fs.thethirdbookofswords-第49部分

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as　still　hanging　on　his　back。　The　god；　reaching　back　with　his　free　hand　to　peel　the　annoyance　off；　achieved　a　belated　recognition。
　〃What's　this；　human？　Grown　back　your　right　arm；　have　you；　since　last　we　met？　Well；　we　can　fix　that。。。〃
　But　for　some　reason　the　puny　human　body　would　not　peel　free。　Applying　the　best　grip　that　he　could　one…handed；　without　setting　Shieldbreaker　down；　Vulcan　again　had　the　curious　sensation　of　being　almost　powerless。　The　link　of　those　two　human　arms　that　held　him　would　not　part。
　It　was　almost　as　if　the　chronic　lameness　in　his　leg　was　growing　worse；　spreading　to　other　parts　of　his　body。　The　Smith　did　not　care　in　the　least　for　the　sensation　of　being　without　strength。　It　was　being　really　alarming。　Not　only　a　stone　wall；　a　wooden　door；　but　even　flesh　was　able　to　resist　him　now。
　While　all　the　time；　in　his　right　hand　which　felt　stronger　than　ever；　the　limitless　power　of　Shieldbreaker　tapped　out　its　readiness　to　be　used。
　〃。。。　we　can　fix　that　like　this。。。〃
　And　Vulcan；　reaching　behind　himself　somewhat　awkwardly　with　the　Sword；　moved　it　to　cut　loose　the　clinging　human　flesh。　Awkward；　yes。　His　hands　that　had　worked　with　divine　skill　to　forge　this　weapon　and　its　peers　felt　clumsy　now　when　he　tried　to　use　it　behind　his　back。
　〃Aaahrr！〃　All　he　had　acplished　was　to　wound　himself　slightly　in　the　neck。　He　aimed　his　next　blind　cut　more　cautiously　there。
　That　time；　Vulcan　assured　himself；　the　Sword　had；　it　must　have；　passed　right　through　the　body　of　the　clinging　man。　The　trouble　was　that　the　man　still　clung　on　as　tight　as　ever；　giving　no　indication　of　being　killed。　The　muscles　of　those　human　arms　even　tightened　a　little　more。　Their　force　should　have　been　inconsequential　in　terms　of　what　was　needed　to　choke　a　god；　but　Vulcan　imagined　that　his　own　breathing　had　bee　a　shade　more　difficult；　enough　to　be　annoying；　anyway。
　Why　was　he；　a　god；　worrying　about　breathing？　But　suddenly　it　seemed　to　matter。
　The　human's　mortal　breath；　gasping　with　exertion　but　still　full　of　life；　sawed　in　Vulcan's　ear。　〃I　was　there　with　you　when　you　forged　this　weapon；　God　of　Fire。　My　blood　is　in　it；　and　part　of　my　life。　I　know　it。。。〃
　Standing　in　the　middle　of　a　large　room；　beside　a　fireless　forge；　Vulcan　braced　himself　and　strained　with　his　left　hand　again。　But　still　he　could　not　break　the　other's　grip。
　〃。。。know　it　as　well　as　you　do；　Firegod。　Better；　maybe。　I　can　feel　the　truth　of　Shieldbreaker；　now　that　it　has　touched　me　again。　You　cannot　hurt　me　with　it；　as　long　as　I　have　no　weapon　of　my　own。〃
　By　now　Vulcan's　search　for　other　Swords　had　been　forgotten。　This　foolish　business　of　letting　a　human　being　attack　him　had　gone　too　far；　he　had　to　end　it。　He　had　to　rid　himself　of　this　clinging　thing；　and　do　it　swiftly。
　But　even　as　he　strove　to　do　so；　another　human；　approaching　unnoticed　by　the　god　in　his　distraction；　leaped　upon　him。　This　one　was　a　tiny　female　with　dark　hair。　Vulcan　moved　just　as　she　jumped　at　him；　so　that　she　almost　missed。　But　still　she　had　him　by　one　ankle　now；　and　she　was　trying　…　who　would　have　believed　such　a　thing？　…　to　tip　him　over。
　Vulcan　used　the　Sword　on　her。　Or　tried　to　use　it　rather。　He　saw　with　his　own　eyes　how　the　blade　of　Shieldbreaker　passed　through　her　body；　or　gave　the　illusion　of　dong　so；　again　and　again；　without　leaving　the　least　trace　of　damage　after　it。
　With　his　Sword　perversely　useless　now；　against　this　fragile　flesh　that　grappled　with　him；　the　Smith　let　out　a　great　roar；　of　mental　pain　and　choking　rage。　He　would　have　thrown　the　Sword　away　now；　but　it　refused　to　separate　from　his　hand。　His　fingers　would　not　release　their　grip　upon　the　hilt。
　All　right　then；　he'd　use　it；　in　the　only　way　it　would　still　work。　He　laid　about　him　with　the　Sword；　knocking　down　furniture　and　walls；　sending　bricks　and　timber　and　plaster　flying。　Dragging　his　two　human　tormentors　helplessly　with　him；　he　chewed　a　passage　through　the　ground　floor　of　their　house。　He'd　bring　it　all　down　on　their　heads；　these　useless　human　vermin。
　A　new　idea　came　to　him；　and　he　tried　to　increase　his　stature；　to　swell　himself　once　more　to　true　godsize。　Appallingly；　he　found　that　he　could　not。　All　the　powers　that　had　once　been　his　were　shrinking；　concentrating；　being　driven　minute　by　minute　into　the　one　focus　of　his　perfect　Sword；　the　blade　of　Shieldbreaker　itself　and　his　right　arm　and　hand　that　held　it。
　Now；　other　humans；　emboldened　by　the　survival　of　the　first　two；　were　ing　to　join　in　the　attack。　Human　hands　fastened　on　Vulcan's　left　arm；　more　human　hands　on　his　other　leg。　Someone's　hand　snatched　Farslayer　from　its　sheath　at　his　belt；　not　that　he'd　really　dreamed　of　wasting　it　on　any　of　these　puny。。。
　More　people　were　ing　at　him；　a　grappling　swarm　of　them。　Now　they　were　strong　and　numerous　enough　to　drag　him　against　his　will。　They　were　forcing　him　a　step　at　a　time　out　of　the　house；　going　through　some　of　the　very　openings　he'd　just　created。　He　lashed　out　wildly　with　the　Sword；　and　more　wood　and　dust　and　tile　came　crashing　down；　on　Vulcan's　head　and　all　around　him；　not　bothering　him　much　but　laying　one　or　two　of　his　assailants　low。　Through　the　chokehold　on　his　neck　he　gurgled　minor　triumph。
　Still　more　and　more　of　the　vermin　came　pouring　out　of　their　holes；　now　daring　to　attack　him。　Jord　cried　a　warning　to　one　of　these；　but　too　late。　The　man　had　leaped　at　Vulcan；　swinging　an　axe　at　the　Smith's　head。　Shieldbreaker　tapped　once　and　brushed　the　weapon　away；　along　with　the　arms　of　the　man　who　had　been　holding　it。
　Another　man　tried　to　grab　Vulcan　by　the　Swordarm。　Still　too　much　power　there；　too　much　by　far；　perhaps　more　power　than　ever。　The　man　was　flung　off　like　mud　from　a　wheel；　to　break　his　body　on　the　wall。
　But　still　the　other　people　held　on。　Half　a　dozen　of　them　were　gripping　the　god　now；　each　of　the　vermin　seeming　to　gain　determination　from　the　others；　each　of　them　sapping　some　minute　portion　of　his　strength。
　Vulcan　roared　out　threats；　though　he　knew　that　it　was　now　too　late　for　threatening。　Words　and　yells　did　him　no　good。　He　fell；　and　rolled　upon　the　floor；　brushing　off　some　of　his　assailants；　crushing　others；　damaging　them　all；　savaging　those　who　persisted　in　clinging　on。　Yet　persist　they　did；　and　still　more　came；　out　of　the　wreckage　of　their　house。　As　soon　as　he　rid　himself　of　one；　one　or　two　more　jumped　on　him；　ing　at　him　endlessly　out　of　the　rooms　and　ruins。
　A　crossbow　bolt　came　streaking　at　him；　launched　by　some　concealed　and　unwise　hand。　Shieldbreaker　tapped　once　again；　unhurriedly；　and　shattered　the　missile　in　midair。　Fragments　of　the　bolt　drew　blood　from　the　people　who　were　wrestling　with　the　god。
　Jord；　in　a　weakening　voice；　cried　warning　once　again：　〃No　weapons！　No　weapons；　and　we　can　win！〃
　Concentrated　now　in　the　one　Sword　was　all　of　Vulcan's　power；　and　all　his　hope。　He　knew　that　he　must　win　with　it；　or　die。　Once　more；　then；　behind　his　back；　carefully　and　hard　…　there；　that　must　have　cut　the　pestiferous　human　leader　clean　in　two！
　But　it　had　not。　Or　if　it　had；　the　man　had　been　able　to　survive　such　treatment　handily。　The　human's　legs　and　feet　still　behaved　as　if　they　were　connected　to　his　brain；　and　he　rode　the　god　as　if　Vulcan　were　no　more　than　a　riding　beast。
　And　Vulcan　could　feel　a　new　pain　in　his　back；　and　more　of　his　own　blood；　once　more　he'd　done　himself　some　damage　with　the　Sword。
　Still　he　fought　on；　straining　to　stab；　slice　up；　destroy；　the　desperately　wrestling　human　horde。　They　clung　to　him　and　submitted　to　being　battered　when　he　rolled　on　the　ground　again。　When　he　was　back　on　his　feet；　they　dragged　him　about；　and　would　not　be　shaken　off。　He　slipped　and　fell；　in　a　patch　of　his　own　blood。　And　now　they　picked　him　up。
　Now　in　their　score　of　hands　they　bore　him；　raving；　thrashing；　screaming；　outside　the　building；　and　he　could　no　longer　try　to　bring　it　down　upon　them。　The　arc　of　the　Sword　of　Force　flashed　at　them；　passed　through　their　bodies　as　through　phantoms；　leaving　them　unharmed。
　The　original　grip　on　Vulcan's　neck　was　really　choking　now。　Every　muscle　of　his　body　was　growing　weaker　and　weaker　…　except　those　in　his　right　arm。　That　limb　felt　more　and　more　powerful；　but　all　that　it　could　do　was　wield　the　Sword；　and　in　bat　against　unarmed　flesh　the　Sword　was　useless。　Meanwhile；　Vulcan's　blood　drained　from　his　self…inflicted　wounds。
　He　relaxed　suddenly；　playing　dead。
　In　a　moment；　stunned　and　battered　themselves；　the　people　had　all　let　go　of　him。
　He　leaped　up；　raging；　wise　enough　now　to　use　his　first　free　effort　to　throw　the　Sword　away　from　him。　But　in　the　presence　of　his　enemies　it　would　not　let　him　go。
　A　moment　later；　a　huge　man；　who　had　just　e　stumbling　out　of　the　half…ruined　house；　had　hurled　himself　alone　at　Vulcan；　and　brought　the　god　down　with　a　tackle。
　And　then　they　were　all　on　him　again。
　Now　another　group　of　people；　these　in　white　robes；　recognizable　to　the　struggling　Smith　as　servants　of　the　Dead　God；　Ardneh；　were　running　into　the　street　before　the　house。　These；　ing　late　to　the　scene；　were　clamoring　in　protest。　From　their　words　Vulcan　could　tell　that　they　thought　they　were　witnessing　a　lynching；　a　mob　attack　upon　some　poor　helpless　man。
　The　people　who　were　grappling　the　Smith　down　tried　to　explain。　〃pletely　mad；　he　thinks　he's　Vulcan。〃　And　a　kind　of