The blade felt so right in my hands, but I was also glad for the spar against the dwarves, because the fomor pulled a hammer from what I suspected was thin air.
Had I not practiced against one, I wouldn’t have been able to avoid the blow he aimed for my skull, but then my blade darted past his guard and got him in the stomach.
Not a fatal blow, but it slowed him down. “Grah,” he managed.
“This is too easy,” I told him.
He pulled away, and I saw he was already healing. Rapidly. “For me!”
I really did need cold iron, and I didn’t have any, but…then I knew. I backed down the stairs, narrowly missing him.
“Running away, godling?”
I didn’t answer him. Because now Angrboda was behind me. I let her pass. “Keep him busy. I have an idea.”
I did, too. Angrboda swung her axe towards him. Knowing it wouldn’t have any more success (and pretty sure my sword was actually complaining about it), I ran out. The mother and child were out of view. The outside of…yes. Not his house, but the one next door had barred windows. Theft prevention. With Asgardian strength I pulled one of the bars free and smiled.
It would probably work. And it was sharp from the way I’d twisted it free.
I turned around to see him toss Angrboda into the street. From the way she landed, I knew she’d let him do it. As he came charging out, I charged in from the side.
He brought his hammer down on my sword. It didn’t, of course, damage the blade, but it nearly knocked it out of my hand…
…which didn’t matter as I thrust the iron rod into his side. He coughed, choked, gave a small surprised sound and then dissipated into a foul stench.
“Aha. I should have thought of that.”
“You just forgot window bars on Midgaard are made of cold iron,” I accused.
She laughed. “I did indeed. I thought they were steel, and that we’d have to beat him into submission until he fled.”
I looked at the bar. It didn’t have any blood on it, but it smelled bad now. Oh well. I tossed it back under where it came from. “And the kid?”
“Oh, he was beating both of them. Another good reason to take him out.”
“As long as the kid’s okay.” I hoped she hadn’t developed any kind of twisted love for her stepfather. It seemed everyone around had daddy issues.
Mine were at least somewhat amusing.