by Victor Kloss
Something fell to the ground. Ben turned, and saw the dark elf on his knees, Hunter’s sword buried in his chest. Ben realised then what had happened. Hunter had chosen not to block, and launched a suicidal counter attack. It had worked, but he had paid the ultimate price.
Ben ran to Hunter’s side, staring helplessly at the protruding sword. He was still breathing, but barely.
“Ben,” Hunter said, his voice a whisper. “I am so sorry.”
“Don’t talk,” Ben said. He looked around helplessly, and shouted into the night, “Help! Can anyone help?”
Hunter gave a weak cough. “Ben, listen to me. I must explain myself and I don’t have much time.”
“I’m listening,” Ben said. “But you’ve got lots of time. I’ve called for help. Someone will come soon.”
“Ictid, the dark elf prince,” Hunter said. He coughed again. “He found me. I knew they were looking, and I got sloppy. The prince tortured me until I was too weak to resist his mind spells.”
Hunter stopped, and for a moment Ben thought he had spoken his last words. But with great effort, he went on.
“My life has not been my own recently, save for sporadic moments of no consequence.” The pain in his eyes was not of a physical nature. “I know I have failed. I have failed as a Protector in the worst possible manner.”
“Yes, you failed,” Ben said. There was no point in sweet-talking such a blatant fact. “But you know what? You redeemed yourself. You retrieved the lockets. You came good.”
Hunter gave the merest flicker of a smile. “Can you at least forgive me?”
“Of course I can,” Ben said with feeling.
“Thank you.” Hunter’s eyes became distant. “I just wish the others could too.”
Ben held Hunter as the life finally ebbed from his body, and then put him down gently. He rose, surprised to find his eyes were moist. The sight of figures running in the distance reminded Ben that he was far from safe. He quickly walked over to the dead dark elf and removed the lockets from his neck. Then he went back to the tree where Abigail hid. For one heart-stopping moment, he thought she had gone. He looked down, and saw she was lying on the floor. Her breathing was regular, but as there was no way in hell she could have fallen asleep, she must have fainted. He hoisted her over his shoulder, thankful that she was so light.
The journey back to the house where he had left Charlie and Natalie was a slow one. Every few paces he had to stop and hide, as more dark elves rushed towards the village hall. Thankfully, they ran with such intent that Ben suspected even if he’d walked in plain sight, they would still have ignored him.
Tired, bloodied, and now with an aching shoulder, Ben concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, until finally the house came into view. He slumped against the door, and managed a couple of solid knocks, before he too passed out.
— Chapter Thirty-One —
A Tight Spot
Ben woke to the soft chatter of two familiar voices. For a minute, he thought he had dozed off again in the Institute library – a common problem when you’re trying to read The Twenty Most Significant Diplomatic Breakthroughs with the Mountain Dwarves.
He opened his eyes. He wasn’t in the library.
The memories came flooding back. Ben shot up, and quickly shot back down again, groaning. His whole body was aching, and his shoulder was heavily bandaged and stung like crazy. He was lying on a couch in a small, but cosy lounge. Natalie and Charlie were watching him with great concern.
“How are you feeling?” Natalie asked gently.
“Like I’ve been run over by a car,” Ben said. “How long have I been out?”
“A couple of hours,” Charlie said.
Ben cursed, and struggled to his feet, trying to ignore the searing pain in his shoulder. But Natalie blocked his path, and with a gentle but surprisingly firm push lowered him back onto the couch.
“The attack,” Ben said urgently. “What’s happening?”
“Calm down,” Charlie said. “We won, but it wasn’t pretty.”
Ben recalled the battle in the village hall. “What about Prince Ictid?”
“Escaped,” Charlie said, glancing out the window. “He summoned his pet black dragon, blew up most of the village hall, including dozens of his own dark elves, and then left.”
Ben gathered his thoughts. “Where is Abigail?”
Charlie pointed, and Ben saw her, still unconscious – or sleeping – on another couch.
The house was empty, Ben realised, a stark contrast to before, when they had a dozen men squeezed into the lounge.
“Where is everyone?” Ben asked. “There were still at least half a dozen here after I left.”
“Gone,” Natalie said, with a hint of bitterness. “They went to help.”
Ben stared at them both, measuring their reactions. “It was mayhem out there; I’m glad you didn’t follow. I thought you might have.”
“We tried,” Charlie admitted. “But they cast a locking spell on the house, for our protection. It expired moments before you arrived.”
Ben recalled the argument Charlie and Natalie had just before he left, and noticed the animosity between the two seemed to have disappeared.
“I was wrong,” Natalie said, guessing Ben’s thoughts and giving Charlie an apologetic smile. “One of the officers felt a bit sorry for us, so he weakened the spell on one of the top windows, so we could fire at passing elves. Our spells barely did a thing.”
“They were some of the prince’s elite warriors,” Ben said, trying to console her.
“Even so,” Natalie said. “I need to become a better Spellsword. It was awful not being able to do anything.”
Ben managed to get up slowly, and walked to a window, clutching his shoulder. He saw several motionless bodies scattered along the road; many were dark elves. Were the others Institute members who perished in the line of duty? Or were they normal people caught in the crossfire? Ben desperately hoped not.
“Are you ready to tell us what happened?” Natalie asked. She was looking at him anxiously, but Ben could see the curiosity behind her tactful approach.
Ben had almost forgotten that Charlie and Natalie were still in the dark. He eased back down onto the couch, and began the tale, starting from the moment he left the house, right the way through to hauling Abigail back.
Charlie and Natalie listened with rapt attention, and neither spoke for a full minute after he finished, both clearly trying to digest everything.
“I knew there was something wrong with Hunter,” Charlie said, eventually breaking the silence.
Natalie frowned, a look of deep sympathy in her eyes. “The poor man. I can only imagine the anguish he must have felt when he was released from the spell and realised what he had done.”
“I’ve never heard anything like it,” Ben admitted. He recalled again the hollow look in Hunter’s eyes just before he passed away. “I’m glad he came good, but I don’t think he’d forgiven himself.”
They lapsed into another silence. Ben was glad for the break in conversation; recalling the events was emotionally exhausting.
“Well, other than the mass carnage and death, the night turned out better than expected,” Charlie said brightly. “We have all three lockets, and we have the helm’s Guardian. The question is – what do we do now?”
“We can’t do anything until Abigail wakes,” Natalie said. “Ben is certainly in no shape to carry her, unless you want to?”
“We wait,” Charlie said immediately, his face flushing.
Ben promptly switched the subject away from Charlie. “It will be interesting to see how she takes everything.”
“Let’s hope she’s still sane,” Charlie said. “I probably wouldn’t be.”
Ben stared at Abigail’s face. Despite being out cold, she seemed strangely serene. Would she be willing to join the Institute? Could she make the grade? And most important of all, how would she fare as a Guardian? Ben found it difficult to imagine that little slip of
a thing helping take on the most powerful enemy on the planet.
Sitting and waiting were not Ben’s strong suits, and he soon became restless, pacing the room, trying to iron out the aches and pains in his body simply by using it.
A knock on the door cut short his gentle workout.
“Who could that be?” Charlie said anxiously.
Knowing the danger was over, Ben walked towards the door and opened it, hoping one of the officers might have made it back.
He was way off.
Standing in the doorway was Wren, looking as relaxed and composed as always, with her hair piled on top of her head, and her green dress somehow untouched by the battle. Ben thought he could detect a weariness in her grey eyes, and there was a thin cut running up her left cheek.
“Good evening – or, I should say, morning, as midnight passed us some time ago,” Wren said, smoothing down her dress. “I always bring a spare set of clothes when we do these sorts of things. It doesn’t do for a director to look unkempt. May I come in?”
She waited patiently by the door until Ben nodded, and then followed Ben into the lounge. Her expression remained relaxed, but Ben knew she was taking in everything.
“Ah, Charlie and Natalie. I’m pleased to see you here.” She turned to the unconscious Abigail. “And an unconscious girl who I’ve never seen before. Interesting.”
Ben had a minute to collect his thoughts while she was surveying the lounge. His heart was beating as fast as any time in the village hall fight. How was he going to explain all this to Wren? One thing was for sure: he needed to go on the offensive.
“How did you find us?” Ben asked. As long as he kept asking questions, she couldn’t voice her own.
“Dagmar’s griffin,” Wren said. She glanced at a chair. “Is it okay if I sit? The fight was rather tiring. Ictid is a dark elf of immense power, and I’m not as young as I used to be.”
“Of course,” Natalie blurted out.
Ben followed suit, suppressing a groan as a stab of pain hit his shoulder.
“She arrived several hours ago, sporting some very nasty wyvern burns. As a beastmaster, and the griffin’s owner, Dagmar was able to communicate with it. Woodland Row was one of the villages we had suspected the dark elves might target, so we knew right away that they must have already done so. I summoned every able-bodied fighter available and we launched an attack.” Her voice softened. “We lost many, but we reclaimed the village, and I believe we have, for the time being, deterred Ictid from launching another strike here.”
“Ictid mentioned they had already taken other places,” Ben said.
Wren nodded. “We feared it might be so. Draven is already on the case. That man doesn’t stop, bless him.”
Wren allowed them a moment to digest her news. Ben spent it trying to think of something else to ask, but Wren had summed up everything so well, he struggled to think of anything rational to say.
Wren took advantage of the silence. “Well, that is my story. You can imagine our surprise when we saw you, Ben, in the village hall, standing before Prince Ictid as his prisoner. I am very interested, and more than a little bit curious, to hear your story.”
Charlie and Natalie instantly turned to Ben expectantly, but he was stumped. The brief moments Wren had given him by telling her story weren’t enough to come up with a believable story. But he had to try. Sticking to his tried and trusted method of keeping to the truth as much as possible, Ben managed to fumble his way through, leaving out everything to do with the Protectors and Elizabeth’s Armour. At the end, Wren was looking at him with an amused smile on her face.
“Not bad,” she said. “Especially given that you had only a few minutes to make up something. Now, do you want me to point out the gaping holes in your story or shall we just proceed to the real version?”
There was a long, awkward silence, where, try as he might, Ben couldn’t hold Wren’s gaze. As weak as the story was, he knew he would have to defend it to the hilt or else it would lose all remaining credibility.
“I think the time has come to tell me what is going on,” Wren said. “I have the whole executive council demanding answers and, believe me, they won’t buy that story any more than I do.”
“They are all here?” Ben asked. He could remember seeing only Wren, Alex and Draven.
“They are indeed, and they all know of your involvement. I had to fend Draven off with a stick, as he wanted to come with me to find you.”
Ben turned to Natalie and Charlie. Both were looking at him with resigned, defeated expressions. It was clear they saw no way out of this tight spot. Nor could Ben.
“I am sworn to secrecy,” Ben said softly.
“Yet Charlie and Natalie know, correct?”
“Charlie has been with me since the beginning,” Ben said, his voice finding some defiance. “And Natalie became unwittingly caught up in it when the dark elf king tried to use me to catch my parents. I trust them both with my life.”
“And you don’t trust me?” Wren said softly.
“I do,” Ben said, and then hesitated. “But you are part of the Institute.”
“So you don’t trust the Institute?”
“Not everyone.”
Wren’s eyes narrowed. “I see.”
Ben cursed loudly to the ceiling. Tiptoeing around the issue wasn’t working.
“There are certain things I cannot tell you,” Ben said, with a touch of irritation. “I wish I could, but I can’t.” He sighed. “Listen, I know it doesn’t make sense, and I understand that the council are going to be hounding you – and me. So I will tell you something, but I need your word that you will not tell the council.”
“What shall I tell them, if not the truth?” Wren asked.
“Make something up,” Ben said, holding firm. Then he gave a little smile. “You might want to make it more convincing than my feeble effort.”
Wren returned the smile, but it was a good thirty seconds before she finally nodded. “I will keep it to myself.”
Ben took a deep breath. His heart was beating fast and he suddenly felt lightheaded. Was he betraying a five-hundred-year-old secret? Was he betraying Queen Elizabeth? I have no choice, he kept telling himself. Even with the decision made, he was determined to give away as little as possible. He spoke slowly, every word carefully chosen.
“When Queen Elizabeth defeated the dark elf king Suktar, five centuries ago, she knew he would return, but she didn’t know when. So she entrusted a few families with the means to overcome Suktar, if united. The Greenwoods are one of those families, and we were specifically entrusted with the task of finding the others.”
Wren was looking at him with an intensity he had not seen before.
“Elizabeth left you the means to overcome Suktar? I assume you are referring to some powerful artefact,” Wren said, gauging his response.
Ben did not flinch.
“I am sorry to probe you, but I must,” Wren said. “Why you? Why not your parents, who, with all due respect, seem far more suited to the task?”
“It falls upon the youngest of each family,” Ben said, allowing her another titbit that he felt couldn’t harm.
“I see. I must ask one final question: why did she not entrust this to the Institute? After all, she is the founder.”
Ben debated long on this question. At first, he thought about rebutting it, but this was arguably the most important factor of all, if they were to have Wren on their side.
“The queen was very firm about this,” Ben said. “She did give a specific reason for it, one that is black and white. I cannot say more, I’m sorry.”
Ben half expected Wren to press him, but to his relief she gave him a reassuring smile, and relaxed.
“I understand,” she said. “I know how difficult this was to share with me, and I am extremely grateful.”
Wren rose gracefully, and Ben, along with Charlie and Natalie, followed suit.
“I must get back. The council were due to convene five minutes ago.”
“What will you tell them?” Ben said, trying to mask his anxiety.
Wren stopped as she was walking to the door, and turned back to them. “Don’t worry, I will come up with something. Your secret is safe.” Wren put her hand on the door handle, and then turned back a final time, her gaze flicking to Abigail. “Am I correct in assuming the girl is part of another family so entrusted?”
“You are,” Ben said.
Wren gave a little shake of the head. “Fascinating.”
She opened the door, and left the three of them alone with the unconscious Abigail.
— Chapter Thirty-Two —
The New Guardian
“Am I still dreaming?”
Ben, Charlie and Natalie turned, and found Abigail sitting up and rubbing her eyes.
Natalie was first to her side. “How are you feeling?”
Abigail’s eyes widened – if that were possible – at the sight of Natalie.
“I must still be dreaming,” Abigail said. She raised a tentative hand towards Natalie’s face and touched her ears. “I know that because you are definitely part-elf. Interesting, you are more human than I imagined. But, then, dreams are really just your imagination having fun, aren’t they? Maybe it’s time I listened to my parents and cut back on the fantasy stories.”
Natalie gently held Abigail’s hand. “You’re not dreaming, I’m afraid.”
Abigail didn’t seem to register Natalie’s words, but she did give a little start when she saw Ben.
“You! You are in my dreams a lot. I wonder if that means I have a crush on you.” Her expression darkened, a subtle lowering of the eyebrows. “My science teacher was also in it, but he turned out to be quite wicked.”
Ben listened as patiently as possible to her soft, almost baby-like voice, as she rattled off a somewhat distorted version of the previous few hours, which included lots of very evil elves, a “magical” dragon, and a valiant rescue.
“Okay, I’m going to have to cut you off there,” Ben said, as she continued to talk away. “This isn’t a dream. Do you want me to pinch you?”
