Chapter 17

Halflings in Elven society are treated with disdain. Elves are proud of their heritage and see half-breeds as a stain. By the Elven standard, the worst form of taint is interbreeding between different types of Elves. These ‘abominations,’ called Elven-Miscegens, are seen as a cancerous melding of two things that should never mix, due to an old prophecy that says an Elf of two breeds will aid in the end of a nation.

Day 102, Quenchenday

The first quarter of my school year drew to a close the day before. My test results were a mixed bag.

CLASS GRADE Social Studies: F (35.6%) Algebra: B+ (88.2%) Biology: B- (81.6%) History: C- (73.5%) Science Fundamentals: A- (94.8%) Mystech Fundamentals: A+ (110.5%)

I was making no progress in Social Studies. Given my history, my social skills were understandably limited. I had a reasonable grip on mathematics, a talent for numbers developed through tinkering. Biology was the squishy, bloody, nasty yuck class. Cutting open a larval Dire Black Throne Beetle to tag its organs was revolting. History was a weakness; my father had avoided the topic. What little I knew was from television. Science Fundamentals was a cruise; I had taught myself most of it for my tinkering. If Science was easy, then Myst Fundamentals was exhilarating. I found two errors in the test questions the Mystagogue didn’t even know were there.

The Sect tests were much less varied, on a Pass/Fail system.

CLASS GRADE Sightless Eye: Fail. Silent Heart: Fail. Blackened Crown: Fail. Crimson Blade: Fail. Burning Hand: Pass

The Sightless Eye test was simple and unfair: go through the day drawing as little attention as possible. Those who stuck out failed. I won’t go into detail about how badly I failed.

The Silent Heart test was a game of laser tag. We were given free rein over the academy surface. I thought I was being clever by heading into the woods. As it turns out, about sixty percent of the students went for the sapphire-leafed woods. I was tagged fifteen minutes into a twenty-four-hour test.

The Blackened Crown test I failed outright. It was a test to see if I had an open channel to my Mystwell. They scanned me, said I failed, and I left.

The Crimson Blade test was the one I needed to pass. We were put into teams and set upon each other. I lasted until I found my first opponent. I was broken by a certain Dracose still holding a grudge. The only thing I can be proud of is that I survived, albeit with two shattered knees and a broken back. To add salt to the wound, the healer used me as an example of extreme physical trauma.

The Burning Hand test was my only solace. The test was to assemble the most complicated piece of work we could in eight hours. I spent the first half-hour sketching. I was going to pass if it killed me. Everyone needed one passed sect test to continue.

I decided to use my gauntlet as a base. I set it to launch Secorus gas disks, mounted an adjustable spray nozzle hooked up to Water and Air crystals, and attached another projectile system with custom ball bearings enchanted to emit thick black smoke on impact. I cobbled it all together in five hours.

Master Mallock was suitably impressed. I explained the modifications. He took me to a weapons testing room, let off a couple of my smoke pelts, and sprayed a wall with oil. He was more than happy to tell me I had passed.

But the truly notable events happened the next day, on Quenchenday. Nel, Rose, and I were in the blue woods. More precisely, Rose was chasing Nel from treetop to treetop as I strolled beneath them.

Nel shot from one tree, propelling herself eight feet to catch a limb of the next, her momentum spinning her around it. Her face was alight with joy.

Rose, hot on her heels, used her claws and high-grip boots to traverse the canopy like a lithe shadow. Her grace was that of a predatory hunter. Where Rose’s grace was a hunter’s, Nel’s was a dancer’s, like flowing water or a leaf on the wind.

“You know, Iver, if you joined in, you’d get better mobility skills,” Rose said, hanging from a limb, staring down at me.

“If I even try to keep up, I’ll break my neck. The academy’s healers are good, but they can’t bring back the dead.”

“Nah, that’s when we get a necro. Have ‘em raise you,” she said, her lips pressed into a smile.

“I completely REFUSE to be a necromancer’s test subject. I hate the restless dead.”

“Why? Vampires, revenants, wraiths? None of them rot, and they’re just people. You, of all people, should know not to listen to pop-culture stereotypes. If all vampires stole teenage Elves, then all Darklings are evil cult leaders.”

“I’m not stereotyping Blightlings. I just don’t think undeath is natural. The dead are supposed to stay dead.” Nel landed beside me, meaning Rose was about to drop. “Besides, Rose, you’d need to find a Sixth-Circle necro to bring me back as… well, me.”

Rose dropped to the grass. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to get the first necro I find.”

“Oh, come on, Rose,” I huffed. “And what are you going to do with a shambling Iver corpse?”

“Simple. You would become my butler,” she said with a wide, toothy grin.

“Excuse me?! A butler? Are you serious?” I over-exaggerated the response. It was a quirk I had picked up spending time with them, to get feedback on social acceptability.

“Ignore her, Ive. She’s just being mean. But your response was almost on point. If you were actually offended, maybe pull it back a bit,” Nel said.

“Noted,” I said gratefully. “But I actually was kind of offended by the resurrecting comment.”

“Why?” asked Nel.

“Yeah, what was so bad about it?”

I sighed. “My father raised me to believe all restless dead were unnatural. They shouldn’t exist.”

“Harsh,” Rose said, a little taken aback.

“Look, can we drop it and go to the dining hall? I need food.”

“Yessss,” Rose said, drawing out the word. “I have the need to feed.”

“Okay, now you’re just mocking me,” I hissed.

“What? Oh! No, I mean like a wild tiger feeds on a boar.”

I gave her a skeptical look.

“Look, Iver, you don’t want to talk undead, we won’t. But right now, this tiger needs some meat.” With that, she turned and started down the hill.

Nel rolled her eyes, and we both followed. We made our way to the dining hall and came to a dead stop. Rose’s eyes were locked on the far wall. I followed her venomous gaze to find Mallrimor’s gang picking on someone. I was going to mind my own business while Rose re-educated them.

Rose stormed toward the instigation. I made it halfway to the lunch line when I heard clattering metal. I looked up. Rose hadn’t even reached the group. I found a food tray at the feet of a young Elf with wild hair. He threw a fist at Gellar, who ducked and planted a knee in his gut. The boy curled over, then used the position to headbutt Gellar again. Kesher grasped the attack in one gargantuan paw, lifting the boy by his head. The boy struggled, but when his snarls turned to screams as the Dracose squeezed, something happened.

Suddenly, I was moving. Running, straight for the Dracose, training blade in my gauntleted hand. I jumped atop a dining table, nearly losing my footing, then leaped from one to the next. I couldn’t waste time. No one else was moving to help. I couldn’t just stand by.

Rose noticed and moved to close in just ahead of me. She reached the Dracose a fraction of a second before me, drew her own training sword, and fell into a slide, striking him in the back of the knees.

As Kesher dropped the Elf and began to topple, I was already in the air. Taking a page from Nel’s book, I spun mid-air to build momentum. As I came around, I chopped my blade with both hands into his throat as he fell. The training weapon shattered, and I watched as the brute was close-lined by my blade, his trachea flattened. His legs flew forward, his head back, and he went ass-over-hammer.

Thinking back on it now, that Dracose got lucky that Rose and I had been using wooden training weapons instead of our standard steel ones. The training area outside had wooden variants if we didn’t want to break each other too badly, and we had snatched a few for ‘personal use’ and had yet to return them.

I struck the back wall with bone-jarring force. I was now in the middle of them. I needed to get out and take the Elf with me. I reached into my bag and dropped five familiar items, setting their timers to a quarter-second. Without skipping a beat, I shot three smoke pellets at the floor. I threw myself away from the wall as heavy, conductive gas ejected from the disks. I slipped my left arm into the Elf’s armpit and made my escape, half-shouting, “Dreck! Dreck! Dreck!”

Three paces outside the cloud, I turned and released a jet of oil to coat the floor under the fog. As the others started to pursue, I armed the ‘Shock Bites’ feature of my gauntlet. I checked for Rose and found her staggering from the smoke.

“Hey, Rose, you might want to get clear,” I said, my tone shaky.

“Wha—?” she gagged. As soon as she saw my outstretched fist, she got the picture and threw herself out of the damage zone. She wasn’t safe for a full second before I triggered the bites.

Brecken was the first to leave the smoke, so he was my target. The barbs hooked into his uniform and skin. He didn’t know what happened. Arcs of blue-white power jumped through the gas. As they locked up from the current, they couldn’t maintain footing in the oil. After three seconds, I killed the power and retracted the hooks. The smoke cleared to reveal four figures on the floor, moaning.

Rose jogged up. “What the hell was that?!”

“I don’t know! I think I lost my sanity. I could have died!” I exclaimed. I was so sick with anxiety I hadn’t noticed I’d dropped the Elf, or that the entire dining hall was staring in mute shock.

“What are you talking about, Ive?! That was perfect! Keep doing that, and you’ll get into the Crimson Blade, no problem,” Rose shouted, a massive grin on her face.

“Keep doing what? Throwing myself headlong into danger to almost get killed? Yeah, great idea. How about I just become suicidal and save the universe the effort?”

“Calm down, Iver. You did a good thing. Hell, that strike was strong enough to splinter a wooden training sword.”

“Shit! My sword! Oh, man, Kellennar is going to have my hide mounted on his office wall.” I fell into a panic attack, pulling on my horns and pacing.

“Iver, stop,” Rose said in a placating tone.

“Oh, man, and the mess I made. I’m so dead.”

I was brought to a jarring halt by a pair of furry hands, claws gently pressed against my triceps. I was rotated to face Rose’s stern countenance. “Pin your feet before I pin them myself with a hammer and nails.”

I froze.

“There, much better. Now, Iver, I need you to do something for me.”

“W-what is it?”

“I need you to calm do—” She was cut off as a force struck the side of my face. I was ripped from her grasp. My side struck a table and chairs, and we all tumbled to the floor. My jaw, ribs, and hip lit up with pain.

Once my vision straightened, I found the culprit. The Elf I had saved stood in an aggressive, primal stance, his eyes locked on me with fire. He stormed up.

“What do you think you’re doing, trog?!” he snarled. “I could have taken them.”

My rattled brain was having a hard time keeping up. Nel and Rose came to my rescue. Nel rushed to my side, offering a hand. I took it as Rose tore into the guy.

She clutched his uniform in a choking grip, lifting him to his toes. “Now listen here, you little skavy cut-ear. That guy you just decked kept your ass from getting your skull turned to jelly. I expect you to apologize, and you’d better make it sincere.”

The wild-haired Elf struggled. “I. Can. Handle. Myself.”

“Oh, you can, yeah?” Rose’s voice was sickly sweet. “Well, I’ll give you thirty seconds to break my grip before I start beating your slither-spined ass into a pulp.” She started counting down.

At the five-second mark, he tried to bite her hand. The moment his teeth made contact, she dropped any pretense of counting and drove her fist into his nose. His head snapped back. As he tried to lift it, his eyes hazy, she struck him again, blackening his eye.

I pulled myself from Nel’s support. “That’s enough, Rose. Let him go.”

She released him, and he fell to his knees. I knelt beside him. “Can we talk like civil people now?” He gave a sluggish nod.

“What’s your name?” I asked gently.

“Ferris Stillwind,” he murmured.

“Good start. Now, can you explain why you’re upset with me for saving you?”

“Made me look bad. I could’ve handled them.”

I gave an amused snort. “I don’t want to be rude, Ferris, but even I could tell you didn’t have things under control. I’m pretty sure Kesher would have legitimately killed you.”

“I could’ve won,” he half-mumbled.

“Ferris, I think it’s time you be honest with yourself. Take it from me. I want to join the Crimson Blade, and I can’t even call myself a warrior. What I did back there,” I gestured to the pool of oil, “was a fluke. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, I would have gotten demolished. We got lucky.”

Ferris shot me a fearsome glare. “I could take you on if I wanted.”

I gave him a tired smile. “You probably could. But that’s not saying much. In the local food chain, I’m at the bottom. Nel over here is a step above me. Those thugs are all above Nel. And above them is Rose, who you’ve already met.”

To make a point, Rose cracked her knuckles. Ferris winced.

“Say, Ferris, do you have any friends here?”

“No,” he said, the pain in his voice having nothing to do with his face.

“What would you say to joining our little ragtag group?”

“Really?” Hope was in his voice, then it turned to suspicion. “Why, after I hit you?”

I shrugged, looking down with a phantom smile. “Let’s just say I know what it feels like to be alone in a world full of drake-eyed pricks.”

I stood and offered him a hand. “How about a deal?”

I watched as his suspicions were realized. “What kind of deal?”

I flashed an amused smile. “If you promise not to deck me unless I really deserve it, and promise not to be a pain, I’ll call you friend. And I’m willing to bet if you chill your fists, Nel and Rose will too.”

“You’re joking. It’s not that simple.” He wasn’t going to buy it. Time to change tactics. “Think of it this way: I want allies when those cackle-tards come knocking again. You need support. This is a give-and-give-alike kind of…” I struggled for the word.

“Partnership,” Nel said.

I watched the gears in his head turn. “You promise not to screw me?” he asked.

“I swear on the Final Keeper’s missing eye,” I said solemnly, two fingers to my left eye. I turned to Nel. “How about you?”

She shrugged. “I don’t see why not,” and made the same gesture.

I turned to Rose. With her arms crossed, she gave an over-exaggerated roll of her eyes. “Sure, but only if the snot-rag promises not to be a little prick.”

That was good enough for him. He reached up and grabbed my wrist. I pulled him up with a goofy grin. I was only faintly aware of how my panic had faded when I saw someone needed support. But after, I became painfully aware we had done all this in the middle of a dining hall full of people, all staring at me. My grin turned sheepish, and a blush rose in my cheeks. I felt like such a moron, but that feeling turned to dread when the entry doors slammed open. A hulking figure glared at me. Someone had gotten an instructor. Just my luck, it was Mystagogue Thrasher.

“Slate 23, follow me to my office.” His voice was a deep rumble, showing no anger. It may have been my imagination, but I could have sworn I felt him speak the words.

I blanched and mechanically made my way over. The walk felt like it took minutes. As I reached him, he gave me a scrutinizing inspection. He turned his head to look at the mess I had made. The hulking instructor slowly turned back to me.

“Follow,” was all he said before he turned and ducked out of the room.

I moved to obey.