Ricky TooHigh's Arc

Chapter 6 of 9

Dawn came gray over the inn yard. Hunter stood in the packed dirt with the green plate buckled over his gambeson. The emerald breastplate caught the weak light and threw it back in silver curls. Ricky walked a slow circle around him, tugging straps, testing the shoulder joints with two fingers. "Bend," Ricky said. Hunter bent. "Squat." Hunter squatted. The plate moved with him. Ricky grunted. It was the closest thing to praise he gave. Casius leaned on the fence with his axe across his knees. Duran sat on the trough with the hound at his boot, chewing a strip of dried meat. "It fits him," Casius said. "Troll had good taste." "Troll had it stolen off somebody better," Duran said. Hunter drew his sword and ran the drill Ricky had shown him. Cut, step, guard. The staff was propped against the post behind him, thin smoke curling from its head. He moved through the forms three times before his grandfather raised a hand. "Enough. You can breathe in it. That's what I needed to see." Hooves came up the road then, slower than the rider two nights back. A boy on a lathered pony pulled up at the gate. He slid down and clutched the rail to keep his knees. "Message for the knight in green," he said. His eyes went to Hunter and stayed there. "From the innkeeper down at the crossroads. Two dark elves came through his taproom at moonrise. Silver armor. Blue capes. Bows on their backs. They asked after a man with a smoking staff and a grandson. He said he sent them the wrong way, but they'll double back by tomorrow." Duran was on his feet. The hound stood with him, ears flat. "Arcane archers," Duran said. "I've seen the kind. They put shafts through plate at two hundred paces." "The mage sent them ahead," Ricky said. He said it flat, like reading a bill. "He wants you softened before he arrives." Hunter fished a copper from his belt and pressed it into the boy's palm. "Ride south. Don't stop at the crossroads. Tell no one you spoke to us." The boy nodded and was back on the pony before the coin warmed. Hunter turned to the others. The armor held him upright in a way the old kit had not. "We don't wait for them in the yard. Duran, you know the ground north of here?" "Every rock." "Pick us a place with cover. Trees close. Something that spoils a long shot." He looked at Casius. "You and I take the front. Duran and the dog on their flank." Casius grinned around his split lip. "Now we're working." Ricky watched his grandson give the orders and did not interrupt. He picked up the smoking staff from the post and held it out. Hunter took it. The smoke thinned to a pale thread. "Move," Ricky said. "Before they choose the ground for you."