what to expect. "Good. Now, focus and create a ball of fire for me." He says.
  I concentrate, and again, feeling that sucking force, focus on it. I start pulling out the magic from my reserves, channeling it and shaping it into the ball of fire in my mind. I open my eyes, and see a small black ball of fire, about the size of a golf ball, form in my hand. Death nods. "Hmm. Good work. You got it surprisingly fast for a beginner." He says.
  I grin, bit the smile is quickly wiped off my face by his next words: "It's good, if you were trying to fry some dirt. I doubt that fire could even fry an ant." I purse my lips a little, resisting the sudden, overwhelming urge to punch him in the face.
  He leans back and stretches, the bones in his back popping audibly, before snapping back to his normal posture. "You're going to need to work on your focus if you hope to become a real Horseman and track down whoever or whatever destroyed your home.
  Now, let's try some training with mêlée weapons. I honestly hope you perform better in this than in hand to hand combat..." He says. He snaps his fingers, and an array of weapons suddenly appear before me, hovering in the air. I see a quarterstaff, a double sword, two identical swords, a pair of two swords, one long, the other short, and a single sword, all arranged with a little space between them. "Pick one." He says before snapping his fingers again, a pair of scythes appearing at his sides with a soft whoosh. My eyebrows lift a little with slight surprise, but after seeing in a few months things that no mortal man would normally see in a lifetime, not much surprised me anymore.
  He draws his scythes and twirls them. "Pick a weapon or a set and let's get going. I don't have all day!" He growls. I carefully study the array of weapons. I decided immediately on what I would chose. The dual swords, of course. The real question was, the identical pair or the mismatched pair?
  "If you want, we could try twice with two different sets. Either way, you're still losing." He drawls. I give him a bored look and pick the identical swords. The other weapons mysteriously vanish. I swing the swords around, getting a feel for it. The swords are slightly curved, almost like a scimitar or a katana. Good. I like curvy swords.
  Death gives no warning before he attacks. Luckily, I spot his movements and block them. And then I realize something. Death had moved too fast. Well, too fast for a normal human to see, anyway. But I wasn't normal anymore.
  He swung the other scythe around to hit my head, but I ducked and shoved him hard. He stumbled backwards, but recovered too quickly for me to follow up with a counterattack. He dodged and weaved, seemingly predicting my attacks before I made them. I pause for a breather to come up with a new strategy, but he immediately goes on the offense again.
  This time, I'm pushed hard to defend myself, blocking, parrying, and dodging as many strikes as I can. The sound of metal clashing on metal rings throughout the air, disorienting me and pushing me deeper into the haze of battle. Death swings harder and faster, trying to break through my guard.
  Somewhere, I screw up and he lands a blow on my head with the blunt end of the scythe. My head spins and my ears ring as I feel back from the blow, going slightly dizzy and cross-eyed from the force of the blow. Then, my mind goes completely blank.
  An undeterminable amount of time later, I find myself lying on the ground, staring at the sky while my head is pounding in pain. I groan and try to sit up, but a clawed hand pushes me down. "Don't try to move too fast. I wouldn't advise it right now." He says. "Ugh... What the hell happened? Last thing I remember is you smacking my head with the blunt end of the scythe." I groan.
  Death looks at me for a few seconds, probably deciding whether to tell me or not, then takes a deep breath and says "Unsurprisingly, you were defeated. Surprisingly, you almost beat me. You actually made me go all out just to win." The corner of his eyes crinkle just a little, and I can tell that he's smirking.
  I look at him in absolute confusion. "But- How- What the hell happened!? I need more details!" I say. "Well, for a few seconds after I hit you, you stood perfectly still, and then your eyes went really wide and your face completely expressionless. And you had this weird, almost dead look in your eyes. Then you suddenly went on the offensive, and this time, your blows were faster and stronger than before. Not only that, but you were dodging almost every move I made." He says. "Oh. This has happened once before. My mentor told me it was something called a battle trance." I say.
  "Mentor? Battle trance? Were you taking combat classes on Earth?" Death asks. "Yes. Yes I did... And I'm guessing you want to know about it, so I'm gonna go ahead and tell you the whole story. Thing is, I was bullied a lot when I was a kid. At first, I ignored it. You know what kids are like. But when it started getting really serious, like when they started trying to rough me up for money and I came home with bruises, my mother decided that I needed some self-defense classes." I pause and take a breath.
  "Then she sent me to this self defense training institute. I don't remember its name, but that hardly matters anymore. There, this old dude decided to take me on as a personal apprentice. I honestly have absolutely no idea what he saw in me. But, he put put me through intensive training, and after a year or so, decided to set me up with a match."
  "And? What happened?" Death asks. Ha! He's interested! I managed to hook Death with a story! If I had feathers, I'd be preening them right now! Runs through the back of my head before I continue. "Well, it went of perfectly fine at first. I scored the first point. Yay. And the second round, he scored a point. But, he hit me in the head. My mind went blank, and the next thing I know, I'm on the floor, and the other guy is also on the floor. In a bloody pulp." I say.
  Death raises an eyebrow. "Hmm. This is the first I've heard of this... Battle trance, you called it? I shall do some research on this... But what happened after you beat him up? Surely there must have been repercussions." He says. "Oh, there were. I was kicked out! For winning a fight, I got kicked out! But, that wasn't the end of my training. My master wanted to train me some more, to try and hone this skill. But, then those demons attacked." I say.
  Death nods appreciatively. "I'm with you on that one. You shouldn't have been excommunicated simply for winning a fight..." He says. Then he stands up and looks around. And then,  I notice that it's night. I had been out nearly five hours. "Well, it's late. Time for you to get some sleep. And no, your training doesn't stop here. We'll begin again tomorrow. But for now, we'll hold off on the combat training until I can do some more research on this battle trance thing of yours." He says. I nod, feeling the tiredness and soreness that usually followed an entrance into the Trance coming over me. I get up and practically crawl my way to the tents set up a few feet away. From the outside, these tents look plain and nondescript. But the magic involved in their crafting make it otherwise.
  For starters, the canvas of the tent blends in with the landscape. Secondly, it looks small from the outside, but it's the size of a small house inside. Also, it can warn the occupant of any hostile life forms. Last but not least, it can set itself up. A hassle-free, canvas-and-poles-falling-on-your-head free, no accidentally smacking your thumb with a mallet while nailing a peg into the ground godsend from the creators. It is also water, fire, acid, and magic proof. They are also very, very, very expensive. Obviously.
  I crawl into the tent, shut the flap, undress, crawl into bed, and fall asleep before my head hits the pillow.
  That night, I had a dream.
  I was running down a corridor, running in abject terror from someone or some thing, as I heard the flapping of wings and screeching getting louder behind me. Suddenly, I'm falling down into a pit. Down, down, down, I go, then I notice I'm falling through a fiery sky into a graveyard, and headed straight for a grave. I start screaming, little good that does me, then my body is forcefully twisted, before closing the last few metres and slamming into the coffin. The lid slams shut and I'm locked in the darkness, and when I hear something shoveling the dirt on top of the coffin, I start screaming, knowing that there's no way out now and I'm locked in here forever.
  I jerk awake, nearly colliding with Death's masked face. "Quite a dream you were having." He says. I stare at him in confusion for a minute before throwing my pillow at him and yelling at him to get out. I dress, pulling on a comfortable tunic before exiting the tent.
  Death is there, waiting for me. "What were you dreaming about?" He asks, almost wistfully. I relate the dream to him. "You know, dreams usually have a secret meaning in them." He says. "I know. Which is why I'm wondering about it." I trail off, before asking Death a question. "Do you dream? At all?" His doesn't reply for a few seconds, then shakes his head.
  So, Death doesn't dream. Interesting...
  "So, what's the schedule for today?" I ask. Death thinks for a minute. "We'll continue with the same schedule as yesterday. And for the next few weeks." He says. I groan, knowing what's in store for me.