Ricky TooHigh's Arc

Chapter 4 of 9

That night Ricky TooHigh sat by the inn's hearth and drew a shape in the ash with his toe. A cave mouth. A tunnel. A room at the end. Hunter TooHigh set the smoking staff across his knees and watched. Casius Orcbane sprawled on the bench with a mug. Duran Sledge whittled by the fire, the big hound asleep on his boots. "There's a cave two days north," Ricky said. "A troll lives in it. Slow thing. Skin like river stone. Behind it, in a dry chamber, there's a suit of armor. Green plate, silver inlay. I saw it forty years ago and left it where it lay." "Why?" Hunter said. "I had no need. You do. That armor turns fire. The crimson mage burns with a red blade. Your own plate is already cracked from the last time he swung at you. Wear this, and you keep your feet." Casius set the mug down. "A troll and free armor. That's my kind of errand." "You're not going alone," Duran said to Hunter. "The old man can't walk that far, and you need the training days. We'll go. We'll bring it back." Hunter looked at his grandfather. "You're sure it's there." "It's there. The troll sleeps most of the day. Come at it from the south mouth. Keep your torches low. Don't strike the walls." Ricky rubbed the ash from his foot. "The armor sits on a stone rack. Take it and go. Don't open the other chests." They left before dawn. They were back the next night, muddy and blood-flecked, with a long bundle wrapped in Casius's fur mantle. Casius dropped it on the taproom table. Duran limped in behind, the hound's fur singed along one flank. "Troll's dead," Casius said. He was grinning through a split lip. "Took my axe and Duran's hammer both. Thing wouldn't lie down." Duran unwrapped the bundle. The armor lay in pieces on the wood — greaves, cuirass, gauntlets, a helm with a narrow visor. The green plate caught the firelight. Silver ran through it in thin veins. Hunter lifted the cuirass. It was lighter than his own. He set it against his chest and the straps seemed to know where to fall. Ricky came down the stairs slow, one hand on the rail. He looked at the armor. He looked at his grandson holding it. His face did something it had not done in six years. "Try it on," he said. "We have one day left. Maybe less." Hunter carried the pieces to the back room. Casius poured himself another mug. Duran sat down hard and let the dog climb into his lap. Outside, on the south road, a rider in a red cape was closer than Ricky had promised.