by Victor Kloss
“No,” Charlie said firmly.
“No, what?” Natalie asked, turning to Charlie in surprise.
He was staring at Ben with a frown. “No, the void,” Charlie said.
It was Natalie’s turn to frown. “What do you mean? Go into the void? Don’t be ridiculous, Charlie; not even Ben would think of something that mad – would you, Ben?”
Ben gave her an offhand smile. “No, of course not. That would be madness. Come on, let’s get out of this place. I need some air.”
— Chapter Three —
Spellstrike Training
Despite the discovery of the dwarf mage and the strange dark elf symbol, life at the Institute resumed some semblance of normality – or as normal as could be expected given the growing threat of the dark elves and their recent attacks on English towns.
To Ben’s relief, Abigail passed the initiation test and had settled in wonderfully. She loved every single department and, to his surprise, excelled in Diplomacy. She was fascinated by the different Unseens, and her sweet demeanour seemed to help with the diplomatic scenarios. Ben checked in on her daily, but after a while, it was clear he didn’t have too much to worry about. As a Guardian, she would in time need to learn how to master the helm, but there was much she needed to experience first.
However, Abigail wasn’t Ben’s primary concern right now, nor were the dark elves or even Elizabeth’s Armour. There was something far more pressing going on, and his reputation was riding on it: the spellstrike game against Aaron’s team.
“You realise we’re going to get hammered, right?” William said.
“No, but thank you for your words of support. I appreciate the optimism,” Ben said.
There were eight of them, sitting round a table in a small meeting room. Ben stood at the end, leaning on the table.
William shrugged, his entire body seeming to ripple with muscle. “Just stating the obvious, Ben. But you’re not dumb – I’m sure you know this already.”
“On the face of it, yes, we are at a slight disadvantage—”
A sizeable hand thumped the table. “Slight – ha! There’s more chance of Ross County winning the Scottish Championship.”
Ben turned to Lydia, maintaining a calm expression. It didn’t do to get angry at Lydia; she might crush you. To say she was big would be understating things, and Ben had concerns about the chair she was sitting on. She had a mass of curly, brown hair and fiery eyes that looked ready to explode. But she was an excellent spellstrike player, and that’s all Ben cared about. William had recruited her, and Ben suspected she might have a crush on the muscular third-grader, and so he was probably one of the few people who might be able to deal with her..
When it was clear Lydia was finished, Ben continued.
“Yes, I’m not sure if anyone in this room knows who Ross County are, but thank you. So, Will, where are we at?”
“I managed to persuade Taecia’s youth team to share their timeslot on the Taecia battleground with us,” William said. “So every day at 6pm we get a couple of hours to train, as long as we don’t get in their way.”
“Aaron’s team are training three hours a day, at his own world-class battleground,” Simon said.
Ben turned to Simon, who was slouched in his chair like a kid, playing with a pen by clicking it on and off.
“More good news, thanks,” Ben said with false cheer. “Can anyone tell me something positive?”
“Afraid not,” Lisa said. She had come on board out of sympathy for their plight, and Ben immediately recognised her as a natural athlete. She was wiry and strong, with bright blue eyes and a fresh face. “I do have some news to report, though. You asked Simon and me to spy on Aaron’s team. We watched them for a good hour last night, and it was impressive. I think their plan is to humiliate us by going with a five-pronged attack right at the start. If their scouts can locate our flag, they’ve got a good chance of making this the shortest game in history.”
Ben nodded. It was getting increasingly difficult to remain upbeat. “Well, at least we know what they’re planning, so we can counter that, right, Will?”
He turned to his captain with an almost pleading look.
Will seemed to sense his desperation and, to Ben’s immense relief, he gave a nod.
“Yes, we can tailor our own tactics around that,” Will said. “I have a few ideas for traps we can set, which will punish them.”
Ben thumped a clenched fist on the table. “Great. And remember, we can all practise by ourselves during our free time in the evenings. Even if it’s just taking a jog to increase our stamina, it all helps. Alright, does anyone have anything else to add before Will takes the floor?”
“Nothing that you’ll want to hear,” Lydia muttered.
“Okay, then,” Ben said. “Over to you, Will.”
William eased himself up, towering over them. He emptied the contents of a small box onto the table. They looked like chess pieces, except none of them were recognisable.
“This is a brief introduction to spellstrike, mainly for Ben and Charlie’s sake, though going over the basics can’t harm.”
He threw eight red pieces down the other end, and kept the blues himself.
“It’s eight against eight, with both teams having two reserves, which we don’t have. The object is to capture their flag. Unlike traditional capture-the-flag games, you win the moment you have caught it – you don’t need to return to your own base. Got it?”
Will looked at Ben and Charlie, who both nodded with differing levels of enthusiasm. Ben had tried reading textbooks on the game, but they just made his head spin, so it was nice to have it simply explained.
“There are a few basic positions in the game,” William said. He dragged a piece shaped like a bird to the back of the table.
“The first is the owl. He or she is usually stationed as high as possible, with a panoramic view of the battleground. Their job is to watch and report. The owl can use her spellshooter like a walkie-talkie, and communicate to the other players on her team. They can reply, but cannot communicate with anyone except the owl.” William stopped and turned to Natalie. “Ben has told me about your exceptional eyesight. You will be our owl.”
Natalie nodded, as if she had expected it.
“The field is then broken down to those whose job it is to defend the flag and those who seek out the enemy flag. Our defenders will be myself, Damien, Lydia and Lisa.”
He laid out four pieces that looked like shields across the table, just in front of the owl piece.
“Is that enough?” Charlie asked anxiously. “Aren’t they going to all-out attack?”
“We will be able to deal with it – for a while,” Will said. He gave a sudden smile. “To be honest, I’d be more worried about yourself, Charlie boy. Because you and Ben will be our only attackers, responsible for capturing the enemy flag.”
William threw out two pieces carved out as swords up towards the centre of the table.
Charlie tried to talk, choked, and then tried again. “Are you serious? You want me as an attacker? I know I’m not an expert at spellstrike, but that sounds like a horrible idea. Don’t you have to be fit and good at spellshooting?”
“Yep,” William said, now grinning.
Charlie shook his head slowly, incomprehensibly. “I’m sorry, I must be missing something. I seem like the least likely person to retrieve the enemy’s flag.”
“On the face of it, yes,” William said. He thrust a finger in the air. “But – Ben will need someone with him; he hasn’t a chance by himself. You never start an attacker alone. And you have a relationship with Ben that is something we couldn’t forge with any of the others in just two weeks.”
Charlie appeared lost for words, and looked about for support.
“Plus, if we’re going to waste someone attacking their flag, it might as well be you,” Lisa said, grinning.
Charlie nodded. “Ah, that makes more
sense. Thanks.”
“That leaves one last position – the hyena.”
Will chucked a hyena piece casually onto the table.
“The hyena’s job is to basically cause mayhem, and has a licence to go anywhere and do anything. That position will be filled by Simon, who has a lot of experience playing the hyena with his local team. Simon, I don’t normally say this, but I want you to cause absolute havoc.”
Simon straightened himself in the chair and grinned impishly. “That’s what I do best, Captain.”
“I’ve heard good things about you from your coach,” William said. “So I’m expecting you to take at least a couple of Aaron’s team down.”
“Easy,” Simon said, waving his hand.
“Good. Lastly, each team gets a darzel to ride,” William said. He placed a figure of something resembling a winged crocodile next to the four defenders. Lisa will ride the darzel and give us some air support when needed. Any questions?”
Charlie immediately raised his hand.
“Sorry, yes. What happens if – as I envision – they all come charging at us straight away? Aren’t we going to be pinned down and subsequently shot to pieces?”
“No,” Will said immediately. “Our starting positions are sufficiently far enough apart from our opponents that it would take them at least ninety seconds of sprinting to reach our area. You and Ben will have that time to get out of their firing range and find your own way into their territory, without getting shot.”
Charlie seemed to pale. “This game just gets worse and worse.”
There were several more questions thrown at Will, who answered each of them well, even those thrown in anger from Lydia. Damien, who had sat silently the whole time up until now, asked a couple himself, and Ben was surprised how intelligent they were.
After half an hour of what seemed like hard work, with Ben trying to absorb everything, they called it a day.
“See you all at 6pm, at the Taecia battleground,” Ben said, as they filed out the room.
Ben, Charlie and Natalie were last to leave.
“I thought that went quite well,” Ben said cheerfully.
“William seems like he knows what he’s talking about,” Natalie agreed. “I’m just worried about lack of practice. Spellstrike is a real team game, and we’ve done hardly anything; whereas Aaron’s team train every day at world-class facilities.”
Ben put an arm round Charlie and Natalie. “Well, that will change. William is going to knock us into shape.”
*
That evening, they left the Institute and headed on foot towards the Taecia spellstrike stadium. The air was cool and refreshing, and there were plenty of people about, either travelling home from work or perhaps heading towards their local tavern. There was a pleasant atmosphere, which was becoming increasingly rare with the threat of the dark elves. Even in Taecia, home to the Royal Institute of Magic, people didn’t feel truly safe, though Ben knew it highly unlikely they would ever get a direct attack – he had heard the place was better magically protected than most royal households.
Their journey took them away from the town centre, where things became increasingly sparse. They found themselves on a well-worn path, lined with occasional houses and surrounded by farmland.
“I’m going to be worn out just getting there,” Charlie said.
“Maybe we should have hired a few darzels for transport,” Natalie agreed.
“We’ll know for next time. We’re almost there now – look,” Ben said, pointing directly ahead.
A large archway spanned across the path, draped with a colourful banner, which said “Taecia Spellstrike Stadium”. Beyond the banner, a large oval stadium came into view. Even in the fading light, it looked an impressive feat of construction, built of concrete and sand. Ben estimated the size to be similar to an average football stadium, but, unlike a football stadium, he could see giant trees sticking out from within.
Ben, Charlie and Natalie walked through the main entrance into the stadium, trying to take everything in at once.
“I can just tell this is going to be death,” Charlie said, as they entered the battleground.
It looked similar to the one on Aaron’s estate, only smaller. The playing field looked like a crazy obstacle course, combined with a gigantic treehouse. There were man-made hills, houses in which to hide, mini castles and thick bushes. Then there were the huge trees, linked with roped bridges and platforms. At either end of the battleground was a really tall tree, with a lookout platform near the top.
“Ah – our final team members have arrived,” a friendly voice said.
William, Damien, Lydia, Lisa and Simon were gathered near the centre. William was waving them over.
“This place is great,” Ben said.
“It’s small,” Lydia grunted, giving the place a resentful look.
“It’s fine for what we need,” William said. “We’re not trying to become professional spellstrike players – we’re just trying to develop some team relationship.”
Ben longed to climb the trees and walk the roped bridges, but he forced his attention back to William.
“So, what’s the plan?” Ben asked.
“Spellstrike relies heavily on fit players – players with stamina who can run, jump and sprint,” William said.
Charlie groaned. “I don’t like where this is going.”
William cracked his knuckles, and gave them all a grin that even Ben didn’t like the look of.
For the next half an hour, William made them run, climb trees, and squeeze through tunnels again and again. Natalie excelled; Ben found that he, Simon and Lisa were at a similar level; and then lagging behind came Damien, Lydia and Charlie. By the end, they all lay on the grass, breathing heavily, their bodies caked in sweat.
“I can’t go on,” Charlie said. His arms and legs were sprawled in a star shape, his face flushed bright red and his stomach heaving up and down.
“We’ve just started,” William said with a grin. “Grab your spellshooters – it’s time for target practice.”
William poked a series of targets on stakes into the grass, and then handed them each a dozen pellets. “An important part of shooting in groups is to make sure you aren’t all shooting at the same person. You each need to focus on someone different, to maximise damage and to bring down the enemy as quickly as possible.”
Over the next hour, they turned from a coordinated mess to something resembling cohesion, as they shot down target after target. Ben was so engrossed in the exercises he completely lost track of time, so it came as a great surprise when William gave a little blow of his whistle.
“That’s all for today, team,” William said. “Same time tomorrow.”
Ben swallowed his disappointment and, to his surprise, saw Charlie do the same, as they packed up and slowly left for home. Ben saw several darzels slither down the trees, and slink their way to his team mates. Within moments, they had hopped on the winged crocodiles and were flying out of the stadium, leaving Ben, Charlie, Natalie and William alone. William was also on a darzel, but instead of shooting off, he joined them.
“I thought that went well,” Ben said.
William, who was already imposing, looked even more so standing on the darzel.
“It’s a start, yes,” William said. “We have potential. If we had three months, I could turn us into a good team.”
“But we don’t have three months,” Charlie pointed out. “We’ve got two weeks.”
“Have you seen Aaron’s team play?” Ben asked.
“Yes. They are good. Right now they’d flatten us in less than fifteen minutes, which in spellstrike terms is a mauling.”
Ben could just imagine Aaron’s face should that happen. He would be outwardly gracious in victory of course, but he would make comments, disguised as harmless jokes, intended to squash Ben still further.
“We have two weeks. We’ll get better,” Ben said,
staring into the distance with a grim expression.
— Chapter Four —
Delaying Tactics
During the next week, they improved dramatically, slowly turning from a bunch of individuals into a team that looked as though they might have played the game before.
As the time to the spellstrike game drew near, the pressure started to build. In the lunch rooms and the corridors, talk of the game started to become more common than the dark elves. Ben hadn’t realised how many people were into spellstrike. It seemed even more popular than football, and Ben heard all sorts of strategy talk, much of it over his head. One thing was abundantly clear, though – there weren’t many people backing them to win.
“I think Aaron’s side will destroy them inside fifteen minutes…"
"…my guess is they’ll just rush and overwhelm Ben’s team.”
“William is a good captain, though; I bet he’ll set them up to hold out as long as possible.”
"…Ben and Simon are hotshots, so they could spring a surprise.”
“Charlie, I’ve got twenty pounds on you being the first player to get shot. Don’t let me down.”
Charlie’s face flushed and he quickened his pace.
“Don’t let it affect you,” Ben said, as they headed up to the Diplomacy simulation room.
“Easy for you to say,” Charlie said. “You don’t get hounded every day.”
“Sure I do,” Ben said. “At least once a day someone tells me we’re going to get crushed. It’s become part of my daily routine. But as long as we keep practising and getting better, I think we’ll surprise a few people.”
But their practice sessions hit a hitch on the final week before the spellstrike game. The eight of them had taken to travelling to the battleground together – team bonding, William claimed – riding on darzels to get there. As they approached the stadium, Ben noticed a light coming from within.
“That’s not normal, is it?” Ben said.
William was frowning. “No, it’s not. The Taecia youth team gave us use of the battleground from 6pm to 8pm. There shouldn’t be anyone in there.”
