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

by Victor Kloss

  “Greetings,” Ben said, placing himself firmly in the front, so that the dwarf looked his way.

  “I come with a message from my chief,” the dwarf said. “You have ignored our signs and our arrow. I am here to give you one last warning. Turn back now, and no harm will come to you. Continue on, and you will not leave our forest alive.”

  Ben still hadn’t worked out any sort of plan as to how they would actually get the armour, so he did what he did best – improvised.

  “We need to speak to your chief. It is a matter of utmost importance.”

  “My chief has nothing to say to you,” the dwarf replied calmly.

  “No, but we have something to say to him.” Ben took a deep breath. He could see the dwarf was ready to leave. He needed to take a gamble. “We have come to take back the armour that was placed under your guardianship by the Royal Institute of Magic.”

  Perhaps the dwarf had been trained to maintain a straight face, for he gave only the briefest flicker of surprise. “The armour is not intended for you. It waits for another. I shall say no more on the matter. This is your last warning. Turn back now or face the consequences. That includes you, cousin.”

  The dwarf nodded towards Krobeg, and then left, unhurriedly, disappearing into the trees.

  “Now what?” Charlie asked. “What’s your plan, Ben?”

  “We don’t have a choice – we have to keep going,” Ben said. “If we keep going, we die,” Krobeg said. His voice was calm, matter-of-fact.

  “I don’t think so, not straight away, anyway,” Ben said. “I think they will capture us first.”

  “Oh good,” Charlie said. “So they’ll capture us, then kill us. How is that any better?”

  “Because we’ll get another chance to talk to them,” Ben said. “That’s what happened to Angus, remember? He was captured, but he managed to talk his way out.”

  “That was a long time ago,” Charlie said.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Ben said. “These arcane dwarves aren’t evil; they’re just uneducated. Our one chance is to talk to the chief, and convince him that Krobeg, not his grandfather, is the one the armour is intended for.”

  “You’re a good talker, Ben,” Natalie said. “But I think even you will have trouble convincing him of that. They seem very fixed on their prophesy that the Silver Dwarf will return.”

  “Natalie is right,” Krobeg said. He was idly fiddling with his battle axe. “Let’s face it, even if I am the Silver Dwarf’s grandson, what evidence do we have? It’s not like we can do DNA tests, like you do at home.”

  “I’ll think of something,” Ben said.

  Krobeg wasn’t convinced.

  “I know it sounds like an empty promise,” Charlie said, giving Krobeg a tap on his shoulder. “But believe it or not, he’s said that many times before, and somehow he nearly always comes through.”

  Upon resuming their walk, it became obvious that they had now entered arcane dwarf territory. They passed various well-trodden paths, criss-crossing their own, and they even spotted a few empty cabins in small clearings. The dwarves no longer bothered concealing their presence, and Ben spotted several as they progressed. They kept their distance, and watched, but Ben could feel their discomfort. They clearly didn’t get many visitors, but at least it seemed that they had been ordered not to engage… yet.

  “I see something,” Natalie said, her keen eyes squinting in the distance. She gave a sharp intake of breath. “Oh my, look at that.”

  It took Ben a minute before he could see what Natalie was referring to. A flicker of gold between the trees – a building in the distance. Ben had to resist increasing his pace, as the building began to reveal itself. They arrived on the edge of a large, circular clearing that had been meticulously cleared of trees and undergrowth, leaving only a carpet of grass, lined with small, colourful flowers that any English garden would be proud of. In the middle of the clearing was a magnificent, golden shrine. The rectangular building gleamed in the sunlight and had a textured, arched roof. The golden door in the front of the building looked more secure than a bank vault.

  “Now what?” Charlie asked, his voice tense. He was no longer looking at the building, but at the edge of the clearing, which was full of arcane dwarves. There must have been at least two dozen of them. They were armed, and they were watching them.

  “Why are they just standing there?” Natalie asked.

  Another look at the shrine door, and Ben had his answer.

  “They aren’t in any rush,” Ben said. “They think we won’t be able to get inside, and will just grab us in their own good time. That was their plan all along. That’s the only reason we’ve been able to get this far. They must have been waiting to see what we were up to.”

  “That door looks pretty solid,” Krobeg said, feeling his axe. “I doubt I could make much of a dent.”

  “No. It’s going to take something special to open that thing,” Ben mused.

  “Do you have something special?” Natalie asked, glancing at Ben’s spellshooter.

  Ben wrapped his hand around the spellshooter handle, and focused on the orb, searching for spells. He had a couple of open-lock spells, but they were intended for ordinary doors, not something like this. That left blasting spells. He had just one candidate – a concentrated air blast, fourth level. Would it be enough? He would have to cast it perfectly, and throw every ounce of intention he had behind it to knock off a door that strong.

  “I’ve got one possibility,” Ben said.

  “What do we do if that doesn’t work?” Charlie asked. “We’re not going to take on two dozen arcane dwarves, are we?”

  “No,” Ben said. “Not unless they attack us. Otherwise we surrender, and go for the talking option.”

  “Shall we do this, then? I want to see what’s inside,” Krobeg said.

  Ben was surprised, and reassured, to see the look of curiosity and determination on the dwarf’s face.

  “Walk just behind me,” Ben said. I don’t want you in my peripheral vision, as I need to concentrate. If the arcane dwarves rush us, let me know. Otherwise all my attention will be focused on the spell. Are you guys ready?”

  “No,” Charlie said. “But then, I never am.”

  Ben stepped into the clearing. He couldn’t help taking a glance at the arcane dwarves. They were all watching, but thankfully, none of them made a move to follow. Ben was confident he’d made the right call – they were waiting for them to fail to open the door.

  That wasn’t going to happen. Ben cast aside thoughts of failure, of the arcane dwarves, of the pressure. He focused on the gold door he was walking towards. Hand on the spellshooter, he commanded the spell forth, and felt the little pellet move serenely to the bottom of the orb, ready for firing. But Ben didn’t pull the trigger. Instead, he envisioned in perfect three-dimensional colour the door being blown off its hinges. Still he didn’t fire, until he felt he had every ounce of intention and willpower behind the thought. He was able to see the delicate engravings within the door, less than ten paces away, when he finally felt ready. He lifted the spellshooter, aimed at the middle of the door, and pulled the trigger.

  The kickback almost knocked the spellshooter into his face, such was the force of the white pellet that fired from the barrel. It grew quickly, until it was a football-sized mass of compressed air, swirling with vigour. It smashed into the door. The impact was colossal and the explosion of compressed air bounced back with such force that Ben was almost thrown from his feet. For a moment, the door was covered in white mist. When it cleared, there was a large dent in the middle of the door.

  But the door was still there, still on its hinges, and still functioning as a door.

  Ben couldn’t believe it. That spell would have knocked a house down, yet the door had survived. He ran to the door, and grabbed the handle. It didn’t budge. He turned, and saw Charlie, Natalie and Krobeg looking at him with alarm.

  �
��We’re in trouble,” Ben said with false calm.

  They turned, backs to the shrine, to face the oncoming arcane dwarves. The dwarves had formed a semicircle, designed to prevent any form of escape, but appeared to be in no rush. Their casual nonchalance almost made it worse; their confidence was unnerving.

  “If we charged, I bet we could break through,” Krobeg said. His eyes had narrowed, and he had his axe drawn. Ben was starting to think Krobeg was suffering from a case of overconfidence.

  “Even if we made it through, then what? With all due respect, I don’t think we could outrun them,” Natalie said.

  The arcane dwarves continued to approach, the semicircle gradually getting smaller, until there was barely room to swing a sword between each dwarf.

  “Put your weapons away,” Ben said softly. It went against every instinct, but he holstered his spellshooter, and watched as the others reluctantly did the same.

  Ben focused on the dwarf in the middle, raised his hands, and spoke in a clear voice. “We need to talk.”

  The dwarf didn’t respond, but continued with a dead-eyed stare at Ben. A couple of the dwarves on the fringes drew their weapons, upon hearing Ben’s voice.

  “Not good,” Charlie said, his voice bordering on panic. “Do we draw our weapons again?”

  “No,” Ben said firmly. The dwarves were less than two dozen paces away now, and Ben could make out the stubble on their faces, the buttons on their leather jackets, and the intelligent gleam in their almond-shaped eyes.

  Yes, there was intelligence there. So why weren’t they listening?

  “We need to talk,” Ben said, throwing every ounce of intention behind his voice. “It is about your prophesy regarding the Silver Dwarf. It concerns your very future.”

  This time, a few of them hesitated, but the ones in the centre appeared either deaf or unwilling to listen.

  Just a dozen paces separated them now. Ben was fairly sure that they would simply capture them, and wouldn’t use violence unless it was used upon them first. Fairly sure, but not certain, especially when he looked at a few of the dwarves on the fringes, who were armed with arrows.

  “Er, Ben?” Natalie said, her voice rising an octave. “Are they going to take us in peacefully?”

  “That one looks like he wants to rip my head off,” Charlie said, pointing with a trembling finger to a dwarf who was testing the string on his bow.

  Ben had been in tighter spots before, but he was struggling to remember when. He could feel his spellshooter calling his name, but knew any motion towards his weapon could be construed as aggression and be fatal. Instead, he raised both arms, preparing for a final impassioned plea, knowing full well their lives depended on it.

  Click.

  Ben turned, and found the door ajar, Krobeg’s hand still on the handle. His face was stunned, as if he hadn’t quite realised what had happened.

  “I opened the door,” he said stupidly.

  “Get in!” Charlie said, pushing Krobeg inside.

  The arcane dwarves were close – a quick dash and they would catch them. But they froze in shock, their mouths opening in unison. It was only a second, but it was enough. Natalie darted inside, and Ben followed, slamming the door shut behind them. Seconds later he heard the sound of footsteps, and then the rattling of the door handle. It remained shut.

  “They can’t get in,” Natalie said, clapping her hands in delight.

  “Good,” Charlie said, wiping his brow. “But how do we get out?”

  “We’ll worry about that later,” Ben said. Though temporarily safe, his heart rate barely slowed, as he turned to inspect the grand shrine.

  — Chapter Thirty-Six —

  Elizabeth’s Breastplate

  It was like nothing Ben had ever seen before. The arched roof cast a soft golden glow upon the wooden floor, supplying enough light to make up for the lack of windows. Lining both sides of the shrine were huge statues of dwarves standing to attention. They were clearly done by a master craftsman, as the detail was extraordinary, right down to the individual hairs of their beards. But as incredible as they were, Ben’s attention drifted to something else – something he had rarely stopped thinking about these past few weeks. There was a pedestal at the back of the shrine. On it was a mannequin of a dwarf, and on that was Elizabeth’s Breastplate. The sheer quality of the piece left Ben in no doubt of its heritage. Just like the helm and the boots, it was a simple piece, cast in silver, and gleaming as if someone polished it on a daily basis. Simple, but oozing craftsmanship and radiating an intangible magic that Ben could almost feel on his skin.

  “There it is,” Natalie said, her voice a whisper.

  Krobeg stared, open-mouthed. “I can’t believe it. The Silver Dwarf’s armour.”

  “Your armour,” Ben corrected.

  The armour was less than fifty paces away, but none of them moved. Ben knew from experience it was never this easy, and his eyes went to the floor, looking for any sign of traps.

  “Do we just go up and get it?” Natalie asked. She made to lift a foot, but Charlie grabbed her.

  “No.” He turned to Ben. “Well?”

  “I don’t see anything,” Ben said. “What about you, Krobeg?”

  “Like a trap or something? It does seem a bit straightforward.”

  “Too straightforward,” Ben said. Even as he spoke, he knew he was right, and the hairs on the back of his neck confirmed the thought.

  “Well, we’re not going to get anywhere just standing here, are we,” Natalie said.

  “No, but— wait!”

  Charlie’s shout was no good. Natalie took a step forwards.

  Nothing happened.

  Natalie turned, and gave them a smile. “See? Would you all stop worrying so much? It’s not always hard work.”

  Ben exchanged a shrug with Krobeg and Charlie, and they moved forwards, joining Natalie.

  Six fully armed arcane dwarves slipped out from behind the statues.

  The four of them stopped dead.

  Charlie muttered something aimed – Ben was sure – at Natalie, but he didn’t catch it. He was too busy staring at the dwarves. They were not like the ones outside, who wore little more than leather. These ones were dressed in what looked like ceremonial armour, with gold- and silver-plated armour, complete with a feathered helm. They each held a short sword in their right hand. Their faces were lined with age, their beards were grey, but they moved with surprising grace. The dwarf in the middle, the only one with a red feather on his helmet, stepped in front of the others.

  “Welcome,” the dwarf said in a surprisingly soft voice. “My name is Lidbank. I am the protector of the Silver Dwarf’s armour.” He paused, and gave each of them an appraising and almost curious look, with Krobeg receiving the most attention.

  “How were you able to enter?” Lidbank asked.

  “There’s a door,” Ben said, pointing behind him.

  “The door would not let you in.”

  Ben frowned. “It did. That is how we got in.”

  Lidbank gave his head a soft shake. “I am sorry, that is not possible.”

  “How did we get in, then?” Natalie asked.

  “I do not know,” Lidbank said. “That is why we are having this conversation and you are not already dead. I am curious.”

  Ben resisted the urge to touch his spellshooter. This might be the one chance they had to talk. There was no point in holding back now; they were so close.

  “Look, that’s how we got in. Krobeg opened the door. I don’t know how, but it might have something to do with the fact that he is the Silver Dwarf’s grandson. We have come to collect the breastplate, which rightfully belongs to him.”

  Lidbank gave Krobeg another searching look and, for a moment, he thought the arcane dwarf was considering the possibility that Ben might be telling the truth. But decades, perhaps even centuries, of waiting for the Silver Dwarf seemed to kick in, and Lidbank’s f
ace clouded.

  “The breastplate belongs to the Silver Dwarf,” Lidbank said, sounding strangely robotic. “We wait for his return.”

  Ben clenched his fists, and worked hard to keep his cool. “The Silver Dwarf departed a long time ago. This is his grandson, who by blood right inherits the breastplate.”

  To Ben’s surprise, his words impinged, if only a fraction, and only for a moment, before Lidbank shook his head again, almost sadly. Ben cursed inwardly. It didn’t help that Krobeg looked nothing like the Silver Dwarf, with his ginger hair and his barrel-like belly.

  “Only the Silver Dwarf may claim his armour,” Lidbank said with an almost sad finality. “This is your last warning. Leave now or don’t leave at all.”

  The arcane dwarves raised their weapons as one, with frightening synchronicity.

  Ben cursed. It was obvious these dwarves were stuck with a rigid belief in their prophesy. How long had they been guarding the armour for? Hundreds of years most likely. One quick conversation wasn’t going to change their minds, after centuries of believing they were waiting for the Silver Dwarf.

  That left two options: run or fight. He took one glance behind the dwarves, to the armour beyond, and knew the answer.

  “Spread out,” Ben said softly. “One shot, then arm yourselves. Don’t shoot until they attack.”

  Ben expected Charlie, and possibly even Natalie, to protest, but they sidestepped silently to the right, while Krobeg went left. His hands suddenly felt sweaty, and he could feel the adrenaline coursing through his blood, fuelling his body with energy.

  The arcane dwarves held their weapons well, but they looked old, even for dwarves, and Ben couldn’t imagine they could leap into action swiftly.

  He was wrong.

  There was no chorus of attack, just a sudden movement that caught Ben by surprise. They came forwards as one, with a speed Ben couldn’t have believed possible at such an age.

  Ben fired a dual-stunning spell, and a single pellet split in two, going for the two dwarves coming at him. They lifted a hand, and Ben watched in amazement as the spells swerved out of harm’s way.