The Protectors (Royal Institute of Magic, Book 3)

by Victor Kloss

  “I was kind of expecting to start my second-grade apprenticeship at the Institute,” Ben admitted. “What are we doing here?”

  “Learning, of course,” Natalie said. “I’m sure Charlie at least has worked that out. We are at school, after all, and we’re not sixteen yet.”

  They started towards the school and joined a steady stream of other students doing the same. Charlie was right: Ben recognised several apprentices and many of them greeted him with a wave and a smile.

  “I still don’t get why we’re here, though,” Ben said, staring at the huge set of doors they were approaching.

  “It’s quite simple. This is the Institute’s solution to giving us an education while also continuing our apprenticeship.”

  They entered the building, and Ben spared a moment to glance at the decorated high ceilings and vast portraits that lined the walls. People were shuffling along quicker now, and Ben could sense a note of urgency. He glanced at his watch: 8:57am.

  “How do they give us an education while continuing our apprenticeship?” Charlie asked.

  “By making us work hard. Barrington is such an incredible school that they can cram a day’s worth of work into just a few hours. That leaves us enough time to split our day between school and the apprenticeship.”

  Ben was relieved to discover they would be spending only a fraction of the day here, but Charlie’s puzzled face indicated his mind was on something else.

  “How do they get away with that?” Charlie asked. “Surely Barrington isn’t going to allow a bunch of students to simply leave at lunchtime?”

  “How do you think?” Natalie asked, giving Charlie a smile. She had stopped and was now standing by a door that said “Year 11”. Students were filing in quickly.

  Charlie tapped his cheeks thoughtfully. “The only way it would be possible – no, it can’t be.”

  “I think you have it,” Natalie said. “You guys had better run if you’re going to be on time. The form teachers here are only slightly more lenient than Dagmar. Year 10 is just down the hall. I’ll see you both at midday.”

  She slipped through the door and Ben and Charlie hurried along until they found the Year 10 door.

  “What was Natalie talking about?” Ben asked.

  Charlie shook his head. “We’ll find out soon, I think.”

  On that infuriating note, they followed a couple of spotty teenagers into the classroom and Ben momentarily forgot about Natalie’s confusing explanation. There were rows of wooden desks and chairs, many already filled with impeccably dressed students.

  “Forty-five seconds,” a stern voice said. “Please be seated.”

  Behind the teacher’s desk at the front was a tall man just as well dressed as his students. He wore the confident expression of a man who was used to being obeyed.

  Ben and Charlie found a couple of desks near the back. Ben surveyed the other students in the room, and found that he knew at least half of them from the Institute. One boy in particular caught his eye, because he was being stared at by just about every girl in the classroom. Ben could see why. He was the dark, brooding type, with perfect features, a strong jaw, and thick eyebrows, framing dark, smouldering eyes. The boy appeared not to notice that he was the subject of so much attention, and stared straight ahead, hands interlocked on his desk, waiting patiently for class to start.

  “Looks like you’ve got some competition,” Charlie said, with a smile.

  Ben was used to at least one or two girls casting a sly glance his way, but this morning they barely gave him a look. He told himself that he didn’t care. Much.

  The teacher gave a sharp rap on his desk.

  “Roll call,” he announced, and proceeded to rattle off names with the sort of military precision that Dagmar would have appreciated. Ben learned the new boy was called Aaron, and saw several of the girls smiling as they mouthed his name. Ben was relieved when the teacher called his own name. Despite everything, he hadn’t been entirely convinced that this wasn’t some sort of mistake. He still couldn’t believe he was sitting here, attending one of the most prestigious schools in the country.

  Nevertheless, school was school, and Ben felt his stomach sinking at the thought of hours of academic study. He had foolishly assumed that was all over when he had joined the Institute.

  “Welcome to the autumn term,” the teacher said, breaking Ben’s reverie. “For those who are new, my name is Mr. Bingham, and I am your form teacher. In your desks you will find your schedule for the morning.”

  Mr. Bingham paused for a moment and surveyed his students.

  “Before we start, I will go over a few of our most important rules here at Barrington. Rule number one: no magic of any sort. Period. Anyone seen smuggling in or using a spellshooter will be immediately suspended. The same goes for spell pouches, artefacts and frankly anything found in the Unseen Kingdoms.”

  It took a moment for Ben to realise his mouth was hanging open. He glanced about, but few others seemed even remotely surprised. Charlie was nodding to himself and Ben heard him whisper: “I knew it!”

  “Barrington is one of the Institute’s greatest secrets, and we would like it to remain that way,” Mr. Bingham said.

  Ben was glad he was sitting down because he felt slightly dizzy. So that was how the Institute used Barrington to teach their apprentices.

  They owned Barrington.

  It was scarcely believable that one of the most prestigious schools was owned by the Royal Institute of Magic. But the more he thought about it, the more it started to make sense. Why not? The Institute needed a school to teach, and this way they had all their apprentices under one roof and could run the schedule as they pleased. Was everyone at Barrington an apprentice? He made a mental note to ask Natalie.

  Mr. Bingham pulled out a spellshooter from his desk drawer, and laid it down meaningfully on the desk.

  “I hate that we have to do this at the start of every term, but if anyone has smuggled or accidentally brought in anything of magical persuasion, now is the time to come clean.”

  Several students placed various curious items on their desks. Simon, a boy with a mass of curly, ginger hair and an expression that implied he was on some form of caffeine permanently, placed several items on his desk, with a toothy grin, as if he’d just won some sort of contest.

  Mr. Bingham went round and collected the offending items. Upon returning to his desk, he picked up his spellshooter and gave his students a keen look.

  “Before I do a final check, does anyone wish to cough up any further trinkets?”

  Mr. Bingham looked pointedly at Simon, as did several other members of the class. Simon sat there, smiling, unmoving.

  “Very well,” Mr. Bingham said.

  He picked up his spellshooter, focused, and fired a pellet into the ceiling. A small ball of energy hovered just below the lights, humming gently. Ben was just wondering if anything was going to happen, when it shot off in the direction of Simon, and slammed into his bag, vanishing on impact.

  “No,” Simon said, genuinely aghast.

  Mr. Bingham marched over to Simon’s desk, and promptly dived his hand into the bag. After a moment’s riffling, he came out with a small pouch.

  “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Mr Bingham asked, shaking the pouch.

  Simon gave a resigned shrug. “I thought the ward I bought would hide the pouch. That’s the last time I shop at Magic, Gadgets & Mayhem.”

  Ben laughed, as did several others, and Simon grinned, clearly enjoying the attention.

  “Congratulations, you win the prize for first detention of the term,” Mr. Bingham said. “Class dismissed.”

  A general murmur coupled with the shuffling of feet greeted the teacher’s final words, as students started piling out of the room. Ben couldn’t help noticing they were now carrying books.

  “In your desk,” Charlie said. He too was carrying a book, which read Advanced Arithmetic.

  The top of the desk opened to reveal a neat
set of books, as well as a timetable that was printed on the inside. Ben grabbed the maths book and quickly joined Charlie and the others as they filed out of the classroom.

  “Well, that was interesting,” Ben said.

  Charlie, however, was frowning. “I just hope my parents don’t find out.”

  “They won’t. Barrington has been around forever and nobody has a clue.”

  Ben was both surprised and disappointed at his first morning at Barrington. He had hoped that a school owned and run by the Institute might somehow utilise magic, or at least teach a subject therein. But, as Mr. Bingham had mentioned, there was no magic in sight, and the lessons were very much the same as the ones he was used to. However, unlike his old school, which bored him silly, he found himself almost enjoying the classes. There was a welcome balance of studying coupled with practical exercises, with an emphasis on application. Ben found that, for probably the first time, he was really learning something, and he was almost disappointed when the bell went for lunch.

  Natalie was nowhere to be seen when they entered the lunch room, so they sat next to a few friends from class and were soon tucking into some divine-tasting chicken.

  “I almost wish we could spend all day here, instead of just the morning,” Charlie said, helping himself to yet another chicken wing. “The teachers are incredible and I’m learning so much.”

  “For school, it wasn’t bad,” Ben admitted. “But I prefer the Institute.”

  “I’ll try to contain my surprise. I wonder how we’ll get there.”

  Ben had been thinking the same thing. “It will take us too long to get to the Croydon or London Dragonway stations from here.”

  “Ben Greenwood and Charlie Hornberger?”

  Ben turned and saw a man standing behind them. It took him a moment to work out that he was a teacher and not a student, for he had a friendly youthfulness about him, as well as a long ponytail that seemed rather out of place.

  “That’s us,” Ben said.

  “I’m sorry to cut your lunch short, but new students are required to leave early for the Institute, as there is some learning to do.”

  “Learning?”

  The teacher smiled. “You’ll see when we get there.”

  — Chapter Three —

  Meeting Darzels

  Ben and Charlie were accompanied by the teacher and a dozen other new students, all confused and curious.

  The teacher, who introduced himself as Jeff, led them out of the school grounds and down a valley, into a leafy forest. The rustling of the leaves and chattering of the birds were drowned out by the incessant chatter of the students, much of it directed at Jeff Poole.

  “I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything, other than the fact that we will be heading to the Institute,” Jeff would reply, with a glint in his eye, as if he knew how much such a statement would only inflame the students’ curiosity.

  “Oh, come on,” Simon said. “My brother has been teasing me about this journey the whole summer. Can’t you tell us anything else?”

  “You won’t have to wait much longer,” Jeff said. He was taking the badgering in good spirit and didn’t appear the least bit annoyed. Only Aaron seemed unconcerned, his indifference in the matter even prompting a few students to ask if he secretly knew something, which he politely denied.

  “As Mr. Poole says, we’ll find out soon enough,” Aaron said. “Why don’t we just enjoy this pleasant walk instead of endlessly guessing?”

  Ben saw a few of the girls smiling and nodding in agreement. Simon rolled his eyes and continued his attack on the teacher.

  Ben also enjoyed the guessing game. The further they walked, the more excited he became.

  “I don’t like this,” Charlie said, frowning. “It’s going to be something dangerous and scary.”

  “Let’s not get our hopes up yet,” Ben said, grinning.

  “Well, I can’t see them providing comfortable transport to the Institute from the middle of the forest, can you?”

  Even from its vantage point, the grand school had vanished from view as they wound their way deeper into the forest.

  The sound of running water cut short the chatter from the students. The tree line ended suddenly and gave way to an expanse of grass, which ended at a babbling brook. Beyond the brook the forest continued and started to climb a gentle hill.

  Jeff stopped, and placed his hands on his hips, surveying the open ground.

  “We’ve arrived,” he said, smiling at the mixture of confusion and surprise from the students. “As you know, we are heading to the Institute. Clearly we cannot get to the London or Croydon Dragonways you are used to. However, as some of you have guessed, there is another Dragonway hidden in this forest.”

  The announcement was greeted with a flood of questions, which Jeff listened to patiently, before raising a finger for silence.

  “Obviously the Dragonway has been hidden, so an ordinary person cannot simply run into it. In fact, it is impossible for any human to find the Dragonway unassisted – which is why we need some help.”

  Jeff put two fingers to his lips and blew a shrill whistle.

  Ben held his breath and looked about expectantly. The trees behind them rustled, followed by a multitude of high-pitched roars that made everyone jump and Charlie fall down. From the tops of the trees, huge lizards emerged and slithered their way down the trunks. Ben gaped. They must have been at least six feet long, with bright yellow eyes and alligator-like mouths, complete with gleaming white teeth. But it wasn’t their size or their teeth that had everyone staring – it was the stubby, leathery wings protruding from their backs.

  “Stand your ground!” Jeff said, raising his voice over the gasping students.

  The lizards slinked their way through the grass and surrounded them in a perfect circle. Ben, like everyone else, found himself shuffling backwards until they were bunched in the exact centre, facing outwards at the grinning lizards.

  “These little guys are called darzels,” Jeff said. “As you may have guessed, they are a cross between the dragon and lizard families, and have existed in the Unseen Kingdoms for as long as anyone can remember.”

  Jeff gave a little whistle and one of the larger darzels crawled forwards, stopping at Jeff’s feet. It was only then that Ben noticed the harness on the animal’s back, and the reins hanging loosely about its neck. Jeff knelt down and, to everyone’s amazement, extended a hand until he was almost touching the animal’s nose. The darzel sniffed it, extended a long, pink tongue and gave Jeff’s hand a good lick. Jeff stood back up and, with barely believable nonchalance, stepped onto the darzel’s back, his feet slotting perfectly into the feet-shaped moulding on the harness.

  “Darzels are probably the oldest form of transport in the Unseen Kingdoms. Due to their declining numbers, they have mostly been replaced by bigger and faster animals, but the Institute has fifty of them in this forest. They are quick, can fly at a height of fifty feet and, once you get the hang of them, are remarkably agile. Most importantly for us, the darzel can detect the location of the Dragonway. Without them, you could search the forest all day and not find it.”

  Charlie raised a short, stubby finger. “But surely, after you’ve found the Dragonway once, you can mark it geographically for future reference?”

  “Nope,” Jeff said.

  Charlie’s next reply was cut short by Ben’s elbow.

  Jeff grinned, enjoying Charlie’s confusion with good humour. “Okay, now for the fun stuff. Pick a darzel and walk up to it until your toes are about a yard away from its jaws.”

  “Aren’t the razor teeth going to be an issue?” Charlie asked.

  He wasn’t the only one who was hesitating. Half the students were looking at the darzels with trepidation. Ben picked out one whose manic grin didn’t look quite as scary, and tentatively walked up to it. The last few steps made him sweat and he took them very slowly.

  “Believe it or not, they don’t like human flesh,” Jeff said. “They can’t digest it.”


  The rest of the students moved forwards until they each faced a darzel. Ben noticed there was exactly one for each student.

  “That was the easy part,” Jeff said, rubbing his hands and smiling. “Now, you need to gain the darzel’s trust. As you may have noticed, I bent down and stuck my hand out, which my darzel duly licked.”

  “You’re kidding,” a brown-haired girl, called Beth, said.

  “I’m afraid not. To establish trust, you need to extend your hand to the darzel, and wait for him to lick it.”

  Charlie wiped his sweaty brow. “Why don’t we just grab its jaws, open its mouth, and stick our heads in?”

  “You can do that, if you want,” Jeff said. “Though I wouldn’t advise it.”

  “What do we do if the lizard decides not to trust us?” Beth asked.

  “There are a few possibilities, but nothing we can’t handle.” Jeff rubbed his hands again. “So, who’s first?”

  They don’t like human flesh. Ben kept repeating this over and over as he knelt down and slowly extended his hand until it was almost touching the darzel’s long snout. The other students slowly followed, until a dozen sets of hands, with varying degrees of stability, extended out to the darzels.

  “Don’t make any sudden movements.”

  Ben could hear Jeff’s voice, but his eyes were locked on to the darzel. Did they ever blink?

  “Sudden movements will annoy them and break the trust.”

  “What if they try to chop our hand off? Can we move then?” Charlie asked.

  “I told you, they don’t like human flesh.”

  Ben forced himself to look into the darzel’s yellow eyes. The darzel gave a very subtle nod of its long mouth and touched its wet nose onto Ben’s finger. Ben just about resisted a flinch. He could feel the darzel considering him. Then, as if in slow motion, the darzel opened its jaws, extended its snake-like tongue and gave Ben’s hand a slobbery lick.

  “Very good, Ben Greenwood!” Jeff said. “Now, observe the harness on its back. Step onto it, and then pick up the reins lying loose on its neck.”

  Ben glanced over and saw Jeff calmly standing on his darzel, holding the reins with relaxed confidence.