Sadly, the celebration could not last forever. The next morning, reports came in about the fighting to the north. The main host of my army, under General Icetongue, had clashed with the army of frost giants and enslaved elementals at the edge of the kingdom, where the cold, but livable, land met the Great Glacier to the north.

The battle had been vicious, but Sanvi’s warning that there could be an artifact responsible for the elementals falling in line proved key to winning the day. With that knowledge in hand, it was simply a matter of finding the one controlling the elementals, and eliminating them. That was already a standard practice, since taking out commanders was a good way to throw an army into disarray. However, finding which giant was the one with the item could have been problematic in the fog of war.

Thankfully, frost giants were not typically known for their subtlety. Their leaders had been quickly identified, so when one of the mages in their horde held up a staff which glowed brightly just before the elementals charged at Icetongue’s lines, it was fairly obvious who was the one controlling them. Of course, even knowing that, under normal circumstances it would be extremely difficult to take down the giant mage. After all, an enemy would have to fight their way through not only the elementals, but the giants behind them, right?

Naturally, Icetongue didn’t do something so wasteful. Rangers and rogues had slipped behind the giants’ lines in the middle of the night, to prepare for this next step. Once the mage was revealed, and enemy had all their eyes to the front, the assassins struck, slipping out of invisibility to deliver devastating blows. The overall leader of the giants managed to survive the onslaught, though barely. The mage, however, did not.

Even as the assassins slipped back into stealth, using simple alchemical smoke bombs to cover their escape, the spell over the elementals broke. Some continued on, attacking the Frostreach forces, who were closer. But six out of every ten turned back, and launched themselves at the giants who had enslaved them in a rage.

The battle quickly became a rout, at that point. With their leaders dead or crippled, and their cannon fodder turning to attack them, the giants were in a bad position, and they knew it. By the time the elementals had been cut down, the giants were down to less than half their original numbers still able to fight, and most of them were wounded. Seeing no chance of victory, they turned, and ran, splitting off in different tribes to try and ensure that their people, at least, survived this.

Instead of running them down, however, General Icetongue elected not to overextend her forces. Instead, concentrated on cleaning up those few elementals who were still fighting her army. Which is not to say that the giants went unpursued, of course. Those rangers and rogues she’d sent out before would harry them until they were well past my borders, to ensure that they did not return too quickly.

All told, it was a success, though not as overwhelming a victory as the one we had before the gates of Coldmaw. The charge of the elementals, intent only on causing as much damage as they could, had savaged the lines before the controller was taken out. Icetongue had lost almost a fifth of her forces, with another two fifths wounded enough that they were forced to withdraw from battle. Considering the numbers, and the relative levels of the troops, that was lighter than expected. The information that Sanvi provided had saved many lives.

One thing I noted, though, was that there was no mention of an archon in the midst of the giants. While I knew that Zadkiel was no paladin, and so wouldn’t hesitate to join hands with wicked folk, if he thought it would bolster his end goal, he wasn’t the type to relish such interactions, nor to play a subordinate role or to hide themselves behind someone else. No, the fact that he wasn’t seen meant that he wasn’t there. Which meant that he was doing something else, and that worried me.

Unfortunately, I soon found out what the bastard was up to. A sending came from the capital. A trumpet archon with a flaming sword had descended upon my castle. He was too powerful for any of the guards to stop, and he forced his way through the wards, shattering them in his wake. Much of the staff were dead, but that was not the real problem.

My son was gone, taken by the archon. In his chamber, a note had been left. Eyewitnesses saw the archon fly off, to the north.

Wrath filled me. I shouted orders, and soon we were back aboard the Will of Winter, and within an hour of the news reaching us, the captain teleported us to Trenia. I barely waited for the flash of spellwork to fade before I was over the side, wings outswept as I flew towards the castle

I was so wroth that I barely noticed the damage to my castle. Signs of spellwork and blades littered the courtyard, and the great doors had been cast down. The trail of fighting and destruction continued through the building, up to the upper floors, where Rogdun was supposed to be.

I knew what I would find from the news, but that did not change the feeling like a blade in the gut when I saw Rogdun’s room empty, and looked out the hole cut into the side of the castle, offering the archon an easy means of escape. There was no sign of destruction, here, so Rogdun should be alive. A dead hostage was of limited use, after all. That thought was the only thing that kept me from flying into a rage. Zadkiel wouldn’t hurt my boy, not yet.

A glint of metal caught my eye. A dagger embedded into the icy wall of the room, pinning up the note that had been mentioned. I knew already that it was in Zadkiel’s hand.

This hunt has gone on long enough. For prey, you have cost me dearly, and I will be sure to collect. Once I take your head, I will offer your son to Torm, so that he might redeem the boy, and teach him to hate you, and the foul goddess you serve. Or maybe I’ll just cleanse the world of his taint and be done with it. Come to me, my prey, and I will end this, like I ended your wolf.

I heard footsteps coming up behind me. I ignored them. My only focus was on trying to control the rage as I ripped the note to shreds. I stepped forward, into the room, desperate to find some clue of where that bastard had taken my son.

“Wait, no!”

Siora’s voice reached me the moment my foot touched the floor, but it was too late. Magic flared around me as a trap left behind came to life, and I felt a pulling sensation, as it tried to drag me somewhere. A teleport? Taking me away from Frostreach. Taking me to Zadkiel.

I let it take me.

A foolish move, for sure. Even in my wrath, I knew that I was walking into a trap. But that didn’t matter. I would crush the trap, whatever it was, kill Zadkiel, and save my son. There was no doubt in my mind. I did not have the true rage of the barbarians of the tundra, but wrath I had aplenty, and I would make Zadkiel wish that he had never been born.

The flash of light faded, and I found myself in the icy wind. I looked around. This was the Great Glacier, stretching on like a sea of ice in all directions. I had traveled this land before, when I was gathering my army. But where was I?

A glint of light caught my eye. There! A rare bit of rock pressed up, out of the ice, coming to a low hill. Atop it was a gleaming shard of metal, like the blade of a sword snapped halfway along its length, embedded into the ground by the point. But if this shard was indeed part of a sword, then even a giant would be too small to wield the thing, when it was whole. Perhaps if one of the storm giants, who made frost giants look human size when placed side by side, were enlarged through magic, then you would find a hand large enough to wield such a blade. For even the mere fragment of the blade was taller than I was!

But that fragment was enough to tell me where I was. This was Godsfall. It was said that, in ancient times, two gods did battle here. That blade was made of a metal none could identify, and despite untold years, remained clean and sharp as ever. No rust touched it. Neither flame nor frost could mar it. And the blade was honed to an edge so fine that merely touching it could cost you your hand.

This was a sacred site, and one that was known throughout the Great Glacier. Like Indsamling, in Frostwind Dale, when the various tribes wished to meet, whether it be to share counsel or prepare for war, this was one of the places where the meetings would be held. Unlike Indsamling, there was no sign of any spirit or divine presence here. Whatever gods might have fought over this land, their presence had long since faded from this place.

That didn’t matter, since a figure was standing there, before the blade fragment, white wings spread wide. In his hand was a flaming greatsword, which absolutely reeked of holy power. His right eye was gone, with a black patch covering it. Other than that, he looked every bit the insufferable bastard that I remembered.

At some point, Soul’s Violation found its way into my hand. The black blade oozed malice as I strode towards the hill. In my head, I knew that trying to match someone heralded as the Divine Blade in swordsmanship was a fool’s errand. I was good, but I knew that I was not that good. But my anger fueled me, and pushed me forward. My eyes locked with his, and I saw my hate mirrored there, but with a side of smug satisfaction.

“You cannot know how long I’ve waited for this moment. Ever since you shamed my weakened form by taking my eye, I have thought of nothing but the best way to destroy you. And yet, you have proven frustratingly capable, destroying all my lackwit brides and turning my Sanvi against me. And you even killed my sons!”

The archon was talking, but I wasn’t listening, not really. I was watching him, looking for any tells. The first attack would be the most crucial. If I could avoid instant death, then I could manage whatever came after. Let the fool talk.

“Oh, playing silent, are you? Well, that’s an improvement, at least. Finally learned to keep quiet in the face of your betters. I had to knock your demon brat of a son out so that he would stop bawling and crying for his whore mother. Honestly, if I wasn’t concerned that you might have some spell on him, letting you know whether he was alive or dead, I would have just killed him outright, so that I didn’t have to deal with his annoyance.”

So, he hurt Rogdun. Another thing for him to answer for. Another price that I would make him pay in full. The only question was, how was I going to kill him? Chop him up? Or curse him into oblivion? Or maybe something else?

“Really, this is no fun at all. I thought you were one for a bit of banter. Last time you wouldn’t shut up, after all. Did you give all your mouthiness to your whelp and save none for yourself?”

I was almost within reach of him, now. Just a bit further, and we could begin this fight properly. My hand tightened on the grip of my blade.

“Oh, I see. You have lost yourself in wonder at my magnificence, is that it? Well, I had planned on killing you, for all your crimes, but perhaps some rehabilitation is in order. After all, you’ve robbed me of all my sons and daughters, so it is only fitting that you furnish me with new ones. Once you’ve been properly tamed, that is.”

Close enough. I lunged forward, blade swinging upward, left to right. “Zadkiel, why don’t you just DIE!”