All the while, the ghastly leg continued to hop forward and kick at him.

“See, Martak? All of me wants to see you die,” said Claybore. “And you will-you will die as only an immortal can. You will live forever and be in complete pain for all eternity. Nothing will save you. You will cry in the dark for surcease and never find it. You will die, not in body but in mind. Die, Martak, die!”

Lan couldn’t stop the surging attack, but he deflected it enough to keep from succumbing. Knowing his strength was nowhere near adequate to destroy Claybore as he’d thought, cunning took over. Lan Martak turned aside the assault and redirected it to the hopping, kicking leg.

“No!” came the shriek as Claybore realized what was happening.

His leg vanished in a sizzling cloud of greasy black smoke, lost forever.

“Your skin is gone. I have your tongue. Now your left leg is destroyed. Who is losing, Claybore?”

Lan twisted away as heat destroyed the other copper coffin. Droplets of molten metal seared his skin, raised blisters, burned like a million ants devouring his flesh. The other leg bounded free of its vaporized coffin and went hopping toward Claybore.

Lan tried to stop the right leg and found the other sorcerer’s spells prevented it. Leg and torso would soon be reunited. What power would this give Claybore? Lan didn’t want to find out.

“You can’t stop me, Martak,” gloated Claybore. “You had your chance. You’ve failed.”

“Aren’t you the one failing, Claybore? Where’s your left leg? It’s gone. Completely destroyed. The other soon will be.”

“Never!”

Lan sent out tangling spells to numb the nerves in the leg. They failed. The leg did not live in the same way other animate creatures did. He hurled fireballs and sent elementals and opened pits and still he failed to prevent the inexorable movement of the leg as it hopped toward Claybore.