by Victor Kloss
“Please, take a seat,” Krobeg said. He had to pull his own chair out a considerable way to sit down himself. “Now, how can I help you? The Institute is not in trouble, is it? I know it’s under a lot of pressure at the moment.”
“How did you know we were from the Institute?”
Krobeg smiled. “It wasn’t hard. You’re not Unseens, and you’re not adults. Apprentices, I presume? Third or fourth grade would be my guess, as they wouldn’t let anyone with less experience come out here.”
Ben nodded, quickly reassessing Krobeg. He might be a large, teddy-bear-shaped chef, but he was clearly as sharp as one of his kitchen knives. The fact that Krobeg knew they were from the Institute might help them – it would certainly lend some authenticity to their plight. But how much should he reveal to Krobeg? He had been confident he would know once he’d established what sort of character Krobeg was. But the dwarf, he sensed, was a complicated individual. Outside, he seemed jovial and friendly, but underneath, Ben suspected a different Krobeg, hidden from view. Having just met the dwarf, he knew it was nothing more than a gut feeling, but it was a strong one.
Ben felt Krobeg watching him and became aware that an awkward silence had fallen. Charlie and Natalie were looking at him expectantly.
Ben made a snap decision. If Krobeg was the Guardian, which they were now certain was the case, then they had no option but to trust him.
“What’s your history like?” Ben asked.
“So so,” Krobeg said, shaking a hand back and forth.
Ben considered his words. He instinctively wanted to leave out the more sensitive bits, so ingrained had he become in keeping Elizabeth’s Legacy secret. Ben cast that thought aside; as a Guardian, Krobeg had the right to know the whole story. And so he gave a succinct, but accurate retelling of Queen Elizabeth’s role in the Institute and her battle with Suktar. He introduced the armour and its role in defeating Suktar when he returned. Krobeg listened without interrupting, his face unreadable. It was only at the end when Ben noticed that Krobeg’s natural joviality was looking slightly strained.
“A fascinating story,” Krobeg said. “Though I am at a loss as to why you came all this way to tell it to me.”
“I’m getting there,” Ben said.
Ben then told the story of Angus, the original director, and his journey to safeguard his piece of Elizabeth’s Armour by venturing into Jimba Forest, his meeting with the arcane dwarves and how the armour was inherited by the Silver Dwarf.
“Have you heard of the Silver Dwarf?” Ben asked, when he was finished.
“Tales only,” Krobeg said with a shrug. “Myths, legends, and kids stories.” Krobeg glanced at the door, and wrapped his knuckles on the table. “Well, I am grateful for the history lesson – whether fact or fiction – but time is getting on. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you wish.”
Krobeg started to haul his massive frame off the chair. Ben reached out and put a restraining hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t you want to know why we came here to tell you this story?” Ben asked, his voice quiet, his eyes intense.
“Not really,” Krobeg said, his voice curt. “I can’t see what any of it has to do with me.”
Ben knew Krobeg was lying by the way he kept turning to the door.
“It has everything to do with you,” Ben said. “The Silver Dwarf was a Guardian, charged with protecting a piece of Elizabeth’s Armour. When he passed away, that role was inherited by his son – your father. The moment you were born, that responsibility was handed to you.”
Ben watched Krobeg closely as he went very still, his eyes becoming distant. He shook his head, even managing a good-natured smile.
“Is this some sort of joke? Did someone put you up to this?” Krobeg pointed a sausage finger at Ben. “It was Limbek, wasn’t it? That scallywag is always conjuring up new ways to give me a heart attack.”
“It’s no joke,” Ben said.
Krobeg didn’t appear to hear him, and rattled off several other possible suspects responsible for the prank. Ben waited patiently for him to finish, before calmly repeating himself.
Krobeg frowned, appearing genuinely confused. “It’s not a joke? Then what on earth is it?”
“The truth,” Ben said. “You are a Guardian, just like me.”
Krobeg stood up, his massive stomach hitting the table. He stared at Ben, and then Charlie and Natalie. And then he laughed – a loud, booming thing that made Charlie cover his ears.
“You really expect me to believe that? Three kids turn up and tell me that the Silver Dwarf is real, I am his grandson, and a Guardian of Elizabeth’s Armour? Come on, you’ll need to do better than that.”
Krobeg waved an arm at them, chuckling to himself, and started towards the door.
From the corner of Ben’s eye, he could see Natalie’s and Charlie’s panicked looks, but their protestations aimed at Krobeg did nothing to slow him down. He put his hand on the doorknob, and was about to exit, when Ben played his last card. He hated bringing the dad into the equation, but he was out of options.
“Your father said you weren’t ready,” Ben said, his voice soft, but carrying just that bit of accusation in it.
Krobeg stopped, his hand still on the doorknob. Slowly, he turned, his face stern.
“What are you talking about?” he asked with narrowed eyes. “How do you know my father?”
“We met him in the void,” Ben said, keeping his voice level. “He still lives, though he has been in the void so long now it is difficult for him to return.”
Doubt flashed across Krobeg’s face, before he shook himself.
“Impossible. I don’t believe you.”
This time, Ben was prepared. “Your father’s name is Elander Farseeker. He is a dwarf mage of great renown. Do you want me to describe him for you?”
Krobeg’s eyes widened for just a second, before he clenched his fists. “You need to leave, now.”
Ben shook his head. “Not without you. We need your help.”
Krobeg took a meaningful step forwards. Ben suddenly became aware that the soft, chubby chef didn’t look very soft anymore. There was a hardness in his thin lips that reminded Ben of Elander, and his fists were balled like boxing gloves.
“I don’t know what nonsense my father told you, and I don’t care. I learnt never to trust my father.” Krobeg lifted a fisted hand. “Now get out, before I throw you out.”
Ben stood up, his hand going to his spellshooter. But Natalie put a restraining hand on his arm.
“Not now, Ben,” she said.
“But we need him.”
“Natalie is right. Let’s go,” Charlie said.
Ben wanted to protest, but one look at the iron-faced Krobeg and he knew it would be pointless. Instead, he looked Krobeg deep in the eye as he passed him by, and said, “Like it not, you’re a Guardian. Without you, Suktar will not be stopped, and the Unseen Kingdoms will fall.”
Krobeg didn’t even blink, let alone acknowledge Ben’s statement, and they left the tavern without the Guardian.
— Chapter Thirty-Three —
Voters and Dark Elves
“We shouldn’t have left,” Ben said, shooting a backward glance at the tavern.
“We had to,” Natalie said. “You and Krobeg were about to start fighting. That dwarf is like a sumo wrestler; he could have crushed you.”
Ben clenched his fists. “We need him. The whole quest to find Elizabeth’s Armour is pointless if he doesn’t join us.”
“We weren’t going to convince him,” Charlie said. “You could see that in his face. And you know what, I don’t blame him – it’s not like we have a mountain of evidence.”
“I disagree,” Ben argued. “He knew we were telling the truth, at least part of it. He was hiding something from us. I think he’s in denial.”
“Maybe. But the way he was acting, I don’t think he would have joined us even if we reincarnated
Queen Elizabeth and brought her along to try to convince him,” Charlie said.
“So what do we do now?” Natalie said. “Obviously we’re not giving up, but we need another plan.”
None of them had a solution. The only idea Ben could come up with was so outrageous and desperate that he didn’t even bother voicing it. Krobeg might hate his father, but he might still listen to him. If they could just get them to meet up. Of course, that would mean getting Elander out of the void or convincing Krobeg to go into it. Both options bordered on madness, but as they left Drinkmorr and headed back to the Institute, Ben couldn’t help thinking it might be their only hope.
*
The last thing Ben felt like doing was campaigning for the Chief Three position. His mind was still on Krobeg, and his normally cool, composed persona that he would need to corral votes was missing. He alternated between frustration, despair, and apathy. They were so close to the next Guardian, yet it seemed just out of reach.
“You need to stop sulking and start talking to the third-graders, if you don’t want to get hammered by Aaron,” Natalie said.
It was lunchtime, and the three of them were sitting outside in the Institute gardens. It was brisk, and the cool air went some way to knocking Ben out of his apathetic slumber.
“I know,” Ben said. He had his elbows resting on his knees and was staring at the grass. “I just don’t care. I’m regretting getting involved in the stupid thing in the first place.”
“You’ll care once Aaron is Chief Three,” Charlie said. “You’ve got to snap out of it and start campaigning, else you might as well just concede right now.”
Ben sat up, feeling slightly irritated. “Don’t either of you care? Unless we can get Krobeg on our side, we’re screwed.”
“Of course we care,” Natalie said. “I spend so much time thinking about it that I can hardly sleep. But I know we will work out a solution. We have to.”
“I’ve got one or two ideas,” Charlie said. “But I need a bit more time to research them.”
Ben perked up a little. Why was he taking the setback with Krobeg so much harder than Charlie and Natalie? He was normally the relaxed one. Was it because he was more closely attached to the quest? Charlie and Natalie were helping every step of the way, but, at the end of the day, they were not Guardians, and they could not possibly feel the same weight of responsibility. It wasn’t they who would eventually be facing the dark elf king. Yes, he might be overreacting a little, but he had good reason. The thought had the peculiar effect of making him feel considerably better.
“You’re right: I’m being an idiot,” Ben said.
Natalie smiled. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“I would,” Charlie said.
The sun felt a little brighter than it had a moment ago, and Ben looked around the gardens, scanning the Institute members and apprentices. Bingo. A slender, somewhat goofy-looking boy was passing by. He had his head down, most likely trying to avoid unwanted attention. John was known to be terrible in the presence of pretty girls, and could barely string a coherent sentence together when Natalie was around. But he was a third-grade apprentice, which was all that mattered right now.
“John!”
Ben called with such intention that John’s head flung up, as if someone had just screamed in his ear.
Ben leapt off the bench and walked briskly over to him. “Can I have a quick word with you? It’s about the Chief Three election.”
“Uh, sure,” John said in an uncertain voice.
“Great,” Ben said, giving him a smile and joining him on a slow walk towards the Institute. “Listen, I don’t want to take up your time, so I’ll be brief. I’m appealing to those who – to put it mildly – aren’t part of Aaron’s fan club.”
Ben was about to rattle off a completely off-the-cuff speech, but before he could begin, John said, “I’m in.”
“Great,” Ben said with a surprised smile, and gave John a friendly clap on the shoulder. “I hope everyone’s as easy to persuade as you are.”
“Try Arnold,” John said. “Last I saw, he was on the verge of being talked into voting for Aaron, despite the fact that he hates him as much as I do.”
And so it began. Ben, never one to do things by half measures, flew into the campaign with vigour. The apprenticeship took a backseat, and Ben spent every moment at the Institute, talking, debating, and occasionally arguing with third-graders about all things apprentice-related. It was exhausting, especially when Ben had to learn many of the issues on the fly.
At the end of each day, his team, including Simon and William, as well as Charlie and Natalie, would meet and discuss numbers. There were thirty third-grade apprentices, which meant they needed sixteen or more votes. On Thursday evening, they had seven. By Monday they had ten, and Ben felt good. But on Tuesday they garnered only one more, and by Wednesday evening, they found themselves sitting round the meeting table, looking slightly glum.
“We appear to be stuck on twelve,” Ben said. He stood at the end of the table, while the rest were seated. “Which means we need just four more. Any bright ideas?”
“I reckon I can persuade Lilly,” Will said. He was looking at a piece of paper with names on it. “She wants a date in exchange, which I’d rather not do, but if she ends up being the decider, I’ll have to re-consider.”
“Good man,” Ben said, giving him a thumbs-up. “That would take us to thirteen. Who else has a possibility?”
Simon was doodling idly on his own piece of paper. “Andy’s still an option, if you ever change your mind about the money bribe. Personally I think a couple hundred quid is worth it, if it stops Aaron.”
Ben scratched his nose. “It’s not about the money, Simon.”
“What’s the problem, then?” Simon asked, looking confused.
Natalie gave Simon a disgusted look. “If you can’t figure it out, then you need to take a long hard look at yourself.”
Simon grinned. “I look at myself every day.”
“Moving on,” Ben said. He scanned the room. “Guys, we can’t lose by a couple of votes – that would just be annoying.”
Natalie got out a small notebook and started reading from it. “Aaron has thirteen third-graders who would practically walk through fire for him. We have twelve. Of the five remaining, three are leaning towards Aaron. The other two are Andy and Lilly, who we’ve just talked about.”
Ben drummed the table. He knew the three who were undecided because he’d already spoken to them.
“Okay, Will and I will tackle them again. Maybe the two of us together can make a difference.”
William didn’t complain, but, barring Natalie, the lack of optimism in the room was palpable. Ben didn’t blame them. He scanned the room, gearing himself up for yet another morale-boosting speech, when he noticed someone was missing.
“Where’s Charlie?”
Ben had been so involved with the meeting that he hadn’t even noticed Charlie’s absence. Nor, it seemed, had anyone else, as they looked around with mild confusion. Ben directed his gaze at Natalie, but she just gave a shrug.
That was odd. Charlie was often silent, but never absent, unless he had a good reason. Ben finished up the meeting with one final rallying speech, and they started filing out.
Charlie came bursting through the door, just as everyone was leaving. He ran headlong into William and rebounded as if he’d hit a brick wall.
Charlie shook his head, muttered an apology at a mildly confused William, and then darted past, pulling Ben and Natalie back into the meeting room. As soon as the door shut, Charlie started hopping on either foot, looking as though he was ready to burst.
“This had better be good,” Ben said. “Have you managed to use your charms to claim a couple more votes?”
“Shadowseekers,” Charlie said, sounding breathless. “Six of them broke into Drinkmorr, via the main entrance. Two were killed; the others are still at large.�
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All thoughts of the election vanished.
“What? Where did you hear this?” Ben asked sharply.
“Overheard a couple of Spellswords talking about it,” Charlie said. “They weren’t trying very hard to conceal the news, and I bet half the Institute knows by now.”
Ben felt his insides go cold. Four Shadowseekers inside Drinkmorr. He had first-hand experience knowing just how deadly Shadowseekers were. They were an elite dark elf assassin unit, commanded directly by the royal family. If they had broken into Drinkmorr, it could mean only one thing.
“How long do you reckon Krobeg has?” Ben asked.
“Depends if they know where he is or not. Drinkmorr isn’t a big place, but it could still take a while to find one dwarf.”
Natalie gave a little squeak, and she put her hand over her lips. “The sign on the tavern!”
Charlie cursed. “I’d completely forgotten about that.”
A nasty feeling started working its way deep into the pit of Ben’s stomach. If the Shadowseekers recognised the symbol on the tavern as the Silver Dwarf’s family crest, it wouldn’t take them long at all. Days? Hours?
Ben slammed a hand on the table. “We need to go back, now.”
“We can’t,” Charlie said. “The guest entrance doesn’t open until tomorrow.”
“What about the main entrance? The Shadowseekers got through.”
“Even if we knew where it was, the dwarves would never let us through. Two of the Shadowseekers died trying.”
“Is there no other way in?” Natalie asked.
Charlie shook his head. “No. We have to wait, and hope the Shadowseekers don’t find Krobeg.”
With the election due tomorrow, Ben knew he should be using the final few hours to throw himself into garnering votes, but the momentum he had gathered was no longer there. He continued to talk to people, but the energy, wit and humour he had used to gain votes were conspicuous in their absence.
