Redemption Cannon I

Hanging in the angel’s two-handed grip, a massive cannon of bronze tubing and iron slabs fired burst after burst. Fearsome energies ran wild, crackling and spitting, reducing whole trees to ash. Fragments of blessed metals embedded themselves in the earth, punched holes entirely through the thickest trunks, and the forest trembled with the sound of thunder.
And none of it touched the Horseman.
He was simply never there when the projectiles soared past, never in the radius when they ignited. He moved with a grace the lithest angel couldn’t have matched, guided by an insight that bordered on the precognitive. He swayed from, rolled under, or tumbled over anything that came near, seemed almost to walk up the side of trees and even change direction mid-leap