Wolf Goldmane's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Wolf Goldmane drove his sword into the frozen earth and swore to climb into heaven. His father was a god. His mother bore the blood of barbarian kings. Wolf wanted the throne among the gods, and no mortal had ever dared to want it. His white battle hound pressed against his leg, gold armor catching the gray light. Wolf scratched the hound's broad skull. "We start today," he told it. An ogre lumbered up the slope toward him. Grok Skullcrusher had once broken men for a dead master, then yielded to a greater warrior and kept his oath ever after. Now he served Wolf. His red eyes were wide. "Something comes," Grok said. "The sky is wrong." The air grew hot. Snow melted around Wolf's boots and hissed into steam. A figure stepped out of a pillar of flame on the war-scarred ground. His beard smoked. His eyes burned like forge-coals. Wolf knew him from the stories every clan child feared. This was Pyros Warbringer, god of war and fire. "A mortal whelp wants to climb to our table," Pyros said. His voice cracked like burning wood. "I came to burn you before you take one step." Grok raised his club. Pyros flicked two fingers. Fire wrapped the ogre's arm. Grok bellowed and dropped to his knees. Wolf's hound snarled and lunged. A wall of flame threw it back into the snow. Wolf did not run. He pulled his sword from the earth and walked toward the god. "You crossed the sky to kill one barbarian," Wolf said. "That means you fear what I'll become." Pyros laughed and threw a spear of fire. Wolf dove behind a broken timber. The wood burst into cinders above him. Heat seared his back. He rolled, came up, and could not reach the god through the flame. Then Wolf remembered what his mother taught him. Beasts obey a stronger will. He reached out with that will toward the only wild thing near enough to answer the fire itself. The flames bent. For one breath, they curled away from him and leaned toward Pyros like hounds returning to their master. Pyros stumbled back, surprised. The fire would not bite Wolf now. Wolf closed the gap and set his blade against the god's smoking throat. "Burn me," Wolf said. "Your own fire will turn and eat your hand." Pyros stared into Wolf's face. The god did not strike. Slowly, the flames sank into the ground. "You bend fire," Pyros said. "No mortal has ever done that." He stepped back into a column of smoke. "I will not burn you, whelp. But the gods have heard your name now. My father rules that table. He does not bend." The smoke vanished. Wolf helped Grok to his feet. His hound limped to his side. He had survived the god of fire. He had also been seen. Heaven knew his name, and heaven's king would not send fire next time.