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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 exhausted laugh went round among them。
An aged priestess of Ardneh； looking wise and kind； came to take the useless Sword out of the madman's grasp。 It came to her easily out of his cramped grip。
〃To keep you from hurting yourself； poor fellow； or anyone else。。。 my； what a weapon。〃 The priestess blinked at the Sword。 〃This must be put away； in safety somewhere。〃
〃I'll take it；〃 said Ben。
The old woman looked into the huge man's eyes； and sighed。 〃Yes； you take it。 There is no one better here； I think。 Now we must bind this poor fellow for a while； so he does no more harm。 How strong he is！ … ah； such a waste。 But these cords will hold him； carefully； for we must do it out of love。〃
Chapter 19
In all of his fifty thousand and more years of life； the creature named Draffut； the Lord of Beasts； had never been closer to death than he was now。 Yet life； his almost inextinguishable life； remained in him。 He clung to it； if for no other reason than because there was an injured human being nearby； who cried out from time to time in his own pain。 Draffut； still true to his own nature； felt pelled to find a way to help that man。
But he was unable to do anything to help the man； unable even to move enough to help himself。 The very stream that laved his wounds seemed to be slowly drawing his life away instead of assisting him to heal。
It was daylight … whether of the last day of the fight； or some day after that； he was not sure … when he became aware that another presence； intelligent but not human； was approaching him。
The Beastlord opened his eyes slowly。 A goddess； recognizable to him as Aphrodite； was standing above him at a little distance； looking down at him where he still lay in the mud at the water's edge。
Aphrodite was standing just where Vulcan had stood； and there was a Sword in her hands too。 But Draffut knew at once that this was different than Vulcan's approach； and he felt no fear as she drew near him； and raised the Sword。
It struck at him； and he cried out with a pang of new life； as sharp as pain。 〃Woundhealer；〃 he said； suddenly strong enough to talk again。 〃And you are Aphrodite。〃
〃And you are the Healer；〃 she said。 〃Therefore I think it right that you should have this Sword。 Humans quarrel and fight over this one； even as they do with all the others。 So I took it back from them。 And I am weary of trying to decide what to do with it next … so much love allows but little time for pleasure。〃
With a motion marked by a slight endearing awkwardness； she dropped the Sword of Mercy on the surface of the mud beside him。
Draffut； able to move again； put out his huge hand； weakly and slowly； and touched the blade。 〃I thank you； goddess； for your gift of life。〃
〃There are many who have life because of me。。。 ah； already I feel better too； to be rid of it。 But that Sword suits you； I think。 You are not much like me。〃
〃Except in one way。 We are both of us creations of humanity。 But I only in part。 And out of their science； not their dreams。 I will still exist； if … when …