I was barely aware of this because the instant Iron John’s attention had wandered I had jumped. Getting an arm around his neck, grappling my own wrist. Pulling my forearm tight against his throat to crush his larynx, to cut off blood and air. The armlock that kills in seconds. My face was buried in his rank red fur as I tightened hard, harder than I ever had before.
To no avail. I could feel the tendons in his neck stiffen like steel bars, taking the pressure that should have been on his throat. He lifted one hand slowly, then sank his fingers deep into my flesh – hurled me across the room to crash into the wall, fall.
I realized that the voice wailing in agony was my own. I could not move. The soldier at the door looked at me, looked away. Steengo had lain, motionless, since that single, terrible blow. Nor could I do much better myself, just able to crawl.
At least Iron John had felt my hold; he was rubbing at his neck. The smile had gone and frothed saliva now coated his lips. Death would be a single blow . . .
“Iron John-you have forgotten something. You have forgotten me.”
Floyd was speaking. Thin, black-bearded, uninvolved. He must have stood and watched while Steengo was stricken, I was felled. Only now did he move.
Quietly forward. Hands extended, fingers lightly bowed. Iron John was in a rage. Leaped and lashed out.
And missed because Floyd was not there. He was to one side, kicking the red giant in the ribs so that he stumbled and almost fell.
“Come here,” Floyd said in a voice so low I could barely hear it. “Come and be destroyed.”
Iron John was cautious now, knew how fast his new opponent could react. He opened his arms wide and came slowly forward. A force of nature. Implacable and inescapable.
Two quick thuds,. two blows sounded and Iron John staggered. Floyd was out of his reach again, circling him slowly. A sudden kick, a blow, then away again.
Nothing Iron John did seemed to affect the outcome. He was wary, he attacked suddenly, reached out and struck. Touched only air. Floyd was before him, behind him-striking him. Wearing him down.
They circled for minutes this way. And Floyd was still just as fast, striking with impunity. But the red monster was going slower and slower, arms lower and lower as the endless blows drove the strength from them. He must have realized that there could be only one end to this battle, on these terms. But he was still dangerous. Almost by chance the struggle moved towards me.
He was after me I realized! I had only the shortest instant to draw my leg back before Iron John spun about and dived towards me.
And caught my kick full in his face. He dropped-but his hands closed on my ankle, pulled me towards him. Reached up . . .
Then Floyd struck. No science now-raw power. Pile driver blows to the giant’s back and kidneys that opened his mouth wide with pain, forcing him to release me as he struggled to get away from his tormentor.
More blows to his head. He tried to rise, his legs were kicked from beneath him. The thudding of quick strikes like some terrible machine at work. Then a sudden silence.
A moment for balance, no expression showing on his face, then Floyd swung a terrible kick that terminated on the side of the giant’s head. Who fell over and did not rise nor move again.
“Dead?” I croaked. Floyd knelt and felt the pulse in his neck.
“No, he wasn’t supposed to be. He’ll survive. But I think that he will remember he has been in a fight.” He flashed a quick smile, then his face became calm again. “If you’re all right I’ll look at Steengo.”
“I’m great. Knocked about but great,” I croaked as I climbed painfully to my feet.
“Pulse good,” he said, kneeling beside our friend. “He has taken a lot of punishment but nothing seems to be broken that I can find. He will come out of this fine.”