Chapter 11: Into the Fire: Part Two
Joan cursed in French as she tried to force more power into the stream of burning light she was directing at the golem. She knew the beam held enough power in it to melt a passage through the thickest castle wall with ease. Even the great war machines of modern man would have been helpless before it. And yet she could not subdue the huge figure that stood before her.
This was not good, very far from it in fact. The grace of the heavens allowed her to assume the form and power of an angel, however she was still a mortal soul. As such she could only sustain the transformation for a limited amount of time, and the way she was spending her power was cutting down that time fast. Before long she would exhaust the force that allowed her to take on this form, then she would revert to her normal form completely spent of energy.
She had to end this, and do so as fast as she could. Behind her Adam was still being held by one of these demon host creatures, and every second she allowed that to continue was a failure upon her part.
The problem was that her foe was a golem, not some demonic entity. Against demons she was a dangerous foe. Her weapon was blessed by the heavens to deal them increased damage, her skills were specifically geared to be able to counter their strengths, her armour inscribed to be resistant to their foul magics. Even against mortal or divine foes she would have at least been on more equal footing, neither advantaged nor disadvantaged beyond the disparities in physical abilities. Against a golem though, that was where the rules changed.
This golem was clearly a product of Hebrew enchantment, and as such was derived from adapted angelic spells. Because of this, the construct before her possessed an innate resistance to the type of power she was directing against it. The heat, light and force of her attack remained, but the holy aspect, the essence of the heavens that opposed the damnation of hell, had no effect upon it.
No! She mustn’t allow herself to get distracted! She had to remember that this golem wasn’t an enemy she had to overcome; rather it was an obstacle to navigate. Her priority had to be Adam, not getting drawn into a fight that she might not be able to win.
As soon as the realization hit her she immediately changed her tactics. The torrent of energy that had been pushing against the massive figure suddenly cut off. Braced as it had been, pushing back against the pressure of her attack, the sudden loss of opposition took the construct by surprise, and it lurched forwards, its balance momentarily lost. Joan ruthlessly exploited the opening, lashing out with the power of light once more. This time it wasn’t as a beam of searing light though, this time it was with the head of a giant war hammer forged of her power.
Shaping her light into constructs was a difficult task for her. It was a skill that was shared by many mythical beings that could wield the power of an element or force. The greater one’s skill in such an area then the more complex and potent those constructs could be. Even minor demons could generally create swords or whips of flames, while the likes of Poseidon could create living beings composed of seawater if he so chose. All angels had some skill with such shaping, most of them using light or air, save for those who possessed their own elemental alignment.
As a mortal Joan was more limited. She could only form a single sword and shield at a time, despite her best efforts. In her angelic form this changed, and she could create larger and stronger weapons, however she was still far less sophisticated than a true angel would have been. She simply lacked the advanced spiritual complexity needed to properly harness the power of light she could generate. There was no shame in it; it was simply a natural limit, and it did not make her ineffective.
The hammer head that impacted the golem was easily the size of a small truck. Though made of hardened light it still gained weight due to the magic that allowed it to become solid, and this was swung with the full force Joan could bring to bear with the weapon.
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The golem was a massive and powerful construct. That being true, it was still subject to physics. And when the hard light, the equivalent of more than fifty tonnes of weight travelling at just over a hundred miles per hour, struck an object, there was a notable effect. Especially if said object was off balance when the impact occurs.
With a sound like a pair of mountains colliding the massive humanoid was actually lifted off the ground and sent sailing back into the field behind it. The impact when it hit the ground could be seen with the naked eyes, and the force of it cratered the soil. It would be on its feet soon, but that brief delay as it fought to free itself and find its footing again was all that she needed.
Spinning in place she released more rays of light from her hands, searing beams that carved through the remaining demon hosts as though they were nothing but air and smoke. In short order all those around her were gone, leaving only the ones standing by the portal, and the one that had Adam. Spinning in place she turned to face the last spot she’d seen the monster holding her charge, over by the altar. It hadn’t been long, the golem only able to distract her for less than a minute. She had also been keeping a mental eye upon Adam’s distinctive lifeforce, a signal she could easily recognize and track in her angelic form. Her eyes focused upon the spot where his energy rested . . . and blinked at what she saw.
The demon host creature was down, one of the feathers of Bath Kol driven into its skull so deeply that there was no doubt as to the state of the monster’s life. As if that had not been enough everything below its waist was gone, burnt away as though it had been forced into a blast furnace. The resurrected soul felt her eyes widen as she took in the scene before her. The altar that had been the centrepiece of the ritual was gone, nothing left in its spot save for a gaping crater of still red-hot fused soil and stone.
How? How had this happened? She’d heard no explosion, she’d felt no release of power. Frantically her eyes darted around, trying to find the spot where her mystic senses still felt the lifeforce of her charge. For a moment she felt an icy chill grip her heart as she couldn’t spot him. Her divine power told that he was in a specific spot, yet she could not see him there. Had she been tricked? Had her enemies deceived her senses and abducted him while she thought he was still nearby enough for her to save him?
Then she saw a familiar form and realized that what she had dismissed as the burnt remains of one of the tree trunks was in fact the prone form of her charge.
Relief ran through her, only be replaced by despair a second later. His body . . . it seemed to be a charred and blackened ruin. Had he been caught in whatever force detonated the altar? Had she failed in her oath to her God to protect him? Had she failed her oath to him as well? No, the lifeforce she felt was still strong, very much so. In fact . . . her eyes narrowed as she stared at the prone form. Yes, his lifeforce actually felt stronger than it had earlier today when he had been at full health.
This made no sense; she could see the way that his skin was burnt red and raw where it wasn’t already black. He should be dying, not brimming with energy. What was-
Her thoughts dissolved into a wail of pain as massive fingers of metal seized hold of her unbroken wing, their vast strength crushing down, snapping bones, mangling flesh. A scream rose up in her throat, only to be snatched away as the golem spun in place, using the broken wing as a grip to send her hurtling through the air and into the ground. The breath was driven from Joan’s body, and for a moment the sheer force of the impact caused her vision to swim. All that went through her mind was a dull question, scrambled to the point where it was only barely coherent. How had the golem recovered so quickly? She’d been sure that she would have longer before he was back in the fight, but it had only been a few instants. How . . .
“Kill him! Kill him now!”
The voice called across the field, but came from nobody she could see. For a moment she wondered if her mind was more scattered than she’d thought, then she realized that the voice came from the same shimmer in the air that the monsters had emerged from. Was this the master behind this attack? Other questions crowded into her head, but she dismissed them all as one fact eclipsed all others.
Adam was going to die if she didn’t do something!
She tried to move, but found her body slow to respond, everything as weak as though she were a child. Gritting her teeth she bit back a particularly vile curse and tried to force herself on. It was the wings, that was the problem, in her angelic form her wings were both her strength and her weakness. For angels their wings were more than mere decoration, they were one of the physical repositories where their spiritual structures connected to their physical ones. With her wings broken as they were, the flow of her internal energies were warped and uneven, leaving her weak and disoriented. Her wings would heal quickly, returning to full functionality in only a matter of minutes.
But those were minutes she didn’t have!