The Protectors (Royal Institute of Magic, Book 3)

by Victor Kloss

  The sword in Ben’s hand disappeared as the spell expired, and time around him returned to normal. Suddenly, everything appeared to be happening in fast forward.

  “Ben!”

  The scream came from his left, and he saw Abigail staring at him, struggling wildly in Hunter’s arms. The two guards by his side had joined their comrades in fighting the officers, leaving Hunter momentarily alone and unguarded.

  With a quick glance to make sure none of the officers needed help, Ben eased himself left, out of the combat zone in the centre of the hall. The clash of swords and firing spells felt fractionally less intense now that he was out of the firing line.

  “Don’t come any closer,” Hunter said. He pulled Abigail towards him and Ben saw a small knife placed dangerously close to her neck. There was an intense, almost crazy look in his eyes, and Ben noticed that his hands were shaking. “He will be here in a minute, and then it will be done.”

  “Put down the knife, Hunter,” Ben said. His voice was calm, a stark contrast to the cries of violence and clashing of swords that were going on. “You don’t want to kill the girl. I know you don’t.”

  Hunter looked down at Abigail. Her long eyelashes highlighted her bloodshot eyes, and her blonde hair was strewn everywhere. Ben searched for a glimmer of sympathy or compassion in Hunter’s eyes – he saw a brief flash of confusion, before he yanked her closer to him, causing Abigail to cry out.

  “I’m warning you,” Hunter said, with a growl. “I won’t be killing her – you will.”

  Ben didn’t move any closer. His mind was working furiously. How could he extract Abigail without harming her? Would Hunter really kill her? He was mad enough, certainly, but he must have brought her here for a purpose, which meant he must want her alive.

  “Stop messing about and grab the girl!”

  Sam’s deep voice echoed across the room. With a quick thrust, he downed his dark elf opponent.

  A deep rumbling noise suddenly cut through the melee. It was so intense the village hall shook, and Ben almost lost his balance.

  Hunter’s eyes lit up. “He is here!”

  Ben felt his presence even before he entered. The fighting had stopped, and everyone turned towards the village hall entrance.

  The bodyguards came first, wearing black armour and holding swords the size of Ben. Prince Ictid entered moments later, wearing a purple cloak with sparkling gold hieroglyphs. He was bigger than Ben remembered, well over six feet, with broad shoulders not often found on elves. His eyes seemed to glow purple, and on his head was a small crown.

  Ben felt his eyes burn as he looked at the elf prince, making him squint. The prince stopped, and surveyed the scene with icy calm. The dark elves in the hall immediately dropped to one knee and bowed their heads.

  The officers looked to Sam, with undisguised fear in their eyes. The only way out was now barred by the prince and his guards.

  Sam charged at the dark elf prince. After only a moment’s hesitation, the surviving officers followed suit.

  They managed three steps, before the prince raised a hand.

  The officers froze mid-stride, except for Sam and David, who looked like they were running through treacle. Sam managed to raise his arm and fire a spell at the prince. It was blocked by one of his bodyguards.

  The prince motioned his hand upwards, and the officers were lifted off their feet, until they were hovering in mid-air. To Ben’s astonishment, Sam and David managed to get off a couple more shots, one of which took down a dark elf. The prince swept his hand aside, and the officers flew towards the right wall. Ben winced as he heard bones snapping on impact. The prince dropped his hand, and the officers fell like ragdolls into the spellshooter rack. None of them got up again.

  Prince Ictid turned to face Ben, noting with mild surprise that he had not received the same treatment as the officers. Ben felt his eyes watering, but he forced himself to meet the prince’s painful gaze.

  “Welcome, Guardian of the Sword,” the prince said. He turned to one of his guards. “Capture him. Don’t use magic – it will not work – and don’t kill him. My father requires his blood, unspilled.”

  “Yes, Your Highness,” the guard said, with a bow. He sheathed his sword, and advanced towards Ben.

  The sheer size of the royal guard was daunting enough, but it was the confident, almost arrogant manner in which he approached that concerned Ben most.

  Ben had been saving this spell for the prince himself, but he now realised nothing but a grade-five spell would touch the prince. Ben focused – it wasn’t easy with the dark elf bearing down on him. The spell wouldn’t come easily, and Ben threw everything he had into getting the pellet down into the barrel. The bodyguard was less than five metres away when he fired. A small, dark pellet exploded out of the spellshooter, and swiftly expanded into a cannonball the size of Ben’s head. It hit the elf with a bone-crunching thud and he went crashing into and through the wall.

  Ben stared at his spellshooter in astonishment. There was smoke coming from the tip of the barrel.

  “Very good, for one so young,” Prince Ictid said, sounding completely unfazed. He turned to the bodyguard to his right. “Akrath, let’s see if you can fare any better against the boy.”

  Ben watched wearily as another bodyguard approached. If it was possible, this one was even bigger. Ben was tired now, both physically and mentally. He tried to focus, but knew immediately he didn’t have the capacity to summon another grade-four spell. Instead, he fired a series of ice spears at the guard. The dark elf didn’t even block them, but took the impact right on his barrel chest with barely a flinch.

  Ben stepped back instinctively. Run or fight? The latter was futile, but the former was simply not an option while Abigail and the lockets remained. He gritted his teeth and fired a spell into his hand, summoning another sword.

  The dark elf did not draw his own sword, and barely even glanced at Ben’s, even when it came flying towards his chest. The guard batted it aside, and wrapped a huge arm round Ben’s neck. Ben stepped inside the grip, leapt up, and cracked a fist right into the elf’s nose. Ben’s hand exploded with pain, but he had the satisfaction of hearing the guard grunt, with anger more than pain. He felt an arm grab him by the scruff of the neck, and lift him off the ground. He turned Ben round so they looked face to face. Ben was glad to see blood leaking from the dark elf’s nose, but less than thrilled with the murderous look he was receiving. Ben tried to launch another punch, but he could get no purchase while dangling in mid-air. The guard brought his own free hand forwards, and balled it into a fist.

  The prince’s voice rang out. “No blood, Akrath.”

  Akrath dropped Ben down unceremoniously, snatching the spellshooter from Ben’s grasp.

  The prince waited patiently as the dark elves scrambled to put the purple carpet back in place. Once it was perfectly laid out, the prince strode forwards and sat down on the ornate chair on the platform, his most senior elves standing either side of him.

  To Ben’s dismay, another regiment of dark elves began to file in through the front door, lining up in perfect formation, to occupy most of the hall.

  “Come forwards, Protector,” the prince ordered, extending a finger to Hunter.

  Like a puppet, Hunter moved forwards, taking Abigail with him. Ben struggled to get free, but the beefy hand of the guard held him back.

  “No, let the boy come forwards too. He is just as important as the girl,” the prince said.

  Hunter, Abigail and Ben stopped at the foot of the stage, directly below the prince.

  “The lockets,” the prince ordered.

  “Don’t!” Ben said.

  Hunter ignored him, and silently handed the lockets over to the prince, with a blank look on his face. The prince admired them for a moment, with a satisfied smile, and then handed them to a small elf by his side. In a hall full of tall, well-built dark elves, this little elf caught Ben by surprise. He was cloaked and hooded, hiding his face completely.

  Th
e prince returned his attention to Hunter. “Now, obviously I will need to kill you, but I think we shall have some fun first. I have been told there is no pain for you humans quite like the feeling of betrayal. Let’s see if that’s true.”

  The tip of the prince’s finger started to glow, and a small, silvery spell shot into Hunter’s temple, illuminating his head.

  Hunter blinked. He shook his head, and looked around in confusion. His mouth opened slowly, and his eyes widened, as he surveyed the scene. A look of pure horror filled his face. His hand went to his chest, and he started patting furiously.

  “No,” he said softly. Then louder. “No!” He glanced up, and saw the elf next to the prince with the lockets.

  “You’ve done some bad things, haven’t you, Hunter?” the prince said. He was smiling and enjoying himself.

  Hunter threw his head back and cried out in despair, falling to his knees. He bowed his head, and started sobbing.

  The prince watched him for a minute with an amused smile. “When he has finished suffering, kill him,” he ordered.

  The prince turned to another elf standing by his side. Ben had been so focused on the prince, he hadn’t paid much attention to the others standing on the platform. This elf was only marginally smaller than the prince. His head was completely shaved, and there was a purple mark in the shape of a star on his forehead, which Ben assumed had something to do with rank. Though his presence was dwarfed by the prince, Ben could feel the strength emanating from him.

  “General, when do reinforcements arrive?”

  “In less than an hour, Your Highness,” the shaven-headed elf replied.

  “Good. I am not expecting the Institute for at least another forty-eight hours. Are the other locations all secure?”

  “Yes, Your Highness. We had a few issues with the town of Dunsworth, but we had anticipated such. I had a report just in the last hour that it has been secured.”

  “Good,” the prince said, with a nod. “Now, I need transportation for the two Guardians. My father is expecting them.”

  Ben felt a chill run down his spine. “Why does he want us?”

  Ben wasn’t expecting an answer, and was surprised when the prince glanced his way. As soon as the prince smiled, Ben knew it was going to be bad.

  “Your blood, of course,” the prince replied. He feigned a look of surprise. “You do not know? My father intends to harness the power of Elizabeth’s Armour. With it, he will be truly invincible.”

  “He can’t,” Ben said, with a frown. “It won’t work.”

  “Oh, I’m afraid it will,” the prince said. “It has taken centuries of research, but he found a way. The first of several important steps is bathing in the blood of the Guardians.” The prince smiled. “We will need all your blood, which is why I am loath to spill any of it – yet.”

  Ben saw Abigail go weak at the knees and he leant over to prop her up. He wanted to whisper her words of encouragement, but he was tired of lying.

  “Transport for the Guardians is on its way, Your Highness,” the general said.

  “Good. Prepare my dragon for departure.”

  The general bowed, and promptly departed.

  Ben wondered what sort of transportation they were taking. If it was something like a griffin or a pegasus, perhaps he could overcome the rider. It was a forlorn hope, but clinging on to it staved off despair.

  The prince stood up. He was about to step off the platform, when he stopped, his leg in mid-air. His ears twitched, and he perked his head up, looking like a dog who had picked up a scent. His eyes narrowed, and a frown replaced the confidence on his face.

  “What is that?” the prince asked.

  Ben heard nothing, but several of the dark elves started murmuring, and Ben felt an uneasy tension in the room.

  Then he heard it. Faint at first, but getting louder by the second. Shouts; screams; cries of anger and defiance; clashes of steel. It was coming from somewhere above. High above.

  “It’s not possible,” the prince whispered, his eyes becoming distant. “They are too early.”

  “Your Highness!”

  A guard came flying into the village hall, barging his way past the guards, his eyes wide. Ben noticed blood splattered on his armour.

  “We are under—”

  A thunderous crashing noise drowned out the elf’s final words. Ben looked up, and saw a set of mighty talons rip through the roof as if it were made of tissue paper. Ben grabbed Abigail and hit the floor, throwing his body on top of hers. Huge chunks of timber and bits of roof came crashing down. There were cries from the dark elves; a few gave in to panic and scrambled for cover, but the majority cast shields, blocking all but the largest chunks of debris.

  The body of the taloned beast landed in the village hall with such force that Ben heard several stone tiles crack. When the noise finally stopped, Ben lifted his head, just a fraction, to find out what had happened.

  A dragon, with gleaming golden scales, had landed in the centre of the hall. It was hunched down so its head could fit just below what was left of the roof.

  Seated on the dragon were Wren, Alex, and Draven.

  — Chapter Thirty —

  Unexpected Help

  There was a moment of stunned silence, as the dark elves stared in horror at the huge beast. The prince was not looking at the dragon, but those seated on it.

  “Good evening!” Alex said, with a friendly wave to the open-mouthed dark elves.

  The prince reacted first, raising both hands, and summoning a ball of purple energy bigger than Ben’s head. It launched towards the riders, searing the very air as it flew. Wren, Draven and Alex leapt off the dragon, and the bolt of energy crashed through a piece of roof, and kept on going, lighting up the night sky.

  Wren and Draven confronted the dark elf prince, who eyed them with a confidence Ben found frightening, given the huge dragon in the room. Alex hung back, raised his own spellshooter, and fired a bright light into the night sky. A chorus of cheers answered the signal, and Ben watched in amazement as griffins and pegasi, manned by Institute members, began diving through the broken roof. Ben had to step back to avoid being flattened.

  A deafening cry went up from the dark elves, and they charged into the new arrivals. The sounds of spells shooting, swords clashing and people screaming filled the air.

  “Come on!”

  Ben had to shout to Abigail, even though she was right next to him.

  They snaked round the edge of the hall. Nobody paid any attention to them, but Ben had to stop and duck several times to avoid a stray spell or even a body that went flying across the room.

  It was then that Ben noticed the small, hooded dark elf with the lockets slinking across the other side of the village hall. He was nimbly ducking and weaving his way through the pandemonium. Ben grabbed Abigail’s hand and quickened his pace. He kept checking on the elf – they were running almost parallel to each other. With a reckless surge, Ben made it to the doorway moments before the elf. He placed a protesting Abigail to one side, and turned to face the dark elf.

  It was then he realised he had no spellshooter.

  The small dark elf had a small sword sheathed, but he made no move to draw it, and barely even registered Ben, who was blocking the way out. The elf suddenly accelerated, and Ben tensed, ready to tackle him. Moments before he was within reach, the elf leapt, and somersaulted over Ben’s head with such height that even Ben’s outstretched arms couldn’t reach him. Ben spun, but the elf landed and started running with a speed that Ben could never hope to match.

  Ben watched hopelessly as the elf accelerated into the distance. But, just as he was about to disappear from view, a shadow appeared, blocking his path. Ben could just about make out the elf leaping again, but this time there was a flash of light and the dark elf was knocked back. Swords were drawn, and the clash of steel rang out.

  “It’s him,” Abigail said. She had appeared beside him and was staring with surprise and revulsion at the man blocking the
elf’s path.

  “Who?”

  But as they cautiously approached, Ben could soon make out the figure.

  It was Hunter. Ben stood, stunned. Somehow he had escaped in the melee.

  “Hide in those bushes,” Ben said, pointing.

  “Can I watch?” Abigail asked.

  Ben was momentarily surprised by the petite girl’s question. As a compromise, Ben convinced her to hide behind a tree, within sight of the action.

  Ben raced to the fight scene, circling round the dark elf so he was side by side with Hunter, who had managed to grab a sword and a spellshooter from the hall. Ben cursed himself for not having done the same.

  “Stand aside, Ben,” Hunter said, glancing his way. “I need this.”

  The madness was gone from both his voice and his face. There was a clear, focused glint in his eye.

  “I could distract him,” Ben said.

  “No. That would lessen the worth of my deed,” Hunter said. “Please, step aside.”

  Ben reluctantly did so, and was forced to watch as Hunter stepped in to meet the dark elf.

  The dark elf was frighteningly quick, flicking and thrusting with inhuman speed. But Hunter, grim-faced, matched each attack with ruthless efficiency. Time and again, they attacked and retreated. Ben watched in awe, as they whittled each other down. Hunter was now bleeding from a deep gash in his arm and a slice on his cheek. The elf was limping, and his left eye was puffy.

  The elf’s pace had slowed considerably, and Ben wanted to leap in, but Hunter waved him away with a tired arm.

  They were too evenly matched. It was going to come down to a slip or a gamble. The dark elf seemed to sense this. He snarled and, with a cat-like cry, launched a furious attack, with a speed that defied his exhaustion. Hunter grimaced, and blocked, once, twice, three times. The fourth he failed to block. The dark elf’s sword sank deep into Hunter’s body, and he groaned with agony. The dark elf pushed him away, and Hunter fell down, the elf’s blade protruding from his stomach.