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."With his left hand, Corin raised the prosthetic for a closer look."It's light," he said, hefting its weight."But sturdy," Fendel assured him."The alloy is one of my own making.Harder than mithral.Maybe even stronger than adamantine."Corin examined the finely crafted limb in more detail.It was about the same distance from Corin's elbow to where the tips of his fingers would have been.The base was hollowed out and contained a complicated leather strap to secure the piece over the small stump of forearm protruding from his elbow.The hand had five distinct digits.The thumb was even opposable.The knuckles were made of a fine mesh, while the rest was made of solid metal.The wrist contained an odd hinge that allowed the hand to twist, bend, and rotate on the end of the metal arm."How do I keep it from just flopping around?" Corin asked curiously."Don't worry, I've thought of that," the gnome replied."Just put it on and see how it works."Corin slid his forearm into the base, lashed the strap around his elbow and pulled it tight.He felt a warm tingle shoot from the end of his stump and up right through his shoulder, and the hand sprang to life.Themetal fingers began to clutch, clench, and twist.The hand writhed in circles on the end of its wrist.Corin recoiled in surprise."It's all right," Fendel assured him, "that's supposed to happen.Give it a few seconds to adjust to you."Heeding the gnome's instructions, Corin stood still while the alien appendage slowly ceased its spastic motions.With a hint of trepidation in his voice, Corin asked, "What next?""Try making a fist.""How?" Corin was unfamiliar with even the most mundane of magics, and Fendel's invention was obviously an artifact of tremendous enchantments."Just make a fist.Like you used to.Clench the other hand, too, if that helps."Corin did, clenching his left hand into a tight ball while staring at the right.In unison, the metal fingers curled in, and the thumb overlapped them.Corin uncurled his left hand, and the prosthetic did the same.Then he tried clenching a fist with just his artificial hand.To his amazement, it worked."Praise the Wonderbringer," he gasped."Try picking something up," Fendel urged.The warrior walked over to a hammer on one of the workbenches.Instinctively, his left hand started forward, but he pulled it back.He extended his right arm, concentrating on opening the fingers.They responded to his mental commands and wrapped themselves around the handle.He raised the tool up, and brought it down on a slightly protruding nail, pounding it back into place.The wrist moved with a natural, fluid motion as he swung the hammer.He didn't even have to think about it."Well, what do you think?"There was no reply from Corin, though not because of his usual taciturn nature.He was truly speechless."Not as good as the real thing, 111 admit.You can't feel anything with it—I never could figure out how to incorporate a tactile component.And it'll take a long time before you have any sense of how hard you're squeezing something.I wouldn't shake anyone's hand for a while."Gripping a tool was one thing, but Corin needed to know if his new arm would stand up to a true test.He set the hammer back on the table and pulled his sword from its scabbard.He took a few slow, arcing swings; the most basic of moves.The arm moved clumsily, awkwardly—far too cumbersome to effectively strike an opponent.Frowning, Corin tried a simple parry and thrust combination.The wrist failed to turn properly, and the sword sliced the air at a completely ineffective angle."Don't think about it so much," the gnome advised."Just relax.Don't try to steer it—let the limb think for itself"Think for itself? Corin began to wonder how powerful Fendel's magic really was.Could the metal appendage actually be sentient?While he was considering the ramifications of his new limb's potential intelligence, Corin's mind had ceased to focus on the mechanics of his stroke.The sword sliced through the air with a sharp swish.The wrist pivoted and the arm reversed its momentum, carving a path back against the original stroke.A difficult move, executed with near flawless precision.Corin continued his exercises, running through the traditional positions and movements of his warrior training.Instead of trying to control the sword, he watched it, allowing the limb to move on its own, free from the fetters of his conscious mind."Gods," he muttered in awe as the weapon became a flickering, flashing reflection of light whirling through the air, battling a horde of imaginary foes."It's a better soldier than I am!""I highly doubt that," Fendel replied."It's just chawing on your own talent.If I tried to use it, I'd likely slice off the tip of my nose.It may not seem like it, but you do control the hand.The trick is to control it at a subliminal level."With a simple, casual thought Corin caused the arm to cease its display of swordsmanship.The warrior built up a picture of an opponent in front of him—an amalgamation of all the nameless, anonymous foes he had fought and defeated countless times in his years as a White Shield.He engaged his imaginary opponent with a series of standard attack and defense combinations.A sweep at the knees, a reverse cut at the belt, a simple cross block, and a quick counter.The arm responded, but its movements were sluggish.Corin tried to disengage his mind and attacked again.The sword became a blur of movement, a savage, overpowering attack, but not the moves Corin intended, or expected.He grimaced.If the arm insisted on executing moves he wasn't anticipating, he'd eventually leave himself vulnerable.He tried again and again.Searching for the balance between conscious action and instinctive reaction.For a brief second, it was there.The sword flowed with the grace and lethal beauty of a true White Shield, executing an array of strikes, blocks, and counter-strikes that would render most opponents defenseless for the final blow.When Corin drove home the final thrust to impale his phantom foe, the blow went awry.Lethal, probably, but not a clean kill.He swore in frustration and hurled his sword to the ground."What good is an arm if it wields a sword like an undisciplined rookie recruit? I'd be better off using my left hand!"The gnome scowled at Corin as he bent to pick up the blade."Keep practicing," he spat, jamming the hilt backinto the cold fingers of the metal arm.Then, in a softer voice he added, "Just trust your instincts."Corin bowed his head in embarrassment at his outburst.Only a fool thought he could use a weapon without many, many hours of practice."Fendel," he said intently, "your creation is truly amazing.Eventually, I'm sure it will be of great use to me, but I don't have the time to master it right now.We have to go after Lhasha.""Keep at it," the gnome said, reaching up to give Corin a pat on the shoulder."I don't want to leave until dark, anyway.Xiliath probably has eyes on every street corner, and we can't risk him seeing us go into the tunnels.You've still got a few hours."Nodding, Corin resumed his drills, though he expected it to be an exercise in futility.Still, it was something to occupy the time, to keep his mind from conjuring up images of statues tipping over and smashing into broken rubble."I've still got some more preparations of my own to make," Fendel told him."I thought I'd left this kind of thing behind when I joined the House of Hands, so it's taking me longer to get my things together
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