The Protectors (Royal Institute of Magic, Book 3)

by Victor Kloss

  “Ah! If it isn’t Greenwood and Hamburger!” a booming voice said.

  James McFadden thundered into the room – for a moment Ben thought his huge shoulders might get caught in the door frame.

  “It’s Hornberger, actually,” Charlie said.

  “My mistake,” James said. He extended his bear-like arms. “So, how have my favourite pupils been?”

  “We’re doing good, thanks, Mr. McFadden,” Ben said, walking over to meet him.

  “Call me James – unless I’m angry; then don’t talk to me at all,” James said, with another booming laugh. He was exactly as Ben remembered, down to the shoulder-length hair, perfect square jaw and bright blue eyes.

  James clapped his hands together, making Charlie jump. He turned to the apprentices staring through the glass.

  “Aaron’s stragglers are sticking around, I see,” James said, with a disapproving frown. “You want me to get rid of them? They will be distracting.”

  Ben was going to say no. He’d look like a coward if he asked them to leave, on top of which, Aaron had managed to perform well despite the crowd. But then he saw Charlie’s furrowed brow, anxiously looking at the apprentices.

  “Yes, get rid of them,” Ben said, without hesitation, cursing himself for having not thought of Charlie before.

  James nodded, and left the glass room. He dispersed the crowd in short order, but Ben couldn’t help noticing a few of the apprentices looking at him with something approaching disappointment.

  “Alright, that’s done,” James said, rubbing his hands. “Now, let’s get busy, shall we? There are some boring instructions we must go over before the fun begins.”

  He walked over to the rack; Ben and Charlie dutifully followed.

  “This is almost the complete range of spellshooters the Institute offers. They are a good standard, some of the best you can get on the market. As you can see, each one is different.”

  James picked up the spellshooter nearest to them and twirled it casually on his finger. “I call this the baby spellshooter. It is our most basic model. It is the easiest to fire but has the least potential, and will not fire anything above a grade-one spell.”

  James put the spellshooter back and waved at the other ones.

  “The further along the line you go, the harder the spellshooters are to use, but the more power and potential they have. Only the ones at the end with the black bands on the barrel can fire grade-five spells.”

  Ben suddenly became much more interested in spellshooters at the end of the room, but, to his disappointment, James showed no sign of going over there, so he stayed put.

  “Now, it’s our job to find which spellshooter is most suited to you,” James said.

  “How do we do that?” Charlie asked, looking at the spellshooters with some unease.

  “It’s easy. You try to fire them.”

  “That doesn’t seem so bad,” Charlie said. His eyes narrowed. “But there’s a catch, isn’t there?”

  James gave a shrug of his giant shoulders. “Yes, but that comes later. Now, let’s try the baby spellshooter!”

  James took out two spellshooters and handed one to Ben, the other to Charlie. The moment Ben clasped the handle, he felt a thrill run down his hand, all the way through his body. There were no pellets in the glass orb container that sat above the back of the barrel, but it still felt empowering holding the spellshooter. He had to resist the urge to make silly mock-gun noises and shoot imaginary bad guys.

  “Pop this into the orb,” James said, giving them each a red pellet.

  Ben gently touched the pellet against the orb. There was a moment’s resistance, and then the pellet passed through, and reappeared floating within the orb.

  James rubbed his enormous hands together. “Very good. Now, the next step – getting the spell to cast. Remember everything I taught you when you were throwing spells: willpower, concentration, and vision. The same applies when firing your spellshooter, only more. You need to command the pellet to leave the orb and shoot down the barrel towards its target, visualising the end result.” James clapped his hands, and raised his already booming voice. “Raise your spellshooters.”

  “Both of us?”

  “Yes. You will be doing this exercise together, in order to simulate a more natural environment. You will rarely get a scenario where you have no distractions.”

  James took out a stopwatch that had been hanging beneath his clothes.

  “I will be timing both of you. If you can fire the pellet in under ten seconds, you will be upgraded to the next spellshooter, until we find your maximum limit.”

  Ben raised his spellshooter. It felt light, but still heavy enough to be real. He aimed at the target across the room – it was so big that even a blind man was unlikely to miss.

  “Fire on my command,” James said.

  Ben kept his spellshooter steady and counted his slow, rhythmic breathing. One. Two. Three. Four.

  “Fire!”

  Ben visualised the pellet moving down the orb and shooting out the barrel. Immediately from his peripheral vision he saw the pellet respond, moving down to the bottom of the orb. Ben re-focused on the target and laid his hand on the trigger. With a soft squeeze, he fired.

  There was a little kickback as the small red pellet fired out of the barrel and hit the outer-centre of the target, where it made a small splat, reminding Ben of a paint bullet.

  Ben turned and saw Charlie, tongue out, focusing.

  “Stop looking at the orb, just focus on the target,” James said.

  “I am! The pellet must be stuck,” Charlie said, glancing anxiously at James. “I saw Ben’s, it moved down straight away.”

  “Don’t worry what Ben’s did,” James said. “You’re doing fine. Focus back on the target, and visualise the spell hitting it. When you are ready, press the trigger.”

  Ben could see a drip of sweat running down Charlie’s ample cheek. He was biting his lower lip and was grimacing with effort. The pellet started slowly moving down the orb, and Ben had to resist the urge to cheer. Charlie fired.

  The red pellet shot forwards, at a considerably slower pace than Ben’s. Instead of going in a straight direction, it veered left and right, almost hitting into the side walls, before managing to just about scrape the very edge of the target.

  “Yes!” Charlie said, raising both hands in celebration.

  “Very good,” James said, clapping without any hint of sarcasm. “Not many people hit the target first time.”

  “Well, I’m not sure I hit it – grazed it might be a more appropriate word,” Charlie said, smiling despite himself. “How long did I take?”

  “One minute, forty-seven seconds. Ben, you took nine seconds.”

  “Guess I’ll be sticking with this spellshooter, then,” Charlie said. “I’m not sure how many bad guys will be willing to stay still for two minutes while I manage to fire my spellshooter.”

  “Nonsense,” James said. “The first time is always the hardest. We try again.” And with that, he handed them each another pellet.

  “I don’t mind starting with this spellshooter,” Charlie said, his shoulder sagging at the thought of trying to cast another spell.

  James ignored him. “Insert your spells and fire on my command.”

  Charlie lifted his spellshooter with a heavy sigh. Ben did likewise but with relish.

  “Fire!”

  Ben pulled the trigger almost immediately. A fraction of a second later, the spell shot forth and splattered into the exact centre of the target. Ben turned and once more saw Charlie grimacing, but there was a fiery determination in his chubby face and it wasn’t long before he pulled the trigger. This time the spell shot forwards unerringly, hitting the target.

  “Wonderful!” James said, clapping again. He glanced at his watch. “Ben, four seconds, Charlie, twenty-three seconds. Again!”

  On the fifth attempt, Charlie got below the ten-second threshold and was grinning ear to ear.

  “You have surprised
me, Mr. Hornberger,” James said. “I think you’re both ready for the next level.”

  He took their spellshooters, returned them to the rack and pulled out a couple next to them. These ones were a fraction darker, and Ben spotted an extra knot on the yellow-tipped barrel.

  “The spellshooters get progressively harder to command,” James said, handing them both another pellet, which they slipped into their orbs. “You will need to apply more willpower, concentrate harder and make sure your visualisations are crystal clear.”

  “Can’t we just stick with the first one?” Charlie asked.

  “Only if you want to remain small and insignificant,” James said. “Throughout your apprenticeship and even during your time as an Institute member, you will progress through the spellshooters, until you get to the blacks – only those beasts can fire grade-five spells; most people never get there.”

  Ben and Charlie raised their spellshooters when instructed. Both had their eyes trained on the target, but their attention was on the spells sitting in their orbs.

  “Now!”

  There may have been more resistance, but Ben commanded the pellet with such force and intention that it responded immediately regardless. It shot out the barrel and splattered over the centre of the target. Charlie’s hit the target shortly afterwards, slightly off centre.

  “Very good! Ben, six seconds. Charlie, twenty-three seconds. Again!”

  It took another half-dozen attempts before Charlie went under the threshold. However, with the third spellshooter, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t break the ten-second barrier.

  “I’m done,” Charlie said, collapsing against the wall. “I haven’t felt this tired since I made the horrible mistake of attempting to go to the gym.”

  “You have done well, Hornberger,” James said. “Your spellshooter will be a G1 – remember that. G represents the green band at the end of the handle. The number one indicates it is the first level within the green band.”

  James turned, and Ben thought he saw an eagerness there. “Now, Greenwood, let’s see how far you can go.” He turned towards the desk. “Jen, could you go and get Wren please? She wanted to see this.”

  “Why?” Ben asked, watching Jen run out the door.

  “She always likes to watch promising spellshooter tests,” James said. “However, we’re not going to wait for her. Let’s move on to the G2.”

  Ben took the spellshooter and gave it a more experienced glance: darker wood, several knots and gnarls on the barrel, and a green band at the end.

  “Now!”

  Seven seconds. Ben moved straight on to the G3, which he also did in seven seconds. He was just being handed the G4 when a noise came from the door.

  In stepped Jen, wide-eyed and pale. Ben knew immediately that something was amiss, as did James, who frowned. But before he could ask why, Wren, the Director of Spellswords, glided into the room.

  She was not alone. Prince Robert accompanied her. Ben’s eyes went from the effortlessly graceful Wren to the prince. He must have been almost as tall as James, though not quite as well built. Ben couldn’t help staring at those gold-flecked eyes, before being distracted by the five different-coloured diamonds on the prince’s shoulder, one representing each department.

  “Your Highness,” James said. It was the first time Ben had seen James lost for words. “I did not realise you were with Wren or else I would not have troubled her.”

  Prince Robert raised a hand. “Calm yourself, James. Wren and I were in a meeting. I came here of my own volition. Please continue.”

  The prince’s eyes focused on Ben, and he had the sudden feeling that he should bow or something. Instead, he gave an awkward smile and a nod.

  James walked over to Ben and handed him the G4. His eyes were unusually serious. “It’s important that you clear them from your mind.”

  Ben nodded and took the spellshooter, along with the pellet. He couldn’t resist one more glance towards the new guests. Robert was standing perfectly straight, one hand in front of the other. Though his expression was neutral, Ben could detect a genuine curiosity in those gold-flecked eyes. Wren, on the other hand, was giving him an encouraging smile, and exuded a calm that helped nullify the pressure from the prince.

  “Are you ready, Ben?” James asked.

  Ben nodded, and blanked out the prince and Wren from his mind. He raised the spellshooter and aimed.

  “Fire!”

  For the first time, Ben noticed a hint of resistance in the pellet, but Ben gritted his teeth and applied the pressure. The spell shot forth and exploded onto the target.

  “Nine seconds,” James said, glancing at his stopwatch. He took the spellshooter from Ben’s hands and immediately gave him the next one.

  Ben was getting used to having Wren and the prince in the room, but the spellshooters were getting increasingly difficult. The G5 took several attempts and the G6 almost a dozen before he could progress. He was breathing hard when James took that spellshooter out of his hands.

  “Very good. Now we progress to the next level, the blue bands,” James said, and handed Ben his next challenge.

  Ben could immediately tell a difference between this spellshooter and the green-banded ones he’d been firing. This one felt noticeably heavier, the barrel was longer and there were fine threads of fibre running along the barrel that seemed to exude a faint glow.

  “You have done very well,” James said. “However, the blue bands are a considerable step up from the green bands, so do not be surprised if the pellet takes some time to come. Stay patient.”

  Ben risked another glance at Wren and the prince. Wren smiled as soon as he glanced her way, and the prince gave a little nod.

  He slipped the pellet into the spellshooter’s orb, focused on the target, and waited for James’ booming voice. It seemed to take forever.

  “Fire!”

  Ben willed the pellet down the orb. Nothing happened. He glanced at the orb, and saw the pellet starting to wobble. Ben grit his teeth and commanded the pellet with everything he had. The pellet started floating slowly down the orb, but it was taking an age. His mind flickered to Wren and the prince, and the pellet retreated back to the top of the orb. Ben resisted the urge to wipe his brow, and re-doubled his efforts to get the pellet out of the orb. He clenched the handle in a death grip, his only thought to fire the spell. The pellet eventually made it into the barrel and shot forth. It flew in crazy curves, almost crashing into both walls, before hitting the very edge of the target.

  Ben sagged and almost dropped the spellshooter with a mixture of frustration and exhaustion.

  “One minute, thirteen seconds,” James said.

  “That’s pathetic,” Ben said, wiping his brow.

  “Wrong. That was remarkable.” James handed him another pellet. “We go again. Remember, just focus on the pellet; visualise it splashing against the centre of the target. Imagine the splatters it will make.”

  Ben was exhausted. It felt like running a mental marathon. He readied his finger on the trigger and waited for James’ booming voice.

  Forty-eight seconds.

  The improvement fuelled Ben’s determination.

  Thirty-five seconds.

  Stop thinking about the prince.

  Seventeen seconds.

  Imagine the droplets splattering against the target board.

  Twelve seconds.

  Give it absolutely everything.

  Nine seconds.

  “Very good, Ben,” James said, taking the spellshooter from Ben’s limp hand.

  It was only then that he realised some people were clapping. He turned and saw Wren smiling at him, clapping enthusiastically. Prince Robert gave him an approving nod. Those gold-flecked eyes were thoughtful. Ben wondered what was running through his mind.

  “Am I going to do the B2?” Ben asked, turning back to James.

  James shook his head and grinned. “I think we’ll give you a rest for now.”

  Ben had to resist the urge to co
llapse on the floor with relief. He barely had the energy to command his legs to walk, let alone fire another pellet.

  Wren and the prince excused themselves, leaving Ben alone with James, Jennifer, and Charlie, who had watched everything unfold in silent awe.

  Ben’s stomach rumbled, and he realised he was starving, despite the large lunch they had had just a couple of hours earlier.

  “So, how did we do?” Ben asked, before they left.

  James put the spellshooters back on the rack and turned to face both of them, arms folded.

  “Charlie, you were above average.”

  “I feel honoured.”

  James turned to Ben with a smile that smacked of fond but distant memories. “Fewer than a dozen people have managed to fire a B1 during spellshooter testing, and you are only the second person to do it in under ten seconds. The first was your father.”

  — Chapter Seven —

  Draven’s Demand

  Once they became used to the school routine in the morning, Ben and Charlie quickly got back into the groove, moving through the second-grade checklist. As expected, everything was that bit harder. They were required to start learning basic Elvish for Diplomacy, which even Charlie struggled with. The Department of Trade was all about understanding the value the Unseens placed on different commodities. During one particularly tricky exercise, Ben and Charlie spent a week trying to talk a dwarf mechanic down by at least thirty percent to repair a vintage Jaguar. It took five separate trips and they almost came to blows. The Department of Scholar was fairly straightforward, though it required a lot of researching in the library. But Ben didn’t complain; it was fascinating to learn how the Institute explored the Unseen Kingdoms in the 16th century. In the Department of Spellswords, both Ben and Charlie continued to excel in learning how to use their spellshooters. But of all the departments, it was the Wardens that was receiving the most attention. They were given unusually stiff targets, as if they were trying to fast-track new Wardens.