"Listen," she said, turning back to the man. "There's only one way I can make you stop. Do you understand?" She put the light-globe down on the ground.
"Make it stop," he said, the eyes in his mutilated face meeting hers eagerly as she took hold of his half-raw throat. "Make me stop. Make me stop. Make-" Then he couldn't talk anymore. His hand stopped tearing at his flesh, but she held on until she was sure he was dead.
"A little of this, little of that," she whispered, staring at her hands. She had never strangled anyone before. The exertion had been agony to her wounded hand, but that's not why she was weeping silently as she turned away.
She came at last to the end of the tunnel, which was its beginning in the upper chamber of Nurgnatz's cave.
There was a big pit in the center of the cave now. The pit was full of blazing coals. Over the pit stood a large metal grill, and on the grill lay Morlock Ambrosius, trussed hand and foot with chains. The chains were bound with leather strips to stakes thrust into the ground at the head and foot of the grill. It was apparently pretty hot; she could see the air wiggling over the grill, and Morlock's clothes were smoldering.
Nearby stood Nurgnatz, poking at Morlock uncertainly with a long fork. "Ready to talk now?" the gnome rasped. He patted Morlock's backpack, on the floor of the cave next to him. "If I have to, I'll burn this stupid thing. What good will anything that's in it do anyone then, eh? You made the stuff, don't you want it used?"
"Not by you," said the smoldering maker through clenched teeth.
Nurgnatz continued to proffer reasonable arguments why Morlock should do everything that Nurgnatz wanted, and Morlock continued to reply with terse refusals.
Rhabia stopped listening. Her attention was transfixed by the backpack-specifically by the sword grip emerging from the sheath hidden in the framework. If she could get hold of that somehow, maybe something could be done. But the trick would be to get past Nurgnatz, who was stronger than he looked. Fortunately, she thought as she edged forward, the headless bear or whatever it was didn't seem to be present.
Unfortunately, it was present; Rhabia just didn't see it because it was behind her. She discovered this when it grabbed her by her upper arms and lifted her off the ground.
"Oh-" she began, then shut up. Mere profanity could not begin to express her frustration and despair.
Nurgnatz turned to look at her with his gorgeous dark eyes. It was hard to read expression on his wart-infested face, but he seemed pleased to see her. "Ah, my dear. Mustn't be anxious. All in due time; we will become as close as you desire. But may I say that I found your fingers quite delicious. In fact, perhaps," he said, moving closer, "perhaps just a snack-"
Rhabia waited until he was close to her, and then kicked him as hard as she could in his face. She had the satisfaction of feeling his snout crunch against her toe-caps.
He reeled back, squealing a raspy scream. "Why is it always this way?" he wailed, wiping blood away from his nose and licking it off his fingers. "Nobody loves me." Lick. "I live here all alone in splendid isolation-" Lick. -with no one to enjoy my beauty-" Lick. "-and whenever-"
"Look, Nurgnatz," she cut in. "Eat me if you can, but don't ask me to feel sorry for you. Tell it to your sister."
"She hated me. Everyone hates me, and all I want is to be loved!"
She suggested he perform an act which was sometimes a gesture of love, but not in this case. "With that toasting fork of yours," she added.
He whistled oddly. The extra pair of arms extruded from the headless bear's stomach and gripped her legs firmly. "I will love you," the gnome said quietly, "in my own way. And you will be one with me, and, for a while, I won't be lonely anymore." He sidled toward her.
"Nurgnatz," Morlock said, no longer through clenched teeth. "Turn me over. I'm done on this side."
The gnome, annoyed at the interruption, wheeled around and stabbed Morlock viciously with the fork. The tines entered his shoulder and sank deep. Nurgnatz drew the fork out and was going to stab him again, but never got the chance. Blood from Morlock's wound fell on the hot coals and burst into a cloud of orange flame.
Nurgnatz screamed and jumped back from the fire. Meanwhile the fire was eating away at the leather thong binding Morlock's wrist-chains to the stake. He pulled the chains loose and sat up to quickly untie the thong binding his feet-chains. In seconds he had rolled off the grill, although his hands and feet were still chained.
"Hey!" Nurgnatz shouted, in apparent disapproval.
Morlock, holding out his hands, called, "Tyrfing!"
Morlock's sword leapt out of its sheath, flew across the fire pit, and landed in his outstretched right hand. He gripped it with both hands and held the blade at guard.
"Not bad," Nurgnatz said, with professional courtesy. "A talic impulse woven into the crystalline lattice of the blade, I suppose?"
For a wonder, Rhabia actually understood this. In her years of doing a little of this, a little of that, she had learned a very little about magic. And she knew what tat was: the quasi-material force by which living souls impelled mere matter into motion. Every living consciousness was haloed with tat. Morlock must have implanted some tat into the sword, so that it would come to his hand when he spoke its name.
"Impressive, in its rather primitive way," the gnome said superciliously. "Still, have a look at this!"
Nurgnatz muttered a few words that Rhabia didn't quite catch. A golden sword dropped out of the ceiling and stood at guard opposite Morlock.
To Rhabia's dismay, Morlock was obviously dismayed. He stared at the blade hanging in midair and essayed a tentative cut at its grip. The golden blade executed exactly the same move, and the two magic blades clashed in midair. Morlock withdrew his sword to guard, and the golden blade mimicked the act.
"A talic construct?" Morlock speculated.
"Precisely. You really are almost my equal-at least professionally," Nurgnatz added with a vain smirk. "It perceives the talic impulses of your intended action before you have time to execute it, and matches its action to yours."
"You used the tat of your dead victims, I suppose?" Morlock asked.
"Some of them. I find that the extraction process spoils the flavor of the meat."
Morlock nodded. "Interesting. Still, tat is produced only by a living consciousness. Every action your construct takes depletes its reserves of tal. Eventually it will run out and have to be recharged."
Nurgnatz snickered. "Oh, it can outlast you, Morlock; don't worry about that."
Morlock had hooked his foot around one of the legs of the grill, and he flipped it into the air at the golden sword. It executed the same move as before, severing the grill in midair. The two unequal chunks of iron fell to the floor of the cave with dull thumps, as heavy as Rhabia's heart.
"Oh, I forgot to mention," Nurgnatz added smugly. "It learns. Any attack or defensive move you make, it can remember and use at any time."
"Is this as bad as it looks?" Rhabia called out to Morlock.
"Nothing," said Morlock, "is as bad as Nurgnatz looks."
The gnome, evidently considering this a joke, threw back his head and laughed. Morlock quickly crouched down (the golden sword opposite him mimicking the position of Tyrfing). He shifted Tyrfing to his right hand alone and scooped up coals from the fire pit with his now-free left hand. He tossed the coals at Nurgnatz.
The gnome's laugh turned into a rippling screech. The fiery coals set alight the grease thickly layering his warts. "My warts!" he cried desperately. "My warts! My beautiful warts!" He ran around the cave frantically, patting at the flames, which only spread to his greasy bloodstained hands. At last he dodged out the dark cave entrance and rolled in the snow outside.
Morlock tried to follow him, but he was hampered by the chains on his feet and a sudden attack of the golden sword. He was forced to stop and defend himself and, apparently by reflex, slashed in counterattack, teaching his opponent a new move. It used the attack instantly, forcing Morlock to retreat past Nurgnatz. He gave the grovelling gnome a good stomp as he passed, but it wasn't enough to disable his enemy.