Healing magic really was the greatest thing in the universe!
Of course, that sentiment might have something to do with the fact that Joan had just healed the arm I’d managed to break.
Pain was something I was getting more familiar with, but I was still having trouble dealing with it. Bruises and cuts I was able to power through, but when my arm had broken all the fight had gone out of me.
Maybe I was being unrealistic. After all, most of the images I had of people powering through with broken arms or severe wounds came from things like Hollywood blockbusters. Even so, I found myself frustrated at the way I’d become utterly useless after my arm broke.
It had all happened so quickly. My protector had told me that I had become proficient enough in the basics of my defence. So, a new dimension could be added to my training, namely being able to move around. Up until now, I had trained by staying in one spot, my feet firmly planted in one place. Now I was being taught the basics of how to move while defending myself. It had been hard, keeping my balance while sidestepping, backing off, even jumping back was not something that came easily to me, and I had gone down several times.
This last time though I had managed to make such a mess of it that I think it could almost be considered an achievement. As I fell I somehow managed to get my left arm tangled up with the sword. Had it been edged then I would have ended up slicing myself open. As it was my arm wanted to go one way, but physics, my body weight and kinetic energy all ensured that the sword had to go in another direction. Something had to give, and in the end, my bones weren’t as tough as the metal of the sword.
So yeah, my arm broke, and it hurt like hell.
All of that led me back to my decision, namely that even if I gained the power to cause the finest of chocolate fudge cakes to appear out of thin air I would still consider healing to be the most awesome skill in the world. With just a touch and a small effort of will Joan was able to get my arm back in working order and make the pain fade away.
“Thanks.”
“You are welcome.”
Joan stood up from where she had been kneeling and glanced up at the sky. I had no talent for using the sun to read the time, but even I could tell that it was getting late in the day.
“Let us call that enough for today. You have worked hard, and I think that if you push yourself any further then you will be losing ground rather than gaining any more.”
I wasn’t about to argue against that. Even though my physical injuries were gone I still felt as though my brain had been fed through a wringer. I wasn’t going to learn anything if we kept on going, it just wouldn’t stick. I was just too tired mentally and physically.
“Shall we grab something to eat?”
This was more a formality than a genuine question, we both knew that I was going to stuff my face. It was pretty much obligatory after one of these training sessions. She must have felt the same way because she didn’t reply, she just nodded her head and walked back towards the farmstead. I followed behind her, then went up to my room as she went into the kitchen.
As I stepped into the farmhouse it had occurred to me that the roles we’d each fallen into in the house were almost comically sexist when taken out of context. I was expecting her to work in the kitchen and get a meal ready for me while I showered after getting back from work.
Of course, the truth wasn’t anywhere near so cut and dried. The simple fact was that after training I barely had the energy needed to just drag myself up the stairs to my room, let alone actually make anything more sophisticated than a boiled egg if I pushed it. Joan, thanks to the supernatural vitality that powered her, could happily spend the whole day beating me black and blue and still be fresh as a daisy. And I meant that literally, by the end of one of our little sessions, I was normally covered in dirt, blood and bruises and stinking of sweat, whereas my instructor would be pristine and not even have broken into a light sweat.
And, to top it all off the resurrected saint was perfectly capable of kicking my ass six ways from Sunday, and I bloody well knew it. Sexism was a laughable concept when you were well aware of where you stood compared
With an ease that was growing practised, I had a quick shower, dried off and changed clothes. The healing had helped, and now the only ache I had to deal with was that of muscles recovering after being pushed. It was painful, but I could get where fitness addicts came from when they talked about a ‘good pain’.
Once again, when I got downstairs I found the table laden with food, this time it was a large fish rather than chicken, but as hungry as I was feeling I wasn’t going to be picky. As had become the habit between us after saying grace the first few minutes of the meal were eaten in silence as I did my best to quieten the stomach that had started to growl as soon as I laid eyes on the spread. While I did so I tried to think of what we could talk about.
Joan didn’t have any problems answering my questions, and some of the stuff I was learning would have sent researchers about the world into frothing frenzies. I’d learnt things about God, heaven, demigods, all sorts of stuff. In a way, I’d come to see these conversations as something of a reward for making it through the day, and I treasured the knowledge she shared with me.
Still, I didn’t want to turn our meal into an interrogation. I preferred it to be a conversation, though the problem was getting that conversation started.
Actually, there was something I’d been meaning to ask her about. I hadn’t had too much time to think about it. In fact, it still didn’t seem very real, but in about a week or so I was going to have to . . . what? Become a champion of Heaven here on Earth? Fight the rogue gods that were causing general mayhem and chaos? Take down the demigods that were running rampant with no regard as to the consequences of their actions?
“Hey, were you scared?”
As I asked the question Joan looked up at me, her question clear on her face.
“When you got told that you were going to have to help save France, were you scared? I’m still trying to wrap my head around what you told me, and if I weren’t so tired from your training I think I’d curl up into a ball and start crying with fear.”
“I . . . I was very much afraid, the first time I heard the voice of Lord Michael speaking to me,” Joan admitted, her eyes taking on a faraway look as she remembered. “When I first heard him I feared that I was losing my mind. I was just a common peasant girl, the daughter of a minor village official, who was I to be worthy of the attention of one of God’s angels? However, the voice continued to speak to me, I came to believe that this voice was not merely the creation of my own mind.
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“He told me things that I did not know, things that I could not know. Then I thought that perhaps it was a demon that spoke to me, seeking to lure me onto a path of hubris and sin. But the things that he told me were not of malice or sin, instead, they were kind words, sorrowful words. He told me of the pitiful state of my country, of how the king was in dire need of aid to secure his crown, and of how it had to be me that would right what was wrong.”
She paused for a moment, looking back at me.
“I spent days denying it, fearing that I was simply some mad girl that was hearing the voices of her secret wishes. But then I overheard the merchants that came through our villages. What they said . . . it confirmed what the voice had told me, and I could no longer deny it. I went to the garden of my father, and I told the voice that I believed.”
A smile spread across her face, one that was somehow happy and a bit sad.
“It was there that I saw Lord Michael and the saints that were to guide me for the first time. They appeared to me after I accepted the task that had been laid upon me and told me that I was making the right choice. They were all so beautiful that it made me weep with joy to be able to see them, and then weep with sadness when they had to leave. The next day I set out to try to secure an armed escort to take me to the French royal court. I failed the first time, being unable to convince the commander of the genuine nature of my need, but was able to convince some lesser officers of the truth of my claims, and was able to speak to the commander a second time.”
“Yeah, I know this one,” I said, feeling oddly pleased to be able to show off my own knowledge. “Wasn’t that one of the first miracles you did, knowing the outcome of a battle you had no way of knowing, and days before official word arrived?”
“Indeed,” she agreed. “Saints Catherine and Margaret spoke to me, just as lord Michael said they would. They told me which words to use, and by their aid, I was able to convince commander Baudricourt to grant me an escort to Chinon, to the king’s court.”
“Were you scared then?”
“Of course, I was. Adam, I was simply some country girl that had somehow managed to make her way to court. Charles was the king of my country, or he would be once he was crowned. How could I not have been scared? I knew that the saints would guide me, but even so, I could not help but think of all the ways in which I could have made a mistake. All the things I could have said wrong, all the actions I might have taken that could lead to disaster. When it was finally time to speak to him, I thought that my voice would fail me.”
She paused again, then looked at me.
“I put all my trust in my faith, in my trust that God would not have set me a task that I was unequal for. I heeded the council of the saints that spoke to me, and I spoke with all the fervour and conviction that my faith bestowed upon me. That was how I overcame my fear. But that is not the right path for you, is it?”
Her question wasn’t an accusation; though it could have been had she altered her tone even slightly. Instead, it was kind, and warm in a way that I would have expected from someone much older than her apparent age.
“Am I that obvious?”
I tried, but some of my irritation at myself must have slipped into my tone because Joan frowned at me. That just made me feel a bit worse. I’d asked her how she dealt with her fear because I was still having trouble dealing with my own. Fear at my situation, fear at what was to come.
The fact was that I couldn’t help but feel frustrated with myself. I was meant to be a demigod, the child of a divine being. More than that I was meant to be a powerful one, powerful enough that God, with the capital ‘G’ himself, had sent Joan of Arc to help me. JOAN OF ARC! But . . . I was just a normal guy; I didn’t feel equal to this. Actually, I didn’t think I could think I was up to it without suffering from megalomania. But even so, I felt as though I should be more. Braver, smarter, stronger, just better. Instead, I was scared that I wouldn’t be able to measure up.
“Adam, there should be no shame in feeling daunted by the future that faces you. Only a fool or a madman would see what is to come and be uncaring of it. You feel fear because you can grasp the scope of what is asked of you. You understand the seriousness of what you face. Feel no shame in that, instead take pride in it, know that it is the response of a sane and rational person.”
“It’s rational because I don’t think I’m up to it,” I admitted. “Joan, I’ve heard about some of the stuff that’s going on in the world. Problems are popping up where no one’s expecting them. Things like the Nemean Lion in Australia, gods and demigods fighting as warlords in Africa, that small town in China just disappearing overnight, angels and demons spotted fighting each other here in Europe and leaving loads of damage in their wake. And I’m the guy that’s meant to deal with it all? How? How can I possibly face all that? It’s . . . it’s all just too big!”
“Have faith, Adam. God would not set this task upon us if either one of us were unequal to it. You shall come into your power, and you shall be a match for what is asked of you. And you need not fear facing it alone, I shall help you, and I am certain I shall not be the only one to offer my aid. Others shall come, others that wish to aid this world, to tend the wounds that mar it. You shall not be alone, this I can promise you. Have faith.”
From someone else that advice could have come across as something of a meaningless platitude. I was never a really religious guy, and I’d always found it easier to have faith in things like law and society than in concepts such as God. I had sort of nebulously believed in him, but it had been in the same way you believed in the existence of galaxies or black holes. You trusted that what you’d read about them was correct, and accepted that the concept of them made sense. It was murkier than that, but it was the same general sort of thing. I believed in God, but as this far away indistinct presence that didn’t really impact my daily life all that much.
But when Joan told me to have faith, for the first time in ages I actually felt like I might want to.
“Did God really set me on this? Did he really know that I was going to be alive now and that I would be needed?”
“God does possess what we mortals would call omniscience,” My teacher said, “However, he also gifted mankind with free will. Free will can defy sight into the future, but even so, fate and destiny are real forces in the world.”
“Wait, wait! Hold on a second.” I interrupted her, confusion colouring my tone and most likely showing on my face. “How does that work? If fate and destiny are real then doesn’t that mean that everything is already all set-out? Wouldn’t that mean that free will was just an illusion? And aren’t fate and destiny the same thing?”
“To a degree, their natures overlap, but they are also distinct in very clear ways. Also, they are not mutually exclusive with free will, however, the abilities of mortals to fully understand such forces is incomplete. Those mortals that have gained some glimpses into their nature can only view them in reference to linear time, but their true natures transcend the temporal concepts that exist in this plane. Do not ask me to explain it, that was one of the memories that were taken from me before my incarnation in order to safeguard my sanity, but I can remember the notion of their nature, if not the nature itself. Fate, Freewill and destiny all exist in concert, and God can use them to see into possibilities and potentials of the future.
“That is how He knows that you have the potential to rise to the tasks to come. He has faith in you, Adam, have faith in that.”
“You really think so?”
I felt foolish, like a child seeking reassurance by asking his mother to repeat her earlier encouragement to him, but even so, I wanted to hear it again. I wanted to hear that she, Joan of Arc, a saint chosen by God himself, thought that I, Adam West, mister ordinary and hiking enthusiast, might be up to standing shoulder to shoulder with the forces that were rocking the world.
“Yes Adam, I do.”
And just like that, I felt the knot in my belly loosen slightly. To be sure, it wasn’t gone, but I felt better if only a little bit.
“Thanks.”
She nodded in response, that light smile on her lips again.
The rest of the evening was spent companionably enough. I taught her how to play dominos, given that someone had supplied her with a set. It wasn’t quite as much fun with just the two of us, but it made for a fairly decent evening, and I didn’t have to move about too much. Afterwards, I showed her how to make a line of dominos and then knock them over. That was more fun, and we spent almost as much time setting them up in different ways, and then knocking them over, as we did playing with them as a proper game. In the end, I went to bed with a smile on my face.
It had been fun, a light-hearted fun that I hadn’t experienced with Joan before. My last thought, before I drifted off to sleep, was to think that she had a nice laugh, very musical. She really should laugh more.