The Silver Dwarf (Royal Institute of Magic, Book 4)

by Victor Kloss

  Ben had a bad feeling even before they passed through the entrance and into the stadium.

  “Another lap – go!”

  Ben felt a stab of anger the moment he clocked the voice.

  Aaron turned as they entered the battleground, a smile plastered over his sickeningly flawless face.

  “Ah, Ben, William – there you are. I was told to expect you,” Aaron said.

  Ben quickened his pace, eager to impart some of his anger on Aaron, but William beat him to it.

  “What’s going on? We have the battleground booked for this time,” William said, squaring up to Aaron. They were a similar height, but William had the advantage of countless hours at the gym, and it showed.

  “You’re quite right,” Aaron said, seemingly unfazed. “However, this week we booked it in. I felt my team needed to train in a different battleground. This one might be small, but it gives us a different set of challenges to work with, don’t you agree?”

  “Whether I agree or not is irrelevant,” William said. “We had this battleground booked. I spent several hours convincing the Taecia management team to give us this time. So I need you to leave – now.”

  Ben enjoyed the way William emphasised that last word. But still, Aaron remained unconcerned. He raised a finger.

  “You had an agreement,” Aaron said. “But that agreement has changed.”

  Aaron turned and called a name. A bald-headed, suited man stepped out of the shadows, looking slightly flustered.

  “Mr. Ackney,” Will said with surprise. “What’s going on here?”

  “Ah, William, my boy, I’m sorry,” Mr. Ackney said. He sounded anxious, and his eyes were lined with worry. “I received word this morning from the Taecia spellstrike board – the deputy chairman no less. He instructed me to give Aaron’s spellstrike team this slotted time, effective immediately.”

  William frowned. It was a look that would have scared a braver man than Mr. Ackney, who flinched, and took a step back.

  “I am sorry, William; there was nothing I could do,” Mr. Ackney said.

  William maintained his stony stare. “You could have told them you had already made an agreement and you weren’t willing to break your word.”

  Mr. Ackney went red, and thrust out his chest, anger fuelling his courage. “Do not insult my integrity, William. It was only down to me that your misfit team got to train here in the first place. You should be grateful.”

  “Oh, I am grateful,” William said, raising a fist. “Do you want to see how grateful I am?”

  Ben saw the danger and stepped in, just as Aaron did the same, pulling the two apart.

  “Let’s all take a deep breath,” Aaron said. “Will, think about it – we’re not training at my battleground anymore. It’s free, and I would be more than happy to let you guys use it. Remember, that’s where we’re going to be playing, so it would be ideal for you to get a feel of the battleground.”

  From the corner of his eye, Ben saw the rest of his team perk up. William, though, wasn’t totally convinced.

  “You would let us do that?” William asked, doubting the offer.

  Aaron spread both his arms. “Of course. This isn’t a world cup final. It’s a friendly school game, and it’s only fair that we both get the same training set-up, right?”

  William gave Aaron a long, hard look. Aaron stared back, all open honesty in those big, brown eyes.

  “How long will it take us to get there?”

  “From the Taecia Dragonway you can be there in less than ninety minutes,” Aaron said. “If you go now, there will still be time to get a good hour or two of training in. I’ll send word that you’re expected.”

  After what seemed like an age, William gave a subtle nod. Without a word of thanks, he turned, and headed for the exit.

  “Come on, team; we’re leaving.”

  They stepped onto their darzels and were soon speeding back to Taecia, skimming along the pathway.

  Ben rode at the head of the group, alongside William, who was staring impassively ahead.

  “I was kind of hoping you’d hit him,” Ben said.

  “I considered it,” William admitted. “But it wouldn’t help us right now. Maybe later, after this is all done.”

  “Well, let me know before you do, because I want to be there,” Ben said with a smile.

  “I’m glad we’re training at the D’Gayle battleground,” Simon said. He was flying in a zigzag pattern alongside Ben. “That Taecia ground was rubbish. Now we can try out some real moves.” He grinned. “I have a few that I made up last night that I want to try out. They’re mental.”

  Talk was limited during their journey on the Dragonway to Alexia Bay, a small island off the coast of Ireland, home of the D’Gayle family estate. By the time the dragon pulled up at the station, it was getting dark, and Ben guessed it to be past eight o’clock. The platform was as extravagant as he remembered it – all glass, marble and open spaces everywhere. Even at this time of the evening, there were white-gloved porters standing to attention, ready to deal with luggage or any other needs. They went straight to the taxi station outside. Waiting patiently were at least a dozen pristine silver carriages of various sizes, pulled by white pegasi. They split up into two carriages, and gave the drivers the address. Moments later they were in the air, relishing the sea breeze, as they sailed up and over the bay, before turning inland, towards the hills. Extravagant houses lit up the top of those hills, and they flew towards the brightest of them all.

  Less than ten minutes later, the carriages landed them on a familiar cobbled road, just outside the main gated entrance. They disembarked, paid the taxis, and were soon standing alone, in the fading light, in front of the vast mansion.

  William and Ben promptly walked up to the gate. Immediately an elf, dressed in an impeccably tailored white suit, appeared on the other side.

  “Ah, the Greenwood spellstrike team, I assume?” the elf said, with a perfectly clipped English accent.

  “That’s us,” Ben said with a small sigh of relief. He had half-expected Aaron to be lying when he said he’d send word.

  “Very good. I have been given specific instructions that under no circumstances are you to enter the D’Gayle estate.”

  There was a moment of shocked silence, before all eight team members spoke at once. Lydia grabbed the gate and started shaking it violently.

  “That lying, scheming backstabber!” she cried. “You let us in so we can tear up the place!”

  Ben’s own fury lasted less than the others. Deep down he wasn’t surprised, and looking at William’s impassive face, he guessed Will wasn’t either.

  The elf stood calmly, hands behind his back, watching the scene in front of him without the slightest care in the world.

  “Alright, that’s enough,” William said. “Put your spellshooter away, Lydia. Blowing their house up won’t help us.”

  “It will help me,” Lydia said, holstering her spellshooter with reluctance.

  “I, too, would like to see Lydia shoot at the house,” Charlie said.

  “No. We’d just end up with a bill that none of us could pay, and the Institute would have to fork out the money,” Will said. “We will meet up at the Institute tomorrow morning, and decide what to do.”

  They fired a taxi-hailing spell into the sky, and waited. A sullen silence soon replaced their fury. Will turned unexpectedly to Ben with a grim smile.

  “You said you wanted to be there when I beat the life out of Aaron, right?” Will said.

  “Absolutely.”

  Will cracked his fingers. “You might want to stick by me tomorrow morning, then.”

  — Chapter Five —

  Desperate Measures

  Aaron managed to avoid them that following morning, and it wasn’t until they were all in the lunch hall, munching down a chicken and mushroom pie, when he finally showed up.

  Aaron, Joshua, and another chap who looked almo
st as big as William entered the hall. To Ben’s surprise, Aaron headed right over to their table. Even more surprising was the huge grin on his face. Ben’s gaze flickered to Will, who had just pushed his pie away. Would he start a fight in such a public place?

  Aaron spread his arms as he approached, as if he was expecting a hug, not a thump to the face.

  “So, how was it?” he asked with a smile. His voice was unusually loud – was he trying to be overheard? “It blows that Taecia battleground away, doesn’t it? I’m almost regretting letting you guys train there.”

  William frowned at him. “We didn’t train there. Your elf wouldn’t let us past the front gate.”

  Aaron’s jaw dropped quite spectacularly. “What? Are you serious? I sent a message to him the moment you guys left.”

  Aaron was a good actor. He was really good. Those around listening were left in no doubt that Aaron was genuinely shocked. Ben even suspected one or two of his own team members believed him, though William wasn’t among them. But Ben could see Will was in a spot. If he challenged Aaron now, it would look all wrong. Will hesitated, unsure how to respond, and Aaron pressed on.

  “I’m going to personally make sure the front gate is open tonight,” he said. His eyes narrowed, as if he were genuinely angry, and he clenched his fist. “Don’t worry about that elf – he won’t be there.”

  *

  Aaron was right. That night, when they travelled again to the D’Gayle mansion, the elf was nowhere to be seen and the front gate was unlocked.

  “We’re in!” Simon said, licking his lips and rubbing his hands.

  As they walked round the side of the building, Ben spotted several golf buggies, similar to the one the elf had driven them in the last time. Charlie, whose memory and sense of direction equated to an inbuilt satnav, directed them through the formal landscape and into the gentle rolling hills. Eventually the winding path opened up into a large valley, and Ben saw an arch ahead, engraved with the words “D’Gayle Stadium”. The buggies passed through the arch, and then came to a stop.

  The stadium was just as Ben remembered it – huge, imposing, and dug deep into the valley, with sloped seating running all around the battleground.

  There was just one problem.

  “I can’t hardly see a thing,” Charlie said, squinting. “Shouldn’t there be some magic lights or something?”

  “Yes, there should,” William said.

  They walked down the centre aisle until they reached the battleground. Without any natural light, Ben could make out only shadows. He walked forwards and nearly fell into a tunnel that was concealed in the grass.

  “Should we go back to the house and tell them to fire up the lighting system?” Natalie asked.

  “No,” William said. “That would take too long, and they would just ignore us.”

  “Why?” Natalie asked. “How can they expect us to train here without light?”

  “They don’t,” William said. Ben couldn’t see his face clearly, but he could guess as to the expression.

  It slowly dawned on the rest of the group what was going on.

  “He’s done it again, hasn’t he,” Natalie said. “Tricked us.”

  “Not only that,” Lisa added. “He’s wasting our time. We didn’t train yesterday, and now we can’t train again today.”

  Ben heard a clap – possibly William slapping his fist into his hand.

  “Yes, we can,” William said firmly. “We train here.”

  “What, in the near darkness?” Lisa asked. “That’s a bit dangerous, isn’t it?”

  “We have no choice,” William said. He raised his voice. “Form a line, now!”

  They tried valiantly to train for half an hour, using their spellshooters for lights, but it was difficult. After several awkward falls – Charlie falling down a tunnel and Lydia running headlong into a tree – William finally called it a day.

  They headed back home bruised and more than a little deflated.

  *

  “I don’t believe it!”

  Aaron slammed a hand on the table, during lunch the following morning. He had made the same play – coming in late and walking straight over to their table, making sure everyone was watching. If anything, he looked more put out than before, and that was saying something. He planted a hand on his forehead.

  “You know what? That’s entirely my fault. The elf I dismissed was responsible for firing the lighting spells in our battleground.”

  “How unfortunate,” William said, his voice cold.

  “So you guys missed training again?” Aaron said, putting his hands on hips. “Tough break. Time is running out now. There’s only a few days left.”

  “Actually, we did train,” Natalie said. Her green eyes flashed, and Ben was surprised to see how angry she looked.

  “Really, in the dark?” Aaron gave a chuckle. “I guess that explains the cuts and bruises I see. Let me guess – trees and tunnels get in the way?”

  There was a burst of laughter from the surrounding tables. Ben couldn’t believe how many people Aaron had managed to get listening.

  “I’m sorry, it’s not funny,” Aaron said, wiping a tear he had somehow managed to generate from his eyes. Ben had to admire how good he was at fake laughing. “Look, I have to go home early tonight; my parents are hosting some important people – royalty actually – and they want me there. I will absolutely make sure everything is set up for you tonight, no fail.”

  Ben couldn’t believe Aaron’s nerve – trying to fool them again. William, however, just gave Aaron a little smile.

  “You know what? We’ve found an alternative solution, but thanks anyway.”

  For the first time, Ben saw a flash of concern cross Aaron’s face. “An alternative solution? On such short notice?”

  “Yep, so we’re good,” William said. He made a simple waving motion at Aaron. “Bye bye.”

  Aaron, realising he was the subject of much attention, recovered quickly, and bid them farewell with a slightly flustered wave.

  “We’ve found somewhere else?” Lisa said, arching an eyebrow at William.

  “Course we haven’t,” Simon said. “He was just lying. It takes a liar to spot one, and I’m a great liar.”

  William resumed his eating. “Actually, I do have somewhere in mind, but let’s just say it’s not your conventional battleground.”

  At five o’clock they met at the Institute entrance, and William led them off, down the hill. Ben noted the natural formation they took. Damien often walked with Lydia; Charlie and Natalie walked together; and he walked with William and Lisa. Simon walked alone, though he didn’t appear to care.

  William led them away from the busy town district and into a leafy, residential zone that ran along the edge of a small forest. They walked among houses, before turning into the forest. Tall trees stared down at them, spread out to allow a pleasant walking experience, with plenty of light filtering through. The forest floor was alive with moss and thick grass.

  “You’re kidding, right?” Simon said, as soon as they entered the forest.

  William smiled. “You know where we’re going?”

  “Yes, but I hope I’m wrong,” Simon said. “Come on, Will, we’re supposed to be training properly, not like kids.”

  “Ooh, I like this place!” Lisa said. “I used to train here when I was really young.”

  “That’s my point: it’s for kids,” Simon said.

  “I’m lost,” Charlie said. “Are we training in this forest?”

  “Ignore them,” William said. “We’re not there yet.”

  They continued into the forest for another ten minutes, before they entered a large clearing.

  Ben grinned. “Oh, that’s cool.”

  “Yeah, if you’re a ten year old,” Simon muttered.

  The clearing was clearly man-made. There was evidence of several stumps of varying sizes still left in the ground. A handful of trees had been
left in the middle, with branches aplenty, making them great for climbing. Then there were the wooden constructions – sheds, houses, and even a small castle right in the middle. It reminded Ben of a paintball shooting arena.

  “There have been several professionals who started their spellstrike days training here,” William said.

  “Yeah, but they were ten years old,” Simon said. He had his hands in his pockets and was staring sullenly at the clearing.

  “I think it’s great,” Ben said, clapping his hands. “At least we can practise here without Aaron interfering.”

  “We hope,” Charlie said. “Until tomorrow, when it turns out that his family has bought this entire forest and we’re kicked out.”

  William rubbed his hands. “Alright, if everyone is done complaining, line up in front of me. I’m going to show you the meaning of exhaustion.”

  “Can’t wait,” Charlie said miserably, as they formed a line.

  For the next three days, William worked them to the brink of mental and physical exhaustion. The first half of every session was the worst. It was filled with quick sprints, followed by jumping and climbing exercises. By the end of the three days, even Charlie could scramble up a tree like a monkey. The second half of the session was all about the game of spellstrike itself – tactics; rules; common plays. Ben had no idea there was so much to learn. He and Charlie started way behind, but they both took large textbooks home with them every night, and read into the small hours of the morning.

  Ben was so focused on the spellstrike game that weekend that he barely had time to focus on his apprenticeship. Even Elizabeth’s Armour, which he normally thought about every day, was temporarily cast aside. When in the library, he read his spellstrike textbooks. Other than the Spellsword Department, he wasn’t sure he passed a single practical point on his checklist.

  “You think you can convince a tribe of ice trolls to breakfast with you by staring at them?”

  Ben blinked. In front of him were half a dozen frost-coated trolls, with large ears and warty noses, all armed with clubs.

  “You’re dead, Ben,” Marie said. “I can’t even be bothered to play the simulation out. You cannot stare at ice trolls, it infuriates them. I am certain you have read this, but perhaps not.”