The Protectors (Royal Institute of Magic, Book 3)

by Victor Kloss

  “Has he gone?” Charlie whispered.

  “For now,” Natalie said. “If we can just find this guy’s house before it returns, we might—”

  “There! What on earth is that?” Charlie asked, pointing below them, to their left, all thoughts of silence forgotten.

  The griffin adjusted its flight path and they veered towards what looked like a small castle, floating upon a large, fluffy cloud. The castle was picture perfect, with battlements and towers on each of its four corners. Surrounding the castle was a wall, though Ben couldn’t help think such protection was redundant in the sky.

  A roar came from above. Ben tore his gaze away from the castle and looked around in horror. The wyvern was flying right above them, its long, raking talons just yards from their heads.

  The griffin dropped down instinctively, but the wyvern matched them. Again and again the griffin descended, until the castle was no longer above them, but almost level, with the wall now directly ahead of them, and closing fast.

  “We need to jump!” Natalie said, glancing back at them.

  “What?” Charlie screamed. “Where to?”

  Natalie turned back around and raised herself to a standing position.

  “After three,” she said.

  They sped through a soft cloud. Upon emerging, the castle loomed large, the wall even larger – Ben estimated less than fifty yards.

  “One!”

  The griffin levelled off, and though the wyvern’s talons were still hovering above them, it hadn’t yet gone for the kill.

  “Two!”

  Ben tensed himself, and felt Charlie stiffen behind him. They were going to crash right into the wall. Ben could now make out each individual stone.

  “Three!”

  The griffin swerved so sharply that Ben would have lost his balance had he not been ready. In one smooth motion, the griffin was suddenly flying adjacent to the wall, not towards it.

  “Now!”

  Ben barely had time to glance at the cloud below, before he jumped. It wasn’t high, but they were flying at a great pace, and he braced himself as the cloud came up to greet him. He briefly wondered if he was going to fall right through, when the impact occurred. Mercifully the ground was soft, rubbery almost. Ben rolled and bounced along the cloud floor, before coming to a halt by an open drawbridge.

  Ben heard groans, but was relieved to see Charlie and Natalie climbing to their feet, rubbing various body parts. There was no sign of the griffin or the wyvern.

  “Stay where you are, if you please,” a smooth, very English voice said.

  Ben looked up to see a man dressed in a pristine white tuxedo, with matching hair and eyebrows. His ice blue eyes were calm, and he held a spellshooter that was pointing right at them.

  “If sirs and madam cannot explain your unauthorised intrusion within the next thirty seconds, I will be left with the unfortunate task of blasting you off the cloud. I am awfully sorry, but we have rules here.”

  “We are looking for Nigel Winkleforth,” Ben said, for this was obviously not him. “It is a matter of great importance and highly confidential. We need to see him urgently.”

  “Confidential or not, I’m afraid I need to know about it. Mr. Winkleforth is extremely strict about these matters.” He made a show of looking at his watch. “You have twenty seconds remaining. I suggest you don’t waste your next explanation with words like ’confidential’ and ’urgent’.”

  “Right, I’ve had enough of this,” Charlie said angrily. “We are here because of Winkleforth’s role as a Protector. We need his help convincing another Protector, by the name of Hunter Abney, to take us seriously. I don’t want to sound dramatic, but the outcome of the dark elf war could rest on it. Now, if that doesn’t make any sense, just shoot us and be done with it.”

  Ben saw immediately that Charlie had made the right call. The white-haired man lowered his spellshooter and stared at them with genuine surprise.

  “An unusual story,” the white man said, holstering his spellshooter. His expression softened, transforming his face from a hard-nosed killer to a much more palatable, grandfatherly figure. “Come in. We will talk further.”

  “Sir, our griffin is being chased by your wyvern,” Natalie said, as they strode over the drawbridge towards the castle entrance.

  The man waved a hand. “Please call me Alfred, and don’t worry about your griffin; the wyvern will have stopped the chase as soon as you disembarked.”

  They followed Alfred through the doors and into a large living space that seemed to comprise almost the entire castle. In contrast to the mediaeval exterior, the inside looked more like a modern household. Ben counted at least three separate areas with couches, luxurious rugs, and even flat-screen TVs. There were shelves with wonderful antiques, and more shelves with books and even DVDs. Had Ben not had a good deal of experience with the Unseen Kingdoms, he would have wondered how you could have a flat-screen TV working within a castle on a cloud. But even Charlie barely gave the technology a second glance.

  Alfred led them to a large dining table, and they sat, with Alfred at the end.

  “I fear we should start afresh,” Alfred said. His accent reminded Ben of a butler. “My name is Alfred May, and I am the steward of the Winkleforth household. My family have been stewards here for five generations, though I fear this may be the last, but that is another story.”

  After the introductions were said, there followed an awkward silence. Ben could feel the tension. Protectors were not a subject to be discussed lightly.

  It was Alfred who broke the silence.

  “I know this is a most delicate subject,” he said, interlocking his hands and placing them on the table, “and I suppose you are wondering how we should begin.”

  “How do you know about the Protectors?” Charlie asked. “Nigel should not have disclosed that to anyone.”

  “Alas, you are right,” Alfred said. “I must confess, I learnt about them only yesterday, and only because Mr. Winkleforth was desperate.”

  Ben leaned forwards on the table. “Desperate how?”

  “He had refused to leave his house for several days, which was unusual for Mr. Winkleforth, who practically lived at the Institute. I could tell he was becoming increasingly nervous, and doubled the guard around the castle. It is not my position to question Mr. Winkleforth’s behaviour, but he is not a man prone to irrational behaviour, and I have to confess I was most concerned.”

  Charlie and Natalie had now joined Ben in leaning forwards, striving to hear every perfectly pronounced syllable Alfred was uttering.

  “Last night he told me he was going to meet a man by the name of Hunter Abney, who he said was a Protector. ‘A Protector of what?’ I asked. ‘Elizabeth,’ he replied. He also said that he too was a Protector and that his life was in grave danger. As you may imagine, many questions crossed my mind, chief among them: why was he telling me this now?”

  Alfred pulled a white envelope from his tuxedo and placed it onto the table.

  “Mr. Winkleforth told me that he might not return, and if that happened, I was to wait until someone came looking for him. Should the word ’Protector’ be used in the correct context, I was to give that person this.”

  Alfred slid forwards the envelope; it came to rest in front of Ben. The front said “Guardian”. The back was held in place by an elaborate seal. He picked up the envelope and felt his fingers tingle. He tried to break the seal, but, to his surprise, found it held fast.

  “It will not open unless Mr. Winkleforth passes away,” Alfred said. “We know that he is still alive for now, at least.”

  “Did he say when he was meeting Hunter?” Charlie asked.

  “Seven o’clock this evening,” Alfred said. “At the Crown and Rose, in Tiddlehurst.”

  Ben rose so quickly he knocked his chair back. “That’s in less than four hours. We need to go. I’m sure Hunter will make up some more rubbish about us to Winkleforth, ruining any chance we have of gaining his trust.”

&nb
sp; “I understand your urgency,” Alfred said. “I just wish I had a better handle on what this was all about. Alas, I’m used to being in ignorance, from a lifetime of serving Mr. Winkleforth. He is brilliant, but not an open man.”

  They followed Alfred back outside. Had time not been so critical, Ben would have loved to take a look around. It wasn’t every day you paid a visit to a castle in the clouds protected by an acid-spitting wyvern.

  “So… how are we planning on getting from here to Tiddlehurst in under four hours?” Charlie asked. “By the time we get to the Dragonway, take the bus and walk, we will have missed it.”

  “We’re not taking the Dragonway,” Natalie said firmly.

  She raised her spellshooter to the sky. The orb started flashing blue and making a soft, penetrating, humming noise. Within moments they heard a squawk, which was promptly followed by the griffin materialising through the clouds. She landed softly in front of Natalie.

  “Good girl,” Natalie said, stroking the griffin’s neck.

  “So, what’s the plan?” Ben asked, after joining in the patting on Natalie’s insistence.

  “We fly Ava straight to Tiddlehurst. We should make it with half an hour to spare, providing the weather is okay.”

  “What about all the people who will see us when we fly and then land?” Charlie asked.

  “Ava is a royal griffin. Neither she nor her riders will be seen in flight. But yes, we have to make sure we land somewhere hidden, because the moment she touches ground, we all become visible.”

  Charlie turned to Alfred. “Can you tell your pet wyvern not to try to eat us again?”

  Alfred gave a small smile. “He is not my pet, but do not worry, you will not be harmed.”

  Ben was so eager to go that he tried to get onto Ava first, but the griffin bucked her head until a smiling Natalie took the front position.

  “Good luck, my friends,” Alfred said, raising a hand. “I shall be praying for you and Mr. Winkleforth.”

  “Appreciate it,” Ben said, with a little salute. “Let’s get out of here.”

  — Chapter Twenty-Five —

  An Unexpected Fight

  Talking was impossible while flying, so they settled into a silence that was broken only by Charlie exclaiming when the griffin banked, accelerated, or did anything other than fly smoothly. Ben was more concerned with the overhead clouds, but the griffin seemed to read his mind, and circled the darker ones, so they suffered no more than the odd sprinkle.

  Ben’s thoughts turned to the forthcoming meeting between Winkleforth and Hunter. Together, they had all three lockets, and with them the ability to locate the helm. Had they decided the time was right? With the helm’s Guardian under Hunter’s wing, he had all the pieces in place. But what was he going to do once he had the helm and its Guardian? Try as he might, Ben could not come up with a rational answer. Perhaps Charlie, with considerably more knowledge on Protectors and their purpose, would fare better.

  Ben kept checking his watch every ten minutes, but it seemed to take forever before sea finally gave way to land.

  “This is Dorset,” Charlie said, as they swept over gentle hills of rolling green. The sun was setting, casting a red haze upon its famous fields, but the griffin was flying so swiftly it was hard to appreciate them. They passed over forests, roads and towns, before Ben started recognising some of the landscape.

  He checked his watch again: 6:15pm.

  “How close are we?” he asked.

  “Not long now,” Charlie replied. “We’re only a few miles from my house. Look! There’s the cinema we go to.”

  Tiddlehurst passed below them less than ten minutes later. Ben saw the church spire in the distance. The pub was on the same road, but to his dismay, the griffin flew over the church and continued onwards.

  “What’s she doing?” Ben asked.

  “She needs to find somewhere safe to land,” Natalie said, stroking the griffin’s neck.

  “Can’t you take her off auto-pilot and take over?”

  “I already tried; Ava wouldn’t let me. Don’t worry, she knows where we’re supposed to go. She won’t drop us far away.”

  But Natalie was wrong. The griffin eventually landed at the top of a tree-covered hill, at least a mile from the town.

  “Thank you, Ava,” said Natalie, giving the griffin a final stroke, before it took to the sky again, leaving them alone on the hilltop.

  “Well, it’s safe to say we landed unseen,” Charlie said, hands on hips. “Of course, that might be because we’re in the middle of nowhere.”

  Ben took several deep breaths and shook his legs. “We’ve got fifteen minutes before Winkleforth meets Hunter. I reckon it’ll take us about ten minutes to get there, so we’d better get going. Charlie, you up for a run?”

  “Take a guess,” Charlie muttered, rubbing his little pot belly.

  “At least most of it’s downhill,” Natalie said. “We won’t go too fast.”

  Charlie went red, and his face became unreadable. “I’ll keep up. You set whatever pace you want.”

  Ben used the slope of the hill to gather speed, and then set a steady pace towards the town, eyes focused on the church in the distance. It felt good to run after being stuck on the griffin for so long, but his mind soon turned to the meeting, attempting to form a plan for the multitude of eventualities that might occur.

  Ben was so focused on his plans that he didn’t register the flash of colour that lit up the small clump of trees to their right. It was followed by a bang that made his body shake.

  “What was that?” Charlie said, stopping suddenly. He was breathing hard.

  Beyond the trees Ben saw a playground.

  “That was a spell,” Natalie said, her green eyes staring intently through the trees. “I’m sure of it, but the trees are blocking my view.”

  Ben glanced at his watch in frustration. They had seven minutes to get to the pub in time to catch Winkleforth before he met Hunter.

  “Do we have time to see what’s over there?” Charlie asked. “We can’t be late.”

  “No, we can’t,” Ben agreed. He was torn. Stay the course or investigate? As an apprentice, he was bound to investigating, but as a Guardian, nothing was more important than their search for Elizabeth’s Helm.

  “We go; we look; we come back. Unless someone is dying horribly, we’ll fire a tracker spell for the Institute and they can deal with it.”

  Ben loosened the spellshooter in his holster and they turned towards the noise. More flashes of light lit up the trees in a plethora of colour. The action was clearly happening in the playground, but the trees in front of it were so thick it was difficult to see anything.

  An angry shout pierced the evening silence. Then voices. One of them sounded familiar.

  Ben turned to Charlie and Natalie with growing alarm, and darted forwards.

  “Be careful!” Charlie said, struggling to keep up.

  Ben barely heard him. That voice was unmistakable. But what was he doing here? He was supposed to be in the pub.

  Ben stopped under the trees. He took one look at the playground and only just managed to stay quiet, but his attempt at silence was ruined by Charlie’s and Natalie’s gasps of astonishment.

  Hunter Abney was firing a spellshooter at a tall man with three white diamonds hovering above his shoulder. The spells came thick and fast, and Winkleforth was defending for his life.

  Ben lost valuable seconds trying to understand what was happening. The two Protectors were fighting each other. Even as Ben pulled out his spellshooter, Hunter launched a mighty flame in the shape of a giant eagle. It flew towards Winkleforth, gracefully dodging his desperate defence. Its claws dug deep into Winkleforth’s chest, and Ben saw blood. The fire eagle lifted Winkleforth off the ground and soared upwards, before dropping him a good fifty feet. He hit the ground with a bone-crunching thud. There were several twitches, and then he moved no more.

  Natalie was looking on in horror, her hand over her mouth. Charlie had g
one completely pale and looked like he was going to be sick.

  The fire eagle disappeared and Hunter moved forwards swiftly. He bent down and took something off Winkleforth’s lifeless body.

  It was the third locket.

  Ben stepped forwards and drew his spellshooter, trying to push the brutal death he had just witnessed from his mind.

  Hunter turned, clutching the lockets to his chest. His eyes narrowed the moment he spotted Ben.

  “I thought you might show up,” Hunter said. “You are a resourceful one.”

  Ben struggled to get his mind in gear. “You killed him.”

  “I had to,” Hunter said. He spoke calmly, as if he was discussing the weather. “He wouldn’t give me the locket, so I had to take it. It wasn’t my fault. It was the same with the other one.”

  “What other one?” Natalie asked, her voice bewildered. She and Charlie had stepped forwards to join Ben.

  Ben cast his mind back to when they had found Hunter tending to the other Protector, who died at the hands of a dark elf. Ben remembered the dark elf fleeing; he was tall and lean. Just like Nigel Winkleforth.

  Exactly like Winkleforth.

  Everything clicked into place with such clarity and horrifying realisation that Ben was momentarily stunned.

  “You killed the other Protector,” Charlie said, his voice incredulous. “You got them together and tried to take them both out. We saw someone fleeing the scene and you told us it was a dark elf. But in actual fact, it was Winkleforth fleeing because you tried to kill him.”

  “Yes, he got away. But I knew he would return; he had nobody else to turn to,” Hunter said. There was a strange glint in his eye. “I tried again to reason with him. The helm needs to return to its rightful owner. But he wouldn’t listen.”

  Ben was staring at Hunter as if he’d never seen him before. His face looked gaunt, and his dark skin plastered tight against his face, revealing high cheek bones.

  “Why are you doing this? I’ve read about Protectors. You are chosen for your nobility, courage and dedication. Where are yours?” Charlie asked.

  Hunter frowned, and just for a moment Ben saw a flicker of uncertainty. Then it was gone.