"In the name of Aslan," they said and began methodically cutting the cords.
The instant the prisoner was free, he crossed the room in a single bound seized his own sword (which had been taken from him and laid on the table) and drew it.
"You first!" he cried and fell upon the silver chair.
That must have been a good sword.
The silver gave away before its edge like string, and in a moment, a few twisted fragments, shining on the floor, were all that was left.
But as the chair broke, there came from a bright flash, a sound like small thunder, and (for one moment) a loathsome smell.
"Lie there, vile engine of sorcery," he said, "lest your mistress should ever use you for another victim."
Then he turned and surveyed his rescuers; and the something wrong, whatever it was, had vanished from his face.
~ The Chronicles of Narnia | The Silver Chair ~
Image : The Narnian Knight Hacking the Silver Chair to Pieces with His Sword Transcendental
Artist : Taylor R Davis (via AI)