Snippets of Writing

4.

Second Night of Hell

Mathros jumped in front of Finan immediately, shielding him with his tall frame. Keeping his eyes on Morafan, he reached behind himself, found Finan's skinny shoulders, and shoved him into a bush. With any luck, the High Elf would have the sense of getting out of here. "Sir," Mathros said, his head spinning in five directions at once (none of which included the golden-haired elf trying to get out of the bush behind him, of course), trying to stall for time before Morafan Channelled the dark sun's power. "It is not of the Code for a svartalv to turn on one of his own."

"It is also not of the code for a svartalv to marry a gyllen'alv," Morafan said, tilting his head to the side and regarding Mathros with yellow eyes. "But here you are, offspring of a svartalv traitor and a gyllen'alv slyna."

Mathros stepped forward, his cool exterior melting like butter and anger blazing in his eyes. "You don't call my mother that!" he yelled, stepping forward. Morafan sneered and brought his staff around in a blow that would have connected with Mathros's head and given him quite the concussion had Mathros not stopped the staff with a single hand. He pulled on the staff, sending Morafan off balance, and swung at the teacher's head.

Behind the two of them, Finan finally emerged from the bush. The wicked thorns had torn at his pristine school uniform and he was a bedraggled mess. His best instincts told him to stay far away from the fight, to run as far in the opposite direction as he could, and to let the obvious jock handle it, but something told him that he probably owed Mathros something. He picked a thorny branch off the ground and cautiously moved toward the fight.

Mathros had thrown the staff far out of the teacher's reach - it wasn't one of the perfectly balanced javelins that he was accustomed to throwing in Track, but it did go quite far. He was now on the ground, trying to wrestle the sword from Morafan's grip, which was quite hard when one of the Dark Elf's knees was against his chest.

Then Finan came up behind the two of them and swung the branch into Morafan's chest, eliciting a scream of pain as the many thorns embedded in his skin. Mathros took the opportunity to shove Morafan off his chest and snatch his sword out of his grip, bashing Morafan in the side of the head with the heavy gemstone pommel. He hesitated as Finan quickly stepped back. I should get rid of him. He'll just come back to bite us in the ass later. But it's against the Code to kill another svartalv. And... I can't kill someone!

"Come on!" Mathros shouted to Finan, leaping over the unconscious teacher's body. "Let's get out of here." After taking a few steps forward, he turned to look at Finan, who was still staring at Morafan's unconscious body, blood seeping from his back where the thorny branch had hit him. Lightly stepping back, Mathros grabbed the other's hand and dragged the High Elf after him.

A while later, the two came to a panting stop near the tall fence that went around the school, shaded by trees. No ordinary trees were these: they were hundreds of years old and had seen many a freshman seek shelter under their boughs from their cruel schoolmates, and were indifferent, if somewhat cruel, to those who came seeking. "You're still holding my hand," Finan commented as the two looked up at the massive trees.

"Sorry." Mathros blushed, his purplish complexion flushing to warmer shades. He made to let go, only to find that Finan was gripping his hand tightly.

"I didn't say stop, you know."

"Oh."

Both blushing, they stepped into the green twilight that the towering trees created under them. Perhaps they could hide here.

Or perhaps not, as a purple dragoness with golden underscales stepped out of the overgrown forest like she had never been there two seconds ago. How does someone with scales that shiny hide that easily? Mathros wondered. Then, as a High Elf with golden hair melded out from the trees as well: How does someone that shiny in general hide that easily?

"Freshmen?" the High Elf asked the dragoness.

She nodded an affirmative and took tentative steps forward. "A High Elf... and a Dark Elf?" she said with surprise. Her voice was deeper than a lady's and smoother than what would have been expected.

Mathros sank into an elegant bow. "We prefer the term svartalv," he said.

The dragoness turned to the High Elf, then glanced at Finan. "And you? What are you, a captive?"

"N-no," Finan stuttered. "We're-"

"Regal," the other High Elf said with a wave of his hand. "I think I recognize him. You're Finan, aren't you?" he said to the elf who was obviously Finan. "Finan Finakana? I'm Carnav, remember?"

"You know this person?" Mathros cautiously asked, then leaned closer to Finan. "He's a junior. They're the least reliable, usually, the seniors take pity on us at least a little."

"I know him," Finan confidently said. "Besides, I have a feeling that if we don't do what they say, we'll find ourselves to be no more than a pile of ash." He glanced at the dragoness, Regal, still wary of her sharp teeth and sharper claws.

"Name," Carnav demanded, pointing at Mathros.

"Mathros. Mathros Hrasandal."

"Well then." Regal glanced down at Carnav, who nodded to her. "You two better come with us."

Both the High Elf and the svartalv, still holding hands, nervously looked up at the foreboding trees with their dark foliage. "And... what if we don't want to?" Finan asked.

"Then you can be killed by the upperclassmen," Carnav said, turning his back as Regal did the same.

short story originally published elsewhere.
part two of "first day of school". will not be continued.