by Victor Kloss
Greg just laughed and shook his head.
Suddenly, Natalie held up her hand. “I hear someone!” she declared, gesturing towards a side corridor. “Down there!”
“Well, let’s not keep whoever it is waiting,” Ben’s dad replied. He led the way down, his own spellshooter at the ready, and Charlie couldn’t help but marvel at the change. Ben’s dad had always been a cool guy, fun and a little goofy, but seeing him so quietly deadly still blew Charlie’s mind.
Charlie however had to ask the obvious question: “Mr. Greenwood, how is it you both still have your spellshooters?”
As bazaar as it was to see Ben’s dad armed, the stranger thing was how the dark elves had apparently left the spellshooters lying around in the cell with them.
“Simple, Charlie. When we entered the Void, both Jane and I were holding our spellshooters. As long as we remained in the Void, not only could we not be harmed, but they wouldn’t have been able to remove anything in our possession either.”
Greg looked up and down the corridor, eyes taking everything in.
“You know, it was pretty ingenious of you to work out that the key to the cell was needed, instead of just blasting it open with your spellshooter. As the dark elf king knew we might come out of the Void at any time, there are some pretty brutal spells on the door to the cell you broke us out of. That key you have is the only way to open the cell without some really nasty surprises.”
Charlie swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat. He hadn’t thought of that. “Yeah. Huh. Just lucky I guess…”
They neared the cells that were further along and now Charlie could hear the sounds of fighting as well. At the end of the corridor he spotted an open cell door, and together they all raced towards it. Inside the cell stood two goblins, practically twins of the two he and Natalie had faced before. They were trading blows with a tall man with thick blond hair, sharp blue eyes, and a slightly stuck-up nose. Charlie almost shouted with relief as it was Arnold Wistletop, Joshua’s father.
As they approached, Charlie could see that Arnold lacked a spellshooter. He was fighting the goblins off with nothing more than his bare hands and a small wooden stool. Evidently after he and Natalie had dispatched the other goblins these ones had decided to take it out on Arnold. It was remarkable he’d held them off for as long as he had, but he was also clearly tiring. Ben’s dad made short work of the two goblins, however, eliminating the pair with a single spell. Arnold turned to face his rescuer, and his eyes widened.
“Hello, Arnold,” Ben’s father said.
“Greg!” Joshua’s father exclaimed, and then he spotted Ben’s mum. “Jane. You’re free? But how?” He then noticed Natalie and Charlie standing there just behind them. “You two, aren’t you those apprentices that hang around Greg’s son? How in the name of all that is good are you both here in Suktar’s palace?”
For a second Charlie felt intimidated, but then he got hold of himself. It didn’t matter that this man was a high-ranking Warden. They had to get back and help Ben. Besides, based on what he understood from the Guardians, Arnold would be aware of their duty, even though it had been passed to his son.
“Mr. Wistletop, this might come as a bit of a shock, but the Guardians united, found Elizabeth’s Armour and are right now this very second most likely fighting just above us to end King Suktar’s rule.”
Arnold’s eyes widened suddenly as he realised what Charlie was saying. “My son is here? Then what are we waiting for?” He turned and slapped Greg on the shoulder.
“Greg, before we launch up there to save our sons, I want you to know that I honestly didn’t blame you on what happened with Barry. I could tell he was somehow being used. The night before it… happened… he came back to himself and told us something was wrong. He didn’t know what, but he said there were moments in his memory where it was just blank. It didn’t make it any less painful, of course. But I understand.”
The two men shook hands, and then Ben’s mum smiled, in what seemed like relief.
“Now, where are our sons?” Ben’s father asked, sharing a determined look with Joshua’s father.
Charlie would have been surprised if he’d seen the look on his own face then. If there was any way he could help his best friend defeat the dark elf king, then he was determined to do it.
“Follow me,” he replied, and led the others up the stairs to the next floor. He was fairly certain he knew where the throne room would be.
Suktar was about to be in for a big surprise.
— Chapter Thirty-Four —
The Head Guardian
Ben stared, unseeing, at the grand throne room, his mind still replaying the scenes he had just witnessed. Alex, that elf captain, even Draven — everyone from the Institute facing defeat and death, all of Britain about to be overrun. Suktar was right. It was all over. No matter what happened here, and it wasn’t looking very promising, they had already lost.
Beside him, Joshua was bleeding heavily, a rag tied around his arm in an attempt to stem the flow. Abigail was already curled up on the floor, rocking gently back and forth. And the dark elf king stood over them, gloating.
“You see?” he declared. “You are the ones who are finished, not I. Before the sun has set, my armies will have destroyed your precious Institute and all its little friends. We will hold Britain, and from there spread to the rest of the Seen Kingdoms. Soon the whole world will be mine!” He raised his massive black sword once more. “So, for the final time, surrender. Lay down your weapons, relinquish the armour, and I will allow you to live.” His lips curved into a cruel smile. “It is the best offer you will get, I promise you that.”
For a moment, Ben was sorely tempted. He was tired, and sore, and felt beaten in both body and spirit. Who were they kidding? How had they ever thought they could stand against someone like Suktar? It was madness! And if they continued, if they didn’t take this one chance, they really would be throwing their lives away.
He sighed and lifted the sword a final time, but not to brandish it. He started to reverse it, offering it hilt first to the dark elf king waiting before him. As he did, Ben’s eyes caught the hilt, and the image reflected there of a sandy-haired boy with bright purple eyes. There was something wrong with that, though. He stared at the sword, somehow transfixed for a few moments. Then, as though through a fog, a thought drifted to him and he mumbled to himself.
“I’m pretty sure I don’t have purple eyes.”
Suddenly, it all made sense. Tightening his grip, he ground the tip of the sword into the floor and forced himself to stand and look the king of the dark elves in the eye. The towering elf’s eyes narrowed, immediately knowing that something had changed. Ben’s mind became clear finally. Suktar had already defeated them, and even had possession of the sword. But Ben could only guess that it was useless to him unless Ben himself gave it of his own will, which he almost had. Suktar had gambled and given him the sword back. And that gamble hadn’t worked.
Ben placed both hands on the hilt of the gleaming sword, ribs screaming, body aching so strongly that darkness crept in on the edges of his vision. He knew he was vulnerable, but again the powerful elf held back. He obviously still thought Ben might give in.
Taking a few short breaths to steady himself, he spoke, only managing to get out a few words at a time. “You really… want this armour… don’t you? Could have killed… us at least five… times already.” He closed his eyes as he felt blood trickling down his side. “Seems to me that you… need us alive to…” He swayed for a second and almost passed out, dropping to one knee. As he pressed his head against the cool flat of the blade he saw out of the corner of his eye Joshua shaking his head and then looking up. A strange sense of peace suddenly washed over him. Maybe they would die here — a possibility looking all the more likely — but somehow that thought didn’t concern him so much anymore. With so much death everywhere, why was his life so precious?
Ben focused on the blade right in front of him, focused like he h
ad so many times with his spellshooter. In his mind he felt a white light pulling him towards it like a beacon, and he thought he could hear someone calling his name.
It dawned on him that this fight wasn’t his alone. It wasn’t him against Suktar; it was him and his friends — and something a whole lot bigger.
With a burst of light the sword in his hands turned yellow and then white, all shadows banished instantly. Ben’s mind came into sharp focus and he stood up, pain dissipating and already almost gone.
As he brought his eyes up to Suktar there was something else in the dark elf king’s eyes that he hadn’t seen before: a tinge of weariness.
“I will give you the offer one last time, Greenwood!” Suktar roared. “Take it or I will end you!”
Ben nodded calmly, and turned to see his two friends now also standing, their pieces of the armour also now emanating the same bright, concentrated glow. Joshua’s wound was emanating a bluish white glow, brighter than the rest. Somehow the power from the shield was either healing him or at least concentrating on combating the pain caused by it.
He looked at his own form and saw a series of bluish bright lights — in the areas he’d be struck hardest.
“Yes, I believe you will try that for real now.” Joshua came close and they bumped shoulder to shoulder, turned to each other and nodded. This was it now — win or die.
Suktar sneered down at him. “Pawns! Pathetic slaves to a greater plan. I tried to free you from it, but now that chance is over!”
He swung his colossal sword in a great sweeping arc, black flame shooting from the blade’s edge. Joshua stepped forwards without hesitation and raised the glowing circle of light that was Elizabeth’s Shield. As the mighty weapon came down, Ben twisted, his back against Joshua’s for a moment, and as the black sword smashed into the circle of gold he spun to the side, ending up behind Suktar. With a smooth diagonal slash to finish the move, he smashed the back piece of armour off Suktar’s side.
Suktar twisted with the blow and threw a bolt of purple power straight at Ben’s face, who just got the sword up in time to block it. Despite that it threw him back a few feet or more and he barely stayed standing.
Pressing his advantage, the king moved quickly towards Ben, strong arms somehow moving his great sword in rapid attacks, each one a potentially lethal blow. Ben fought like he never had before, partly from his own desperation and partly thanks to the increased skill and strength that the sword was pouring into him. He managed to parry each sword swipe and thrust, and block each explosion of blazing purple fire and glittering black ice, but despite the sword’s power he was tiring.
The king raised his foot and kicked Ben hard in the chest, throwing him back into a column, cracking his head against the cold marble.
“Now die, Greenwood!” snarled the elf, sword sweeping down mercilessly — only to crash against the shield.
The sword descended again and again, but each time Joshua was there, screaming unknown curses. Ben shook his head and stamped his feet to get his balance back. A burst of purple came at them, but somehow this time rising up through the floor. Ben quickly linked arms with Joshua and shot a spell up at the ceiling, targeting a beam farther into the room. The spell latched on and tugged them into the air, the floor bubbling and steaming behind them.
After landing heavily, they turned back quickly, sure that a bolt of purple energy would already be upon them.
Instead, in between them and Suktar was Abigail, only coming up to the massive elf’s chest. She walked calmly towards him, and the elf slowed his advance and then stopped, a look of scorn crossing his face.
“Humans, so frail. You cannot use that helm; it would destroy you. Just take it off and leave.”
Abigail didn’t seem to hear him.
“You hurt me,” she announced, her voice quiet and calm but hard underneath. “You hurt my friends. You’ve hurt a lot of people. Your own people don’t even want you. Something has to change. You can’t keep hurting people. No more.” Her eyes flared with light like the helm that surrounded them, increasing until Ben could only squint at her from the corner of his eye. Suktar raised a hand to cover his face while defiantly attempting to stare her down. It was the strangest of sights — a tiny, frail human child staring up at a towering dark elf — but in the end even he was forced to back away, averting his gaze from the little girl who stood so fiercely before him.
The brightness grew and grew and suddenly blinded them all. When Ben could see again, Abigail was gone. He looked around frantically, searching. Suktar was still standing but seemed unsteady on his feet, his great cape singed off and his crown gone. His hands still gripped the black sword, but it had only a dull sheen to it now.
“Abigail? Abigail!” Ben couldn’t believe she was gone.
Suktar chuckled darkly. “Well, she had more spirit than the both of you put together, but looks like even she couldn’t stand against me.”
Rage and grief fought in Ben as he stared up at Suktar, but it was Joshua who spoke, voice surprisingly calm. “Ben, look. Something’s changed.” He pointed with his spellshooter and Ben looked this time, really looked. Suktar’s eyes were almost dim, the glow faded to little more than a faint tinge.
“Huh.” He smiled, a fierce jolt of pride shooting through him. A sad smile, but a strong one. Abigail had always been the quiet one, offering a supporting word here, a little advice there. But such courage. Somehow, here in the final battle where it counted, she had negated the dark elf king’s magic. Tears trickled down Ben’s face as he raised the sword and felt Joshua’s shoulder press up against his.
“Like we drilled, Josh. We do this for Krobeg, for Abigail. For England and the Queen.” Joshua nodded and took a deep breath. “For all those who have died in this pointless war.” Ben had a brief thought of whether Joshua had seen equally horrible things as he had when Suktar had spun that illusion. He cast the idea aside and moved forwards.
They didn’t charge, though. They’d learned their lesson, from those first practices with the box trolls all the way up to just moments ago. Ben advanced slowly, carefully, and Josh kept pace beside him, shield up and ready. Suktar snarled and struck, bringing his sword down in a fierce overhand blow, but Josh caught the blade and turned it aside without giving an inch. Ben used the moment to dart in and cut his foe a second time, this time on the arm.
“I will grind you to dust!” Suktar roared, magic gathering around his hands, but then it shattered like spun glass and he howled with rage and possibly some pain as well. Somehow his power was unstable. Whatever Abigail had done, it was working.
Ben and Josh were able to get past his guard a third time, Joshua beating that black sword out of the way and Ben lashing out to slice the dark elf king along the cheek.
With each successful strike, Suktar grew angrier and angrier, losing his poise and his calculating menace and lashing out more erratically. Ben and Joshua, on the other hand, improved their coordination with each attack, learning to work together more smoothly, staying out of each other’s way but maximising their effectiveness as a team.
“You are fools!” the dark elf shouted as he backpedalled, trying to put some distance between himself and his opponents. “You think you’re doing this on your own? You’re not! You’re just puppets of the High Council!”
Ben closed the distance again. “I’m done listening to you.” Their swords crashed together, bright white against deepest dark, slashing and stabbing. Joshua there to parry any counterattack that got past Ben’s enhanced reflexes. The power was incredible, nothing like he had ever experienced. Suddenly, Suktar’s sword was flying through the air and before Ben could stop himself he had smashed the sword into Suktar’s side, the blade biting deep.
The powerful elf king crashed to the ground and landed hard on his side, hand clutching the wound, pain distorting his face.
Ben stepped forwards to deliver the deathblow, to end all this. He raised the sword high and felt the need to drive it home. The urge to kill thi
s horrible monster. The sword throbbed and pulled at him. He saw Joshua standing there, a snarl on his face, looking truly terrifying.
The king just lay there, defeated. All Ben had to do was drive the blade into his foul heart. But instead he did something that only someone as stubborn as him could ever do. He forced the sword down to his side and took a step back. It was like pushing through a brick wall.
“Josh, something’s wrong,” he said softly.
Joshua looked at him, rage still in his eyes. “What are you talking about, Ben? Kill him! He’s a murderer. Abigail is dead! Krobeg is dead! Our parents, all those people.”
Ben stood there, looking at his friend, and slowly shook his head. “You’re right, but at the same time, something is wrong.” He slid the sword into its scabbard, holstered his spellshooter, and put his hand on Joshua’s shoulder, whispering close to his ear. “Put the shield away.”
Joshua visibly struggled but finally did as asked.
Suktar was breathing hard, blood pooling around him. A purple glow seemed to be seeping from the wound. He looked up at Ben.
“Ben Greenwood, I am actually impressed.” For the first time there was not a trace of mockery in the king’s voice. Instead he seemed to be looking at Ben for the first time. “I didn’t think you would be able to harness the power of the armour, and I certainly didn’t think you would be able to overcome it if you did. The High Council definitely did not expect that.”
Ben’s surprise must have shown on his face, because Suktar nodded his head slowly at their confusion.
“Oh, yes,” he whispered, coughing up some blood now. “The pieces of armour that you wear, as I’m sure you have surmised, are sentient entities. However, it is more than that. They are, in fact, a magical binding of such incredible power it must have taken at least half if not three-quarters of the council to pull off.”
He grimaced in pain, a surge of purple energy again streaming out of the wound.
“What is unique about this armour, my young friend, is that it has a purpose of its own. That purpose is so deeply embedded in the armour, so much a part of its very fabric, that it cannot help but push towards that purpose at every turn.”
