Ricky TooHigh's Arc

Chapter 8 of 9

They buried Ricky and Casius under the pines before the road grew cold. Duran carried the hound himself. When it was done, Hunter took the smoking staff and walked south, and the country walked with him. Word ran ahead faster than any rider. The crimson mage was dead. The old wizard was dead. The boy in green plate carried a staff that did not burn him. By the time Hunter reached the castle his grandfather had once named to him, the banners were already up. Red cloth hung from every merlon. The people had done it themselves. They wanted a king, and they had chosen one before he arrived. Hunter stood on the steps in his green plate with the silver inlay catching the sun. The staff rested in his off hand. It did not smoke. It had not smoked since the road. He looked out at the crowd and did not know what to say, so he said nothing, and they cheered him anyway. Duran stood one step below him, wrought iron hammer across his back. The dwarf's beard was combed for the first time in a week. He watched the crowd the way he had watched the ridge. He did not smile. "They came from the north farms," Duran said. "And the river towns. And places I don't know the names of." "They came fast," Hunter said. "They were waiting." An old woman climbed the first step and pressed a loaf of bread into Hunter's shield hand. A boy laid a crown of pine at his boots. A farmer knelt and would not rise until Hunter touched his shoulder. Hunter did each thing slowly. The staff stayed quiet against his palm. A herald called him king. The crowd took the word up. Hunter TooHigh, first king of Greshia. The sound went across the courtyard and out through the open gate and did not stop. Hunter turned his head a little toward Duran. "He wanted me to carry it," he said. "He didn't say anything about this." "He wouldn't have," Duran said. "He didn't live for this part." Hunter looked down at the staff. It had been his grandfather's final teaching, placed in his hand on a dirt road, and the old man had died before finishing the lesson. There was more. Hunter could feel there was more. The staff was warm and steady, but it was waiting. He raised it once, briefly, so the crowd could see. They roared. He lowered it before the sound peaked. "I need someone," Hunter said, quiet, only to Duran. "He would have wanted me to find someone. Before I'm the one who's too late." Duran nodded once. "Then we start looking tomorrow." Hunter stepped back through the great door of the keep. The cheering did not stop behind him. He was king of Greshia now, and the last lesson was still his to pass on, and he did not yet know to whom.