Royal Institute of Magic: Elizabeth's Legacy

by Victor Kloss

  Ben stared at the poster, numb with shock. Seeing a photo of his parents, here of all places, was just as staggering as the declaration of treason. They looked just as he remembered. His mum was smiling, a sparkle in her blue eyes. His dad was also smiling, his ridiculous moustache and raised eyebrow giving the impression he knew something you didn’t.

  A wave of emotions swept through him as he examined every inch of their faces. The surprise and astonishment were interspersed with anxiety every time he glanced at the word “treason”. But bubbling beneath it all was a peculiar sense of joy that, given the poster’s message, took him a second to understand.

  “They’re alive,” he whispered. The relief was such that he found it difficult to speak. A weight had been lifted, one he had borne so long he’d forgotten how heavy it was. He had always believed they were alive, but nagging in the back of his mind had been the lack of evidence.

  “They’re alive,” he said, louder this time, turning to Charlie with a lopsided grin – his blue eyes shining.

  “You always said they were,” Charlie said, returning the smile, “and I never doubted you. What about the high treason?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Ben felt a growing concern now that the initial shock had subsided. “There must be some great misunderstanding.” His voice trailed off. What misunderstanding could lead to a declaration of high treason?

  They entered the Royal Institute of Magic cautiously. Ben had planned to be on alert, but that went out the window the moment he stepped inside. They found themselves in a huge sky-lit atrium, staring up at a dozen open galleries accessed via an old- fashioned staircase. There were wooden beams everywhere making the place seem cosy despite its size. The vast lobby was bare except for the staircase and a huge statue in the middle, which sat on a pedestal, towering over everyone.

  Ben was so lost in the building that he didn’t realise people were looking at him.

  Lots of people.

  “Ben Greenwood?”

  A stout-looking man was watching him. He was shorter than those surrounding him, but Ben could tell by the room he was given that he was important. He had a scruffy beard, a scar that ran along his chin and an expression of such menace he looked ready to bite someone’s head off.

  “Yes,” Ben said, just as Charlie whispered, “Don’t answer.”

  The effect was immediate. There was a flurry of soft chatter and a few people crossing the threshold stopped. Ben felt like he was suddenly in a Western duel.

  “Look at their right shoulders,” Charlie whispered.

  Ben had already seen them. Each of them had tiny three-dimensional red diamonds hovering an inch above their shoulders. Most of them had just one or two, but the man addressing Ben had five.

  “About bloody time,” the man said gruffly. “Detain them.”

  Two men standing either side of the leader pulled out their strange guns and took aim. Ben could see the coloured pellets floating within the glass orb. But the barrel was a knotted wooden stick; surely it didn’t function?

  They pressed the triggers.

  The barrels lit up and out shot a red pellet that swiftly expanded to the size of a tennis ball. From the corner of his eye Ben could just make out Charlie raising his hands in surrender as a pellet hit him full on the chest. Ben reacted instinctively, diving to his right, and the pellet flew by. He rolled and leapt to his feet. Another two pellets whipped by his face and a third struck him square on the back. It stung, but only a little and he even managed a few more steps before something yanked him back. A rope materialised around him like a perfectly thrown lasso, wrapping his arms against his chest. He struggled violently, but the rope held fast and yanked him around. It extended into the gun barrel of a slender woman who held it effortlessly.

  “Slippery, like a weasel,” the man said. He turned and glared at the congregation around him. “What are you lot looking at?”

  The crowd thinned, leaving just the grizzled man and half a dozen others who were clearly his entourage. Ben noticed they had the same red diamonds as the man’s, though not as many.

  “This is wrong, Draven.”

  Not everyone had been scared away by the man’s glare. Facing the group was a tiny woman with four white diamonds floating above her shoulder.

  “Rubbish, Lana. I’m trying to find the Greenwoods. We’re desperate, not that you’d know, living in the library.”

  Lana didn’t flinch. “I’m going to stop this.”

  “Oh, put a cork in it,” Draven said, waving a hand at her.

  Lana turned to Ben and he met her level-headed stare. He saw a flicker of curiosity before she finally turned and left.

  “Let’s go,” Draven said.

  The woman holding his leash gave a little tug and Ben was yanked forward up the grand staircase. He tried to resist, but it was futile and he soon realised it would be better to save his energy.

  “What’s going on?” Ben asked.

  “Silence,” the woman said. “You will find out soon enough. You are not in any danger here.”

  “Really? Are all newcomers treated like dogs then?”

  “I said, be quiet,” she said and flicked the rope. Ben felt a painful shock run through his body. “You will find out soon enough.”

  They climbed to the fourth floor where they left the stairs and stopped in front of double doors. On them was a sign in red lettering that read “Department of Wardens” and below it was a symbol of a miniature world map. They went through the doors into a grand hallway that spanned left and right. In front of them, facing the doors, was a mighty statue of a large, rather pompous-looking fellow. Before Ben could read the description at the statue’s base, he was jerked right. The hallway was lavishly decorated, with deep red walls and wood panelling. There were doors at regular intervals with signs like “Goblin Search – South East”, “Illegal Elf Immigrants”, “Tracking Centre” and many more, each more bizarre than the last.

  “I want the team ready in five,” Draven said. Two of the group instantly peeled off and doubled back the way they had come. Ben turned to see which door they might enter, but his head was forced forward.

  Despite the woman’s earlier claim that they weren’t in danger, Ben’s heart was beating hard. He thought about shouting for help, but who would come? Besides, it would only result in getting hurt again.

  Ben forced his own anxiety aside. Draven seemed to think this would help the search for Ben’s parents. Did he think Ben knew something?

  Draven cursed loudly the moment they turned the next corner.

  The lady waiting by the nearest door caught Ben by surprise. She wore a flowery red dress and had long, silvery hair elegantly piled up on her head. She wasn’t young, but her wrinkles were so fine and delicate Ben couldn’t decide whether she was old enough to be his mother or his grandmother. Her eyes were a sparkling grey and her ears were slightly pointed. Floating above her right shoulder were five small green diamonds.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Leventhorpe,” she said in a rich voice.

  “What do you want, Wren?” Draven asked roughly.

  They had stopped by the door, which, Ben noticed, said “Warden Director”.

  “I have come for these two charming young boys,” Wren said.

  Draven stepped forward, thrusting his chin out. “They’re not yours to take.”

  Wren raised a slender finger. “Quite true, Draven. However, they are not yours either and they are certainly not under arrest.” She turned to Ben, and Charlie. “If you’ll come with me, I can provide you with some long overdue answers.”

  Draven glared, daring Ben or Charlie to defy him.

  “Yes, please,” Ben said and Charlie nodded vigorously. The leashes around their torsos immediately disappeared.

  “You idiot,” Draven said, shaking a hairy fist at Wren. “You realise what you’re doing? You’re jeopardising my rescue operation. The entire Institute and England could fall because of you.”

  “Oh, don’t be s
o melodramatic, Draven.”

  Draven turned to Ben, a look of desperation in his eyes. “There could be spells on the boy. I’d stake my life on Greg and Jane putting some sort of tracking spell or even a shield. If we could trace that, we might be able to locate them.”

  For the first time, Ben started listening.

  “You might be right. Why don’t you convene the Executive Council and arrange something properly?”

  “We don’t have time for that,” Draven said, raising his voice. “Our position weakens every minute we waste in bringing the Greenwoods to justice.” His eyes narrowed to slits and he pointed a finger at Wren’s face. “When the Council asks why we delayed, you’re going to be in deep trouble, and I’m going to love watching you squirm and plead your innocence.”

  He opened the door and stormed through, his entourage following behind. It slammed shut.

  Wren smiled serenely at them. “Who fancies a cup of tea?”

  — Chapter Nine —

  Answers at Last

  They followed Wren back to the grand staircase.

  “A few more flights, I’m afraid,” she said in her rich voice. “Allow me to apologise on behalf of Draven. I know he might come across as the devil incarnate, but deep down he’s not a bad person.”

  “Could he really track my parents if they had cast spells on me?”

  “In theory, yes.”

  Ben couldn’t believe he was throwing the word “spell” around with such nonchalance. Spells meant magic. The evidence was everywhere, but hearing adults say it gave it credence.

  Charlie was puffing by the time they left the staircase and entered another set of double doors. This time the sign said “Department of Spellswords” with a sword shown below it. Beyond the doors was another statue, this one of a cheerful man holding a sword in one hand and one of those strange guns in the other.

  “Michael James,” Wren said, noticing their interest. “He was the first Spellsword Director; quite a man by all accounts.”

  Without the pre-occupation of being captured, lassoed and marched by a raving madman, Ben was able to admire the hallway. This floor wasn’t as lavish, but it felt spacious, with white walls and wooden beams. As they followed the hallway round the corners, Ben started to get a feel for the place. On every floor there seemed to be a corridor that looped round, with rooms branching off. Ben was sure that if they kept walking they would be back at the double doors.

  The hallway was busy and several people passed by, nodding respectfully at Wren and giving Ben and Charlie curious looks. Wren seemed to know everyone’s name and graced all who passed with a smile.

  “Here we are,” she said.

  They stopped by a door that said “Spellsword Director” and Wren pushed it open.

  Ben wasn’t sure if he’d stepped into a luxurious office or a hotel suite. At the back of the long room, by the window, was a sturdy wooden desk and an ornate antique chair. Against one of the walls was a suite of high-backed, deep brown furniture surrounding a small, exquisitely carved oak table. There were paintings of incredible landscapes on the walls and behind the sofa was a mural of a world map. Light spilled in from the window as if the sun had parked itself just outside the Institute, giving the room a bright, airy feel.

  “Natalie, could you make tea for three please – plus yourself if you want a cup?” Wren said. She had popped her head in an adjacent room Ben hadn’t noticed.

  Charlie walked over to the sofa and was staring at the map on the wall. “Oh my,” he said.

  Ben couldn’t see what the fuss was about. It was a map – albeit a big one at least ten feet wide.

  “Look, Ben,” Charlie said. He leant on the sofa and pointed up at different countries.“These countries don’t exist on our maps.”

  He pointed to a dozen countries – some small, some as big as France – scattered across the map.

  “You know your geography, Charlie,” Wren said. She sat down on the sofa. Charlie took a step back and half fell into a luxurious, brown chair. Ben sat down on the remaining chair.

  “I can only imagine the questions you must have,” Wren said, giving them both a lengthy look. “So, you tell me, where would you like to start?”

  “My parents,” Ben replied instantly. Questions buzzed round his head, but he chose his first one carefully. There was one thing he needed to be absolutely certain of. “Are they okay?”

  It was clear Wren saw Ben’s concern. “They are alive. We’d know if they weren’t. As to their well-being, that is harder to say as we don’t know where they are.”

  Ben’s elation at their safety was tempered by their unknown whereabouts.

  “Why are they being accused of treason?”

  Her grey eyes held his and Ben had a feeling she was considering withholding the truth. He was about to demand it when she broke the little stand-off.

  “There is a dark elf king by the name of Suktar. It would take hours to recount the long and bloody history of his empire. Suffice it to say that over the centuries it is not the French or the Spanish who have been England’s greatest threat, but Erellia, King Suktar’s kingdom.”

  “What does he have to do with my parents?”

  “Suktar is accusing your parents of murdering his son, Prince Ictid. He is threatening to break a truce we have worked hard to establish unless they are brought to justice.”

  Ben was grateful he was sitting down. Head spinning, he grabbed the armrests.

  “Murder?”

  Wren’s kind eyes found his and their warmth soothed his rising panic. “I am convinced it’s nonsense,” she said, “as is the majority of the Institute. Your dad can be unruly at times and a terrible influence on your mother, but they are two of the most honest people I know.”

  Ben was struck by how well Wren seemed to know his mum and dad. “Did my parents work here?”

  “They do work here,” Wren replied. “In fact, they are two of my best Spellswords.”

  “What is a Spellsword?”

  “Sorry, how would you know that?” Wren said, admonishing herself. “Spellswords are the Institute’s armed forces. As the name suggests, they are trained in both spell and sword to combat everything the Unseen Kingdoms can offer.”

  Ben turned away, staring into light coming from the window, trying to take everything in.

  “I thought my parents worked for Greenpeace. I thought they had a normal life – you know, drive to work, do normal work stuff, pick me up, bug me about homework.” He smiled sadly. “Turns out I didn’t know them as well as I thought.”

  “That’s not true,” Wren said softly. “Yes, they didn’t reveal their true occupation, but you knew them in every other sense.”

  Ben knew he should be delighted to discover their exciting profession, but he felt slightly empty. Why had they never told him about it? Why conceal something as incredible as this?

  “Not everyone seems as convinced as you that my parents are innocent,” Ben said, thinking of Draven’s remarks. Our position weakens every minute we waste in bringing the Greenwoods to justice.

  “There is little evidence of their guilt and certainly not enough to convict them, but Suktar is very persuasive and very powerful. Even so, had Greg and Jane fought their case, they would have had every chance of proving their innocence. Unfortunately, they have disappeared without a trace, which is a big mark against them.”

  Disappeared without a trace. The words lingered in his head. All this time he had assumed they had been forced to flee and were unable to return. But what if they left voluntarily? What if they could come back, but wouldn’t? The thought rocked him and made him go cold.

  “They must have a reason,” Ben said softly, trying to keep the doubt from his voice.

  “I am sure they did,” Wren agreed, “but they have yet to share it with anyone. And if Suktar decides to break the truce, there could be a full-scale war. To buy ourselves time, it was decided we should side with Suktar. Once we find the Greenwoods, we will decide what to do.�
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  “We found a letter you wrote to my mum. You mentioned rumours that put them in danger?”

  “Yes, I remember writing that,” Wren said, nodding. “The rumours were in relation to the murder. I urged your parents to come in and prove their innocence, but they didn’t.”

  “Why would Suktar want Ben’s parents if they didn’t kill his son?” Charlie asked, finally plucking up the courage to ask a question.

  “We don’t know,” Wren said, “but I can tell you, Ben, your parents are the most wanted people in the Unseen Kingdoms. Between the Institute and Suktar’s empire, ninety percent of the population are looking for them.

  Ben smiled, feeling a peculiar sense of pride. In five minutes they had gone from being Greenpeace employees to the most wanted couple in the… in the what?

  “What are the Unseen Kingdoms?” Charlie asked, getting there a fraction before Ben.

  Before Wren could answer a girl came in carrying a pot of tea and a plate of biscuits. She couldn’t have been much older than Ben with dark brown hair that fell in curls over her shoulders. There was something exotic about her green eyes, which were intent on balancing the tray. Her ears were pointed, but less than Wren’s. There was a single colourless diamond hovering over her shoulder.

  “Sorry it took so long,” she said, in a down-to-earth way that was at odds with her movie star looks. “We were out of biscuits, so I had to run out and get more. I hope you two like ginger snaps.”

  After an awkward pause Ben realised she was talking to him and Charlie.

  “I love them, thanks,” he said, giving her a lopsided smile. He knew from school that girls liked his smiles, but this time it did nothing. Charlie mumbled a response, but most of it was lost because he had said it to his lap.

  “Excellent call, Natalie,” Wren said. Natalie smiled again and left the room.

  “She looks young,” Charlie blurted out, before he could stop himself. “Compared to everyone else I’ve seen, I mean.”

  “She’s fourteen,” Wren said, as if Charlie’s statement was perfectly acceptable. She started pouring them tea. “Fourteen is the minimum age to start the apprenticeship. Biscuits?”