by Victor Kloss
“Mr. Bones,” Charlie said. “Thank you for paying us a visit.”
“Didn’t have much choice, did I?” Bagdor said. “You wouldn’t stop looking for me. You tire an old dwarf out.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Charlie said a little hastily.
Bagdor nodded, and Ben was pleased to see a hint of a smile on his old lips.
“Never mind that,” Bagdor said. “You remind me of when I was a lad. The library was my second home. Now it’s my only home. I live here, and I’ll die here. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Bagdor puffed on his pipe, and Ben saw a small cloud of coloured smoke come out from the tip.
“So, you found me. Now what is it you want? You’ve got five minutes before I need to lie down and rest. So be quick.”
Ben was glad it wasn’t him speaking, because he hadn’t a clue how best to question the old dwarf. Charlie, however, had no such issue.
“What can you tell us of the arcane dwarves?” he asked.
Bagdor rose a white, bushy eyebrow. “They are an ancient, primitive race of dwarves. Most people think they are extinct, but that’s rubbish. They just don’t like to be seen. They are the most magically gifted of all dwarves, and share some of their heritage with the dark elves.”
Ben felt a rush of adrenaline that electrified his body. Answers, at last. Charlie was clearly as excited by the response as Ben, though he wasn’t concealing it quite as well. He thrust his hand into his pocket and pulled out the piece of paper with the symbol on it.
“We believe this was written in their language. Do you have any idea what it might say?”
Ben watched with bated breath as Bagdor took the drawing, and pulled out a pair of reading glasses. The surprise on Bagdor’s face made Ben’s stomach jump.
“Where did you get this?” he asked, looking up at them with squinted eyes. Ben couldn’t tell if the old dwarf was suspicious or just curious.
“We stumbled upon it in an old dwarf chamber,” Charlie said vaguely. “Is it important?”
Bagdor renewed his inspection of the symbol, and began tracing a wrinkled finger along the lines. “I didn’t think I’d see this again,” he said softly.
Ben tried to stay patient, as Bagdor spent what seemed like an eternity looking at the symbol, muttering to himself. When he finally looked up, Bagdor looked younger somehow.
“This is a family crest,” Bagdor said. “And not just any family, but that of the Silver Dwarf.”
Ben frowned, but Charlie’s expression showed a flicker of recognition.
“I’ve heard of him,” Charlie said. “Isn’t he just a legend or a myth?”
“He is both,” Bagdor said. “There has been much written about him, if you know where to look. I once spent a month trying to work out what was true, and came out none the wiser. What I do know is that he was an arcane dwarf of immense power. It is said that he single-handedly saved the race from extinction on multiple occasions. The arcane dwarves have a prophesy that one day he will return to lead them to glorious freedom. I would say that’s unlikely, given that he died over a century ago. They even have a shrine built in his honour, housing the legendary armour he wore when in battle. They say he never lost while wearing that armour, and even now, the arcane dwarves wait for him to come and reclaim it.”
Ben went very still, and was suddenly aware that he wasn’t breathing. He had a strong urge to question Bagdor, but, with incredible restraint, he remembered his promise to Charlie.
“That is interesting,” Charlie said, his voice sounding a little choked. “Did the Silver Dwarf have any descendants?”
“Rumours only,” Bagdor grunted. “Some say no; others say a dozen. The only creditable thing I ever read was that he had a son, who left Jimba as soon as his father died, and was never seen again. They say he was extremely gifted with magic, like his father, and left to continue his training.”
Charlie was about to ask another question, when Bagdor raised a hand. “Time’s up. I’m going to collapse unless I lie down. When you’re my age, you have to listen to your body.”
“Just one more—”
But in the blink of an eye, Bagdor disappeared. One moment he was there; the next, he was gone. It wasn’t magic, Ben knew, but some incredible ability to not be seen.
Charlie gave a frustrated sigh. “I had more questions I wanted to ask. I’ll try to catch him again later.”
“You did great,” Natalie said, gracing Charlie with a sweet smile, which helped ease Charlie’s frustration.
Ben glanced around to make sure they were alone, before remembering few people probably even realised this section of the library existed. There was one question running round his head that drowned out all others.
“The Silver Dwarf. Do you think he was a Guardian?”
“It seems a real possibility,” Charlie said, rubbing his hands together and re-gaining some of his enthusiasm.
“He must be,” Natalie said. “And the armour that he wore that he never lost in – I bet one of the pieces was Elizabeth’s.”
It made perfect sense. Angus made it to the arcane dwarves, but did he convince them to help protect the armour or did they take it forcibly? Either way, it seemed the arcane dwarves had possession of it, and had given it to the Silver Dwarf. His prowess in battle could easily be explained by the armour’s magic. It all made sense, except there was one rather large problem, which made Ben’s stomach feel like a deflating balloon.
“The Silver Dwarf died a hundred years ago,” he said, looking at Charlie and Natalie with sudden gravity.
Natalie gave a reluctant nod, but, to Ben’s surprise, Charlie appeared unfazed, his enthusiasm undimmed.
“That’s true, but, according to Bagdor, he may have had a son.”
Natalie frowned. “Even if he did, where would we find him? He left Jimba when his father died a hundred years ago.”
To Ben’s amazement, Charlie actually smiled, and wagged a finger at them. “You’re not connecting the dots. His son became the Guardian the moment he was born, right? Bagdor also said his son left Jimba to train in magic. If he is the Guardian and he’s still alive, the dark elves would be hunting him down.”
Realisation hit Ben so hard, he was almost knocked from his feet.
“The dwarf mage. You don’t think…?”
Charlie was now grinning. “That he’s the Silver Dwarf’s son? Yes, that’s exactly what I’m thinking.”
“Oh my word,” Natalie said. “That would explain why the dark elves were after him – maybe they were trying to get him to reveal where the piece of armour was.”
Ben’s mind was now running a mile a minute, and his heart was doing a good job of matching its pace. “Could it be possible?”
“I’d give it a seventy percent possibility,” Charlie said.
Ben’s elation at the discovery didn’t last long, the moment he started to realise exactly what this meant. There was a Guardian stuck in the void. Without him, his piece of armour could not be utilised. Could they still defeat Suktar without all the Guardians?
“We need to go into the void and get him,” Ben said, giving them both a serious look.
Natalie nodded and, after a moment, Charlie did too.
— Chapter Twenty —
Shopping at Goblin Avenue
Despite the time crunch, they left the library and decided to work on the apprenticeship for a couple of hours, simply to decompress. Even Ben was starting to feel the pressure of the last few hours; revelation after revelation was taking a toll on his healthy heart. It seemed strange, but the apprenticeship seemed like a bit of a break by comparison.
Ben went straight to the Spellsword Department, Natalie had work to do in Trade, and Charlie needed to catch up on Diplomacy. Ben managed to lose himself in the training and was able to switch off the constant thoughts about Elizabeth’s Armour and the void for a full two hours.
“You’re almost
ready for the B3,” James McFadden said, watching Ben’s monster-summoning spell form into a perfectly structured wolf.
Ben had a smile on his face as he left the spellshooter room and headed back down to the library at their pre-arranged meet-up time of four o’clock.
“I don’t know about you guys, but I made some good progress,” Charlie said. “If we ever run into an elm dryad – highly unlikely as I’m pretty sure they exist only in South America – then I’m fairly sure I could negotiate safe passage through their forest.”
Natalie smiled. “That’s good to know. I also made progress; I finally managed to convince a real trader to sell a pound of liquid fire magic for less than five hundred pounds. I’ve been stuck on that step for ages.”
Their apprenticeship chatter lasted until they reached the cramped, old section of the library, where the dark, claustrophobic air stifled their conversation.
“We haven’t really covered these books here,” Charlie said, pointing at a particularly dusty set of shelves.
They resumed their search, with a silent determination. Now that they knew they had to enter the void, time was against them, and they worked quickly, scanning each book and moving on if they saw nothing relevant.
An hour passed and they found little. Ben was starting to tire from the constant attention needed on the often tiny print, as well as the deflation of not finding anything. But each time he caught himself slowing, he rubbed his eyes and dived back into the books with renewed vigour.
Predictably, it was Charlie who made the breakthrough.
“I may have something,” he said, his head buried in a book. Ben could just make out the title: The Void: A Goblin’s Domain. “Listen to this: ‘ If there is one race suited to the void, it is the goblin. Their particular branch of magic is most harmonious with the nature of the void. They are the only race capable of transferring both their mind and body into the void, and there are several goblin clans known to have left the Unseen Kingdoms for the void. Its harsh, dry landscape suits the Arath Goblins the best.’"
Charlie stopped reading, and started turning the pages quickly. “Okay, now it’s gone off on a tangent. Hold on a second – ah, here we go. This is what I was looking for. ‘ Goblins, known for their willingness to buy and sell anything with no regard to ethics or morals, have set up a small but lucrative trade, offering spells into and out of the void, primarily aimed at those trying to escape the law. The Institute has tried shutting this operation down with some success, but there are still those who continue to trade.’"
Ben felt like punching the air. “That’s it! That’s our way in and our way out.”
“It sounds promising,” Natalie said, nodding. “I wonder if there is a catch.”
Charlie shut the book and tucked it under his arm. “The catch will be the price, and the fact that we are dealing with goblins, who are about as trustworthy as convicted bankers.”
The mention of money quelled Ben’s optimism. “Do you think we could ask Dagmar to loan us something, on behalf of the Institute?”
Ben knew the idea was futile, and he wasn’t surprised when both Charlie and Natalie shook their heads.
“With the war with the dark elves, I’m sure they are already financially stretched,” Charlie said. “I think we’ll have to pool our money. Plus, I’m not sure we should tell Dagmar about the void.”
“Charlie is right,” Natalie said. “The Institute considers the void off limits, and it is illegal to even enter it.”
Ben frowned. “Why is it illegal? Surely it’s a person’s choice?”
“I’m not sure,” Natalie admitted. “It does seem a little over the top.”
“I think I know,” Charlie said, absently tapping a book. “The Institute doesn’t like the fact that they can’t control the void, especially as they know it contains so much evil. They made it illegal, in an attempt to stop people going.”
Ben realised then that most of the books about the void he’d read were accounts from Institute members. “Do you think the Institute tried to scare people off by telling people how dangerous it was?”
“It’s possible,” Charlie said.
“I wonder if they made it sound worse than it is,” Natalie said, chiming in.
Ben was glad it was Natalie and not he who voiced the idea. It may have accounted for Charlie’s slightly milder response.
“I believe the void is very dangerous,” Charlie said, “but yes, the Institute may have embellished things a little to try to scare people off.” He frowned, and gave Ben a stern look. “But that certainly doesn’t mean we should take it lightly.”
“Of course not,” Ben said with a reassuring shake of the head.
They left the library, and headed straight out the Institute, towards Taecia Square, where they took turns sucking their bank accounts dry. Ben felt horrible, not for drawing out his money, but because he could contribute so little.
“I’m sorry my savings are so pathetic,” Ben said. “I do have some more at home, but I was hoping to use it to get Grandma’s car fixed.”
“Please, don’t worry about it,” Natalie said firmly. “We have a thousand pounds – that should be plenty.”
From Taecia Square, they headed east, towards Goblin Avenue. As they left the prosperous centre of Taecia and entered the East End, the streets started to narrow and become cramped. Slowly, the fine Tudor buildings were replaced by those in disrepair: some with broken windows; others missing doors. The pavement resembled a mud path and Ben was constantly watching out for large piles of pooh.
“Ah, yes, the smell,” Charlie said, wafting a hand in front of his nose.
Strangely, the dark elf conflict seemed to affect the people here less than those nearer the Institute, perhaps because survival had always been tough here. Many gave Ben a curious glance, and he had the feeling they were eyeing up his clean clothes, as if they’d never seen them before.
“Here we are,” Natalie said, pointing to a colourful red sign that said “Goblin Avenue”.
The contrast between the derelict East End and the vibrancy of Goblin Avenue was both stark and staggering. Even though he’d been here recently, the place never ceased to amaze him. Each house was painted in bright colours. In fact, it seemed to be a competition between houses, as to which could blind you most – some of them seemed to gleam magically. Ben spent several moments admiring the gravity-defying houses, and spotted several that looked like mushrooms, with huge upper levels built on small ground floors.
Much like the East End, the goblins were out in force, seemingly oblivious or more likely not caring about any outside turbulence going on in the Unseen Kingdoms.
“Where to?” Charlie asked, looking slightly lost.
“Let’s walk down to the shops,” Ben said. “Then I guess it’s just a matter of going in and asking.”
It didn’t take long before the houses turned into shops – the only real difference was the appearance of signs. Just like the houses, there seemed to be an unspoken competition about who could create the loudest sign possible. They came in all colours and sizes – Ben even spotted one floating above a shop that must have been at least fifty feet wide. Most of them resorted to magic to get attention, with sounds, buzzing noises and sparks constantly flying from them.
“How about this place?” Natalie asked.
She was pointing to a wooden cabin that, by goblin standards, looked rather plain. The sign outside was flashing in rainbow colours and read “Tonbell’s Spells”.
“Sure, why not? We have to start somewhere.”
Ben pushed open the door and entered a small, but surprisingly neat spell shop. There were three shelves – two lining the walls and one that ran down the middle. On each were spells in colour-coded baskets, with labels and prices. Ben took a peek and recognised none of them, which only heightened his curiosity.
“The goblin at the back,” Natalie whispered, giving Be
n a little nudge.
Ben looked up and saw a small goblin – Tonbell, Ben assumed – sitting on a desk, which was also neatly arranged with pens, paper and a couple of stacked books.
“May I help?” Tonbell asked in a soft voice.
As far as goblins went, Tonbell wasn’t exactly typical. He looked more like a gnome, small and scrawny, with large, floppy ears and intelligent eyes. In his hand was a quill, which kept writing, despite the fact he was looking right at them.
Ben approached, with a smile, and he heard Natalie and Charlie hang back. This was his area, and they knew it.
“You might be able to,” Ben said. “I’m looking for some very specific spells, which I’ve heard goblins are famous for.”
If Ben expected a reaction, he was disappointed. Tonbell didn’t as much as bat an eye, and Ben knew immediately that he was dealing with a goblin of some experience in the bartering department.
“What spells are you interested in?” Tonbell asked.
Ben noticed he was subtly eyeing up their clothes and appearance, most likely judging how prosperous they were.
“We need to gain access to the void,” Ben said.
Tonbell, who had been calm, but interested in their custom, suddenly became as solid as a brick, and immediately turned back to his writing.
“I am sorry, I don’t deal in illegal spells,” he said. “I do not want to get on the wrong side of the Institute – I am sure you understand.”
Tonbell looked up then, meaningfully. Did he suspect they were apprentices? Ben suspected so. What now? Ben wasn’t ready to give up without a fight.
“We need those spells,” Ben said, attempting an honest, but sincere expression. “We’re willing to pay well. If you won’t sell them, can you tell me who will?”
“I’m afraid not,” Tonbell said. “As I said, I take no part in anything related to illegal activity. I have a healthy relationship with the Institute, and I intend to keep it that way.”
Ben got the distinct feeling Tonbell thought he was being inspected, and it was clear he wasn’t going to budge. They had the misfortune of meeting arguably the only goblin with some sort of moral standards.
