The Silver Dwarf (Royal Institute of Magic, Book 4)

by Victor Kloss

  Something nudged his leg. Ben managed to raise his head, and saw Elander standing over him, his staff touching Ben.

  “Brace yourself,” the dwarf said.

  An incredible surge of energy flowed through every vein and cell in his body. Ben arched his back and gasped, as his body began a healing process a million times faster than the norm. It was all over in less than a minute, and left Ben gasping for breath. The pain, though, was gone, and when he glanced at his shoulders, he saw clean, unblemished skin.

  “I’m sorry, that was the only effective way to heal such wounds,” Elander said, stepping back.

  Ben got to his feet, and saw Charlie beside him, looking haggard, but unharmed.

  “I am in your debt,” Elander said, extending a hand. “It will not be forgotten.”

  A tree rustled in the distance, and Elander whipped his quarterstaff out, his eyes darting this way and that. It was only after a full minute that the dwarf relaxed.

  “Is it safe here?” Charlie asked anxiously.

  “No,” Elander replied.

  It quickly dawned on Ben that there must be a good reason the hellhounds were scared of the forest. Ben glanced up at the trees; before they had seemed proud and noble, but now that they were beneath them, they felt threatening, suffocating almost. He had a strong desire to leave, even if it meant going back out onto the plain, at the mercy of the hellhounds.

  “We do not have much time,” Elander said. “It is unwise to remain stationary here for more than a few minutes.”

  “Shouldn’t we leave now, then?” Charlie asked.

  “You will, soon,” Elander said, glancing at Charlie’s brooch with a flicker of envy. “I need to cross the forest.”

  For what? Ben wanted to ask, but the questions were going off on a tangent, especially if they didn’t have much time. He cut straight to the point.

  “You said you knew something about Elizabeth’s Armour.”

  Elander tugged his beard, and eyed both of them carefully, before replying. “It is a closely guarded secret that ordinarily I would never reveal, but it is clear you are one of the few who know about it. Her armour is a legacy, entrusted to five Guardians whose task is to unite and use it to defeat Suktar.”

  Ben had expected the dwarf to know the truth, but hearing it from his lips still sent a shiver up his spine.

  “Are you one of the Guardians?” Ben asked.

  To Ben’s surprise and dismay, a haunted look crossed Elander’s face, and his eyes became distant. “If only that were true.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was a Guardian, until my wife gave birth to our son, some forty years ago. That responsibility now lies with him.”

  Ben felt like collapsing on the floor. He put a hand over his eyes. They had been so certain this dwarf was the Guardian, they had never once considered he might have had a child. It was such a hammer blow, Ben felt physically sick.

  “Does your son know?” Charlie asked.

  Elander closed his eyes with a pained expression. “No. He doesn’t know anything. He wasn’t ready – he isn’t ready, for such knowledge or responsibility. We kept waiting, hoping that in time he would mature.”

  “We?”

  “My wife and I,” Elander said. His face became dark. “She was killed in the dark elf attack. They tortured her, and I fear she may have talked. If so, it will not be long before they find my son.” He slapped a fist into an open hand. “I must find him first.”

  “We need to find him, too,” Ben said.

  To his surprise, Elander gave him a dubious look. “He is not ready to be a Guardian.”

  Ben almost laughed. “Do you think I am? A few months ago I didn’t even know the Unseen Kingdoms existed.”

  Elander shook his head. “You do not understand. Krobeg isn’t like you. Even in the brief time we have been together, I can tell you have the qualities a Guardian needs. My son does not.”

  “He is a Guardian, whether you like it or not,” Ben said. “Wishing he was braver or whatever imagined standard you have isn’t going to help.”

  Ben expected a backlash, but to his surprise Elander only turned away with a regretful look. “I should have raised him differently. I was too interested in my own studies. I was furious when he showed more interest in food and drink than following my path as a mage. I banished him from our household. It was a terrible mistake.”

  Ben nodded. He understood about parents’ mistakes. “Where can we find your son?”

  Elander paused again; Ben could only imagine the internal conflict going through the dwarf’s mind. If he gave them the location of his son, he might end up fulfilling his role as a Guardian, which meant facing Suktar. But if he didn’t, the dark elves would eventually find him. Ben waited impatiently, but forced himself to remain quiet. Finally, Elander gave a reluctant nod.

  “We have not been in touch for many years, but as far as I’m aware, he still lives in Drinkmorr. That is where I will search upon my return.”

  Charlie’s eyes lit up at the name. “I’ve always wanted to go there.” He turned to Ben and glanced at his brooch. “We should get going. If the dark elves know about Krobeg, he’s not safe, even if he does live in Drinkmorr.”

  Ben nodded, and turned back to Elander. “What will you do?”

  Elander glanced into the depths of the forest. “There is a clan that might be able to help me get home. They are one of the few clans strong enough to resist even the strongest demons, and among their members are several goblin shamans, who are extremely skilled when it comes to getting in and out of the void.”

  Ben extended his hand. “I hope it works out for you.”

  Charlie, however, was staring strangely at Elander, his mouth half open. “What is the name of that clan?”

  “They are called Sparkstorm.”

  Ben’s eyes lit up. “That’s what the demon called me!”

  “You belong to the Sparkstorm clan?” Elander asked.

  “No,” Ben said. “It doesn’t make sense. But the demon seemed to think I did, after giving me a good smell.”

  “Demons can identify people, especially humans, just by their odour,” Elander said. “He may have mistaken your smell for someone like you.”

  Ben felt his stomach tighten. “My parents. They are here.”

  “What are their names?”

  “Greg and Jane Greenwood.”

  Elander didn’t reply, but his eyes betrayed his surprise.

  “Have you heard something of them?” Ben asked, his voice suddenly urgent.

  Elander nodded, looking at Ben in a new light. “Your parents are the clan leaders of Sparkstorm.”

  Ben was speechless, though from the look on Charlie’s face, it seemed he had already connected the dots. Elander was looking for his parents’ clan.

  “Ben, focus,” Charlie said with a sharp warning. He kept talking, but Ben zoned him out.

  This dwarf was searching for his parents. Did he know where they were? He glanced at his brooch; the majority of it was now coloured red, and his heart sank. How much time did they have? Three hours? Less, probably. Still, what was to stop him going with Elander, and leaving just before the twenty-four-hour mark? That way he would at least have a chance to find his parents, and still have a way out.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Charlie said, giving him a stern look.

  “It’s just three hours,” Ben said. “What is there to lose? We might find my parents, and if we don’t, we leave. It’s that simple.”

  “We don’t have three hours, Ben,” Charlie said, raising his voice. “Every minute we waste here, the dark elves could be closing in on Elander’s son. We need to leave, now.”

  Ben clenched his fists, and bit his lip in frustration. He hated to admit it, but Charlie was right. The brief flare of hope that had burned brightly for a full minute was suddenly extinguished.

  He turned back to Elander, who w
as looking at him closely. “Say hi to my parents for me.”

  Elander gave his first and only smile. “I will. And if you manage to find my son, tell him I am sorry, and that he was right about everything. Tell him that I will see him soon.”

  Ben turned to a relieved Charlie. “You ready?”

  A peculiar, haunting cry drowned out Charlie’s response. They turned and saw three tall, cloaked figures floating towards them, their feet never touching the ground. Within their hoods was nothing but a pair of soulless white dots.

  “Go!” Elander said firmly. “I will deal with this.”

  Ben wanted to argue, but Elander was already walking purposefully towards the figures.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Charlie said.

  Ben cursed, and grabbed his brooch with both hands. He focused on home, and immediately the void seemed to shift. One of the ghostly figures gave another haunting cry and managed to skirt round Elander, heading right for them. The void solidified, as his concentration on his body at home wavered. The demon ghost sailed towards them, and lifted a hand. In it he carried a scythe that looked far more real than the ghost itself. Against all reason and instinct, Ben closed his eyes, and focused again on his unconscious body – the feel of the sleeping bag, the pillow beneath his head, the cool air, and that awful smell.

  Ben felt his eyes roll to the back of his head, and blackness consumed him.

  — Chapter Twenty-Nine —

  A New Challenge

  Ben rarely missed a day at the Institute, but the following morning he literally couldn’t get out of bed. The battering his body had taken in the void transferred itself to his real body, and it was all he could do to stagger home with Natalie’s help. Going to the Institute was out of the question, as his sorry state would surely have prompted unwanted questions. His desire to get back to the Unseen Kingdoms and find out how to get to Drinkmorr was temporarily dulled by the bliss of being able to lie in bed all day. It felt like they had been in the void for weeks, even though it had been less than twenty-four hours.

  The cuts and bruises would take time to heal, but after twenty-four hours in bed, Ben felt well enough to return to the Institute. Charlie had also taken time off; his parents had been shocked but not overly surprised when he told them his injuries had been the result of bullies at school.

  Autumn was well and truly on its way, and though central Taecia was primarily a city of stone, the trees in the Institute gardens were starting to decorate the grounds with golden leaves. A couple of first-grade apprentices fought a losing battle sweeping the leaves from the paths. Ben sucked in the cold, fresh air. It had been only a few days, but somehow the Royal Institute of Magic looked even grander than usual, with its leaded windows, black-timbered frames and multitude of gables, creating a mini mountain range. Ben spotted several Institute members standing on the many outside balconies, talking amongst themselves, some even enjoying the morning sun.

  Ben’s good mood was dulled slightly the moment he entered the Institute and felt the tension in the air. Despite the early hours, Institute members zipped to and fro, with a sense of gravity that clearly came from the dark elf situation. During a short briefing after morning muster, Ben learnt that the dark elves had not conquered any further land, but nor had the Institute reclaimed the areas in England they’d taken.

  “I need to see the three of you in my office,” Dagmar said, as they headed out of muster.

  Dagmar’s impassive face made it impossible for Ben to determine if they were going to be scolded or praised.

  “I wonder what she wants,” Charlie muttered, as they walked over to stand outside her office.

  Natalie was fiddling with the ends of her hair. “Maybe she wants an update.”

  Ben waited impatiently; he was eager to begin planning their trip to Drinkmorr, but part of him was also curious about what Dagmar had to say. She never spoke unless she had something meaningful to impart.

  They didn’t have to wait long. As usual, the heavy clomping of Dagmar’s huge shoes preceded her appearance, and she marched right up to the door without even glancing at them. With a flick of her hand, she motioned them to follow her into her office.

  “We have a problem,” she said, matter-of-factly. “Draven has noticed that you are lagging behind in your third-grade apprenticeship, and he has started asking questions.”

  “What does he care?” Ben asked in surprise.

  “Draven has taken an unusual interest in you, Ben, ever since you arrived. He asks me at least once a week how you are progressing.”

  “What do you tell him?”

  “I normally tell him to mind his own business,” Dagmar said. “However, he managed to get hold of your checklist and saw that you are behind in everything except Spellsword.”

  Ben ran a hand through his hair. “Great. What should we do?”

  “Catch up,” Dagmar replied without hesitation. “I had a look at the checklist myself, and it’s not as bad as he makes out. If you put the hours in, you could catch up within a week.”

  Ben clenched his fist, trying to contain his growing frustration. “We don’t have a week. We’re trying to find the next Guardian, remember?”

  If Dagmar sensed Ben’s anger, she didn’t show it, her hands remaining firmly clasped behind her back.

  “What progress have you made?” she asked.

  Charlie chimed in. “We know who we’re looking for, and we are fairly certain he lives in Drinkmorr.”

  Dagmar gave an approving nod. “Good. That works perfectly. The foreigners’ entrance to Drinkmorr is open only on Thursdays and Sundays. It’s Monday now, which gives you three days to burn the midnight oil to catch up.”

  “Foreigners’ entrance?”

  Charlie nodded. “I’ll explain later.”

  “In the meantime, if Draven does approach you, Ben, just refer him to me,” Dagmar said.

  She gave them a nod, and turned towards her desk, a sure indication that the meeting was over. But as they turned to leave, she spoke again.

  “The dark elves are getting ever more dangerous, and we are running out of time. If you need any help with this Guardian, come and see me.”

  “No pressure, then,” Charlie muttered, as they exited Dagmar’s office.

  It was just past nine o’clock, and they found the common room unusually busy, with the majority of the conversation focused on the dark elves. There were those who still seemed to think it all a game (such as Simon and his friends) and hoped they might be lucky enough to get drafted in as temporary Spellswords to fight. Then there were the more sensible ones, who talked about what a dark elf invasion might mean for the Institute, the Unseen Kingdoms, and even the wider world.

  “We need to watch what we say here,” Ben said, as they eventually found a few chairs in their favourite corner.

  Natalie started cleaning up the coffee table, her eyes on Charlie. “So, what is this foreigners’ entrance? I’ve heard of Drinkmorr obviously, but I haven’t read much about it.”

  “I haven’t heard of it at all,” Ben said, kicking his legs up onto the table and earning a frown from Natalie. “What sort of town is it?”

  “It’s the only fully dwarf town in England,” Charlie said. He managed to keep his tone soft, but Ben could sense Charlie’s underlying excitement. “Unlike Taecia, and much of the Unseen Kingdoms, it’s completely untouched by our culture. From what I’ve read, it sounds like the sort of fantasy town you read about in books.”

  “And what is the foreigners’ entrance?” Natalie asked again.

  “Drinkmorr cannot be placed on an ordinary map. It can be accessed only by a portal. There are two – one for dwarves, which is always open, and the other for foreigners, which, as Dagmar said, is open only on certain days.”

  Ben removed his legs from the table and leaned forwards, elbows on knees. “Could we sneak in via the dwarf entrance? I really don’t want to wait three days.”


  “I doubt it. It’s well guarded, and even if we got through, security would be after us. Hardly ideal if we’re trying to find someone.”

  “It’s a pain,” Natalie said. “But given that Draven seems to be obsessed with you and your progress, it might actually work out. We can all work on the apprenticeship; I’m also behind.”

  It took a bit of effort, but once they got rolling, the apprenticeship managed to divert most of their attention away from their trip to Drinkmorr. They worked every day from nine in the morning for twelve hours, taking only small breaks to eat. Ben upgraded to a B3 spellshooter; Charlie became the fastest person in the third grade to finish the Scholar checklist; Natalie caught the eye of several Diplomats interested in signing her up for the Department of Diplomacy.

  Despite the crazy schedule, everything went smoothly, until Wednesday during morning muster, the day before they were due to travel to Drinkmorr.

  “Third-graders, stay behind,” Dagmar said, after calling muster. “The rest of you, dismissed.”

  Ben eyed the twenty-four apprentices who stayed, their curiosity matching his own. He knew most of them pretty well now, and counted many of them as friends, despite the time suck of being a Guardian.

  “As some of you know, Roger Flintoff, your Chief Three, will be taking his third-grade exam shortly and hopefully moving into the fourth grade,” Dagmar said, “which means you need to elect a new Chief Three.”

  Ben immediately saw heads turn to Aaron, who gave a modest smile.

  “Why don’t we just give the role to Aaron and spare everyone the bother?” Leslie said. She was a skinny, freckled girl with a mouth that often spoke before the brain had time to stop it. Her pale skin turned red the moment she realised who she had spoken to. Dagmar gave her a cold stare, and Leslie promptly lowered her eyes, mumbling an apology.

  “For those unfamiliar with the rules, you must gain six votes within twenty-four hours to run for Chief. Those who succeed will then have a week to campaign before a vote is held. That is all.”