Hyroc

by Freestone, Adam;

  Hyroc had four classes; Reading and Witch Studies came before lunch, then scribing and arithmetic. It was now past lunch, so he made his way to his scribing class.

  When he came through the door into the well-lit room. The students were already seated at a long table scratching words into their pieces of parchment with writing quills. The teacher, a tall, brown haired, clean-shaven man, a few years younger than Marcus, looked up from the work of a student he was overseeing. He was strict, and although he kept a close eye on Hyroc, he treated him close enough to the other students to avoid making the classroom overly uncomfortable.

  “You’re late,” the teacher said in a cool tone. “Class started more than fifteen minutes ago.”

  “I was with the headmaster,” Hyroc replied.

  The teacher gave an uncaring nod. He indicated a pile of scrolls sitting on his desk. “Read then copy down what is written on the scroll. You will lose points for sloppy or illegible writing.”

  Hyroc nodded and the teacher returned his attention to the student he was helping. Hyroc collected a scroll from the pile, a blank piece of parchment stacked beside them, a glass ink well, and a writing quill. Carefully balancing his supplies in his arms, he walked over and laid them on the table, then seated himself. As he unrolled the scroll, out of the corner of his eye he saw several students steal a quick, nervous glance at him. He was accustomed to those kinds of looks, but those students seemed more afraid of him than usual, which made him uncomfortable. Doing his best to ignore them, he began copying the words from the scroll onto his parchment. As Hyroc worked, the teacher moved from student to student, eventually finding his way to him. The teacher looked over Hyroc’s shoulder, sharply pointed out some flaws with what he had written before moving on.

  At the end of class, Hyroc made his way to his final class of the day. All he ever did in arithmetic class was solve various equations and learn to count exact amounts of coin. He found the whole exercise incredibly boring and felt it a complete waste of his time, but Marcus had insisted it was important, so he did his best not to let his annoyance show.

  After class, he and the other students were free to do whatever they wanted until dinner. Many of the students gathered with friends at this time, but since Hyroc had none, he simply returned to Marcus’ office to read a book. About an hour later, he made his way to the dining hall for dinner.

  Streamers of dimming evening light reached into the hall through windows lining the walls; mingled with lit candles atop stands throughout the room. Two large parallel tables laden with bowls and utensils ran half the length of the room. A single closed-door on the rightmost wall, just before the first window, led into the kitchen. Past the tables, two steps led up to a short platform with a wooden podium. Close to the hall’s end-wall, running perpendicular to the tables, sat a third table that seated the school’s staff.

  Hyroc seated himself at the furthest end of the rightmost table where Marcus could more easily keep an eye on him from his seat at the staff table. He watched the other boys hopefully, but as usual, none of them sat within arm’s reach of him. Hyroc quickly picked Billy Mason out at the opposite end of the table. His bruised face and a bloodstained wad of cloth protruding from his nostrils made him easy to identify. Billy met Hyroc’s gaze with a contemptuous glare. Though Marcus disapproved of the beating, Hyroc felt satisfaction when he looked at Billy. He hadn’t thought he had done much damage to the older boy’s face. Maybe now he would think twice about calling people names and insulting their mothers.

  The cooks emerged from the kitchen carrying steaming soup pots, which they sat on each table. The meal consisted of a stew made with carrots, leeks, potatoes, and some kind of unknown meat, and served with a piece of tasteless bread. After dinner, Hyroc made his way back to Marcus’ office where he continued reading until Marcus told him it was time for bed. Hyroc marked the page, closed the book and set it back on its shelf before heading through the door right of the window where the headmaster’s sleeping quarter were.

  The sleeping quarter was a small room. Marcus’ bed sat in the middle of the room against the wall, with a window flanked with red curtains on the left wall. A small table with a lit candle and two chairs were tucked away in the corner, and a washbasin sat near the head of the bed. Hyroc slept on a soft mattress filled with hay, laid at the foot of the bed. Originally, he had slept in the same bed as Marcus, but shortly after he began attending the school, feeling somewhat embarrassed by this arrangement, Hyroc requested that he have his own bed and his father happily obliged.

  “Beyond that incident earlier, how was your day?” Marcus asked, after he had dressed into a night robe and began helping Hyroc into his pajamas.

  Hyroc shrugged his shoulders. “Good I guess,” he replied.

  “Learn anything interesting?”

  “Not really.” He couldn’t understand why Marcus always asked that question. Nothing he ever learned at the school was particularly interesting.

  Frowning slightly, Marcus shook his head in disbelief. Hyroc walked over to the washbasin, opened up a small wooden box containing his boar hair toothbrush, dipped its bristles in the water, and began scrubbing his teeth.

  Marcus pulled the window curtains closed. “Did you have any more problems today?”

  Hyroc turned toward Marcus with the wooden toothbrush handle sticking out of his mouth. “No, but everyone seems more afraid of me now,” Hyroc said humorlessly, careful not to spit out foamed saliva as he spoke.

  Marcus gave him a sympathetic look. “Don’t worry I’m sure that’ll fade. Besides, you’re almost done with school until next fall. I’m sure nobody will remember what you did by then.”

  I’ve still got almost three weeks here, Hyroc thought unpleasantly. ‘almost done’ seemed like it should be something a lot shorter. Marcus made it sound as if school was already over.

  Hyroc washed his toothbrush off, placed it back in its holder and closed the box.

  “Let me see those teeth,” Marcus said. Rolling his eyes, Hyroc opened his long mouth, exposing every one of his teeth. He knew how to brush his teeth. Marcus studied them a moment then nodded his approval. Hyroc closed his mouth and climbed into his bed. Marcus crouched down beside him and tucked him in. “I love you.” Marcus moved to kiss him on the head but Hyroc recoiled.

  “Do you have to do that?” Hyroc asked annoyed. He was eight years old, why did Marcus have to keep doing that? He wasn’t a baby anymore.

  “I’m your father, so, yes,” Marcus said, before kissing Hyroc on the top of the head. Hyroc sighed. When Marcus pulled away, he frowned. He opened his mouth, reached inside with two fingers and removed a single black hair. Hyroc laughed. Maybe getting hairs in his mouth would make him stop. Marcus studied the hair then, smiling said, “I guess I deserved that.” Fluttering his fingers Marcus shed the hair. He walked over to the table and blew out the lit candle, darkening the room. Carefully he made his way to his own bed and climbed in.

  “Good night,” Marcus said.

  “Night.”

  The next morning Hyroc was thrust awake when Marcus opened the curtains, letting a flood of bright morning sunlight into the room. Hyroc groaned unhappily, pulling the cover over his head. It seemed impossible it was morning already! How could adults stand to get up earlier than this.

  “Come on,” Marcus said. “You need to get up and get dressed, or you’re going to miss breakfast. And I know how cranky you get when that happens.” Hyroc continued to groan, hoping his sounds of misery were enough for Marcus to let him go back to sleep. “Every student in the school does the same thing every morning, and you’re not exempt just because you’re the headmaster’s son.” Hyroc groaned even louder. It seemed to be working. “Fine, I guess I’ll just have to get the bucket.” No, it wasn’t. Hyroc immediately threw the cover off, sat up, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and began getting dressed. Marcus smiled.

  Once fully clothed in his school garb, Hyroc walked over to the washbasin. He wetted his head and bega
n combing the unsightly fur all over it. He always hated doing this, he felt like a little girl fussing over her hair. Or at least it was something he assumed little girls did with their hair; he had never actually met one and June had always seemed more finicky with her hair than both he and Marcus. But Marcus told him it was important he look prim to show people he was just as capable of looking nice as everyone else. Now properly groomed, Hyroc headed toward the door.

  “You did that kind of fast,” Marcus said, stopping him at the door. “Let me see those fingernails?” Hyroc sighed and held his hands up for inspection. Marcus frowned. “They still look sharp. Go back and file them. You won’t like it very much if you accidentally cut yourself on them.” With an annoyed huff Hyroc turned back, retrieved the nail file and got to work on his claws. He had never cut himself on his claws and he couldn’t imagine how he would.

  “Much better,” Marcus said, when Hyroc had finished.

  Breakfast consisted of a gray unsweetened porridge, a single piece of toast and some jam. Hyroc stared into his bowl wishing he had some honey to add to it, before digging in. After breakfast, he and the other students dispersed to their respective classes.

  His first class of the day was reading which was by far his favorite. Even if it was still boring. But compared to the other boring things he did at the school, it wasn’t quite as bad. Unfortunately, he hated the one after, Witch Studies.

  The subject matter entailed long-winded lectures, but what he truly loathed about it was Miss Duncan was the teacher. If at any point in the lesson the subject matter dealt with the creations of witches or anything with some vague physical relation to Hyroc – as it often did – she would always call upon him. And if he or any student got an answer wrong, they would receive a sharp smack with a willow rod. Early on, Hyroc had brought this painful matter to Marcus’ attention. Due to the extremely sensitive nature of the subject matter, Marcus could do nothing to make Miss Duncan alter her teaching methods without potentially bringing the wrath of The Ministry down upon the school.

  Hyroc was seated closest to the teacher with about five feet between him and the nearest student. Miss Duncan closed the door to the classroom behind the final student.

  “Today we will be learning about the Druadic Witch’s that assisted Feygratha in overthrowing the King.” Miss Duncan said. She opened a large book on her desk and set it in front of Hyroc. “Hyroc, read the description of what powers they possessed, the first paragraph from the top of the first page.”

  And here it was again. What was going to happen to him today? “The Druadic Witches –” Hyroc began.

  “Speak louder,” Miss Duncan intoned. “Don’t mumble.”

  “The Druadic Witches,” he continued, hiding his irritation as he spoke in a much louder voice, “are witches that draw power from animals. By drawing upon the power of an animal, they obtain its strengths and its physical abilities. But both their physical appearance and mind becomes more like the animal they are drawing upon. This makes Druadic witches incredibly unpredictable and extremely dangerous. Due to the nature of the changes to their bodies, if a Druadic Witch that has drawn upon an animal’s strength bears children, their physical alterations will be transferred to their offspring, creating what is commonly known as a half-breed.”

  Hyroc paused, suddenly realizing what he was reading about sounded frighteningly close to how he looked. Miss Duncan stared down at him with a cold disdainful look. Hyroc stole a quick glance at the students around him. They all stared at him with a mixture of apprehension and fear, which only made him feel like a monster.

  “Please continue,” Miss Duncan said coldly.

  Hating her, Hyroc continued reading aloud, doing his best not to pay attention to the numerous eyes staring at him. “The offspring of a Druadic Witch will inherit both the human and animal features of their parents, giving them a hideously twisted form neither of a man nor of a beast. Their mind is also in a mirrored condition to their bodies’, making them even more unstable than their parents.”

  “Thank you,” Miss Duncan said, but her words were full of ice. She took the book from Hyroc, giving it to another student.

  The students stared at Hyroc more intensely, and he could hear some of them whispering things to each other. He now felt like some hideously deformed creature deserving only death; he just wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear from the world. He bolted for the door.

  “Where are you going?” Miss Duncan said, satisfaction sounding in her voice. “Class is not over.” Ignoring her, Hyroc wrenched the door open, quickly making his way to Marcus’ office. Tears had begun streaming down his face, dampening the fur below his eyes as he entered the headmaster’s office.

  Marcus was at his desk working as usual. He shot Hyroc a puzzled look as the boy stormed across the room toward his desk. Marcus’ expression rapidly turned to concern.

  “Are you, all right?” Marcus said, getting up from his chair.

  “I’m – I’m a monster aren’t I,” Hyroc said, his voice shuddering. Why else would everyone treat him the way they did. They thought he was going to hurt them.

  “You’re not a monster. Who told you that?”

  “Today in Miss Duncan’s class we learned about Druadic Witches,” Hyroc said sniffling.

  Marcus frowned. “I don’t know much about your mother, but I know she was not a Druadic Witch. And neither are you.”

  “Then why do I look like this?”

  “I wish I knew, but if you were the son of a Druadic Witch you wouldn’t look the way you do. To put it simply, even though you look different, you act just like a normal person and are shaped too correctly to be one of those. When those witches draw upon an animal, their bodies do not uniformly change, which is another way of saying they look like monsters. And trust me, I understand all too well what I’m saying. It was once part of my job to do so. And when those witches have children, their children look even more so.”

  “You didn’t see their faces, how they looked at me. They saw me as some unclean creature, a –a half-breed.”

  “I don’t care what they think; you are not one of those creatures!”

  “But if I’m not one of those then what am I?”

  “I don’t know, and I wish I could tell you, but you’re my son and I love you. It doesn’t matter what you look like, all that matters is what’s in here.” Marcus touched the side of Hyroc’s chest where his heart was. Marcus began wiping the tears from Hyroc’s eyes. “I had this dog when I was about your age. He was one of the ugliest and meanest looking mutts you had ever seen, but he was the kindest dog a boy could ever have. You see, looks are not always everything.”

  Hyroc took a breath, some of his sadness melting away. “Do you think I’m ugly?”

  “Of course not, but you’re definitely warmer in the winter because of the way you look.” Hyroc smiled, which seemed to subdue the horrible memory of Miss Duncan’s class just moments ago. “I bet the other students wish their hands were furry too; do you know how useful that would be on cold winter days? I know I’d like that. I’m stuck with shoddy gloves that hardly keep the cold out while your gloves come already attached. You see, you’re different but because you’re different, you can do some things better than a normal person.”

  “Is that why Miss Duncan hates me?”

  Marcus’ face softened with sadness. “She doesn’t hate you, you just remind her of something bad. And sometimes when something reminds someone of pain, they lash out at it. Do you hate Billy or any of the other boys for what they did to you?”

  Hyroc stopped to ponder the question. His feelings toward the boy seemed pretty close to what he thought was hate, but it still seemed far enough from it. “I don’t hate them, but I hate what they do.”

  “Exactly. It’s kind of the same thing with Miss Duncan. When she was a young woman, a witch killed her whole family. Ever since then, she’s hated anything or anyone associated with their art.”

  “But I’m not a witch.”
>
  “I know you’re not, but she doesn’t see it the same way. She thinks you’re a danger to the other students and in a way, she’s just trying to protect them. Just like how I try to protect you.”

  “Is it because of what I did to Billy yesterday?”

  “To be honest, that probably didn’t help, but she had already made her mind up about you.”

  Hyroc shot him a puzzled look. “I don’t understand?”

  Marcus shrugged. “It’s complicated. I don’t completely understand it myself either. All you can do is try your hardest to prove to her you’re just like everyone else and do your best to move on. You’re a good boy and don’t let anybody tell you otherwise.”

  Hyroc didn’t really understand, but he felt better and nodded anyway.

  CHAPTER 2

  Pest

  Hyroc sat on the grassy shore of a creek beneath the cool shade of an oak tree’s canopy, with a fishing pole in hand. Resting the side of his head on the knuckles of his free hand, he watched the faded brown bobber attached to his line float on the calm water’s surface. He gently waved his pole from side to side, slowly dragging his hook through the water, hoping to attract the attention of a fish. He liked fishing; he just hated how much waiting it involved. Sometimes hours would pass without a single bite. Hours filled with nothing more than the sleepy murmur of the creek, the occasional chirp of birds or the chittering of an angry squirrel. It was easy for his concentration to wane at those times, but he knew he could get a bite at any moment and if he wasn’t paying attention, the fish would escape. And those hours of boredom would have been spent in vain. Still, fishing, even with all the waiting, was more enjoyable than sitting around and listening to his teachers talk all day.