by Victor Kloss
“What? Why?” Ben asked. The thought of Joshua smiling if he messed up again was not a pleasant one.
“To help you focus,” James said. “The fear of failure will drive you.”
Ben had no answer to that. He flashed a dirty look at Joshua, who was now watching with renewed amusement.
“No pressure,” Joshua said. “I promise not to cough this time, but I've had hiccups all morning. Let's hope they don't re-surface.”
Ben had several nasty responses ready, but held his tongue. Instead he turned to James. “Did my last go count? It's a bit unfair; Joshua distracted me.”
“You think it's going to be nice and peaceful every time you fire a spell?” James said, his humour returning. “That would be nice, wouldn't it? No, that effort counted just as much as your first one. This is your third attempt.”
Ben bit his tongue, retrieved another spell and marched back to the starting position. He swung his arm back, but before he could thrust forwards, a hand grabbed him.
“Slow down,” James said, releasing Ben's arm. “I want you to count to sixty before throwing.”
Ben almost ignored him and threw anyway. His count to sixty started off rushed, eager to get to the end so he could smash the spell against the target as hard as he could. But by the time he neared sixty, his breathing had slowed and he gave James a grateful nod.
“Now, concentrate,” James said. “I don't mean block out all the noise, because that's impossible. Just focus on what you're doing and don't worry about external distractions.”
It was a lot harder than Ben had imagined. He kept trying to block out all the noises and create a cone of silence. But as James said, that was impossible, and eventually he figured out a way to accept the external sounds and not be bothered by them. He took a deep breath, eyed up the target, and then, instead of giving everything in the follow through, launched the spell at a much more measured pace. It arced through the air and hit the target. There was a puff and a tiny flame, no bigger than a candle, before disappearing.
“Very good!” James said, clapping, his huge hands sounding like a drum. “Success at the third attempt. You join a very exclusive group.”
Charlie gave him a high five and Jimmy attempted the same, but missed his hand completely. Both the girls were smiling and clapping too.
Ben grinned, and couldn't help turning to Joshua who looked like he'd swallowed a lemon. There was a look of undisguised hatred in his eyes that was so strong it sucked away some of Ben's elation. Surely that couldn't stem from the silly incident when he stole Joshua's spellshooter in the library a few weeks ago? There was something else there, Ben was sure of it. As Joshua turned to leave, Ben decided he was going to find out.
— Chapter Fourteen —
An Uninvited Guest
It took the rest of the session for Ben to cast five consecutive spells and move up to the next grade, which earned him a pat on the back from James. Charlie managed to cast his first spell on the twentieth attempt, which he was delighted about, having been worried that he was simply incapable of it at all.
To Ben's surprise, training in the other departments turned out to be just as interesting. In Diplomacy, they learnt about the different races and cultures in the Unseen Kingdoms and how to deal with them, from the Grey Dwarves in the north (always place your left fist to your chest in greeting) to the Sea Fairies (they are easy to bribe, especially with sweets). Despite Ben's dislike for Draven, the Department of Wardens was almost as cool as the Spellswords. A large part of their job was to watch the country borders and make sure no Unseens entered the ordinary world without authorisation. They sent out teams to track and capture those that did. In their first practical, Ben and Charlie got to watch a group of three Wardens poring over a map, tracking the location of a rogue troll in Yorkshire. The Department of Trade was again completely different. The Institute had many valuable assets, and the Traders used these to bargain with the Unseens for goods and, most importantly, spells. Even the Department of Scholars proved to be fascinating. There was a lot more to it than just reading books – they were constantly investigating and researching unsolved mysteries, and often went travelling to dangerous places to solve them.
The next two weeks passed in a blur, with both Ben and Charlie so busy with cleaning in the mornings and learning in the afternoons that other than the trip into Taecia Square to buy watches, they had little time for anything else. Ben had wandered the Institute a few times in the hope that his Guardian status might trigger something, but to no avail. The Institute was huge, and he had no idea where to go or what to do. Natalie's suggestion of searching for architectural designs of the Institute had proved fruitless. Even the prospect that the Shadowseeker might still be searching for him became secondary to progressing with the apprenticeship. But that all changed at the beginning of the third week.
“What's the plan today?” Charlie asked.
They were in the locker room, picking up their handbooks. It was Monday morning and Ben and Charlie were both bubbling. They were probably two of the few people who preferred weekdays to weekends.
“We're a bit behind on Trade,” Ben said, flipping through his book. “We've got a practical step where we have to successfully haggle with one of those devious gnomes in the Southern Quarter to purchase a level two spell for no more than thirty quid.”
“That sounds— ow!” Charlie jumped back, shaking his wrist. “Ayla, stop it!”
Charlie's locker gave a lazy blink of her huge green eye, and then shot another spark, which crackled and hit Charlie square on the chest.
“I'm warning you!” Charlie said, pointing a finger at the eye. “I went out and bought some olive oil spray, and I'm not afraid to use it.”
Charlie retrieved his handbook, and closed the locker with a last meaningful stare at Ayla, who replied with one more cheeky wink.
“Graduating from this apprenticeship will be worth it just to get another locker,” Charlie said.
“You don't have any family in the Institute, do you?”
The question came from Emily. Her locker was just three away from Charlie's, and she had been watching him, combing her long brown hair.
“No, why?”
“Oh well. You're allowed to share lockers with family members,” Emily said. “Olivia, my locker, is almost as bad as yours. She completely shuts down on the weekends, so sometimes I store my stuff with my older sister up in the Department of Wardens.”
“So your sister's locker opens for you?” Charlie asked.
“Yeah. My sister just had to order her locker to grant family access. It's really handy.”
“How long does it last for?”
“Forever, I guess, unless my sister cancels the order. It's not uncommon for families to share lockers, especially if someone ends up with a troublesome one.”
Charlie was starting to look unusually interested, which Ben found peculiar, as he had no family within the Institute.
“So, if your sister left the Institute for a while, you'd still have access, right?”
“Yeah, I guess,” Emily said, slightly taken aback by Charlie's intensity. “Listen, I gotta run. Good luck with your locker.”
Charlie watched Emily leave the room with a thoughtful smile. He turned to Ben, tapping a finger on his chin.
Ben gave him an odd look. “What is it?”
Charlie gave a warning glance at the handful of apprentices still in the room. They quickly left and headed for the stairs. Charlie gave several surreptitious glances as they worked their way up the marble staircase, searching for anyone who might be able to overhear. They spotted Natalie, just in front of them, chatting animatedly with some friends. Ben called out to her. She immediately saw the meaningful looks on their faces and excused herself.
“What's going on?” she asked.
“Not here,” Charlie said. “Let's find somewhere quiet.”
The Department of Trade often had empty negotiating rooms and it didn't take them long to find one.
The room had one small table and a window looking out on to the Institute courtyard, lined with heavy curtains that were half open.
Charlie double-checked the lock and made sure nobody was hiding in the curtains before he was satisfied.
“So, what's up?” Ben asked.
“Emily,” Charlie replied, making Ben and especially Natalie give him confused looks. “She said her sister had granted family access to her locker. What if your parents have given each other access to their lockers? You would have access too.”
The thought produced a rush of hope, but it was swallowed quickly by rationality. “Even if I had access to their lockers, wouldn't the Institute have raided them already when they were looking for my parents?”
“Not necessarily,” Natalie said, with sudden interest. “The lockers for the top Institute members are extremely powerful. It wouldn't surprise me if nobody had managed to open them yet, not even the prince. And they would be the perfect storing place.”
They looked at each other. None of them spoke, but the hope and excitement were impossible to miss.
“We need to take a look. How difficult is it to get into their locker room?” Ben asked.
“I've never tried,” Natalie said. “It shouldn't be too hard, as long as the room isn't locked. The tricky bit is not attracting attention. Friday is the best day, as many of the Spellswords are on duty then and will not be at the Institute.”
“Friday it is, then,” Ben said.
“Also, it would be better if we did it late, after most members have gone home. Ideally no earlier than ten.”
Ben looked to Charlie, who nodded. “I'll tell my parents I'm sleeping at yours.”
“Great, we'll—”
Ben stopped mid-sentence, distracted by a small flutter of movement from the curtains.
“Did you see that?” Ben asked.
Both Charlie and Natalie nodded.
“A draught from the window?” Charlie said, raising his hand to feel for any movement in the air.
“I don't feel anything,” Natalie replied, her voice suddenly quiet.
The curtains were large, easily big enough to hide in.
“I checked them, remember?” Charlie said, his voice firm.
“Some things are difficult to see,” Natalie said.
They were all staring at the curtains, listening as well as looking for a sign of life. They heard nothing, except their own breathing, which somehow made it worse.
“There's an easy way to find out,” Ben said, breaking the trance that had befallen them. Ignoring protests from Charlie and Natalie, he walked up to the curtain and extended a hand, reaching for one of the ripples.
Something knocked Ben to the ground.
Natalie screamed. Ben saw something bulge in the curtain and then vanish. Seconds later they heard the door click behind them. Ben yanked his neck round but saw only the door shutting softly.
Ben's first instincts were to go after it, but by the time he'd gotten to his feet, he knew whatever they had faced would be long gone.
Natalie had a hand to her mouth and Charlie was taking furtive glances everywhere, as if it might still be in the room.
“Did anyone see it?” Ben asked. His heart was pumping and his words came out raggedly.
Both Charlie and Natalie shook their heads.
“Just a blur, but nothing more,” Charlie said. The look of fear had left him now they were sure it had gone.
“Was it the Shadowseeker?” Natalie asked.
Ben and Charlie exchanged glances.
“If it was, why was it spying on us? I thought it wanted to take me out.”
“If it's not the Shadowseeker, what else could it be?”
Ben was wondering exactly the same thing.
— Chapter Fifteen —
Broomstick Battles
For the first time since they arrived at the Institute, the days started to drag. Both Ben and Charlie had their eyes firmly fixed on Friday, and their lack of focus elsewhere reflected in their study.
“A word, Mr. Greenwood and Mr. Hornberger,” Dagmar said one morning. They had been about to file out of muster to polish the grand staircase. Instead they approached Dagmar's desk. She was sitting down for once, making her look even smaller than usual. Ben couldn't help staring at her long, tightly wound ponytail and her long eyelashes – two important features that helped clarify her gender.
They stood silently for a full minute while Dagmar finished reading. Ben resisted the urge to clear his throat, knowing it would have catastrophic consequences.
“Your progress – or lack of it – has come to my attention when reviewing your handbook,” Dagmar said, finally looking up. “You were running a commendable pace until the last few days. What has happened?”
“Nothing, Ms. Borovich,” Ben said. “Everything is just getting more difficult.”
“I don't buy it,” Dagmar replied. “Your progress has been smooth among all departments. You, Ben, have excelled in Spellsword.” She turned her hawk-like eyes to Charlie. “And you, Charlie, have shown some aptitude in Scholar. But the last few days you have slowed. What changed?”
Ben cursed inwardly and prayed Charlie wouldn't give anything away. His cheeks flushed, but he shook his head, a little too vigorously, and said, “It's like Ben said. Everything is getting more difficult.”
Dagmar rose an eyebrow. “Are you aware of the make–break point?”
“No,” they answered in union.
“Fifty days. That is how long you have to complete the first grade of the apprenticeship if you wish to progress.”
“We've only been here seventeen,” Charlie said, doing the maths far quicker than Ben.
“Which means you're over a third of the way through.” She took the baton from her desk and patted it idly. “Your performances are watched closely during the apprenticeship. Even if you become a member, slow progression could mean not entering the department of your choice.”
Ben felt like he was back at school being lectured by the headmaster. The only difference was, this time he cared.
“We'll try harder,” Ben said with conviction.
“I'm sure you will,” Dagmar said. “However, in order to help you to keep up, you will now find daily targets for each department in your handbooks. Meet these, and you will be fine. Fall too far behind and you will find yourselves in trouble.”
Twenty minutes later, they had retrieved their handbooks from the lockers and were perusing through them in the common room.
“This is tough,” Ben said. “Look what I have to get through by Friday. I've got to talk a city goblin down by fifty percent in a trade deal and bargain for the release of a Creeten in the Kingdom of Ursla. I've no idea what a Creeten is and haven't the faintest idea where to find the Kingdom of Ursla.”
“You think you've got problems. They expect me to graduate to the third grade spell pellet. I'm closer to touching the moon than I am to making one of those cast properly.”
“We'll manage,” Ben said. He turned a page in his handbook and smiled. “Hey, guess what we're doing this afternoon?”
Charlie rubbed his cheeks and sighed. “Darn, I was hoping you'd forgotten about that.”
Ben stood up, his sudden invigoration sweeping away any lingering unpleasantness from Dagmar's conversation. “Come on, let's go.”
They climbed the staircase, Ben trying to pick up the pace, Charlie trying to slow it down.
“I hope there aren't too many people in there. There's something about being publicly humiliated that I'm not very fond of,” Charlie said.
They entered the Department of Spellswords and headed straight to a room marked “Sword Combat Training”.
Ben rubbed his hands and grinned. “You ready?”
“No – shall we come back later?”
Ben ignored the comment and opened the door. Inside, the space was open plan, the rooms partitioned by glass, giving them a look at the whole area in one sweeping glance. The room they had entered was a small
lecture hall, with a whiteboard, a desk, and several rows of seats, all currently empty. To Ben's right were four square sparring rooms. Three were empty, but in the nearest was an apprentice battling a magically created soldier. The swordplay was quick and intricate, the soldier clearly skilled. But the apprentice, who had four stars above his shoulder, was no slouch, and matched him blow for blow. There was another figure in there with them, but he was just watching, arms folded. Ben noted the two green diamonds above his shoulder.
The figure looked up and spotted them. He gave a friendly wave and promptly left the glass room, completely unconcerned at leaving the apprentice alone with the magical soldier.
“Hello, hello!” the Spellsword said, with a broad smile.
Now that he approached, Ben saw that he was an elf. Unlike most elves he had seen, the Spellsword was dark skinned, with black hair that ran just past his shoulders.
“Welcome! I'm sorry, I was dealing with a student. My name is Zadaya. What are your names?”
Zadaya was clearly not fluent in English, yet unlike most people learning the language his accent was perfect, though his grammar was not.
“So, this is your first practical lesson – yes?” Zadaya said, after introductions were made. He had a youthful exuberance about him and Ben thought he couldn't have been more than twenty, though it was always hard to tell with elves.
“Yes, this is our first lesson,” Ben said.
“Good! I expect you want to get straight into the box and fight, eh?” Zadaya said, making an exaggerated sword fighting motion with his arms. “Not sit down and listen to Zadaya talk about boring things like posture, balance, and technique – am I right?”
“Yes,” Ben said, just as Charlie said, “No.”
“I'm perfectly happy to listen to a lecture,” Charlie said.
“Pah! Lecture is boring.” He motioned to them. “Come! Let us fight.”
Zadaya led a delighted Ben and a horrified Charlie into one of the glass boxes. Lining the back was a rack filled with all sorts of weapons and armour. Ben couldn't believe his luck. He had expected hours of lectures and rather dull practice sessions before they let him anywhere near a real combat scenario.
