Pup's Arc

Chapter 1 of 6

Pup barely reached the height of the tavern's bar stools. He climbed one anyway, sat, and let his boots dangle far above the floor. He came to the great dragon-skull tavern for one reason. Somewhere at the top of the Dragon's Spire waited a crown that could make a small man legendary and tall. Pup wanted it more than he wanted to admit. He wanted to stand eye to eye with the huge beastly men he loved, instead of shouting up at their chests. The trouble was simple. The Spire's climb killed men twice his size. Pup could not make it alone. He needed a guide, and no guide wanted the burden of someone so small. He had asked three already tonight. Each looked down, laughed, and turned away. His tiny head barely cleared the tankards on the bar. Pup slid a coin forward and tried again with the barkeep. "I need someone strong. Someone headed toward the mountain." The room quieted. Boots the size of shields crossed the floor behind him. Pup turned on his stool and looked up. A wolf man stood over him, three times his size, gray fur bristling at the shoulders. Bone charms hung across a chest broad as a door. His yellow eyes studied Pup without a trace of the mockery Pup expected. "You're the small one asking about the Spire," the wolf said. His voice rumbled low. "I'm Fenrir Ironpaw. I've made that climb twice." Pup braced for the laugh. It never came. Instead Fenrir leaned an elbow on the bar and looked at him steadily. "Why does a man your size want that mountain?" Fenrir asked. Pup did not flinch. "There's a crown at the top. It grows whoever wears it. I mean to wear it." He held the wolf's gaze. "I know I can't climb it alone. I'm asking you to carry the parts I can't do myself." Fenrir was silent a long moment. The other patrons watched. Pup's heart hammered, but he kept his chin high. "Most men lie about why they climb," Fenrir said. "You didn't." He set his tankard down. "The Spire eats the proud. It might still eat us both. You understand that?" "I understand," Pup said. Fenrir stuck out one massive hand. It could have swallowed Pup's whole arm. "Then we have a deal." Pup gripped two of the wolf's fingers and shook hard. The charms on Fenrir's chest clinked. A few patrons muttered; one raised a mug. Fenrir lifted Pup down from the stool and set him on his feet like he weighed nothing. "Come. The mountain's a long walk, and the first stretch is best done before dark." He pushed open the tavern door. Warm light spilled onto the road. Pup stepped through it beside the wolf, his short legs already working to keep pace. The crown was no longer a dream he whispered to strangers. It had a road now, and a guide walking it with him.