Thorvald’s Wyrd 113
Its blade cracked in a dozen places, the axe dropped to the floor.
“There is no weapon you possess that I cannot take or destroy. When you lie dead, I will rise to become the new All Father and my winter will hold the nine worlds in thrall.”
The god-forged sword sprang free, its rasp lost under Icewind’s words, and Thorvald forced a step towards his foe through the congealing air. He knew the fire of battle in his veins would not hold his warmth for long; this last battle must end quickly. If not, it could only end badly.