Chapter 17: Ascension Part Two

  Athena swung her spear, her full divine strength behind it, and shattered yet another shield of ice.

  Just as she had expected, her foe was not behind it. Instead, she was met by a blooming flower of fire that swelled from the size of an apple to the size of a car in less than a second. Still, that instant was enough for the goddess to raise her Aegis and defend herself. In the next moment, the flames had winked out, and she was once more turning to meet her infuriatingly agile foe as the old woman came in, one hand blazing with claws of flame, the other wielding a spear of ice. What followed was a short and savage exchange, Athena’s weapon smashing the ice construct and her shield crushing the claws of fire, only for her foe to dodge back, walls of ice springing up to cover her retreat.

  “Oh, come on. Surely a great goddess like you can give Old Hefnd a bit more fun than that!”

  The Olympian Goddess of Wisdom very deliberately did not grind her teeth as she maintained her calm. This entire battle had been an exercise in patience and restraint, a constant grind on her temper as the urge to give in to her frustrations and abandon any sort of restraint grew.

  The problem was that she knew it would do little good. Her foe was empowered by this enhanced version of the Wild Hunt’s immortality, meaning that not only was she recovering from wounds absurdly fast, even if she was killed, she’d recover instantly. Trying to maim her was more effective than trying to slay her, and even that did little more than ensure that the old woman was not attacking Adam.

  Athena did not doubt that if Ares had been here in her place, then the entire area would have been reduced to molten slag by now.

  In addition to her immortality, this old woman, whom the goddess was almost certain was some sort of demigod, was . . . challenging to face. Her mastery of fire and ice was impressive, even to an Olympian, and her agility and skill were honed to a razor edge, clearly the result of long experience and staggering practice. She was obviously both talented and tempered by time, but that was not what made her so difficult to face.

  “Heh, heheheheeeehhh!!”

  The huntress darted in, slipping under the spear by the width of a hair, then slammed her shoulder into the stomach of the goddess, a burst of fire giving her extra thrust and force, enough to drive Athena back a few steps. The Olympian retaliated, but her enemy was already gone, slipping around her like an eel, ice spikes shooting out like bullets only to be turned by the golden shield.

  “Come on! You can do better than that!”

  No, the quality that made her hardest to deal with was that Athena suspected her foe to be clinically insane!

  Athena waved her spear through the air, a mystic gesture rather than a martial movement, and a dozen Greek swords, xiphe, appeared in the air, then shot towards the huntress as though they were modern heat-seeking missiles. Somehow, the old woman evaded them all, her body darting and bending in ways that should have left her bones broken, all without missing a step.

  And the whole time, she had a wide grin splitting her face.

  Athena had faced many foes in her time, Titans, Gigantes, foreign gods and even demons, but she had rarely faced any foe with such a blatant disregard for their own safety. She was not some berserker, uncaring of attacks, and simply charging forward; that would be easier to deal with. Instead, she dodged, but only at the very last instant; she rolled with impacts, she accepted cuts so that they would be shallow rather than deep, and what damage was done was quickly healed by the power of the Hunt. It was a borderline self-destructive way to fight, but somehow, with the aid of the Wild Hunt, she was pulling it off, and with a smile on her face the entire time.

  To her frustration, Athena found herself akin to a wolf beset by a hornet. Her tormentor could not truly kill the goddess, or even harm her too seriously, but the huntress was too agile a target to swat, and if she was ignored, she could inflict crippling harm, the equivalent of stinging Athena’s eyes or ears.

  Even so, the Greek goddess was not allowing herself to lose her composure. With every second that passed, she was learning, coming to understand her foe. Her name, Old Hefnd, that was a name with a Norse root. And her powers, fire and ice, made Athena think of the likes of Surtur or Ymir. Even her garb, ragged as it was, made her think of the fashions of Alfheimr. It was all starting to add up, and form a picture that-

  A ripple of force spread through the entire battlefield, there and then gone in an instant. A curse, powerful, malevolent and swift, lashing out with raw violence, there was no mistaking it. Caught by surprise, both the goddess and her foe paused for a moment, their senses extending to take in the situation.

  Athena felt it first, Adam falling from the sky like a slain angel, one wing missing. Elsewhere, she could feel the wellsprings of power that represented the Knight and the Saint also flicker and dim, signs that they had been grievously injured.

  “Damn, I didn’t think that he’d be able to pull something like that off! Guess I owe him a good flagon of mead once this whole thing gets settled!”

  The way the huntress spoke . . . it was as though she was chatting about the weather with someone familiar. Athena choked down her growing irritation again, then prepared to move to Adam’s rescue.

  “Ah, ah, none of that.”

  The Old Hefnd was in her face again, moving with that frustrating speed of hers, a small boulder of ice careening towards the Olympian’s face. The Aegis rose to block it, and Athena sensed Joan move to catch their collective charge. With at least one less thing to worry about, the goddess drove the tip of her spear into the ground, causing the earth to split as dozens of earth spikes emerged in a rush, driving the old demigoddess back as she avoided impalement. Athena did not let the chance slip through her fingers and immediately charged, her spear darting out lightning fast to catch her off-balance foe.

  Thick walls of ice sprang up to block her, but trusting to her divine strength and fortitude, the Olympian charged through them, ice shattering before her Aegis as it rammed into them. For the first time, the demigoddess showed surprise, right before the shield crashed into her!

  The blow was tremendous, and the huntress was sent flying, her face and chest caved in as though she were a mortal hit by a speeding truck. Athena knew that her foe would quickly heal, but that was not important. Her successful blow had given her a precious resource, one that she had been lacking until now. Time.

  The Goddess of Wisdom felt the world about her slow as her mind accelerated. With calm detachment, she took in the world around her, analysing all the information supplied by her senses, both mortal and divine, assembling a mental picture of the battle.

  It was . . . not good. Adam stood alone. His allies were either too wounded to aid him or unable to disengage from the foes that they faced. The angels were struggling to reach him, but were being swarmed by the ethereal figures made of the Hunt Fire; the same was true of the demigod in the form of a giant Bear. Kali was still being engaged by Herne and the Centaur, and the Knight and the Saint were incapacitated. Her charge still clutched the sheath in his arms, but he was obviously wounded, easy prey for the dragon turning his attention upon the demigod.

  In the space of a frozen second, Athena evaluated the situation and contemplated what she could do.

  She could move to save Adam. Her foe was troublesome, but ultimately she could not truly cause any harm. If she chose to, Athena could barrel through, move to Adam’s side and protect him. A dragon was a fearsome foe; even mighty Heracles had been reluctant to face Ladon, the Guardian of the Golden Apples of Hera. Though the beast she faced might not be a direct child of a Titan, she could tell he was a prodigious example of his race, and more than that, the dragon was motivated, something beyond mere pride or greed. It would be a formidable foe were she to face it directly.

  But it could be done. However . . .

  Should she do it? Athena was not here to act as Adam’s bodyguard or keeper; she was to be a teacher and a guide. At least, that was her official stance.

  Zeus had dispatched her upon this duty with many directives. Her father knew, or at least strongly suspected, just who Adam was. His Greek blood was tied to the Abyss, or so they thought. An old line, a primal one. A line that had the potential to supplant her father, possibly even all of the Olympians. A threat.

  So, she had been sent to watch him, to evaluate him, to learn of his plans and ambitions.

  For the most part, her task had been a simple one. Adam was powerful for a demigod, but he had yet to show the overwhelming level of power he would need to be a credible threat to the King of Olympus. He had also shown himself to be surprisingly . . . humble in his ambitions, in that he seemed to have very few. He was focused upon the task before him, but seemed to have almost no long-term plans beyond survival.

  He also seemed to be devoid of the sort of greed and lust she would have expected from some would-be conqueror. To be sure, he had been excited with he gifts he had brought, but he had been undemanding of more. Likewise, his assigned protectors and contacts were all women of great or even supernatural beauty, yet he had not stared at any of them with lust or desire. He had shown admiration and perhaps attraction, but there had never been anything covetous in his eyes, none of the looks that Athena had been subjected to from the likes of gigantes or mortal kings in days long past.

  He had been respectful, listening to her advice when she offered it. He was diligent in that he trained and honed his powers rather than simply coasting along on what was given to him. he was kind, refusing to give up on the younger demigod taken by the Hunt, even in the face of Sir Lancelot. All in all, he seemed to have the makings of a hero, one that she would not mind being an ally to.

  However, for all his admirable traits, he had his flaws. It was clear that he had not come into the full power of his inheritance, as she could tell he was not using the full power he possessed, despite his best efforts. Adam was also no natural leader. He may be able to chart a course and lead others down it, but he lacked the sort of overwhelming charisma that a truly great man might have in his place. He could imitate it, fake it with a combination of his enhanced beauty and the weight of his power, but that could only go so far. Lastly, he seemed to be . . . reactionary. This was a more difficult flaw to pin down, especially since she had only known him a short time, but it was there. Adam did not take the initiative as often as he should; instead, he reacted to what happened. As flaws went, it was not crippling, but it was one he should learn to temper lest it grow.

  Her impression of Adam was that he was remarkably normal for the situation that he found himself in and the changes it had wrought upon him. However, that did not mean he could not become a threat in the future.

  She would not even need to do anything; all that was necessary was to keep her focus on her current foe, a perfectly reasonable thing to do. Just a few seconds, then Adam would be a smear upon those fangs or claws. The issue would be mute, any potential threat cut off before it could even sprout, let alone flower.

  And all it would cost her would be her integrity.

  Athena knew herself to be far from a perfect goddess. She had given in to excessive pride in the past, was far too slow to forgive slights and could be cruel when it was not called for. Still, she was no oath breaker, she was no betrayer, and she was certainly no back stabber! She had been the patron and even mentor to many heroes, and though she had abandoned some, after they forsook the path of heroism in favour of rulership or indulgence, she had never turned on them while they followed that path.

  The dragon’s maw opened, aiming to consume the wounded demigod in one bite, and the head came down faster than a striking cobra, too fast for Adam to dodge in his wounded state. It came down . . . and was smashed to the side as Athena rammed into it, shield first, with all the force she could manage!

  The great jaws snapped to the side, the bite that would have come down on Adam, gouging into the dirt instead. Athena’s grey eyes met the molten gold of her charge, an instant of understanding.

  “Adam! Flee! You have the scabbard, but you are too vulnerable! Do your best to escape, we shall try to cover you!”

  The goddess would have liked to say more, offer advice or even detailed instructions. She had made her choice, so she would be loath to see the demigod die. Unfortunately, she had no time for more, since her words were cut off by an icicle the size of a boulder, but with a point as sharp as a needle, slamming into the side of her helmet.

  The divine metal held, but the force was such that even an Olympian could not simply shrug it off. Athena was sent stumbling back, using her spear to help her keep her balance as her head rang like a struck bell!

  “Hey, Greecy! Eyes on me!”

  Athena was barely able to get her shield up in time to block a blast of flames that came roaring at her with a force that would have drawn approval from Loraxis, were he paying attention. Still, her shield was a masterpiece, one of the great creations of Hephestus, and easily turned the flames aside.

  As the goddess re-entered her battle with Old Hefnd, two thoughts rose up as her mind cleared. The first was to wonder why her enemy was using the same infuriating nickname that Kali took such pleasure in using. Her second was to wonder where Adam had disappeared to, since she could no longer see him.

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  Athena had saved my life, no two ways about it. Loraxis had me dead to rights, no magic, still hurting, off balance and scrambling for options. I’d seen those jaws coming at me, and my mind had gone blank. Then a seven-foot-tall goddess had slammed into the side of that head that could have eaten a car, and suddenly my life was set to last longer than the time it would have taken for the dragon to start chewing.

  The sight of those massive teeth gouging into the dirt only a few feet from me sent a surge of adrenaline through me, enough to get my brain working again. I stumbled away, using the dust that had been thrown up as cover, and tried to think of something, anything, that might help me. Somehow, I’d managed to keep my grip on the scabbard through all of the craziness that had hit me, but I was starting to wonder just how long I’d be able to keep it up.

  Then I tripped, fell, and felt an impact on my hip as I hit the ground. It wasn’t an impact from me crashing down, but rather an impact from something at my side being jostled and bouncing against my hip.

  It was the bag I’d been given by Li, the Bag of Holding I was using to carry my stuff. I hadn’t been able to put the scabbard in there; I’d tried before, and it was like two magnets repelling each other, only worse. I could have forced it, but I’d felt the bag start to shudder and fray when I pushed it, and I was pretty sure that if I had forced the issue, the bag would have fallen apart before storing the scabbard. Maybe the scabbard was just too powerful, maybe it had some sort of protection upon it; whatever the case, it wouldn’t go in the bag.

  But I did have other stuff in there!

  Both realisation and an idea of how I could save myself hit me at the same instant. The helmet! The helmet Athena had given me as a gift, along with the armour and the credit cards! The helmet of invisibility!

  Without a second's thought, I dragged it out of the bag with one hand and crammed it on my head!

  I had only worn the helmet a couple of times, given how crazy things had been since the goddesses had arrived. You’d have thought that invisibility would have been something fun to play around with, but nope, dealing with rescuing a kidnapped demigod or guarding Arthur’s scabbard cut down on my chances to play with it. You’d have also thought that invisibility would have been a useful power in those situations, but there just never seemed to be a good time to use it, not without risking friendly fire anyway.

  Now . . . now I was desperate enough to risk it! Staring down the throat of a dragon big enough to swallow me without even having to chew had that effect on me.

  The world darkened as the effects of the helmet kicked in, the change in view oddly comforting. Immediately, I ran to the side, an awkward, stumbling run, given my lopsided weight and my lack of magic to help keep me stable. I folded in the one wing I had left, wincing in pain as the stump of my other reflexively tried to fold as well. The pain was sharp, like red-hot nails being driven into my back, but I managed to keep moving. As bad as it hurt, folding the wing had helped, drawing my weight together and making it easier to keep my balance. My steps weren’t steady, but even though I was still stumbling, I was moving faster.

  A fact that saved my life as the ground where I’d been standing only a few seconds before was suddenly bathed in a torrent of dragon fire!

  The roaring jet of flames hit the ground with so much force that it kicked off an explosion! I was just far enough that I was sent sprawling, rather than being caught up in it. Once again, I was thankful that my Awakening hadn’t just airbrushed me and given me wings; it had also made me tougher. I had no doubt that had I tanked that while my old self, then I’d be dealing with burns and broken bones at the very least. As it was, I was rattled but still in the game.

  Or at least I thought I was, until the burning grass illuminated the massive form of Loraxis as his head came down, his burning eyes fixed on the spot where I’d been standing only moments before. I saw those eyes focus there, then begin to dart around, clearly trying to spot me. I lay in the grass, still as a stone and clutching the scabbard to my chest as though it were a security blanket.

  “I cannot see you.”

  The voice was almost impossibly soft, coming from such a huge throat. It carried though, even over the sounds of battle in the background. I heard it clearly as the massive head rose back up on that long and thick neck, his eyes still burning and still seeking.

  “A fine trick, I cannot even hear you.”

  That was right, Athena had told me that the helmet didn’t just make me invisible. It also covered my sounds, making it hard for me to be seen on tech, lots of little things on top to make it harder to find me. I could do this! I just had to be careful!

  I didn’t have a whole plan, not really. The sum total of my thoughts was to get away from the angry kaiju that wanted to eat me. Maybe there was something about meeting up with the others, Kali or Athena, but that was all vague. All I wanted was to get away and to get my magic back!

  Shakily, I got to my feet and started to walk again. I moved slowly, doing my best to avoid something obvious, like moving through long grass or walking through the ashes from earlier. The helmet may help keep me hidden, but I could still give myself away if I wasn’t careful.

  “I can still smell you, demigod.”

  My spine felt as though it had been replaced with ice as I heard those soft, rumbling words. I turned in time to see the giant creature inhale, his lungs so huge and the force of their intake so powerful that even in the fitful light of the night, I could see smoke and air rushing into nostrils bigger than my whole torso. There was a pause, and the head slowly swung in my direction. Not straight on, but it was clear that the dragon at least had a general idea of which way I’d gone.

  What the hell was I meant to do now?!

  “Are you here?”

  The soft question was punctuated by one of the dragon’s foreclaws coming down to my left; it was a good twenty feet or more away, but it was still too close for comfort. Trying to be as stealthy as I could, I moved away, trying to open more distance. Escape wasn’t a valid option at this point, not with the way that huge snout kept on breathing in and swinging in my general direction. Once again, I was playing for time, hoping that something would change and let one of my allies help me somehow.

  No, there had to be something else I could do!

  Again, I tried reaching for my magic, and again I got nothing. The power was there, but it was stunned, in shock, as unresponsive to my will as a severely electrocuted muscle. I tried, straining with all the will I could muster, but it was useless!

  Another huge claw came down, this time a bit behind me, where I would have been if I’d paused in place while making my efforts.

  Too close! Way too close! Grimacing under the helmet, I tried to think of anything else that I could use. My physical abilities didn’t seem to have been affected by my loss of magic. I was still strong, superhumanly so, and I was tough enough to take damage that should have left me crippled without issue. That was good, but sadly not too much good against a dragon that belonged in a Kaiju film.

  But . . . it did mean that my body was able to use my magic, even if my will couldn’t. Active magic versus passive, I couldn’t impose it on the world around me, meaning no fireballs or lightning bolts or even TK. But my strength, my toughness, my enhanced senses, they were all working. Could I use that?

  My mind raced as I tried to dig up every memory since I’d Awakened, sifting through them to try and find something I could use!

  I knew I’d get stronger with time; Kali had seemed pretty sure about that, but it wasn’t too much use at the moment. What else? Hadriel . . . I think she’d once told me about a way to use magic to boost my physical power, but she hadn’t told me how, saying it was an advanced technique to be learnt later. Could I work it out? No, if my magic wasn’t responding, then there was no chance that it would work.

  Did I have anything else? My heart dropped as I realised that the vast majority of my training had been in the use and control of my magic. It had simply been too potent and versatile to ignore! The rest . . . well, I wasn’t too bad with a sword. The only problem with that was that I’d never graduated from blunted weapons and never gotten a sword that was worth a damn! With my magic out of commission, I didn’t have any real options to fall back on, not with my wings out of commission like this. Ironically, if my magic had failed me, my wings would have made for my main backup weapons, the feathers letting me use them as both swords and shields. But since it was my wings being clipped that had taken out my magic . . .

  Damn it! I needed something else, like turning into a giant bear! Hell, at this point I’d settle for just turning into a giant me, but that wasn’t-

  Wait, hadn’t Mato said something about feeling that I had a power like him? I’d filed that away for later, but with all that had happened, it’d ended up getting buried away. Could that work?

  I kept moving, curving my path this way and that to avoid being predictable, always trying to draw away and always failing as the dragon kept on sniffing and following.

  My mind raced, trying to recall exactly what Mato had said. He’d said that it was ‘a sort of lump or knot of power’? He’d seemed so sure that I had one, and he’d said it was like a spring, all coiled up power just waiting to be let loose.

  How was I meant to reach for it? How was I meant to access something I’d never touched on before? I tried to reach inside myself again, but it was no good. Everything else was locked off! I could feel my magic, feel it in my halo, my body and my remaining wing, but I couldn’t get it to move, to do anything! I needed to do something new, something I hadn’t tried before!

  Unfortunately, I was coming up blank on any ideas as to what I could do.

  “There you are!”

  I barely managed to dodge the claw that came at me. If I hadn’t been as strong as I was, then the frantic dive I made wouldn’t have pushed me far enough, and all that would have been left of me would’ve been a pulped and bloody mess! Loraxis was getting closer, too close. I didn’t know how much longer I could keep this up! If something didn’t change soon, then the dragon was going to be picking the broken bits of my body off the scabbard when he reclaimed it!

  Then a massive figure of metal and stone came crashing down on the dragon’s skull.

  That changed things.

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  Emma swayed where she stood, bone-deep exhaustion clawing at her, trying to pull her down. She didn’t give in though; instead, she focused on the pain radiating from both her arms under her battered hoodie, from spots where she knew white scales were overtaking human skin.

  This was it, her last card, her last action. After this, she only had her last and most desperate option left, a pyric move that was as likely to doom her as it was to accomplish anything else. She just had to hope that bringing the Golem into play would be enough to tip the scales in Adam’s favour.

  Even at a distance, she could feel the impact as the hulking figure of the ancient construct slammed down on the dragon. The beast might be one of the apex creatures of myth, but even he couldn’t ignore more than a ton of metal and rock crashing into his head, fists swinging. More than just its physical might, the Golem was a bad matchup for the dragon, physically tough enough to endure claws, fangs and even tail strikes, mystically strong enough to endure dragon fire and other such tricks. The construct might not be able to win outright in open battle, but it could certainly buy enough time that Adam’s escape would be assured, assuming the demigod was smart about it.

  Allowing herself a smile, one tight and stained with blood from where she had bitten her lip, Emma collapsed to the ground, unable to keep standing. In the distance, she saw the night light up as the dragon breathed fire down on the Golem. As she had expected, the construct endured, advancing through the flames with the slow inevitability of death itself.

  Then she had no more strength left, not even to keep sitting up. She let herself fall onto her back, the grass around her tickling her cheeks as she stared up at the night sky. Distant from the fighting as she was, there was enough smoke and dust was being carried by the wind to obscure the sky. Still the stars still managed to peek through here and there.

  Strange. How long had it been since she had just gazed up at the stars? You’d think with all the time she’d had on her hands, she’d have been able to at least take a night or two to just enjoy one of the greatest splendours of the universe.

  The ground shook beneath her, shaking her from her introspective thoughts. Yeah, there was always something else to worry about. Her limbs still felt like lead weights, but she somehow managed to struggle back up to a sitting position, enough to take another look at the battlefield. For a moment, she just stared, then turned away as she stumbled to her feet.

  There wasn’t anything else she could do here, not without risking making an even bigger mess. She’d played her best card by bringing the Golem into play, and that had to be it. If she were to throw caution to the wind and charge down there with all her power on display . . . well, she was more likely to get pounced on by every one of Adam’s allies than she was likely to be able to help. Just about the only one that wouldn’t immediately assume her to be a threat would be the bear-kid, and there was a good chance that even he’d take a swing at her on pure reflex.

  She’d done what she could. Now she’d just have to hope it would be enough.

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  The Golem fought. It knew its reason for being here; it had sensed it as soon as a portal had opened before it, and it had sensed the fear and desperation of its master radiating through. Distance had numbed the link between them, but with the portal there, it had returned in vivid intensity, and so it had moved. Only to find the threat to its master was a dragon larger than any it had ever faced.

  It felt no emotions, not as mortals did. Fear was a foreign concept to it, as was doubt and dread. Its mind was a construct of stone and metal, unyielding, unbreaking. That was not to say it could not recognise danger, nor that it knew no caution. It could assess a threat, understand dangers and plan around them. It simply felt nothing that would slow it, even in the face of overwhelming odds.

  The dragon was a formidable foe, a threat that could conceivably destroy the Golem entirely if faced incorrectly. However, the Golem was ancient and had faced many monsters of varied origins. The monstrous descendants of Tiamat, the spawn of Echidna’s children, the offspring of Loki’s brood, over the millennia, it had faced them all and many others. It had learnt from each battle, gaining skills and knowledge with each victory and each defeat. It had refined not only its methods, but also its very body and power. Its armour had grown thicker, the channels of magic within it had grown more streamlined and robust. Even its senses had grown keener, adapting to detect different stimuli and learning how to interpret them.

  Such was the terror of facing the Golem. Not only was it mighty, it could also become more than it had been.

  It had faced dragons before. There had been a dragon of poison, whose breath could slay villages, leaving only the dead behind, clutching their throats and their faces frozen in pain, even as their skin was eaten away. That dragon had died, its venom meaningless to the towering construct, and its acidity insufficient to melt its armour. There had been a dragon of thunder, unleashing lightning from its maw strong enough to crack mountainsides and sunder castles, leaving only ruin in its wake. That dragon had died broken and bleeding in the face of what its lightning could not sunder. Now the Golem faced a dragon larger and stronger than any it had faced before, but it did not stop, it did not hesitate, and it did not waver.

  The Golem swung a fist, metal and stone collided with scales every bit as hard and durable, and a shockwave spread. Both combatants were sent reeling back, but each recovered quickly. Feet crushed stones and cratered soil as the Golem caught its balance, wings flapping at the air as Loraxis reared up. There was a brief moment as eyes that burned in different ways met across the distance separating them, locking in a contest of wills, then breaking as the dragon and the construct charged each other again.

  For all his immense size, Loraxis proved the more agile of the pair, beating his wings and leaping to the side, avoiding a head-on collision with the Golem, dodging the construct’s charge and catching it with a surprise tail swipe to the side. Massive and weighty though the construct was, it was lifted from its feet and sent flying by the impact.

  Demonstrating surprising agility of its own, the Golem twisted in mid-air, landing on its feet and charging back toward the dragon with the kind of lumbering speed one would expect from some huge truck gradually gathering velocity. There was an expression that might almost have been called irritated bemusement on the reptilian face of the dragon, but it quickly faded, replaced by rage.

  Again they clashed, again they separated, and again they charged in. A cycle, one that had them both trapped.

  But only if they continued to battle. The dragon had the means to escape; it could simply fly away and escape the battle. However, leaving was not an option for it. The Golem did not know why, but even as they battled, it noted that the dragon was distracted, its eyes darting around, its nostrils inhaling the smoke-laden air, and even its tail seemed to be waving around in long, slow sweeps rather than remaining still and providing balance. The dragon was searching desperately for something. The Golem was uncertain as to what, but that did not matter; it was a distraction that it could use.

  A brutal uppercut hit the lower jaw of the beast in a moment of distraction, sending its head snapping to the side. In the next moment, the burning eye of the dragon shot back to the construct, and the head darted back, slamming into the Golem like a runaway train. A vicious exchange that would have left lesser combatants broken and dying, but for them, it was simply another clash, with more following immediately afterwards.

  Uncaring, the Golem fought on.

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  I finally had some room!

  I’d had to scramble, crawl and dodge like a madman, but I’d finally managed to get some distance from the fight that was tearing up the meadow behind me. How the hell the Golem just dropped out of the sky onto Loraxis’s head, I had no idea, but I wasn’t going to complain since it finally gave me some time to think. Unfortunately, I wasn’t enjoying the thoughts that were rising up in my head, not at all.

  My first thought was something along the lines of ‘oh thank god, I’m saved!’ Justified given that I had just been facing death by fire or innumerable huge teeth.

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  My second thought, that came right on the heels of the first one, was: ‘Damn it, not again!’

  My body had kept moving on instinct, kept clutching the sheath and getting me away from the fight, but inside my head . . .

  No! Damn it! I had to be better than this!

  Too often I’d been saved by just . . . just something coming out of nowhere in my blood. The thought kept going round and round in my mind, never stopping, never settling. Back when I got infected by that parasite, or when I’d tried to help Etienne, I hadn’t won because I powered through or fought past what was attacking me.

  I’d fought and pushed, I’d made it a struggle, but at the end of it I’d never been the one that tipped the scales and won. That had been something else, something inside me, something that wasn’t actually me. That whatever it was had stepped in at the last moment and saved me. I’d never survived through my own actions or efforts.

  Was that always how it was going to be? I’d get in trouble, push as far as I could, then get saved by some Deus Ex Machina coming out of nowhere? Was my greatest power being lucky? Always having someone or something come along to save me?

  No! I didn’t want to be the bloody damsel in distress! I wasn’t so arrogant as to believe that I should immediately be able to ride to the rescue of the likes of Kali or Joan, but I wanted to at least stand shoulder to shoulder with them, not have them looking over mine! I wanted to be better than that!

  My feet slowed and then stopped, stupid though it might have been. I wasn’t running anymore; instead, my mind was turning inward, a restless and belligerent resolve. I wanted power! No running, no being saved, no mysterious saviours hidden in my blood. I wanted to save myself!

  And somehow, I saw it.

  Maybe it was because my magic was on the fritz. With it being quiet, immobile, I could see past where I would have only have perceived a surging flow of endless colours before. I could see ‘deeper’, for want of a better word. It wasn’t like it was really deeper, as in three dimensions, but more on a spiritual level. My magic network did exist in my body, but it was also layered onto my soul, my lifeforce. When I saw past it, I could perceive aspects of myself that I’d never been able to before. And I could ‘see’ the knots of power that Mato had mentioned, three . . . four of them? I couldn’t be sure; they seemed to swim in and out of my perception, but they were there enough for me to get a lock on them.

  I could sense them, but reaching them was another matter, though.

  It was like suddenly being aware of a muscle that you’d never known was there, one that you’d never even consciously moved before. Knowing that it was there was half the battle, but the half remaining, getting it to do what you wanted, that was the tougher half. I had no idea how to make them respond, how to get them to do whatever it was they were meant to do!

  Behind me, a sudden eruption of force and fire sent me stumbling and falling as I lost my balance. Pain shot through me as the stump of my severed wing hit the dirt, and I almost lost my hold on that deeper place within me. Somehow, I held on, all that training with magic proving its worth, but it was a near thing. Clenching my teeth so hard that my jaw ached, I turned, trying to see what had happened.

  The field behind me was a hellscape. Before, it had been a torn-up battlefield, but now it looked as though someone had cut and pasted a piece of burning desolation over the idyllic meadow I’d seen when I first arrived. There was not a scrap of green left, no grass, no flowers, no small bushes. All that was left was scorched and cracked earth, burning remnants and steaming rocks. And at the centre stood the dully glowing form of the Golem facing the huge form of Loraxis.

  “ENOUGH!” The dragon’s voice wasn’t quiet anymore; instead, it seemed to shake the stars above as it roared loud enough for me to feel it in my bones. “IF I CANNOT FIND YOU THEN I SHALL SIMPLY BURN THIS ENTIRE LAND AND TAKE THE SCABBARD FROM THE CINDERS THAT REMAIN!”

  Flames were . . . dripping from his jaws as he roared, as though the flames within him had grown so hot they had somehow taken on physical form. More than that, his scales were lit up, outlined by a glow from beneath as though they were only just holding back some internal inferno that wanted to rage out of control.

  “ADAM! RUN!”

  Joan’s voice sounded out of the fire and darkness, but I couldn’t see her. Her voice, though . . . for the first time, I wondered what would happen if she died.

  It seemed like a crazy thought, even when she’d been facing off against the Golem, I’d only worried about her getting hurt, not killed. Now, with Loraxis looking like he was about to go nuclear, I couldn’t help but think it. What if she died? Would God bring her to life again? Or . . . would she just die?

  And what about the others? Hadriel, Lancelot, Mato? Would they die?

  To hell with that!

  Joan might be the only one I really knew close to well, but that didn’t mean I was going to just let them die!

  I still had my grip on the knots, even as they kept fading on and out on me. But one of them was . . . less elusive than the others, staying real longer, and fading less, and then coming back quicker. Without stopping to think about it, I jammed all the will I could muster down onto the knot, into it, trying to make it respond with sheer brute force!

  And it worked.

  The knot seemed to unfold in my mind, and what was inside . . . was light.

  --------------------------------------------------------

  Alain Dubois knew he was being an idiot, but he just couldn’t stop!

  His smartphone was still out, still recording everything that happened in crystal clear imagery. It was proving to be worth evey iota of the exorbitant price he’d paid for it, the magically enhanced features letting him keep streaming the fight, even through deepening night, dust clouds and explosions.

  The extreme sports enthusiast hadn’t known what he was getting into when he first started his stream of the fight. He’d thought it would be quick, over and done in less than a minute, just like most of the videos on ThruTube of fights between supernaturals. But he’d been wrong, so, so wrong.

  The fight just kept on going, one thing after another, the flow and momentum constantly shifting.

  Oh, and the was the matter of it being much, much bigger than he was expecting!

  He’d known this was going to be a big fight; there was a freakin’ dragon there after all! Still, he’d thought that being more than two miles away would have been enough to keep him safe. He’d been sure that if the fight started to head towards him, then he’d have enough time to get back to his car and hightail it.

  But what he was seeing . . . it wasn’t just a fight where the fighters were throwing around fireballs or calling down lightning, it was so much bigger! Those ghosts that were flying around and blowing themselves up were on par with missiles, the kinds that fighter planes used to bring down buildings! Then the were the blasts of power being hurled around, cutting and tearing up the land like it was a cake! Then there was the bear that was bigger than several elephants put together, seemed to be partly made of metal, and, to top it all off, was on fire! And then there was the dragon, unbelievably huge, searing the landscape in general and looking increasingly likely to try to do a credible impression of a nuclear reactor going out of control!

  Even from where he was, Alain could feel the earth shake, feel the heat on his skin, practically taste the ozone in the air as magic grew thicker and thicker. He should be running! He should be doing all he could to get as far away as he could! That was the sensible reaction, that was the sane reaction.

  So, why was he still standing where he was, streaming more content to his channel?

  Well, it might have something to do with his current stream having already got more than three hundred THOUSAND hits in the last few minutes, and it was already looking to be getting even more.

  He knew staying here was madness. What did it matter if he had more than a million hits if it ended up killing him? The thing was, he kept on waiting just a bit longer, just to see what happened next, just to get a few more hits, just to get a few more comments. There was something horribly addictive about having so much attention on him. He was used to it to a degree; his previous videos of him surfing, rock climbing or whatever else he was doing, had always netted him a good number of hits, and it was always a rush to know people cared. Those hits, those comments, it was a way to measure his impact on the world, to know how many people gave a damn about him and what he was doing.

  They were there, in the chat right at the side of his display, a constant stream of comments and messages, a validation of his efforts.

  Soueleboiiiii: This has got to be fake.

  Everafterme: That’s Athena, right? I guess we know where she’s got to now.

  BartholomewEssex: Is that a DRAGON?

  Mel-M-Mel: SOmeon call the army!

  L33TSP34K: Does anyone know who theyre fighting?

  ComicJunkie: Red winged angel is HOT!

  666NevaWrong: Keep it up, this is awesome!!!

  CornCracksCarl: Is that Lancelot?

  bLuePlaNeT: Guy angel is HOTTER!

  PeaPrincess: Love you’re family!!!!!!

  America4Eva: Was that Herne?

  PieceOut: Anyone know wat theyre fighting overe?

  RoyalRoads: Give me MOOAARRR!

  He could afford to wait a bit more, right? Just a few more hits, just a few more comments. With this, he’d be able to promote his channel even further, maybe net some more serious sponsors. It wasn’t like anything really bad could happen to him. Right?

  It was at about that point that the world was suddenly swallowed up by light!

  It came so abruptly that Alain was caught completely off guard, stumbling backwards as his eyes were blinded by the sudden light, yet managing to keep his cell pointed, the result of long practice. Strangely, the light didn’t burn his eyes like it should have. It was so bright, but dazzling as it was, there was no pain. Instead, the light felt . . . nice, welcoming even, as though it would never judge him, just offer him a hand to help him up when he fell.

  Blinking his eyes clear, he saw the sudden jump in messages he was getting in the chat, and was surprised by what they were saying.

  MusicNotes: Does anyone else feel like they just got a hug?

  IronAlalnTank: Why is the light looking at me, even through the screen?

  TheSkiesTheLimit-NOT: IT WITTNESSES ME!!!!!!

  AndyBennyCarl: I’m suddenly guilty I haven’t been going to church mre.

  TheTruthisOutThere: ITS MIND CONTROL RAYS!!! TURN OFF YOUR SCREENS!!!!

  RockSolid: I feel better.

  BlueF33ls: I need to talk with my mom.

  TrueAnnointed: Is that an angel?

  At that last comment, he looked back at the picture. The light was still shining, but it didn’t seem so blinding anymore. Through it, he could see something moving, something big. For a moment, he thought it was the dragon, but then he just managed to catch the outline of . . . feathers?

  Captivated by the sight unfolding before him, Alain kept on watching and streaming, even though common sense kept on screaming at him to run to his car and drive away.

  Well, what did it know? He was getting so many hits! Common sense was overrated.

  --------------------------------------------------------

  The pain of his missing leg was almost drowned out as he tried to shield his eyes. He knew that the light should have burnt his eyes, regardless of his blessings and power, since it was so bright. It was a brilliance that seemed to swallow up the world, that scoffed at the night and declared it should be day!

  Lancelot had seen something like this before, on the night when a massive sphere of light had lit up the skies of London, causing him and the other Knights of the Round Table to dash out into the streets, fearing that there was some sort of attack on the way. He had watched the light overtake the night, and had felt the magic, the signature within it, a thundering declaration of power and heritage.

  This . . . this was a sibling event, similar but different. The light now was of a different order, one that lacked the sheer immensity of the previous event, but made up for it with greater intensity. This light was brighter, sharper, and yet was gentle at the same time. In a way, it reminded him of the power housed in Excalibur, great and terrible, but as long as it was not directed at you, then it was a boon, a feeling of that great power being on your side.

  The Knight of the Lake did not know where this light had come from, but he could tell that it was no ally to the Wild Hunt. In the air, he could see the spirits of the Hunt flinching back, their forms smoking slightly as though the light burned them. Even the dragon flinched back, a wing rising as though to shield it from the radiance that drew smoke from his form.

  Stabbing his sword into the dirt, Lancelot used the legendary blade as a crutch, dragging himself along, and taking advantage of the opening that the light’s appearance provided. It gave him the time he needed to get some distance and concentrate, invoking the enchantments gifted to him by Lady Nimue.

  In response to his efforts, water materialised and flowed along his body, reaching the stump of his leg and wrapping around the wound. He might have no talent for magic, but he was still the Knight of the Lake, and the blessings upon him by the Lady of the Lake meant that water was his ally. Not only did the crystal clear liquid soothe his pain and cover his wound, it also shaped itself into a replacement leg, the water impossibly supporting him as he placed his weight upon it. It was not a perfect replacement, but it was enough to let him walk once more.

  His first steps were stumbling, unused to a limb he could not feel, but the knight quickly adapted to it. His grip on his sword firmed, and he turned back towards the light, ready to face whatever came next.

  His eyes narrowed as he stared into the glare, and he was sure he could see something moving within the brilliance. More than that, he could hear something now, something that had been there for a while, but which had been too quiet to notice before. Now it grew louder, a single metallic note that continued on and on, even as the volume slowly grew.

  The light flared, brighter, forcing him to shade his eyes with his free hand, only to suddenly retreat, condensing down to a single spot. For a moment, Lancelot was unsure of what was going on, his eyes still blinking as they tried to clear his vision. Then the light fractured, for want of a better word, shards of it falling away as though they were shards of luminous glass.

  --------------------------------------------------------

  Joan gripped the stump of her arm, channelling healing magic into it. The pain was sharp and brutal, but it was unable to hold her attention, not with the sight before her.

  The resurrected saint could only stare, her eyes wide and her heart thundering in her ears. The entire battleground seemed to have frozen, all held captive by the sight before them, the light being radiated enough to turn the night into day. Even the Golem had paused in place, its glowing eyes locked on the dragon, but not attacking as the legendary beast was held transfixed by the sight before it.

  Adam . . . he had always had the form of an angel, with his beauty, his wings, his halo, all of those aspects seemed to have come from his angelic heritage. She was aware of qualities that came from his other inheritances, but the angel in him shone through the most, at least to her. He was a nephilim, the union of the angelic and the mortal, and she had thought it impressive, magnificent even.

  Now, though, he was so much more!

  His wings had more than doubled in size, maybe even tripled, and now they were not alone. Rather than a single pair of wings, he now sported three, for a total of six wings. Each of them was a pure and pristine white, so much so that they almost seemed to be lit up by a soft internal glow. Just as with his original wings, some of the feathers seemed soft while others appeared hard as polished ivory, and sharp as any sword. The wings extended from his back, starting slim then growing larger and wider. Joan was sure that some mortals would think such limbs impractical, impossible even, but to her they were glorious.

  Above Adam’s head hovered his halo, but even that had changed. The circle of metal had also grown in size, new pieces having materialized and added to it. What before had been a crown hovering just above his head was now a ring of intricate parts almost three feet across. More than that, before it had been only a single ring, now it was three circles of the cyan metal, each within the other and all humming with power. Yet, even though each ring was independent, they were unquestionably connected, the design of each complementing the others with every line, curve and raised spike. The whole thing hovered further above him now, different, larger, but still unmistakably his.

  And it sang, a single clear note that went on and on. Perfect, pristine, a legacy of Bath Kol, the voice that spoke for the Creator.

  As for Adam himself . . . nothing overt had changed about him, but there was something. It was not obvious, but it was there. He was . . . more! His features were somehow finer, his hair was somehow whiter and more silken, his skin smoother and more vibrant, his eyes even brighter and more golden. Everything about him was somehow elevated by some small but significant margin.

  Of course, his physical changes were all utterly insignificant when compared to the more etheric changes he had undergone.

  Before Adam had held power. It had waited in his wings, in his core, great power, varied power, might of magic enough to impress even one who had dwelt in the High Heavens. Joan might not have been looking for it, but it had always been something that she could sense at he back of her mind. The power of a demigod, the fated champion she was meant to protect.

  Now . . . power bled off him as though he had so much he could no longer contain it! The air about him seemed to shimmer like a heat haze, the aura of ambient mana around him so thick that it was visible to the naked eye, no extra senses needed to perceive it. In fact, she could feel a light pressure settling across the entire battlefield. Not crushing, not oppressive or tyrannical, but she did not feel as though it needed to be. The very fact that it existed, that the sheer weight of his power could be felt like that, was enough on its own. A subtle suggestion of something huge that was choosing to touch lightly.

  It was all somehow familiar to her. Not intimately so, more as though the sight of him stirred some long-forgotten memory. Sadly, she knew she had far too many of those. To preserve her sanity, many experiences from her time in heaven had been buried or removed. Now, the sight of her changed charge made some of those buried memories tug at her. Had she seen someone like him before?

  Well, that was not too much of a surprise. Even if some of her memories were sealed or removed, her education in the divine hosts had remained. She knew what six wings meant. All who served the Lord knew.

  --------------------------------------------------------

  Hadriel could only stare. Well, stare and try to suppress the urge to kneel.

  Six wings. A threefold halo. The single clear note that halo sang. That aura of sheer power. It was all unmistakable; she was more likely to misremember her own name than she was to mistake what her charge had become.

  A Seraph, one of the Seraphim. The six-winged guardians of the Throne, direct weapons of her Creator, the mightiest warriors in his army, beneath only the greatest of champions, the Archangels such as Michael and the Metatron. In ages past, it was Seraphim who were dispatched to raze Sodom and Gomorrah from the face of the Earth, who drove back entire armies of demons, who burnt the Forgotten from the very pages of history!

  If she and her ilk were the Hands of God, working his will and defending his creations, then the Seraphim were his Fists, potent, powerful and brutal when needed.

  And now, Adam was one of them.

  She was knew that it was possible for him to become an angel in truth rather than simply in form. After all, Lady Joan already possessed such a power, being able to shift from a divinely blessed mortal to a true angel. This was something similar, a change that could not be permanent, but while it endured . . .

  What would he do with such power? Adam already possessed impressive amounts, and Hadriel had been pleasantly surprised by how he had shown himself to be largely devoid of such grand ambitions as conquest or domination. He seemed to take more enjoyment in learning to use his magic, rather than in using it upon others. However, what he possessed now was exponentially greater than anything he might have experienced before, and the power to raze entire cities to the ground could be far more intoxicating than simply throwing around lightning or shaping water to his will.

  Actually . . . now that she looked at him more closely, the red-winged angel noted that his expression was oddly distant. Rather than revelling in the power he had gained, Adam seemed instead to be . . . lost in his thoughts?

  Well, he did tend more towards thought than action. Perhaps gaining so much power had overwhelmed him with choices? What was the term he had once jokingly used in their training? Choice paralysis? Something of that nature.

  Hadriel’s attention was dragged away from Adam as ten of the hovering spirits of the Hunt let out keening wails that scratched at the soul before they threw themselves at her transformed charge. Their insubstantial forms smoked, the mere aura he now possessed harming them as they drew near, but the ghostly Hunters forced themselves on. Just before they impacted, one wing moved to intercept them, folding over to shield Adam.

  What made the action uncanny was the way that his expression didn’t shift at all as the wing moved. He still had that distant look on his face, as though he was not even aware of the attack. His body moved on its own, without a need for direction. The eruption of force as the spirits struck and detonated was considerable. Having felt the power of just one such attack, the Angel of Swords was well aware of how potent they could be. Even worse, the force of each ghostly hunter’s destruction combined with others nearby, adding up to an even greater force.

  The wing did not buckle, it did not yield, it did not even flex. A force that could have brought down even a mortal skyscraper, and it was unable to even draw Adam from his thoughts.

  In a remarkably mortal moment, Hadriel found herself gulping nervously. So much power! That simple gesture, that lack of reaction, it all hinted at a strength she was not quite sure any mortal should possess, even one as grounded as her charge. What could he be thinking? What revelations occupied his mind that such an attack could simply be ignored? Were his thoughts even mortal anymore? Had he somehow transcended with his transformation?

  She was unsure, but she knew that what he thought may well determine the shape of the future of the very world!

  --------------------------------------------------------

  I felt as though I should have been high as a kite, as though I should have been drowning in delusions of power and raving about how I was invincible. I feel power like nothing I’ve ever even touched flowing through me, a roaring flood that should be carrying me away and drowning me until my sanity is nothing but a distant memory!

  Instead, I feel calm, almost serene.

  For all its raw might, the power running through me didn’t drag me along, didn’t swamp me, didn’t bury me, even though I feel like it should have. Rather than being assaulted by it, I felt as though it was embracing me, enfolding me in arms that might be able to crush me, but instead protected me, comforted me and loved me.

  Any pain I might have felt was gone. My wing had regenerated, my magic channels were not only recovered, they had grown! I’d felt it, as I transformed, the channels had thickened and spread, until they were simply too many and too potent for my body, so my body had grown. That was where the new wings came from, and why they were bigger, all so I had enough of a physical form to house the massive new system of channels and nodes that were packed into me. Even my core was changed, bigger, stronger, beating like a heart and sending ripples of pure force running through me, a well of overwhelming power just waiting to be tapped.

  All that power, and I felt so calm and collected that it was almost eerie.

  The fight didn’t matter, the Hunt was unimportant, even the legendary scabbard I now held almost loosely in one hand was almost trivial. I felt complete . . . whole in a way I’d never experienced in my entire life.

  More than that, I felt more in control than I had ever since I woke up in my new body after my Awakening. My wings felt natural, as though they were meant to be there. No more forgetting about them or think of them as add-ons. My halo hovered above me, larger than ever, yet so familiar I almost didn’t notice it. It hummed, a single perfect note that resonated with the power within me, no longer a training wheel; now it added to me, rather than propping me up. The crutch had become armour.

  And there were colours, the colours of magic.

  I’d always been able to see them, since I finished sparking my magic, and I’d always thought of them as one of the most beautiful parts of what I’d become. I might love flying, I might enjoy being super strong, I might be thankful for being tough, and I might revel in commanding the elements, but the thing that dazzelled me the most wonder was the colours. Seeing the dancing red and gold of fire, the grey flecked with sparks of white, red, blue and even violet that represented the storm, the perfect white of ice and snow, beautiful green and brown of the forest, all of them were so magnificent that the simplest of them put the Sistine Chapel to shame.

  When I’d first gained my magic, I’d spent so long just staring at the colours, cycling through them and just marvelling at them. Now . . . it was as though they were all new, all deeper, all more than they had been before. I could perceive nuances and details that I’d missed before, that at once stood out and blended perfectly into the tapestry of the whole.

  And beyond the sheer beauty, I could see the power waiting there for me to use. Hotter fire, colder ice, fiercer lightning, stronger earth, the options just went on and on all the way into infinity.

  The colours filled my mind, an endless succession of raw potentiality, accompanied by the ongoing note of my halo. Sight and sound, a revelation and a subtle symphony that harmonised with the raw feeling of power flowing through my new form. I was beyond anything I had ever known! I was perfection! I was invincible! I was-

  My downward spiral into megalomania was cut off as an ungodly number of tonnes of dragon came barrelling at me, jaws open and teeth slavering.

  Certain sights provoke instinctive reactions. There’s nothing that can be done about it; those instincts are baked into the very DNA of humanity and, as it turned out, not even transformation into a truly divine being could get rid of them. All those teeth coming at me turned out to be even more effective at waking me up than a sudden bucketful of ice water to the face!

  I most certainly did not let out a high-pitched scream, and anyone who says otherwise is a dirty liar, possibly even a spy for some malicious secret organisation, certainly someone to ignore and possibly capture and interrogate. But definitely a liar.

  Regardless, I reacted instinctively, both flinching back and lashing out. My flight pushed me back, faster and smoother than I had ever experienced before, and just enough to let me dodge the jaws that snapped closed where I’d just been. In the next moment, all three wings on my left side, which had reflexively folded in around me as protection when I’d fallen back, moved without thought on my part. Each wing, now nearly triple the size they’d been before, unfolded and in the same movement slammed into the side of the dragon’s head.

  The force of the impact was tremendous, and even though I didn’t shift in place, Loraxis was sent stumbling to the side; several of the scales on the side of his muzzle visibly cracked. It was only as one of his foreclaws rose to his head that I realised what I’d just done.

  Had I just bitchslapped a dragon with my wings?

  The sheer absurdity of what I’d just done was enough to get my brain finally firing on all cylinders. And I took a moment to observe the entire battlefield.

  Both Kali and Athena were a surprising distance from the main battle. It looked like their foes had been less focused on fighting them than they were on taking them out of the battle proper. Their foes felt damaged, hurt, but the power of the Hunt continued to heal and fortify them, keeping them in the fight. Joan and Lancelot were still hurt, but had made their way back to their feet. Pretty impressive on Lancelot’s part, given that one was still missing. Hadriel was hurt, but still flying, and still fighting.

  Aside from the centaur and the crazy woman, only Loraxis was left. Well, he and a few hundred of those ghost-things. This fight still had plenty of gas in the tank.

  So I was going to end it now!

  I held out a hand and made an almost gentle movement, my hand flat, the fingers spread as though I was gesturing for someone to be quiet. And as I did so, I reached for a colour I had never touched before. One that I hadn’t been able to touch.

  It was a deep, dark grey, one that approached black, but hadn’t reached it yet. It was an almost dull colour, no sheen, no shine, yet at the same time it was smooth, utterly devoid of any imperfections along its surface. It was a colour that had weight to it, a colour that conveyed meaning simply by being witnessed. It was the colour that represented one of the most pervasive and relentless natural forces in existence. A power devoid of magic, yet also one of the pillars that held up the universe.

  Gravity.

  I knew there were higher concepts and magics that I had yet to touch. Elements such as fire and ice were simple enough to understand and control. On the other hand, combined concepts, things made up of many more basic powers, such as nature, storms and healing, took more effort to understand, and more willpower and magic to manipulate.

  After that were what I thought of as ‘bigger’ concepts, the sun, oceans, stars, whole jungles, things that I could emulate or manipulate with my magic, but which I lacked the sheer magical muscle needed. They were powerful and valuable tools that I was going to have to work to be able to wield, lots of work.

  And then there was the top of the heap, colours and concepts that I knew of, but couldn’t yet wrap my head around, let alone use. Time, space, creation, destruction, they were things right up there that I knew existed, but which I wasn’t going to be touching, let alone using, any time soon. Just looking at their colours was enough to make my mind hurt as things stood.

  Gravity was one of these top-tier concepts, but it was one of the more comprehensible ones. It lacked the massive multi-layered nature of time or space, and didn’t possess the sovereignty of the concepts of creation or destruction. It lacked intrinsic magic, being a natural force baked into the nature of existence. That didn’t make it weak, not by any stretch. The colour and a relentless, tireless eternity to it, a feeling that it would just continue forever and ever, utterly dauntless in the face of all time and all space. When I’d tried to use it before, I’d lacked the magical strength to make it do anything, like a child trying to pick up a sword that weighed more than they did.

  Now, though . . . now I had the power to make use of it!

  The air rippled, a barely visible effect that spread out to encompass an area the size of a couple of football pitches. There might have been little to see of the cause, but the results were very visible. The ghosts fell from the sky, natural gravity unable to affect them, but the gravity conjured by my magic was a far different beast. Like broken birds, the figures of Hunt Fire fell, hitting the ground and being held in place. Strangely, none of them exploded as I’d been expecting; instead, the gravity I was generating pinned them, their insubstantial nature doing nothing for them.

  Loraxis stumbled and strained. I could see the muscles moving under his scales, see the force as they bunched and flexed, trying to keep him upright. His wings were pulled in tight, and even they trembled with the effort not to be dragged down. I didn’t know exactly how much force I was putting the dragon under. My power gave me a feel for the gravity I was manipulating, but it didn’t come with a convenient display telling me it was two, ten or even a hundred gravities. What I did know was that it was lots, as in ‘enough gravity to reduce a person to a smear on the ground’ lots.

  And he was still powering through it.

  I could have ramped it up if I wanted to. I wasn’t putting everything into it that I could; I still had a few gears left. Maybe I couldn’t quash the dragon into paste, but I was sure I could drive him flat on his belly and leave him pinned like a butterfly in a collection. But . . .

  The dragon stared up at me, and those eyes might have been reptilian and glowing with internal light, but even so, I could somehow see the emotions within them. Those eyes weren’t filled with anger or hate. There was something else there . . . desperation, yearning, panic and . . . loss? It was something I couldn’t quite put my finger on, but what I could see was enough. The absence of greed and covetousness that filled the picture out a bit more. And what was it he’d said earlier? Or had it been someone else? Something about not abandoning their own? The exact memory was lost in the mad rush of the fight; still, it was another piece of the puzzle.

  “NOT ENOUGH, DEMIGOD! NOT ENOUGH . . . !”

  Loraxis kept on coming. I swear, I could hear cracks and snaps coming from his body, but somehow he managed to lift and move his claws, advancing step by painful step, his tail dragging behind him and leaving a furrow in the soil as wide as a riverbed. It was almost painful to watch, but he kept on coming.

  I knew I could bring down more gravity. I could pile it on until it crushed him and the whole Hunt! I could end this all!

  “I . . . I . . . WILL . . . NOT . . .”

  But those eyes . . . determination, desperation, sorrow and a sad and dying hope . . .

  I made my decision and raised one hand while I also raised my voice.

  --------------------------------------------------------

  Kali wasn’t having as much fun as she thought she would.

  Skloris was a tough foe, strong, enduring, and able to recover from just about any blow or weapon’s strike due to the power of the Wild Hunt. Even more impressive, he was actually able to turn aside the Destruction she unleashed upon him. True, she’d been limited to whisps, rather than the waves or torrents she was capable of, but to be able to do it at all was noteworthy. The Blood of Chronos ran true in his veins, it would seem. Power, skill, determination, and enough endurance not to fold over at her first blow, it should have been a combo for a great time.

  Herne was pretty much the same, enduring and potent. His spear darted at her like some demonic snake, the fire of the Hunt searing her eyes as it burned brightly upon the weapon. More than that, the spear could hurt her! Kali’s skin had endured the swords of rakshasa and the flames of angels, but that spear could pierce it, not deeply, not enough to end the battle, but enough to hurt her. It had been enough to make her face split into a smile that would have been at home on the jaws of a shark. To feel pain was a rarity, and even if it was just a sting rather than a wound, it was to be savoured.

  And yet here she was, fighting them both with only a bad taste in her mouth rather than burning blood singing in her veins.

  She knew it wasn’t her responsibility. She was here to guard Adam, not fight his fights for him. She was keeping a pair of dangerous enemies engaged and away from him. Could she have already destroyed them? Well, yes. They might be powerful, but she was Kali, the Black One. Ruin and decay waited on her hand and foot, be it through violence, magic, or the sheer force of her divine presence. Few were the beings that could stand against her power, and none were present here! The problem was the immortality of the Hunt. If she destroyed the foes before her, then what came next? Would they be resurrected by the Hunt immediately? Would they be dropped on Adam’s head? Would their power be added to the dragon?

  She’d judged that just keeping them engaged was the best way to keep them out of the fight, and the fact that it was giving her just what she wanted was simply a happy coincidence.

  Really!

  So, if it wasn’t that, then why was this fight going sour on her?

  It had been great at the start, the first decent battle she had since being able to come back to Earth as a goddess. Sure, she hadn’t been going all out, but it had been fun. Some pain for her, a chance to cut a bit loose, a chance to wet her blades and her knuckles with some blood, what wasn’t there to like?

  But as the fight had gone on, the fun had been . . . leeched out of it.

  Kali wasn’t normally one to go in for all that ‘warrior spirits clashing’ or ‘understand each other in the midst of battle’ philosophy stuff that some fighters went into. She was a simple soul in that she liked fighting, full stop. She didn’t look for any deeper meaning. She fought, she hit, she got hit, she had fun, that was it.

  These two were strong foes, but . . . it wasn’t satisfying!

  She was hitting them, they were hitting her, but she wasn’t having any fun, not anymore. They weren’t fighting; they were just stalling her, just like she was stalling them. No will to win, just to drag things out.

  But if she was stalling, and they were stalling, then they might as well just sit down on the grass and glare at each other. The realisation took what little exhilaration that was left out of the fight, and Kali found herself wondering if she should just blast them both and rejoin the main fight, when a sudden thundering voice echoed across the whole battlefield.

  “TIME OUT!!!”

  She could feel the magic in the voice, amplified and strengthened to cut through all other noise and to carry across the battlefield. More than that, though, there was authority behind it, a certainty that their words would be obeyed. It was at odds with the words chosen, those of a child calling for other children to stop playing because the play had grown out of hand. The words should have been grand, demanding; instead, they were something she’d expect from kids roughhousing on a playing field.

  Yeah, that’s what she’d have expected from Adam. Nice to know that even with a power boost, he was still the guy she was getting to know.

  A gust of wind, tinged with magic, blew through the battleground, casting away the dust and smoke and finally letting everyone get a good look at each other as the light of the moon and the Hunt spirits illuminated the scene. Oh, and there was Adam himself. Given that he was shining as though he was full of spotlights, you couldn’t very well forget about him.

  The six-winged Nephilim was facing the dragon and radiating enough power that even Kali found herself mildly impressed. For all his angelic appearance, she could sense some of Shiva’s power in the mix, a sheer potency of vitality that lent the Heavenly power a bit more oomph. Interesting.

  Looking around, she saw the Wild Hunt approaching, their steps slow and cautious as their eyes darted around, as though expecting a trap. Still, they came, the massive bear, the crazy old woman, the golem, the saint and the knight, the Spirits of the Hunt as they slowly rose into the air once more. They were coming, and no one was attacking anyone else, at least not yet.

  Herne was the first to speak, the mounted ghost of a god glaring up at her charge.

  “Do you think you can simply call this battle to a halt? Has that power gone to your head and drowned out your reason?”

  His words were defiant, but even through the dark, Kali noted that the hands gripping his spear had tightened. She’d have been willing to bet her bike against a tricycle that if he’d been true flesh and blood, then she’d have seen him sweat.

  In response, Adam descended, the movement impossibly graceful, and the smashed and burnt grass beneath him as he touched down visibly recovered and perked up. Her charge made no overt display of power, no flared aura, no pressure of presence, no increased gravity. He didn’t even shine one iota brighter. He simply stood there, glowing, wings spread, his halo humming, and his eyes meeting those of the Hunter.

  And it was Herne that turned away first, his fists clenched and his body tense.

  “Look, I can win this fight, understand? With this power, I can crush all those spirits you’ve got, and then I can hold the rest of you down enough for us to beat on you until whatever boost you’ve got going on runs out. Are you going to call me wrong?”

  Adam spoke calmly, neither raising his voice nor letting passion colour his words. He faced Herne and spoke with reason and logic. And the Horned Hunter could not call him a liar, even though the goddess knew he wanted to. Adam had proven his power, and his claims were accurate. If he could only ground those spirits, then the defeat of the rest of the Hunters was only a matter of time. If he could do more, then the fight went from a slog towards a foregone conclusion, to a curb stomp. Reluctantly, Herne shook his head.

  “Okay, so we agree on that. The thing is, what happens after that?”

  That took Kali aback. What did he mean by that? They’d have won, they’d take the scabbard back to the UK, get a victory parade and have saved the bear kid. Cheers and celebrations for all, right?

  Something in Herne’s silent form must’ve shown his own confusion, because Adam continued, gesturing with one arm while the other held the scabbard tightly.

  “We can beat you, but we’ve all seen how you guys can come back from harm. I’m betting that if we somehow got you all, it’d hurt you, but it won’t stop you, right?”

  Almost grudgingly, the Horned Hunter nodded his skull-covered head.

  “Yeah, I thought so.” Adam nodded as he spread his arms wide. “You guys will have some trouble. Maybe some pain, maybe lose some time, maybe you’ll have to burn some treasures you’ve got stashed somewhere, I don’t know, but it's going to happen, right?”

  There was a moment of silence, and then the Hunter answered, his voice every bit as grim as his appearance.

  “The Wild Hunt is forever. Even if you should slay every one of us to the last and scatter our soul fragments to the winds, we shall return. Three cycles of the moon would be sufficient. We shall be weakened upon our recovery, but there are ways for us to regain that strength; after all, we are hunters. You and your allies are mighty, but you lack the power to break the Hunt.”

  The winged demigod nodded.

  “I figured. So, I can beat you guys now, but what’ll happen next? When you get back, you’re going to be back to hunting, and it’ll be some other demigod that gets caught in your sights. I can score a win now, but it’s setting someone else to pay later.”

  Okay, Kali could see where he was coming from. Even if they won here, it would just be kicking the problem down the line for someone else to worry about, and it looked like her charge wasn’t keen on making someone else deal with his problems. So . . . what was he planning to do instead?

  “Why don’t we try something different. Let's try talking, okay?” Adam gestured, and stone seats rose from the ground, along with a massive stone table that looked like it could have held a feast on it. “You guys have something else going on. You needed Mato and then the scabbard for something, and I’m not talking about pure greed. Loraxis wants something bad enough that I can pretty much see it burning in his eyes. The rest of you, too, you’re all . . . twitchy about something. It’s hard to see, but the more I’ve been thinking about it, the surer I am. So, Herne, are we going to talk, or are we going back to fighting pointlessly?”

  He paused, and for a moment no one spoke. Then the silence was broken by the dragon, his rumbling voice oddly subdued.

  “We cannot win, Hunts master,” Loraxis said as he lowered his belly to the ground and folded his forelimbs under his chest. “Ravananaer gave us a strong opening, but we were unable to fully capitalise upon it.”

  Herne stared at the dragon for a moment, then nodded. He looked to the centaur, who also offered a begrudging nod of his own. The last one he looked at was the crazy old woman, who looked as though she was ready to keep fighting. Still, seeing that she was alone in that regard, she grimaced and then gave a nod of her own. With a tap of his heel on his mount’s side, Herne had the steed turn towards Adam, then the Horned Hunter dismounted and faced the transformed demigod across the stone table he had created.

  “Very well, we shall talk.”

  Kali didn’t know whether Adam was being cowardly, crazy or brilliant, but this was something . . . new. Sure, she’d like a huge brawl to finish things off, but this had the flavour of novelty to it. She’d be interested to see what came next.