force mobility

Svangar nodded back.
Then he roared and came at me, axe whirling.
The thing about creatures as big as the Jotun is that they come without power steering. There was simply too much mass building too much momentum for them to be quick to alter course—their whole life must be like walking on a sheet of slippery ice. Not only that, but nervous systems are nervous systems. Signals that have to travel a maximum of six feet are going to be faster than ones that have to cover twenty.
I had to make that advantage count. If I could dance fast enough, maybe I could maneuver Svangar into tripping into a building or something, and run before he got loose.
With the reach that axe gave him, there was no way to get around him without coming into range—and I did not want to do that. One hit from that thing, and I’d look like a Rorschach test image.
So I ran right at him.
Svangar bellowed a war cry as the axe came down toward me.
I pointed my staff to one side, focused my will, and screamed, “Forzare!”
Even magic can’t escape a lot of fundamental physics. Project force at something and it pushes back with an equal and opposite reaction. I used a lot of force, slamming against a brick building to my right. The building slammed me back, and the impact sent me flying to one side—and out from under the axe.
The axe cleaved into the asphalt where I’d been a second before. I flew sideways and forward, dropping into a roll as I came down to the ground. The giant roared, his momentum taking him into his own axe. The handle jabbed him in the gut with a whoosh of expelled air that sound like a miniature gale.
I made my feet again and darted up the street a dozen paces, to force the Jotun to face me and turn his back on the escapees.

Battle Ground Chapter 21, Page 198


This wasn’t a fight; it was an earthquake—and I was running around in the middle of it like a damned fool.
Svangar took a couple of huge strides and the axe came down.
I braced the end of my staff against the hollow of my shoulder, the way I would have a rifle, and screamed, “Forzare!”
The air was too thick with energy that night. I’d given the spell a lot more than I meant to. The staff kicked back against me like a mule. I heard my shoulder re-dislocate with an audible tearing sound and a burst of pain-static—but I held on and was flung violently away from the descending axe.
I fetched up against another car, hard enough to drive the wind right out of me.

Battle Ground Chapter 21, Page 200