Iron Tongue

Lan clapped his hands and sent his dancing mote of light straight down into the ground at the giant' s feet. The mote spun in everwidening circles, boring, chewing up the very earth. Lan' s mind probed downward into the ground, summoning darkness to counter the flame. The pit widened and the burning giant was forced to retreat out of sword range of the city.

" Lan," said Inyx, tugging at his sleeve. " The giant. There' s something about him that' s familiar."

" I know. It' s Alberto Silvain."

Inyx recoiled in shock, thinking Lan' s exertions had somehow caused his mind to snap. Then she looked more carefully at the giant' s features. Bloated, vastly out of proportion, hidden by curtains of fire, but still she saw the resemblance.

" It is Silvain," she said, awe tingeing her voice. " But how does he do it?"

Lan ignored her now, concentrating on the pit. He worked it so that it stretched from one side of the canyon to the other, preventing the giant from crossing to again menace the city. But this was only a temporary measure; both he and Claybore knew it. The first round finished a draw.

" Prepare to launch a bolt of pure energy directly at the giant' s chest," he ordered Rugga and the pathetic few huddling nearby. Sorcerers tended to be arrogant. The spirit of the Wurnna mages had been broken long ago. All he hoped for was some small additional backing. The brunt of this battle was his and his alone.

" Iron Tongue," whispered Inyx, " tell the giant to stand still. Don' t let him move. You did it before. With the grey soldiers. Do it again." She was heartened to see the demented ruler puff up and look out onto the battlefield. His understanding of reality had fled, but some tasks still pleasured him.

" Die!" cried the mage. The word exploded from his mouth, backed by the full power of the tongue. Lan stumbled and had to support himself under the onslaught of that command. Iron Tongue might be insane, but the power of his tongue remained.

The effect on the giant convinced Lan that the battle might be winnable. He hadn' t counted on the potent effects of the tongue Claybore so ardently sought to recover. The giant that was Alberto Silvain stumbled and lurched as if drunk on some heady wine. While still countering the force of Iron Tongue' s command, the giant was vulnerable.

Lan Martak took full advantage to send the deadly bolt of energy the others had forged directly into Silvain' s chest. The bolt appeared to be the largest lightning strike seen by humanity; to Lan it was a spear with a razor- sharp point driving straight for Silvain' s heart. Not content with this, Lan diverted a bit of his power to further widen the vast cavity in the ground.

When the spear struck dead- center in his chest, Silvain let out a roar rivaling an erupting volcano. And, as in a volcano, torrents of hot lava exploded outward from him. This lava was the giant' s lifeblood. Larger- than- life hands clutching vainly at the energy bolt piercing his flesh, Silvain sank to his knees.

" Martak," boomed the single name from his lips. It combined admiration, accusation, and condemnation all in that instant.

Lan widened the hole until the dirt began crumbling under Silvain' s knees. The giant fought to stay upright on his knees, to avoid falling into the limitless pit in front of him.

Iron Tongue let go another command to die that caused the flames leaping and cavorting along Silvain' s limbs to extinguish like candles in a hurricane.

" Martak," Silvain repeated, then convulsively heaved the immense sword at Wurnna' s battlements. Lan took the opportunity to enlarge the bottomless hole a few inches further. The flaming giant fell forward into it, twisting and struggling, then grew smaller and smaller, cooler and cooler, then vanished from sight.

Lan let out a gasp of relief that was replaced by stark terror when he blinked and saw the thrown sword inexorably moving toward him. The weapon moved as if dipped in honey, but it moved. Spells bounced off it. The dancing light mote couldn' t touch it. Nothing deflected it.

" Out of the way," he commanded, knowing this might be Wurnna' s doom. Claybore had counted on him attacking the wrong weapon. He had sacrificed Silvain in order to deliver this weapon. Silvain was a pawn now discarded; the sword carried magics Lan couldn' t even guess at.

" I shall stop it," declared Iron Tongue. The ruler stood proudly on the battlement, chest bared as if daring Claybore to make the attempt. The sword moved smoothly, slowly, an unstoppable evil force.

Iron Tongue sucked in a lungful of air, then wove the command for the sword to vanish. It never wavered in its painstakingly slow journey toward Iron Tongue and Wurnna.

" Stop; I say. I command you. I am Iron Tongue. You can' t ignore my command. Stop, stop!"

The huge sword point pierced Iron Tongue' s chest. Like a branding iron through snow it came on, his flesh not even retarding the magical weapon' s progress. Iron Tongue twitched and weakly fought, a new command on his lips. Mouth falling open in death, the sorcerer' s tongue obscenely dangled out.

" It' s aimed for me," Lan said, pushing Inyx away. " Go join Jacy and the others. I don' t want you close by."

" No, Lan, we' re in this together."

He didn' t argue. With a wave of his hand he conjured a shock wave that lifted her from her feet and tossed her off the battlements. She landed below in a pile of rubble. He couldn' t even take the time to see if the fall had injured her. Even if it had, the fall was less likely to kill than the magical device he now faced.

The sword passed entirely through Iron Tongue, finally allowing the dead mage to slump to the stone walkway. As if guided by an unseen hand, the point turned and directed itself for Lan' s midsection. Spell after spell he tried, all fruitlessly. His mind worked at top speed, trying to understand what Claybore had done. Then he had it. The spells fell into their proper place; his hands moved in the proper orbits; the chants sounded right.

The sword struck.

Lan screamed, his concentration gone as excruciating pain lashed his senses. He jerked away as it pinked just under his eye and felt the sword dig deeper into his flesh, his bone. He futilely grabbed at the sword blade with his hands, knowing even as he did so that no physical force would move the magical from its course. The sword point dug deeper into cheek, burrowing into the jawbone, driving for the back of his head where the point might sever the spinal column.

Lan couldn' t stop the deadly advance; the joined forces of the remaining mages of Wurnna did. Rugga built on what Lan had started, forging a parrying force that turned the blade at the last possible instant.

" Destroy it!" shrieked Rugga. " Destroy Claybore' s evil sword!"

Her anger and hatred flowered and added supplemental power to the spell she had guided. While weakened, the sorcerers of Wurnna found enough strength to shatter the blade. As it had sailed, so did it explode. Ruptured pieces turned slow cartwheels, barely moving, still deadly. Only when the last had embedded harmlessly in stone or deep in the earth did Rugga and Inyx rush forward to tend to Lan.

" Oh, no, by all the Fates, no," Inyx said over and over. She stood in shock at the sight. The lower right portion of Lan' s jaw had been sheared away; his mouth was a bloody ruin. Thick spurts of his life juices blossomed and washed down his neck and chest.

" Claybore' s revenge must be sweet," said Rugga, the bitterness there for all to hear. " He' s cut out the tongue of his most powerful adversary. Lan Martak will never again utter a spell."

Inyx bent to staunch the bleeding. If Lan would never speak again, at least she could save his life. His eyelids fluttered up and glassy eyes softened at the sight of her, then he lapsed into unconsciousness.