Chapter 9: Red in Tooth and Claw
I am ashamed to admit that when the first attack came my first response was a high-pitched shriek of surprise and terror.
The assault came out of nowhere, catching me completely off guard, as a good assault should. I’d been making my way deeper into the woods, making as little sound as possible while keeping a sharp eye out for anything that might look out of place. I think that it was because I was focused on this that the sudden attack came as such a surprise.
There was no warning of any sort, no movement out of the corner of my eye, no sound of something in the brush or skittering across the bark of a tree. Instead, I went from ‘scanning the area as thoroughly as I could’ to ‘having an attacker right in my face’ in the space of a split second!
Had my attacker been some formidable enemy then I might have been justified in my less than heroic reaction. But, the creature that leapt down at me was a squirrel.
On the other hand, this ‘squirrel’ was the size of a large housecat. This ‘squirrel’ had large claws, carnivorous fangs, and a bloodcurdling attack shriek. It was more an abomination than a squirrel, so maybe my reaction wasn’t so misplaced.
It had come at me with blinding speed. It was only that horrid shriek that set off my reflexes in time to do anything to protect myself. Plenty of practice with both of my teachers had hammered reactions into me. So, my right arm had blocked the beast’s way before I had a chance to think, and before it had a chance to maul my face off.
And it was a damned good thing that I did because the wretched beast didn’t give me even an instant’s respite. The second it struck it latched on, its teeth digging into my skin with the tenacity of a tick, even as its limbs ripped at me in a blur of speed.
The claws that tore at me stung and drew blood, but despite the warped creature’s best efforts the cuts were shallow, and the blood only oozed out in slow rivulets, rather than the thicker flow that it should have been. This was definite proof that my awakening had made my body tougher. It wasn’t invulnerability, but it was something.
All of this occurred to me in the space of an instant, even as my startled cry faded away. I’m not entirely sure what I would have done, stunned as I was by the suddenness and sheer ferocity of the attack, but I never had the chance to find out.
Almost at the same time as my arm came up my wings snapped open, arching up behind me like a scorpion flexing its tail when threatened. Unfortunately, I was right next to a tree when they did this, and as such my left wing hit a trunk, the force of it being enough to send me tumbling to the side, the squirrel still attached to my arm.
What came next . . . I wish I could say that it was all planned, that I was able to keep my head and turn the situation to my advantage. However, the truth was that I panicked, and in my panic more or less just thrashed about wildly in an attempt to recover my equilibrium, get rid of the squirrel, attack it, and get away, all at the same time. It was an ugly, frantic, and uncoordinated effort, utterly devoid of any sort of skill or grace.
And it turned out to be surprisingly effective, since my flailing arm impacted with a nearby tree, catching the twisted creature between my arm and the thick trunk. There was a wet crackling noise, a stab of pain as the fangs of the beast were forced deeper into my flesh, and then just a dead weight hanging from my arm.
It took me a moment to collect myself, but when I did so I stared down at my arm . . . then had to bite back another shrill scream at what I saw there!
The squirrel was broken, of that, there could be no doubt. When I’d accidentally smashed it against the tree, I’d inadvertently shattered both its spine and the back of its head. Half the skull was caved in, and its back was arched in a way that no normal spine could manage, either should have been enough to kill it, but it still clung to life.
Its body twitched, the eyes rolled in its head, and those teeth remained locked in my flesh, but all of that could have just been the last misfiring of a damaged brain on the verge of giving out. Whatever the case might have been, I only felt a visceral need to get the damned thing off me!
Distantly I heard the metallic sound of my halo snapping into existence as I reached for my magic. Then my telekinesis seized the dying animal that was still latched onto me and none too gently pried its jaws open. I’m pretty sure I heard something break as it did so, but I wasn’t too concerned with that. Rather, I was trying to get my heart to settle down to a normal heart rate, something that the copious amount of adrenalin in my bloodstream was making difficult.
Pushing myself off the underbrush crushed by my fall I did my best to analyse the situation as dispassionately as I could.
Well, clearly, I should have been more prepared for an attack. I’d been aware that there were monsters in the forest, but I’d been thinking of them as things like giant wolves or cats. Something like a predatory squirrel, an ambush predator, had never crossed my mind, and it should have. I’d let myself fall into the trap of not fully understanding my situation, of thinking of it like the plot of a story, or the build of a computer game. I had a quest, but that didn’t mean that this was going to be some simple fight where I could find clues that highlighted themselves, and which I just had to put together in some simplified jigsaw minigame. Enemies weren’t going to advance at me slowly and give me ample time to blast them down or set up traps.
I wasn’t taking it as seriously as I should, after all, I didn’t have any extra lives here.
I should have come in here with my halo deployed and my magic ready! I could sustain a shield that could tank hits from Hadriel, hits that I knew could smash stone if she wanted, so why didn’t I have it up and running as soon as I came in here? For that matter, why didn’t I try to put together some sort of detection spell? And an attack spell, why hadn’t I prepared one of those? I could at least hold a TK blast in reserve, as long as I didn’t dump too much power into it, for a good half hour, so there was no reason I shouldn’t have one ready to blast any warped murder critter that tried to eat my face!
I let out a sigh, willing a shield into being around me as I should have done from the start!
Doing my best to focus I drew upon the magic within me as I considered my options. I had to be smart about this, I had to make sure I didn’t forget about any of the metaphorical arrows in my quiver. This wasn’t a game, I didn’t get any continues if something managed to kill me.
Safe, or at least as much so as I could reasonably be, behind my shield, I started to work on the detection spell. It wasn’t going to be easy, given that I didn’t know exactly what I was setting it to look for, but I had a couple of ideas that might work.
The next time I advanced, I was going to be better prepared.
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Joan was very carefully NOT pacing.
Oh, she wanted to, she wanted to very much. Of course, she also wanted to grab her sword, assume her angelic form, and fly off after Adam! She wanted to go out into the field of white grass and run through her sword drills until she didn’t have the energy to even hold her blade! She wanted to scream in frustration!
Instead, she sat in one of the armchairs in the farmhouse and waited. She didn’t twitch, she didn’t fidget, she simply sat there, hands crossed in her lap, so still that she might have been mistaken for a statue.
“I understand your concern,” Hadriel stated as she entered the room, her red wings folded to avoid any issues. “But there is little to be done now. Adam has left, and unless you intend to chase after him there are not many other paths open to you.”
The resurrected saint knew the angel was correct, but some part of her childishly wanted to simply ignore that fact. It wanted to say that Hadriel was wrong and that there was something she could do. Joan knew it was irrational, purposeless even, but even so, she couldn’t help but worry about her charge.
Taking a deep breath, then letting it out slowly, the French saint forced herself to relax. Running her nerves raw like this was not doing her, Adam, or anyone else any good. Instead, she should be focusing on doing something useful with her time.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“Precisely how long will the Sanctuary last?” She asked, already knowing it was about six days, but wanting to know if Hadriel had a more accurate figure.
“The spell shall end in five days, nineteen hours, and thirty-seven minutes, and . . . fifteen seconds.”
The answer came with almost machine-like precision, and Joan found herself wondering if the angel had some power that provided her an internal clock, for her to be so intimately aware of the time involved. It was currently just before five in the afternoon, so less than twenty-four meant . . . sometime before noon in six days.
That gave her time to plan things, to get ready. The question was, what would they do then?
Always before the path had been clear before her. Ever since her return to the mortal plane, she had known what needed to be done: gather resources, establish a secure location, find Adam, help him prepare for his awakening, help him awaken, and then train him in the use of his newly gained powers. After that, well, she’d envisioned Adam bursting forth in his full power to be a leader, a shining beacon in the world with her and other to aid him. In his incomplete state though . . .
Adam would have to do something, he needed to establish a reputation, one that he could build upon so that other demigods, and eventually the gods themselves, would pay heed to him. Exactly what though, was the problem. There were threats in the world, despite the currently fragile but stable status quo, and had Adam come into his full power Joan would have had no issue following him to face them. Indeed, that had originally been the plan she would have suggested after he Awakened.
It was also a plan she had been forced to discard. Since then she and Hadriel had needed to remake to their assessment of their ward with each step of Adam’s development. Simply training him had taken most of their focus, and future planning was difficult as they had trouble anticipating his growth.
Joan felt a frown touch her forehead as she realized that she wasn’t as aware of the goings on in the world as she should have been. It was understandable since within the Sanctuary they might be protected, but they were also cut off. With her full focus on helping Adam improve his powers she had not given it any thought, but she had not been receiving any of the missives from the mortals that had been aiding her.
Internally she berated herself. Yes, there was nothing she could have done about it, not without compromising the security of the Sanctuary. But for her not to even notice it until now was inexcusable.
She would need to find some external help. Perhaps she could leave, make her way to a nearby town and get in contact with the mortal organizations that had aided her in the past. They could help her gain a clearer picture of current events, and from there they could together plan the next moves Hadriel and Adam might choose from. The last days of the Hallowed Sanctuary would provide the time she needed, so . . .
“Something is wrong!”
Hadriel’s sudden statement echoed through the room, emphasized by her suddenly tense form. There was a flash of light, and the two massive blades that were her chosen weapons filled her hands, the tips of the swords almost scraping the ceiling. The angel had turned to face one of the walls, but her gaze wasn’t focused upon the stone and mortar before her, rather she was intent upon what was beyond it.
Joan blinked in confusion, and then she felt it too. The Hallowed Sanctuary was an incredible spell, one that not only concealed and protected an enormous area with near perfection, but which also connected to all that occupied it. This connection allowed those within to know when the Sanctuary had been detected, when someone was searching for it, or when someone was trying to break in.
That wasn’t what she was feeling, but there was a distinct sense of . . . impact on the side of the Sanctuary. The blows were minuscule, all but unnoticeable, but they were coming in three short bursts, then a pause, then another three impacts. This continued, the impacts growing harder with each repetition, but not to the point where they could ever hope to break the protection. It took Joan a full half minute to realize just what the impacts were.
Knocks. Somebody was knocking on the wall of the Sanctuary!
It was so absurd that it took a moment for the idea to properly connect in her head. The Hallowed Sanctuary was a fortress, an impregnable mystic bastion, a spell that had frustrated entire armies of demons in the past! For someone to be just . . . knocking on it as though it were some house’s front door.
No, wait! The pattern of the knocking had changed. Three knocks had become five, then a short pause followed by two more. There was a pattern to it, one that she recognized. For a moment she tried to place it, part of her concerned that it was part of some ritual or spell, one meant to bring the Sanctuary somehow. Where had she heard it? It had been recently, but where? It had been-
The pattern of knocks repeated again, this time with enough force that the impacts could have made common bricks crack had the same impact struck them. The familiarity was almost maddening, it was just within reach, but she could not grasp it. It seemed to taunt her, slipping through her mental fingers as she tried to pin it down. It was something new, she was certain of that. It was something from this modern era, something that she had heard only in the last few days. Idly she wished Adam were here, he would be able to easily recognize it.
Wait! There was something there, something to that thought which felt right. Adam, it had something to do with Adam. What was it-
It slid into position with an almost audible click as the memory surfaced. Adam knocking on the door to her room with that exact same pattern as he asked her if she’d like to join him for a late supper. It had been only a day after they’d arrived at the farmstead, and with the training she’d been putting him through his appetite had dogged him as his body craved fuel to replace the energy it had used up. She’d been curious about the pattern, wondering if it had any meaning, and her questions had led to some interesting conversation. The breakfast discussion had been about television commercials, advert jingles, and modern pop culture references. All in all, it had been quite interesting, but then they’d had to return to the task of training and Joan had largely forgotten about it.
Shave-and-a-haircut . . . two-bits, that was what it had been called. Adam had commented on how the almost iconic pattern had outlived both the product that spawned it, and the currency reference it had reflected. In modern days ‘two bits’ would barely be enough to buy a small chocolate bar, let alone a shave and a haircut. It was now a knock you used when you were trying to be funny when you wanted to make a disarming entrance.
And now someone was using it on the side of the Hallowed Sanctuary?
Joan was aware that some gods had lived in modern times, so the reference would be known to them, but even so, this was bizarre.
“They are not attempting to break in, not with such a level of strength,” Hadriel’s words broke her from her thoughts. “Are they trying to gain our attention rather than force their way in?”
“I believe so,” The French saint replied. “That knock . . . in modern times it denotes informality, even humour, depending upon the situation. If meant sincerely then it could be that whomever is knocking simply wishes to parley with us. Of course, there is the possibility that it is a ruse, one meant to trick us into lowering our guard before a surprise attack.”
Either was a possibility, and Joan was unsure of how best to proceed. She knew that whoever this was had to be confronted, it was simply the approach that was in doubt. Should she offer a peaceful meeting, or should she immediately attack whoever had managed to locate them?
The resurrected soul shook her head taking a moment to calm herself before looking at the situation again. Getting herself caught up using such binary thinking was a foolish mistake, one that should be beneath her. This wasn’t a case where it was either or, there was no reason she could not offer one open hand while keeping the other ready to draw her sword.
“I shall meet them.”
She spoke the resolution as she turned to face Hadriel.
“Honoured Hadriel, please hold back, but be prepared to attack with all your might should our visitors prove hostile. There is no need to make a foe where one might not exist.”
It made sense, given that the red-winged angel was the more powerful of them. True, Joan could transform into her angelic form and match her, but the simple fact was that Hadriel had literal millennia of experience using that power, in contrast to the French saint’s handful of centuries. There was also the fact that Joan’s hidden trump card made her harder to kill than the angel, something that warranted consideration when meeting an unknown potential enemy.
“Very well. Should they mean us or Adam ill, then they shall face the consequences.”
With anyone else it might have sounded like a boast, the sort of bravado that fighters engaged in before battle in order to strengthen their morale. Coming from Hadriel though, it was a statement of fact, a completely honest declaration of her intent, one devoid of false confidence or arrogance. As a visible emphasis to her words small lines of lightning the colour of gold began to run up and down her blades, sparking and cracking with barely restrained power as the angel readied herself for combat.
With a nod Joan left the farmhouse, purposefully striding towards the edge of the Sanctuary the knocking was being made upon. Behind her the red-winged angel hovered over the building, ready to dart in at full speed should hostilities erupt. It was as good a preparation as could be managed in the time available.
As she walked she noted that the point where the knocking was coming from was the spot at which the Hallowed Sanctuary covered the road that led to the farmhouse. That would imply that whomever this was they had come via the road. That was . . . strange, given the sheer power that was needed to interact with the spell in order to knock on it. To be able to physically impact what was essentially a distortion in the world . . .
For a moment Joan felt her confidence flag. That kind of ability was quite literally god-like, and not just any god either. This would require a powerful deity, one with either the raw might to overcome the difficulty, or one with a ‘wide’ or ‘deep’ enough domain to be able to ignore the world-altering effects of the Sanctuary. Either possibility was daunting, even with a warrior angel as her backup.
With one final check to make sure her sword was loose and ready in its sheath the Maiden of Orleans went forth to meet this unexpected guest. Then, just as she was about to step through the outer field of the Sanctuary she felt it, another set of knocks, these precise and formal.
And coming from the opposite end of the Sanctuary.
For a moment she just stood there, frozen by the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. Was not this the Hallowed Sanctuary? Was not this one of the greatest protection spells that the High Heavens had to offer? So why was it that not one but two beings were now knocking on it and requesting admittance? For a brief moment, she found herself wondering if she had somehow been provided with some cut-price version of the spell, some knock-off rather than the genuine article.
She would first have to deal with this first knocker, then see to the next. Of course, the situation was now more complicated. It could be that the first knocker was supposed to act unthreatening, then attack in tandem with the second knocker.
This . . . was not going to be easy.