I held out the broken haft, ready to stab.

He swung the broken haft of his axe, pulverizing heads with each blow: Scarza, bloodied yet whole.

At every cave opening the man paused to poke in the broken haft of his spear and wave it around.

The standard looks about to fall, and one of Henry's bodyguard dives forwards, grabs the broken haft, and holds it aloft.

I looked up in time to see Lloyd Slate, his right arm dangling uselessly, swing the broken haft of a spear at my head.