by Victor Kloss
He looked tired, though. Even though it had been only moments for Ben, he noticed that the sun was almost down now, which meant hours had somehow passed.
Alex turned and his wyvern snapped at one of the dark elf mounts, biting right through its left wing. The creature plummeted downwards, fortunately over open water rather than a boat, with its rider clinging to its back no doubt unsure whether it would be better to jump free or ride the creature down. Alex had already switched his attention to one of the dragons, his diamond formation flying directly towards it. As expected the huge black dragon came straight at them, roaring defiance. Ben would have screamed if he had a voice, the size and speed of the thing dwarfing Alex and his team entirely. It launched at them like a rocket, flame engulfing the team.
Ben felt an explosion of relief as the diamond came out the other end somehow unscathed and split around the beast. It turned one way, then the other, trying to track them. Then Alex, his long hair flying behind him, shot at the monster from above, evoking another roar of rage.
It turned on him and closed the distance, but Alex just flew right on towards it.
Man and beast flew at a speed Ben couldn’t track, fire launching from the beast’s mouth at the same time as blue ice flew from the man on his sleek wyvern.
Alex had fired off a spell, not at the dragon, but at the flames. They froze instantly upon contact with the glowing blue pellet, the flame turning from bright burning orange to a crystal-cold blue. It quickly spread backwards, working its way up towards the dragon. The creature tried to pull back, but its own momentum forced it on towards Alex’s spell. The ice spread in the blink of an eye, jumping from fire to snout. The black dragon flapped its great wings frantically while the other members of the diamond formation returned and circled around, their spells focused on the dark elf riders. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the great dragon stopped, stiffened and plummeted like a stone from the sky, its eyes glazed over and its scales edged with ice. Alex punched the air, waved his hand around his head, and then shot off in another direction.
Ben felt a moment of exhilaration at the victory, until he saw the sheer quantity of enemies in the sky. There was just so much purple and black! How could Alex’s strike force hold off such a massive number? Clearly no amount of courage or skill could stop the inevitable strike that would wipe out the Institute’s fleet. It was only a matter of time.
*
Ben’s vision blurred and he hoped he would be back in the throne room. Somehow he had to stop the dark elf king. There was no question now that it was their only chance. Slowly he focused on what was in front of him, but instead of the powerful elf it was a chaotic battlefield.
Institute members were scattered everywhere, swords in hand and spellshooters at the ready. Spells were being traded on both sides, and the fighting closing in, bloody and dark. Ben’s view sped over the battlefield, dark elves swarming in the thousands, but the Institute still holding on. On one side he saw a smaller group just barely managing to stay alive and suddenly he zoomed in so he was almost among them.
“Fall back!” an elven officer ordered. He swung his sword, the blade shearing cleanly through an arm, and sidestepped as the dark elf’s own blade spun free, nearly catching him in the side. “Fall back to the corner!”
All around him, some of his unit glanced up, terse nods acknowledging the order. The Wardens that he was in charge of were fully engaged, most against multiple foes. None of them had the freedom to move that they’d need in order to retreat without leaving themselves wide open.
The officer struck down another foe and raised his spellshooter high.
“Highfire!” he shouted just as he fired. His team must have been drilled on the command as they immediately crouched, squatted, or threw themselves to the ground.
The fire that spread from his spell shot forth in a solid sheet, roughly neck high. It was not intense enough to engulf those it struck, especially farther from him, but certainly it burned, and the pain and surprise were enough to scatter the dark elves. That gave the officer’s team enough time to regain their feet and sprint towards him without taking swords or bolts in the back. He remained where he was, at the ready, as his Wardens raced past him. A few of the dark elves were already starting to recover, but the Wardens turned and faced them as one, spells shooting out ice shards, fireballs and air spears that took down warrior after warrior.
There were too many of them and Ben could see that the officer knew it. He looked around frantically, hoping for a way out, but they were getting cut off from the main part of the Institute force.
Ben saw the moment the officer made some sort of decision. There was a subtle change in the eye, a relaxing of the shoulders. He couldn’t hear what was said, but a few moments later the officer and ten of his men pushed forwards, swords raised as they charged out from their own line and into the middle of the dark elves. Against all odds the small group not only held but pushed on and in, further into the dark elf ranks.
What were they doing? Ben didn’t understand this manoeuvre; he was sure they couldn’t survive such odds. Meanwhile the rest of the Warden unit was retreating fast.
Suddenly, a great explosion of the purest white erupted from the centre of the dark elf line and Ben realised immediately what had happened. That blast could be only one thing: Life Fire. Those men and women had sacrificed their lives so the remaining few hundred Wardens could make it back to the main ranks, while five times their number of dark elves would never rise again.
Even though Ben couldn’t feel his body, he knew tears were streaming down his face.
Let it end! Ben didn’t want to watch as more and more scenes flicked up, death on a horrible scale on both sides. He saw Zadaya go down under a swarm of dark elf bodies, but couldn’t tell if he made it out. A Warden he remembered from his first days at the Institute took a sword in the gut, but cut down three dark elves as he fell. Ben focused his will into ending this. It couldn’t be going this badly. Suktar must be forcing him to see the worst of it in order to make him give up. Another plan to somehow turn Ben — he refused to believe it! There had to be someone somewhere turning the tide.
The images swirled and shifted and came into stark focus. He swooped in from a bird’s-eye view to a close-up and then was amongst the troops on the right flank of the main battlefield on what looked like the cliffs of Dover.
Straining to see what had drawn him here, Ben heard a coarse, familiar voice bellowing out.
“Here they come!” Draven shouted. “Ready cannon!” His permanent scowl adorned his face, scar more evident than ever, and his cloak flapped in the strong wind.
His Wardens responded with a shout. There were Seen Kingdom troops there too, under his command, and they reacted just as quickly. The Director of the Wardens had that effect on people.
All up and down the line Ben could see cannons being primed and lit, as well as enormous military-grade machine-guns. Ben remembered that the cannons worked better on magically protected troops or creatures, but the machine-guns were very useful against less powerful enemies.
Draven stared up at the sky and his eyes narrowed. He looked around and seemed to see who he wanted. “You! Get up here now and bring your useless excuse for a Warden unit with you!”
The young Warden saluted sharply. “Yes, sir!” He turned and sprinted down the line, calling out as he went. Ben couldn’t believe Draven would talk to his own people like that! Could they revolt? That would be the last thing they needed.
As the team approached, Draven turned to face them, scowling even harder if possible. The Wardens were a mixed lot, humans and elves and even a dwarf in there. Their ages seemed to vary as much as their races, from late teens to a few grey beards.
Draven snorted. “So, these are the fabled Sharpshooters, are they?”
The young Warden, who Ben now realised must be a captain, answered again. “Sir, yes, sir!”
Draven nodded, his face hardly changing expression. “Here’s the thing, boys.
It might have escaped your attention, but that first wave was deadly: wyverns, basilisks and gryphons diving down out of the clouds to rain down fire and magic on our ranks and then darting away before we could retaliate.”
He waited until they had all acknowledged this one way or another. Then Draven climbed up on a small boulder so he could see everyone better. There was a bit of a lull in the fighting, so his voice was clear, if still very gruff.
“The next attack that this ugly collection of manticore backsides will be throwing at us will make that last one look like a picnic. We are the only thing stopping the main force of dark elves from getting a solid footing in our beautiful country, and I for one am not going to let that happen. I assume you all share my feelings on this subject.”
One of the Wardens stepped up, a grizzled old veteran whose face had more scars than unmarked flesh. “If I may, sir? I’m not one for flowery words, but this is our country. I don’t care what they throw at us today or tomorrow or whenever. I, for one, will hold them back or I’ll die trying.” He nodded and stepped back.
Someone spoke from the back, just barely heard. “Hey, Jack, did old Jim say something? I don’t think I’ve ever heard him talk!”
The captain made a few motions to bring order to his unit again.
Ben’s focus remained on Draven, though. He’d spent too much time in the unwelcome presence of the Warden Director to not know that he was planning something. But something odd was happening to Draven’s face, something Ben had never seen before.
“Well, my boys, you’ll get your opportunity to fight, but if I have my way we’ll live a little longer yet. I’ve got a bit of intel. You might have noticed that there are fewer creatures in the sky? That’s because they are clinging to the cliff face as we speak. Their plan is to climb up and attack suddenly at ground level, taking us by surprise. Luckily, thanks to some of our best scouts” — that got a few nods of acceptance from those gathered — “we are going to turn the plan back on them.”
He pulled out his sword and started drawing in the ground, quickly outlining a plan that Ben couldn’t help but feel a surge of respect for.
“Jack, Paul, I want your Sharpshooter units on this point just above the cliff. Ailon, Brut, get yours to the other side. We are going to pull back and leave a lovely open space for them so they think we are ignoring it, but in fact we’ll turn it into a kill zone.”
He started to draw another box to the side.
“This is where we are now; we are going to pool all of our resources here so as to draw their fire. To be honest, it’s going to be mad and I’m not sure if our firepower will hold them off, but hey! What’s war without a little gamble?”
Again that strange look covered his face and Ben realised what it was. Draven was smiling!
“Alright, let’s get this party started. Get to your places.”
Ben watched as the Sharpshooters moved out, nodding to each other and knuckling their foreheads in salute of their director. Ben realised suddenly that instead of having any animosity towards Draven, these soldiers actually respected him, and he was starting to see why.
Controlled chaos spread across the large expanse as the two separate plans went into motion. A haze covered Ben’s vision again until it cleared with an explosion. The attack that was being launched at Draven and his unit of cannons, anti-aircraft guns and mega machine-guns was unbelievable. Creatures were dive-bombing continuously, raining down fire and ice. But somehow the Institute forces held.
Suddenly, Ben could see from Draven’s point of view.
At first, the enemy was far off, but that changed rapidly.
The shapes were closer now, close enough to make out wings and tails and in a few cases even heads and claws. Still Draven held off, screaming various curse words and holding the men steady with the force of his presence. Ben couldn’t believe the courage he was witnessing; it looked like the very heavens were falling on him. He knew they’d have only one chance, and it had to be timed just right.
“Wait for it,” Draven muttered, and the word echoed down the line. Wardens and British soldiers alike tensed, prepared but patient, and Draven allowed himself a grim smile. Good men and women, these. Ben felt proud to serve with them, no matter what happened.
The enemy was so close now he could make out their beasts’ nostrils breathing smoke, their mouths beginning to open, those long jaws starting to gape wide. Beyond that, past the jagged teeth and the forked tongues, just the barest glimpse of a white-hot fire banked deep—
“Fire!” Draven bellowed, raising his sword and bringing it down in a swift, vicious chop. The order was repeated along the line, and with a series of quick-step booms all weapons fired at once, their heavy iron payloads rocketing skywards.
The dragons at the front took the first hit straight on, many to the chest or even the head.
A dozen black dragons went tumbling, smashing into a dozen more. Half of them loosed their flames uncontrollably, the fires washing over their brethren without harm but burning those dragons’ riders to ash. The injured dragons’ own soldiers went flying, crashing to their deaths from two hundred feet up. The entire attack wave faltered.
Draven turned and sprinted to a huge telescope he had nearby to look at the other front. Ben’s view changed with him and sure enough, a huge mass of creatures was launching across the plain from over the cliffs of Dover.
“Wait for it, you sons of goats!” Draven muttered to himself. “Just a few more moments. Now!” With perfect timing the Sharpshooters unleashed a wave of death upon the huge mass of monsters caught in their killing zone. Draven pumped his fist. “Have some of that!”
He turned back to the onslaught his own force was in the middle of and shook his head. Ben could tell as well as Draven that despite the miracle he had worked, it was only a matter of time before they were overwhelmed.
The third wave soared over the first and second with only a momentary pause. The cannons were being reloaded, but that took too long.
“Take cover!” he shouted, dropping down behind the raised platform he had stationed himself at and firing a shield overhead. Others did the same, his Wardens protecting their peers as the dragons dropped down, opened their maws, and bathed the entire place in flame.
Men and women screamed as the dragonfire overwhelmed their shields. Draven’s held, but Ben could see the heat scalding his flesh.
And he knew the attack upon Draven and his men was far from over.
— Chapter Thirty-Two —
A Different Kind of Prison
“Okay,” Natalie said. “Where do we go?”
Charlie frowned. It was just the two of them, now that they’d split off from the rest. They’d continued on down the passage, but that had been more so they wouldn’t be tempted to turn around and re-join Ben and the others than because it was the path they needed. Dagmar, who had the boots so possibly could have led them straight to Ben’s parents, had stayed behind to help Wren and Prince Robert face the dark elf prince and his warriors.
Prince Robert! Charlie still had a hard time wrapping his brain around that. The Lord Commander of the Institute and the direct descendant of Queen Elizabeth, and he had been following them here! He couldn’t believe how powerful the prince was, holding Ictid back in a one-on-one duel. Charlie prayed that it would be enough so Ben, Josh and Abigail could get to Suktar and try to end this whole war in one fell swoop.
And then Charlie had opened his big mouth. When had he become a hero? Saving Ben’s parents indeed! He’d be lucky to save his lunch. He shook his head to clear it and turned to face Natalie.
“Let’s think about this,” he replied slowly, his mind starting to process what data he had. “We know that Ben’s parents were taken prisoner, at least their physical bodies, and if Joshua’s father is here, he will be in the dungeon for sure. So why don’t we go downwards, towards where most castles keep their jail?”
Natalie rolled her eyes. “I don’t mean where are they. They’re obviously in t
he dungeon! But I’ve got no idea how to get there; now that Abigail has gone with Ben and Josh, and Dagmar is helping Wren and the prince” — a look of concern crossed her face, which she rapidly suppressed — “we’re on our own. Any ideas? I mean, can we just go down from here or do we need to go to another area and then go down?”
Charlie patted his belly and nodded. “Well, hmm, yes. I was getting to that…”
Natalie tapped her foot when he didn’t immediately go on. “Yes?” Charlie was obviously trying to avoid something.
“Okay, okay! When I was doing research back at the Institute I came across a map of the palace. It was so old I could hardly read it, and I asked one of the older Scholars if it was genuine and he didn’t seem to think so.”
Natalie nodded, her mind clearly made up already. “Well, it’s not like we have any other options so let’s go with it. Where did the map say we should go from here?”
Charlie looked around and walked over to peek out a window to look at the sun. “Looks like we are in the east wing, so it should be safe for now to just go down by any means, at least to start with. Then we’ll see where to go from there.”
They set off immediately and scoured the passage they were in before moving to others. It took only a few minutes before Natalie called out, “Over here!” She was standing beside a tall, plain wooden door, which she had pulled open just far enough to peer past. When Charlie joined her she nudged it a bit wider to reveal a set of narrow stone stairs heading down into darkness.
“Right.” Charlie took a deep breath. “Come on.” He started down the steps, but Natalie caught his arm.
“Why don’t you let me go first?” she suggested. “Elf eyes and all that.”
Charlie nodded rapidly. “Yeah, good point. I’ll bring up the rear.” It made sense. She could see far better in the dark than he could.
The stairs were straight and even, and as they neared the end Charlie was pleased to see a dim light somewhere beyond. They emerged on a different floor, one that was completely open save for sturdy stone columns as wide around as a massive oak. Open doorways dotted the sides, each of them leading to sets of stairs that went back up — but in the exact centre of the floor was a wide, deep hole.