The Dreadfang

Chapter VI:

"We're gonna pit them against each other?"

"They're our main concern, aren't they?"

The dwarf smirked. "Clever boy."

Dunhill blew his whistle and the teams scattered out into the murky forest at the base of the hill. But as we prepared to enter, the teacher held out his hand, gesturing for us to wait.

Garrick hid a growl.

"The half-breed's your captain?" Dunhill asked.

"Yes, sir," I said, glimpsing the Dwarf. Over the past weeks it had become clear the professor held a grudge against Abe. It wasn't exactly personal, he seemed to simply hold a grievance against anything alien to his world. At times his distaste extended even to Garrick and myself, and we'd yet to give him the satisfaction of our annoyance.

Abe gazed up at the burly man. "Is something wrong?"

"There is," he answered, his tone serene. "Your kind. Your kind isn't allowed to lead. Not in my class, not anywhere. Appoint another captain or you're disqualified."

I felt my chin to make sure my jaw hadn't literally dropped. The sheer audacity! Had he lost it?

I half-laughed. "What?"

"Half-breeds don't belong in our world," the man said, again calm as a Buddhist monk. "You're tools – instruments of disaster, children of whores and thieves."

"Oi! You shut yer fuckin' mouth, lad!" Garrick barked, stomping.

"How can you say that?" I nearly yelped. "Dale's the same as him."

"The Warbear's a cheat," the man chuckled. "You be careful not to take after him."

My skin warmed, veins throbbing on my forehead. Every inch of my fist wanted to hit his smug face a mile away.

Abe gritted his teeth. "Take it back."

"Or what?" the man dared the boy.

Abe's irises lit up a destructive red, the white of his eyes darkening to a stormy gray, while the skin around his sockets tore itself open like resurfacing battle scars, revealing a layer of rock underneath his flesh. The boy was burning with rage, the fingers of his stone hand grinding into a fist.

"You strike me," the man warned, unsheathing a knife from his belt. "And I'll take your heart."

In the blink of an eye, the world around us had gone sour. Abe wasn't going to back down – his boiling point had been met – and neither was the professor. His hatred stemmed from somewhere deep and dark and never forgotten.

I winked on mynightgaze and readied myself for combat. I knew Abe was more than enough in terms of strength, but Dunhill stood a veteran warrior, his mind and body forged to outlive superhuman odds. I wasn't about to lose a friend, even if it meant I had to run from the Order for the rest of my life. I'd never had anything remotely close to what both Abe and Garrick had become, and not one of them was going to be taken away from me.

I glanced at the dwarf, who in the direness of the moment seemed to be the only one aware of the consequences. Then, for the second time since I'd met him, the dwarf did something entirely against my expectations.

"Sorry, lad," he said, and with a quick flick of his hand struck Abe on the back of his head. The boy fell unconscious in his arms. "Guess we're disqualified then." The dwarf raised Abe over his shoulder and moved back toward the castle.

I gazed in awe a moment longer before dismissing my fangs and following him. Dunhill remained where he was, sheathed his knife like nothing had ever happened, and turned his attention to the sounds of the game.