Ragged Heroes: An Epic Fantasy Collection

by Andy Peloquin

“Ah, delicious.” Fenrir sniffed and licked his lips, drool flowing freely from the corners of his mouth. “These beasts walk the plains of your home world?”

  “The tundras, yes,” Garamaen replied with an easy smile, and a gesture to let Fenrir inspect the haul.

  Éostre and Ullr stepped out of the way, keeping a distance between themselves and the wolf. Fenrir smiled in return, his great pink tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.

  “Maybe someday I will visit your tundras. Try my paws at hunting these beasts.”

  “Perhaps,” Garamaen replied noncommittally. There would be no portal travel between the realms for this wolf or any of his descendants. At least, not for many thousand years. But he couldn’t say that here.

  “Come in, then. My lair awaits.”

  Guilt wracked Garamaen as he led the teams behind Fenrir toward the mountain. Fenrir had come to trust Garamaen and his offerings. This would be a profound betrayal of that trust.

  Within moments, they came upon a cavern hidden by several carefully placed piles of rocks. A cracked circle of sky shone through a hole in the ceiling. Slightly warmer than the frozen landscape outside, the cave walls dripped with water seeping through the soil and rock from above. A boulder larger than Fenrir himself rose from the ground in the center of the cave. It would become their anchor point.

  As they proceeded into the rough space, Garamaen couldn’t help but notice the cracked skulls and split bones of Fenrir’s kills. Several of them were humanoid—the bones of the barbegazi caught out after dark.

  Garamaen felt his shoulders tighten. Seeing the death Fenrir had wrought strengthened his resolve that this was, in fact, the right path. He could not allow the wolf to feast on sentient beings any longer. The terror had to end.

  After drawing the sleds to one side and tying the horses in a line outside the cavern, Fenrir circled around the party. Éostre’s hands hovered near hidden weapons, while Ullr crossed his arms over his chest in defiance. Fenrir huffed a laugh, then focused on Garamaen for closer examination.

  “The chain?” Fenrir asked.

  Garamaen’s right hand reached into the deep pocket of his fur cloak. He grasped the near-weightless metal that would snare Fenrir for his remaining years. He took a breath and swallowed, self-loathing pouring through his soul. But this was the best—the only—answer to prevent war and the loss of thousands of lives, including Fenrir’s family. He just had to keep reminding himself of that fact.

  Garamaen removed his hand, to show Fenrir the shining metal on his palm.

  “That’s it?” Fenrir roared with laughter. “Such a small thing. How will it keep me contained? Return to your smiths now, save them a third failure.”

  Garamaen shook his head. “This is the strongest chain I have ever witnessed. It has been tested against the strength of four of the great mammoths, survived the torque of a trapped giant crocodile without damage, and withstood the sudden recoil of a ten-thousand weight dropped from a cliff. If you are able to escape this chain, you will truly be the most powerful creature in all of the known realms.”

  Fenrir eyed the length with sudden wariness. “Same terms. You bind yourself to me. If I can’t escape, neither will you.”

  “Unacceptable.” Ullr stepped forward. “The chain cannot be bound tightly enough to ensure fair testing if it is also wrapped around Garamaen. You must break free yourself. If you cannot withstand a tight hold, then you are not the champion.” It was a planned response, a challenge made by a stranger that Fenrir wouldn’t be able to ignore.

  Fenrir cocked his head to one side with narrowed eyes. “Who are you?”

  “I am Ullr, and I will tie the knots.”

  “It was one of the requirements of the smiths,” Garamaen interrupted. “I told you this might happen. They do not believe the trials thus far have been fair and neutral. They believe I have manipulated the chain to ensure you could break the links.”

  “Ridiculous,” Fenrir roared. “I am no cheat.”

  “Then let Ullr bind you, and break the chain.”

  Fenrir paced in front of the party. “This feels like a trap. I do not like it.”

  “How can we assuage your fears?” Garamaen asked.

  Fenrir cocked his head to the side, a wolfish grin splitting his face. “Place your hand in my mouth. If I cannot break the chain, then you will let me free, or you will lose a hand.”

  Garamaen paused, heart racing. This was it. His last chance to find an alternate solution. He closed his eyes. Flickers of Sight, but it was as if the visions were being torn away as fast as they could appear, and what was there was hazy and out of focus. The only thing he knew for certain was that if he did not do this, war would burn across this realm.

  No good choices. There was only one solution.

  “I accept the terms.” Garamaen forced a confidence into his voice that he didn’t feel.

  The wolf sniffed. His eyes narrowed.

  Garamaen hurried to get the process started, shoving the chain into Ullr’s hands before striding forward. “You’ll have to lie down. Just like the trials before.”

  Fenrir sneered, but did as requested. Thankfully, he chose a spot between the boulder and the meat cache. They wouldn’t have to move him to secure the chain. At least there was one development in Garamaen’s favor.

  Garamaen sat down next to Fenrir’s head. He held out his left hand. “Your collateral.”

  “Your other hand is dominant. Give that one to me.”

  “Of course,” Garamaen agreed before Fenrir could sense his hesitation. They had to play this perfectly. Some nerves made sense, but if he showed fear or distress, the wolf would never be bound.

  Fenrir kept his gaze trained on Garamaen’s face as he opened his jaws wide. Three-inch fangs glistened in the dim light. He moved slowly and with precision, his intentions clear. He would give Garamaen a chance to renege on the deal, but Garamaen knew if he did, the wolf would hunt and kill them all before they ever reached the portal.

  Garamaen forced a calm, neutral expression, not smiling, but not frowning. He would give the wolf nothing to fear, no way to accuse him of subterfuge. It was harder to control his nerves.

  Only when Garamaen felt the pinch of teeth on skin did he protest. “Enough.” He let the command leach into his voice.

  Fenrir squeezed a fraction tighter, then relented. “Oo it,” he said around the fist in his jaws.

  Garamaen nodded at Ullr. With the ease of an experienced sailor, Ullr wrapped the metal cord around Fenrir’s legs, pulling the chain tight and knotting it in an intricate loop that would not break no matter which end of the chain was pulled.

  “Éostre will be the second witness, checking the knots to ensure they are secure.”

  The healer was already inspecting the chain and the knots, her deep auburn braid falling over one shoulder. After a few moments, she stepped back, giving Garamaen a tight nod.

  “It is done,” she said.

  “Try your strength, Fenrir. Test the metal.”

  The wolf grinned, confidence etched in his expression. He was going to be sorely surprised.

  Fenrir kicked at the chain, strained against the metal. His eyes grew wide, then narrowed in determination. His paws scrabbled at the ground, the hog tie holding all four together. He rolled, taking Garamaen with him to the floor as his body twisted and turned in the dirt.

  Garamaen bit back a shout as fangs bit into skin, blood trailing down his fist. Yet the wolf continued to toss and turn. Garamaen rolled over the wolf’s great chest, avoiding his flailing claws by a hair’s width. Soon, the stone was splattered and stained red.

  But the chain would not loosen. The metal held.

  “Now! Do it now!” Garamaen shouted through the blinding pain.

  Éostre lunged forward, a second length of chain ready.

  Finally realizing the trap, Fenrir bit down. Garamaen screamed. Blood gushed from the stump of his wrist. He rolled away from the crazed wolf. Fenrir snapped his teeth together, searching fo
r a new target. Garamaen dragged himself out of range.

  Ullr jumped on the great wolf’s back, Éostre close behind. Together, they wrestled Fenrir to the ground. Éostre looped the second chain around his neck and muzzle, pulled it tight in a hangman’s noose. The more he struggled, the tighter the chain held, until Fenrir’s mouth sealed shut and he wheezed from lack of oxygen.

  Chapter 4

  Garamaen found himself sitting with his back against the cave wall. His head felt heavy, his neck barely able to keep him upright. Blood streamed from between his fingers where his left hand grasped his right wrist. The red liquid stained his leggings and tunic. His vision began to blacken around the edges.

  Éostre rushed to Garamaen’s side. “You must slow the bleeding,” she commanded.

  Garamaen nodded, nearly toppling to the side in the process. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the wound. He wasn’t nearly as strong a healer as his sister. But he might be able to encourage the blood to clot if he concentrated hard enough.

  It was so hard to think.

  Pulsing warmth radiated around the naked stub. “You must help, brother,” Éostre grit out. “You’re going to bleed out before I can fix the tissue.”

  That didn’t sound so bad. What was he going to do without his hand, anyway?

  “Ullr!” Éostre shouted.

  New pressure on the aching, screaming stub.

  “Ice it down.”

  Garamaen had never heard such power in Eostre’s voice before. Such command. A flash of insight left him grinning. She would rule the Autumn Realm well.

  Freezing cold poured into his arm. Garamaen hissed.

  “Will he make it?” Ullr’s gruff voice sounded concerned.

  Garamaen wanted to open his eyes to check on his friend, but he couldn’t find the energy. It was all fading so fast.

  A stinging slap across his cheek. His eyes snapped open by reflex.

  “We need you awake.” Éostre gripped his shoulder with one hand, her other still covering his wrist. “Pull some energy from Fenrir. He doesn’t need it.”

  Garamaen shook his head. “The wolf has no aura that I can see. I cannot take what I cannot see.”

  “Then pull from me,” Ullr urged.

  “I can’t,” Garamaen whispered. “You need every ounce of energy to finish this.”

  “Do it anyway,” his friend said. “I’ll survive. You won’t.”

  Garamaen waved away the concern. His future was black and filled with nothing. It was done.

  “You have more work to do, brother,” Éostre said. “The treaty isn’t settled.”

  Garamaen took a deep breath and let it out with a hiss. Ullr needed to lead the colony in this realm. Any loss of energy would take time to recover, time he might not have. And it would be wasted.

  Refusing to take orders, Garamaen took several deep breaths through his nose and out his mouth, channeling the pain away. He stared at Ullr who glared right back, a battle of wills that neither would win.

  Finally, when Garamaen thought he couldn’t take another moment, Éostre sat back.

  “Done,” she said, before slumping to one side. Sweat beaded on her brow. She was spent, her magic drained and her body close to burnout. Garamaen could sympathize.

  With the stump of his arm bound in a strip of cloth torn from Eostre’s undershirt and packed with ice, which Ullr created from the water on the walls, Garamaen could once again think. His plan had worked, though it wasn’t yet complete. He turned his attention to the great wolf, his former friend.

  Fenrir lay on the ground, sides heaving. Éostre and Ullr had done a masterful job of binding him so he couldn’t bring his teeth or claws to bear on naked flesh. He lay entirely immobilized. They could finish their work, and be done with this frozen world.

  At least, Garamaen wouldn’t be returning any time soon.

  Muzzled with the chain, the wolf couldn’t speak, but his eyes spoke for him. He glared at Garamaen, accusation and betrayal vying for dominance in his gaze.

  Garamaen winced internally, but kept the guilt out of his expression. “If we are to coexist on this world, we cannot prey on sentient flesh,” he said by way of explanation. It wasn’t nearly good enough.

  He turned away from the wolf’s stare, toward the third sled, left unnoticed by the entrance to the cave. “Ullr, I’ll need your help.”

  Garamaen heaved himself to his feet, carving furrows in the moist soil of the cavern floor as he dragged himself toward the sled. Cradling his injured arm to his chest, he carefully pulled back the blanket covering a wide metal ring made of the same alloy as the chain in which Fenrir was bound. Nine holes had been bored into the side of the ring, and nine pins the size of Garamaen’s forearm lay inside the circle. A small loop extended from one edge.

  “What are we to do with this, then?” Ullr asked, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

  “We must finish the binding. Éostre is too weak after the healing to be of much help, and I . . . ” Garamaen lifted the stump where his right hand had once been. He swallowed down a heavy lump.

  Sorrow filled Ullr’s eyes.

  Garamaen hurried to finish his thought before Ullr could fill the silence with meaningless words of sympathy. “Wrap the boulder with the ring, and secure it with the pins. Then we tie the chain to the ring. Fenrir must not escape.”

  Ullr nodded his understanding and set to work. He heaved the ring around the boulder, wedging it into place amongst the craggy outlines of the rock. Lighter than iron, the metal pins were still heavy enough to be awkward to hold in place and hammer at the same time. Éostre stood to help. Two bells later, sweat dripped down their faces, but the ring was secure.

  Ullr strung another length of chain through the loop and tested the strength and security of the fitting. Nothing moved. Not a fraction of a millimeter.

  “Done,” he announced.

  Garamaen, weakened by loss of blood and agonizing pain, had been forced to watch as his friend and sister did all the work. Helpless. Weak. These were not words he enjoyed. Yet they would be his reality for the rest of his life. Short though it may be.

  Fenrir, still on the ground, growled as Garamaen struggled to his feet. This part was his task, his burden. To see the wolf who had become his friend chained was a pain he would have to bear. He would not pass that responsibility onto another.

  With the final length of chain in his hand, Garamaen approached. “You have taken my hand as compensation. I do not begrudge you your payment. But now I must finish my task. For preying on the barbegazi and their livestock, I must bind you. This realm must find peace to find prosperity. Must move beyond mere survival.”

  Fenrir’s jaw tightened against the restraints, but Garamaen couldn’t risk letting him speak.

  “When your family comes, and they will, you must tell them to leave, to save themselves. If they hunt me down or offer violence to the barbegazi, they will be hunted in turn. Your captivity is the cost of their freedom. Send them away. Send them to the far side of the mountains to hunt the wild game. In time, the barbegazi and the elves will forget the terror you wrought. When your descendants are ready to be a peaceful part of this world they will be welcomed.”

  Garamaen paused, assessing the threat in Fenrir’s eyes.

  “Nod if you understand,” he finally said, unable to read the canine facial expressions.

  Fenrir growled again, but after a moment’s hesitation, he nodded.

  “Good.” Garamaen stepped forward, ready to make the final bindings. Unlike the previous cords, this chain had a loop at one end. To bind Fenrir permanently, all Garamaen had to do was wrap it around his neck in a tight circle, then heat the metal until it glowed red hot. When it cooled, it would be as strong and unbreakable as the rest.

  It was easier in theory than in reality. Especially with only one hand.

  Fenrir twisted against his restraints, fighting for freedom. Every time Garamaen thought he had the chain pulled tight, the wolf would change his position a fraction to l
oosen the hold, or tear it from his fingers.

  “Let me help,” Ullr offered after another failed attempt at the binding.

  “No. I must do this on my own.” Garamaen would have to learn to use one hand.

  Ullr and Éostre stood watching, pity and concern warring in their expressions. Garamaen gritted his teeth, his jaw clenched in frustration. He sat on Fenrir’s shoulder, his weight giving him some small leverage against the wriggling beast. He leaned forward, wrapping his arm around and beneath the wolf’s neck. As soon as he withdrew his arm, the wolf lurched, and the chain was lost.

  “I can at least hold his head for you,” Ullr urged again.

  Garamaen shook his head. This was his task, his undertaking. He’d already asked Ullr to do so much, and would continue to ask for more. Ullr would be the one to feed and watch over Fenrir, to make sure the wolf was as comfortable as he could be under the circumstances. Ullr shouldn’t be involved in the final binding.

  Éostre approached, her steps careful, her words soft. “Brother, you’ve done enough. You organized this treaty, set the foundation for peace and prosperity in this realm. You’ve ensured the elves will be able to build and grow here without resorting to bloodshed. Let us help now. You shouldn’t carry this burden alone.”

  Garamaen slumped forward, head hanging in defeat. His legacy would end in weakness and betrayal. The nothing would swallow him soon. The others should take credit for the victory.

  With his nod, Ullr stepped forward to hold Fenrir’s head in place. Éostre pulled the chain around his neck. Holding the join point in his palm, Garamaen heated the metal.

  It was done.

  Garamaen stepped away, moving slowly across the cavern to the entrance. “Release him,” he ordered. It was the final act of mercy. Fenrir would be the king of this cave, the chain tethering him to the boulder, but giving him the freedom to move around the space. It was the best Garamaen could offer.

  Ullr gripped the thin chain between long-fingered hands, stretching the length out behind him until he stood with Garamaen at the entrance to the cavern. With a single swift pull, the knot loosened.