Conquest: Rise of the Fifth Horseman (The Fifth Horseman Series Book 1) by Richard M. Mulder Page A

resounding crack as her head collided with the hardwood floor.
After that there was a blur of memory. She remembered waking up in a cold damp
room trapped inside a cage made of barbed wire. She screamed for help for
several hours, but nobody came to her rescue. She didn’t realize she had fallen
asleep until she was roughly dragged to her feet in the middle of the night.
She remembered screaming in terror as several cloaked figures dragged her down
a damp corridor just before she was knocked unconscious again.
    How long was I
unconscious? If it’s evening now… that must mean I’ve been knocked out for over
eighteen hours?!
    She heard voices enter
the room. Fearing for her life, she held as still as possible and squinted her
eyes. In the distance she could make out two men coming toward her. One of them
was wearing a black cloak just like the men who had dragged her out of the
barbed-wire cage. The other was wearing a fine robe with a medieval-looking
tunic underneath. As they got closer, she could make out what they were saying.
    “Verily, thou doth
misunderstand.” the older man in the fine robe sounded frustrated, “What say
ye, perchance the villagers learn his Holiness has brought hither a woman from
Earth? Methinks they shall be wroth!”
    A woman from earth?
What are these strange men talking about?
    “His Holiness has given
his final word.” the cloaked figure’s voice escaped from somewhere beneath the
dark hood, “And as you are well aware, betrayal of his command is punishable by
immediate death.”
    “Lest ye return this
woman thither, we shall be doomed unto death!” the older man stammered angrily,
“Anon we shall be infected!”
    “Your paranoia is
unfounded.” the cloaked figure sounded frustrated.
    “Unfounded, pray tell?!”
he seethed, “Mayhaps thy Creed had not desecrated our Holy Lands with thine
disease and filth?! Our world ‘twas pure!”
    Their world? Holy
Lands? Is this some kind of sick joke?
    “Watch your words, old
man.” he warned, “They may be among your last.”
    “Old man, say ye?” the
older man shook his head in astonishment, “Before thine Creed hath come hither
to our world with thine diseases, our life expectancy hath remained prolonged
like unto thine biblical ancestors.”
    “Oh?” he asked
intrigued, “How long exactly?”
    “Thirty score, ‘twas
common.” the older man explained.
    “I don’t understand.”
    “In thine dialect,” he
clarified, “six-hundred years.”
    “You’re kidding.” the
cloaked individual scoffed, “That’s impossible.”
    Where am I? Is this
some crazed medieval theme park?
    “Verily, I assure thee
of this possibility. Hence, now our life expectancy doth dwindle.” he sighed, “Ten
score ‘tis now common.”
    “Again, I don’t know
what ‘score’ means.”
    “Two hundred years ‘tis
now most common.” the old man sighed.
    “Whatever.”
    “Pray tell,” an idea
struck the old man, “perchance we exile the woman hither to the northern lands?”
    “I’m afraid the winters
there are so unbearable that nobody can survive the cold.”
    “Verily, ‘tis so.” the
older man smiled.
    “If you’re not careful,”
the cloaked individual warned, “I’ll make sure you’re the one who gets exiled
there instead.”
    The older man huffed
angrily, and then stormed off. She held her body rigid and closed her eyes
fully as the cloaked individual came closer. She could sense his close
proximity, and it made her uneasy. She heard a slight splash of water near her
head. She cringed unexpectantly when she felt water run down her face.
    “Miss Thatcher,” the
cloaked individual spoke, “are you awake?”
    She let out a soft moan
to convince him she was just barely waking up.
    “This may sting a
little.” he warned as he applied the damp cloth to the side of her head again.
    The searing paid was
excruciating, and her eyes flew wide open. She tried to scream, but it was
muffled by the duct tape. She was then aware of