by Victor Kloss
They talked with growing excitement for the next twenty minutes through the dull housing estate to the town centre. The weather was perfect, with blue skies and a bright sun beaming down on them, adding to their good moods.
“Did you hear that?” Charlie asked suddenly, raising a chubby finger. He rolled his eyes, indicating that the sound came from behind.
Ben glanced casually backwards and saw two men in suits walking behind them, deep in conversation. Ben perked his ears up to listen.
“…I've seen four Wardens already,” the taller of the two was saying. “I've never seen so much security around the Croydon headquarters before.”
Ben couldn't believe they were talking so openly about the Institute on such a busy street. There were people constantly walking alongside and past them. Strangely, nobody seemed interested in what the two men were saying. Was everyone completely lost in their own worlds or was there something more to it?
“I've seen five Wardens,” the smaller man was saying. “You didn't see the one at the corner just now. Slim fella, easy to miss. There are probably half a dozen others we missed. The good ones are impossible to spot. You think this is all because of the dark elves?”
“Course it is,” the taller one said. His voice was deep and gruff, even for his size. “The Institute has been on alert for the last couple of weeks. Haven't you heard the rumours about the invasion on Fiorgan?”
“I heard the dark elves were threatening to attack, but they haven't done anything yet.”
The tall man gave a humph. “Could happen any moment. I heard there have been plenty of troop movements – and that's not rumour. Let's not forget how tactically important Fiorgan is. It's the gateway to Europe.”
“I know how important it is; I'm not an idiot,” the small man said, resentment in his voice. “But why would they post so many Wardens here?”
“Because the dark elves are masters at creating havoc. It wouldn't surprise me if they sent all manner of creatures here to raise hell and distract the Institute.”
“That's true,” the small man conceded. He paused for a moment and then, in a lighter tone of voice, said, “What did you think of United's performance yesterday? I can't believe they shipped two goals right at the end.”
Ben stopped listening and turned to Charlie; his eyes were wide, his sizeable cheeks flushed.
“That was interesting,” Ben said. He gave a quick look round, but could see no sign of anyone who looked like a Warden.
“I wonder if the Wardens are here for another reason,” Charlie said.
“What do you mean?”
Charlie gave a surreptitious look around, before leaning into Ben. “What if they are here to protect you from the dark elves?”
Ben scoffed the idea. “Me? I don't think so. I'm not that important.”
Charlie wagged a chubby finger at him. “No, you're not. But you're the link to your parents, remember? And the dark elves still want them. What's to say they won't make another move for you to try to get to your parents again?”
“Possibly,” Ben said. “I just can't believe the Institute would go through all that trouble to protect me. After all, they don't even know why the dark elves want my parents.”
This time both he and Charlie looked around, to make sure nobody was close by.
“I've been thinking about Elizabeth's Armour,” Charlie said, his voice now a whisper. “How much do the dark elves know? Are they aware that it's split up into different families? If so, are they also hunting the other families?”
Ben had spent countless hours thinking the same thing. “It's impossible to know. But if they are, then it's going to be twice as hard for my parents, trying to avoid the dark elves and get to the other descendants before the dark elves do.”
Charlie tapped his chin thoughtfully, but any reply he might have made was drowned out by a succession of beeping cars. They had entered the heart of the town and the roads were jammed as everyone rushed to work. The pavement was equally busy, with men and women on phones, listening to their iPods or just lost in their own worlds. A few people filtered into coffee shops, but most hurried past the high street, with the single intention of getting to their offices before the clock struck nine.
Ben knew the Institute's Croydon headquarters were difficult to spot, despite knowing the exact location. Sure enough, his eyes wandered past the O2 mobile store to the Starbucks coffee shop several times before he spotted the building in the middle. It was small, squeezed in between the two, and purposefully unassuming. Above the revolving door and frosted windows, inlaid into the brickwork, was the R.I.M. logo, cast in bronze and overlaying a royal coat of arms. In front of the door was the same bulky bodyguard they had encountered when they first entered.
Ben felt a thrill of excitement from his back down to his toes. Just beyond those innocent-looking revolving doors was the start of an adventure that had changed their lives just two weeks ago.
“Look at that guy,” Charlie said. He was pointing to a slim man dressed in casual clothes, standing outside Starbucks, holding a hot drink. Ben noted the way he was looking closely at everyone who entered the Institute.
“You think he's another Warden?” Ben said.
“I think so. I wonder how many more there are around?”
“Several probably,” Ben said. He drew out his brand new ID card. It was made of silver and was heavy enough to feel valuable. Next to the embossed logo on the card the name “Ben Greenwood” was etched.
“Shall we go in?” Ben asked Charlie, with a grin.
— Chapter Three —
Unexpected Trouble
The inside of the headquarters was just as Ben remembered. There was one long room, with a high ceiling and a pristine white marble floor. To the right was a reception desk, with several busy secretaries typing away, dealing with enquiries in person or on the phone. At the back of the room, perfectly camouflaged against the wall, was the lift that had plummeted them deep underground like a roller-coaster a few weeks earlier.
Last time the reception had been almost empty, but now there were plenty of people about, many milling by the lift; Ben supposed it was because everyone was heading to work.
“I hope there is a variable speed setting,” Charlie said, putting a hand on his little pot belly as they walked to the lift. “I don't know about you, but I had a big breakfast that I'd like to keep down.”
They joined a small line that had formed to get into the lift. Charlie waited patiently, Ben less so, but the line was not moving very fast. In fact, Ben realised after a couple of minutes, it wasn't moving at all.
“What's going on?” a fuzzy-haired lady asked, standing directly in front of them. “I have to be at the Institute by 9:30 or Mr. Ludwig is going to have a fit.”
She wasn't alone in voicing her frustration. There was a growing murmur of discontent. The lift was stuck on the bottom floor and wasn't coming back up.
“Not the best start to our first day,” Charlie commented.
“Does the lift break down often?” Ben asked the fuzzy-haired lady.
“It can't break; it's operated by magic. Some idiot is purposefully holding it at the bottom.”
“Why would they do that?”
“I have no idea; it's never happened before. But they're going to be in deep trouble, making everyone late for work.” The lady turned back around and joined the complaints that had now grown from a murmur to something more vocal.
Ben felt his stomach lurch, as if he had begun his descent down the lift. “Something's not right.”
Charlie groaned. “I hate it when you say that.”
“There are Wardens everywhere, watching for something, and now the lift gets stuck?”
“You think something bad is happening down there?”
“I could be mistaken,” Ben admitted. “I'm sure they have extensive security to stop the wrong people leaving the Unseen Kingdoms.”
Charlie shook his head a little too vigorously. “Your sixth sense is be
tter than Spiderman's.” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his gleaming forehead. “Should we tell someone?”
“I don't think they have as much faith in my sixth sense as you do.”
Charlie looked around anxiously. There were now several people lined up behind them. “Do you think we should step out of line? Maybe get a little closer to the exit, just in case?”
“Absolutely not,” Ben said. “You're overreacting, as usual.”
A sudden cheer drowned out Charlie's reply. The lift was moving again. Ben could hear a faint humming as it ascended from deep underground. The line in front shuffled forwards a bit, eager to get in; at the same time Charlie shuffled backwards, apologising profusely to the young man he bumped into from behind.
There was a ding as the lift arrived. The doors opened.
Silence. Then a collective gasp.
An explosion almost burst Ben's eardrums and sent several Institute members closest to the lift flying. An alarm sounded, loud enough to drown out the screams and shouts of surprise and horror.
Some of the Institute members fled as fast as they could, but others came forwards, grim-faced, drawing their spellshooters.
“Defensive line!” a deep voice sounded from behind.
Ben felt a tug on his sleeve. He turned and saw a white-faced Charlie screaming at him.
“Let's get out of here!”
But Ben didn't move. Many of those in front of him had fled or been blasted away, and he could almost see inside the lift.
Spells of every colour and shape were now being fired. Ben couldn't believe anything could survive such an onslaught, but it was clear that the enemy was still fighting. A woman went down in front of him and suddenly the path was clear to the lift and the enemy within – the unmistakable form of a dark elf sat on top of a huge panther.
Unlike the shoulder-length hair of most dark elves Ben had seen, this one was completely bald, with gold piercings in his nose, slanted ears, and both eyebrows. In one hand he held a sword, and in the other a purple ball of energy.
With a blank, almost bored expression, he rode out of the lift, hacked down the nearest Institute member, and blasted another against the wall. The dark elf dodged and swayed the incoming spells with an inhuman dexterity, and the panther's snapping jaws consumed any that came its way with only the faintest repercussions.
“Earth and air!” someone shouted.
The shape and form of the spells changed and the dark elf took a hit on the shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. Slowly the Institute closed in on the elf and his steed. In response, the elf raised his head so that he was staring at the ceiling. With a hideous choking sound, he opened his mouth and out came a dozen large purple-winged moths. They soared upwards and evolved, growing arms, legs, and faces that reminded Ben of hungry piranhas. There was a moment of stunned silence as the moths transformed into spear-wielding pixies; then came the sound of a dozen high-pitched war cries and the spears were hurled down. Ben ducked as one soared over his head. Spellshooters rose and blasts of ice shot into the air. Several pixies went down in a frozen heap. Having expended their spears, the remaining pixies dived down, their claw-like hands extended and gnashing teeth bared.
The attack on the dark elf had momentarily stalled as the Institute took on their new adversary, allowing the dark elf, still mounted on the panther, to step forwards. Blood seeped from the dark elf's shoulder, but he showed little sign of pain.
He was heading in Ben's direction, but it was impossible to tell if Ben was the intended target or if he was just in the elf's way.
“Ben!”
Ben turned so quickly his neck cracked. Charlie lay on the ground in a ferocious wrestling match with one of the pixies. Their hands were locked together and the pixie's sharp teeth were closing in on Charlie's neck. Ben dived onto the pixie, knocking him off Charlie and they landed heavily on the floor. The pixie flew back onto his feet, but Ben was ready, and when the pixie came at him, snarling and snapping, Ben launched a right hook into his jaw. The pixie reeled. A second hook and the pixie went down in a heap.
“Can we go now?” Charlie asked, getting to his feet, his eyes darting this way and that, looking for the next pixie that might dive bomb him. The gleeful shouts from the pixies were turning into howls of anger as they were taken down by the Institute. Ben picked up one of the spears littered on the floor and turned back to the dark elf. The panther and its rider were now less than ten feet away and closing with every step, despite the spells that came their way. Was it coming for him or just trying to get outside? Ben knew he just had to step aside to find out, but he didn't. He couldn't just let the dark elf escape without doing something. A rational part of him knew that any effort he made to stop it would be futile, but rationality was buried deep beneath a raw, almost suicidal, determination to act.
He stood firm, spear in hand, ignoring Charlie tugging at his arm, until the dark elf's sword was almost in reach. He tensed himself; he had one chance with the spear, but he had to get the timing exactly right. The dark elf flicked his blade forwards with inhuman speed and, before Ben could blink, he saw the hilt of the sword flying towards his temple.
A streak of silver lightning hammered into the dark elf's chest, followed by a glowing black cannon ball that struck the panther directly on the head, producing a sickening crunch. The dark elf flew back and crashed against the wall in a crumpled heap. The remaining pixies vanished with a pop. There was a stunned silence, broken only by heavy breathing and several groans of pain. Ben turned to the source of the spells.
Two men had entered the room side by side, both holding spellshooters. They stood out as the only ones walking, while the rest stood and stared. One was short and stout, with heavy eyebrows, a scruffy beard and a scar that ran along his chin. The other wore a Jedi-styled, blue, hooded cloak, and in his spare hand was a Starbucks that he sipped as he walked. He had bright eyes, wavy hair and lips that seemed creased in a permanent little smile. Both had five diamonds floating above their shoulders – the short one's were red; the cloaked one's, yellow.
Ben's emotions couldn't have contrasted greater as he looked at the two men. Draven, the stocky one, seemed to have a personal vendetta against his family and had been responsible for labelling his parents as traitors to the Institute. Alex, on the other hand, was a close friend of his parents and was one of the few Institute directors to stand up for them.
“Nice shot, Draven,” Alex said, taking another sip of his Starbucks.
“Nice?” Draven scoffed. “I just took out a deema in one shot. Do you know how tough they are?”
Alex gave a gentle roll of his eyes. “Let's not get cocky. The deema is but a distant relative of the forreck.”
“Anything related to the forreck is deadly,” Draven grunted. They had made it to the deema and Draven gave it a kick in the head and chest. The animal didn't move.
“What spell grade did you use?”
“Five,” Draven said, still looking at the beast. “You?”
“Five as well, just to be sure. That spell cost me a week's wages.”
They moved to the dark elf. This time Alex bent down to inspect, lifting the elf's head with rather more delicacy than Draven had done to the deema. When he got back up, Ben saw a flash of rare concern cross his face.
“Looks like a Shadowseeker,” Alex said, in a soft voice that Ben could only just hear. “I haven't seen one of them in a while.”
Draven's face was grim. “We'll have to summon the council.”
Alex stood up and Draven turned to face everyone; most were still staring at them.
“Alright, listen up!” Draven said. Ben had forgotten how deep and powerful his voice was. “I want all expert Spellswords and Wardens and any master Traders, Scholars or Diplomats with me. We're going to clean up this mess. The rest of you, get out – you'll just get in the way. We'll call you when the lift is back in service. I have half a dozen medics on their way for those who need help.”
Immedi
ately diamonds started appearing over people's shoulders and members either gathered around Draven or left – some hobbling – through the revolving doors. Ben and Charlie made to go, but Alex caught their eyes.
“Morning, guys,” he said, looking at them both in turn. “Are you both okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Other than nearly being ripped to shreds by demon pixie,” Charlie said. “Is this normal for a morning commute to the Institute?”
Alex smiled. “It's not normally this exciting, but we've been having a bit of trouble with the dark elves lately.” His eyes lingered on Ben, but he added nothing further.
“What is a Shadowseeker?” Ben asked.
The same flash of concern Ben had seen moments earlier resurfaced. “Now isn't the time for a lesson in the dark elf special forces units. I'll explain when you get into the Institute, I promise.” He gave them both a friendly slap on the shoulder. “It's going to be an uncommonly interesting Monday morning, so I’d better be going. I'll see you both later.”
They watched him leave, and then Charlie turned to Ben.
“What shall we do while we wait?”
“Starbucks,” Ben said.
“I was hoping you'd say that.”
— Chapter Four —
Journey to the Institute
An hour passed before it was safe to travel. They left Starbucks and found a crowd of Institute members waiting for the lift. The dark elf attack was the topic on everyone's lips and both Ben and Charlie listened intently as they waited in line. Most seemed to agree that the dark elf was here to create havoc as part of their plan to distract the Institute while they continued their planned invasion on Fiorgan. Ben's ears perked up whenever he heard the word “Shadowseeker”, but short of being some sort of special dark elf, nobody seemed to know much about them.
Charlie groaned when they reached the front of the line and the lift opened before them. Ben felt a tinge of excitement as they stepped into the large cubicle. Facing them were rows of black leather seats, complete with arm- and headrests. Each seat had a padded bar that you could pull down over your chest and, once more, Ben was reminded of a roller-coaster ride.
