Pup's Arc

Chapter 4 of 6

The sheer black rock ended at last. Pup climbed onto a flat ledge and saw the temple. Black obsidian rose above him, coated in ice, lit by golden fire. Fenrir and Gorbov came up behind, breathing hard. Two huge iron doors stood at the top, wet with frost. Fenrir set his paws on them. Gorbov pushed beside him. The doors groaned open. Inside, the crown waited on a pillar. It was black leather and bone, curled with pale ram horns. Pup's chest tightened. He had climbed all this way for that. Then he saw the king. The king filled the far end of the hall. He was enormous, gray-sand skin over huge shoulders, a white sheet pulled tight across his chest. Where his face should be there was only a black void, with purple-green tendrils hanging below it. Pup knew him. This was Dale, the guardian who had shown himself at the smithy and let Pup call him a man. Now a golden crown sat crooked on his sheeted head. Dale looked at Pup. Pup's cheeks went hot. The void tilted, and somehow Pup knew Dale was blushing too. "You climbed it," Dale said. He lifted the horned crown off its pillar with one huge hand. He held it out. "Take it. It makes you tall." Pup stepped closer. His tiny head barely reached the giant's belt. "I want to be a suitor," Dale said. Plain, flat, done. "With them." Gorbov made a wounded sound. Fenrir's ears flattened. Two men who had carried Pup up a mountain, and now a third stood in their way. Pup looked at all three giants. His hands shook, but his chin stayed high. "Then I have terms," he said. "Before I put on the crown, before I grow, I want one kiss. From each of you. Fenrir. Gorbov. And you." He pointed at Dale. "After that, I choose my true love." No one moved. Then Gorbov knelt first. He cupped Pup's small face in his cool blue hands and kissed his forehead, gentle, shaking. "I have wanted to since the ravine," he whispered. Fenrir came next. The wolf lowered his snout and pressed a rough, warm kiss to Pup's cheek. "You walk like a king," he said. "You should kiss like one." Dale bent last. The void came close. The tendrils brushed Pup's jaw, cool and soft. Where a mouth should be, Pup felt only a faint press, and a strange calm, like standing at a door between two worlds. Pup stepped back. Three giants watched him, and the horned crown sat in Dale's open palm. He had earned it. He had three men who wanted him. But he could not choose. Not yet. "I need to think," Pup said. His voice cracked. "All three of you. Give me the night." None of them argued. The crown stayed unworn. Pup was still small, and now he had a harder climb than any rock.