by Victor Kloss
“That's okay,” Ben said. He sat down gingerly, careful to ease himself onto the couch; his ribs still hurt like the devil.
The prince sat back down on his chair, but he leant forwards, hands on his thighs, watching Ben carefully. There was something in those gold-flecked eyes that made Ben stir uncomfortably.
Of course. Elizabeth's Armour. It wasn't long ago that Ben had been convinced that the prince was searching for it. Ben remembered only too well Queen Elizabeth's warning about her descendants being drawn to the armour. Was Prince Robert feeling the pull?
“I know you are in great pain,” Prince Robert said, breaking the silence. “However, there are some questions I would very much like to ask you while we are alone. Are you okay to talk?”
Ben was tempted to say no, which would have been the truth. Wren would be here in a moment, and he felt better around her. But then, what was to stop the prince sending Wren away so they could talk in private? And more significantly, Ben was curious. What did the prince want to talk about? Those gold-flecked eyes looked dangerous, like they could explode one way or the other. Ben decided to gamble, and nodded his assent.
The prince sat back. Now that he had Ben's agreement, he suddenly seemed unsure what to say. Ben waited, anticipation temporarily easing the pain.
“The pressure is immense,” Prince Robert began. He said it in a very matter-of-fact way, and even managed a rueful smile, but Ben could sense the emotion behind those simple words.
“The Institute is the only thing lying between Suktar and a war the like of which England has not seen in many decades,” the prince said. “Only this time, we have no Winston Churchill to save us. I fear I may not be up to the job.”
Ben waited, patiently. He knew the questions were coming.
“You are probably wondering why I am telling you this,” the prince said.
“The thought crossed my mind,” Ben admitted.
The prince took a moment to compose his words. “You may remember, I spent a lot of time looking for your parents, in the hope that they might provide some clue to thwarting Suktar. I have never revealed why I believed this was so.”
Ben guessed what was coming, but hearing it from the prince made his stomach flutter.
“Queen Elizabeth left something, I believe, that might just prove vital in stopping Suktar,” Prince Robert said. His eyes suddenly narrowed into golden slits. “For reasons I could never discover, she did not leave said artefact with her family line, but instead passed it on. I have reason to believe your family may have been one of the benefactors.”
Ben had never worked harder to keep a straight face in his life, as the prince's keen golden stare cut into him, measuring him, looking for the subtlest sign of reaction.
Ben was struggling to think amongst the pain, but one thought shone through: the prince must not get hold of Elizabeth's Armour, no matter the cost. Not now, not when we are so close.
“Have you asked my parents about this?” Ben asked, striving desperately to sound like he was ignorant to the prince's revelation.
“I have been unable to reach them,” the prince said. “That is not their fault, of course. But with the dark elf invasion now imminent, I can no longer delay. I must act, which is where you come in.”
“How?” Ben asked slowly.
The prince leaned forwards. “I believe the artefact, whatever it may be, passes through the family to the youngest member. That member is you, Ben Greenwood. I have watched you intently the last few months, but I have been careful never to get involved. But now, I can say with some conviction that you know exactly what I'm talking about. So, my question to you is – do you know where this artefact is?”
Ben was almost grateful that he didn't have to lie.
“I don't,” Ben said.
It was immediately obvious that the prince didn't believe him, so Ben decided to carefully elaborate.
“You are right: my parents were given a responsibility to safeguard an artefact, and as the youngest member of the family that responsibility should have passed to me. But my parents didn't think I was ready. They never revealed the Royal Institute of Magic to me. Perhaps they would have, but they were forced to go on the run, as you may remember.”
The prince was looking at him very carefully. His expression seemed to darken, and Ben suddenly felt he was in a very precarious position. He took another gamble.
“Do you know why Queen Elizabeth would have decided against handing it down to her descendants for safeguarding?”
To Ben's relief, the question got the prince thinking. “I have thought much upon this, but read little. I can only assume it is dangerous, somehow. Occasionally, when I think about this artefact, I find myself feeling a little peculiar, and I wonder if this artefact somehow affects my mind.”
Ben wanted to scream “yes” and somehow confirm the fact, but he had nothing to back it up, so instead, he gave a sage nod.
“That sounds like it might be possible.”
“And yet…" The prince covered a hand over his forehead. He closed his eyes. When he re-opened them, there was an undisguised longing – or was it greed? – that chilled Ben to the bone. “I need that artefact,” Prince Robert said. “Do you understand? I need it if we are to have any chance of thwarting Suktar. His power is simply too great.”
For a moment, Ben thought the prince might get violent. Ben prepared to defend himself, though he wasn't sure he could even lift an arm, let alone summon a spell.
The door flew open as if it had been blasted outwards.
“Ben!” Wren said.
Ben had never seen Wren looking anything but serenely composed before, so her pale, shocked face looked almost alien. She dashed up to him, and bent down, immediately touching her hands on his chest.
“Ow!” Ben said, grimacing.
“Sorry, Ben.”
Others had followed Wren in. A couple of Scholars, both with four white diamonds, were hovering behind her. Draven was there too, looking decidedly unhappy about proceedings.
“Do you want me to take him to the sick bay?” Wren said, looking up at the prince.
The prince's intensity had vanished the moment Wren entered. He shook himself, and waved a hand. “No, no. Do what you need to here.”
The prince had barely finished speaking when Wren got to work, carefully unravelling the red bandage.
“I'm sorry, Ben,” Wren said softly. “I will be as gentle as possible, but this may hurt a little.”
By “a little”, Ben quickly realised she meant a lot. Twenty minutes of agony followed, as Wren and her Scholars used a mixture of old and new treatments, combined with some of the most powerful healing spells, until, exhausted and ready to collapse, Ben had a new, clean bandage that showed no sign of getting soaked with blood.
“You need sleep,” Wren said. “I don't want you going home. Use the sleeping quarters on the Diplomacy floor.”
Draven, who had been watching the ordeal with a great deal of impatience, frowned. “What about his unauthorised visit to the baron's estate? I didn't travel all the way to Casteria with that idiot boy Aaron for nothing. Why would they go there in the first place? We need answers.”
“There is nothing illegal about it,” Wren said. “I will speak to Alex; he will smooth things over with the baron, though I doubt that will even be necessary.”
“What?” Draven said, his voice rising. “Is that it? You are willing to let them get away with that? They are withholding something from us. I know it, and you know it too, Your Highness. We have talked about this relentlessly. It is time Ben Greenwood came clean.”
Draven spoke with such intensity and belief that the prince wavered, and he turned back to Ben, giving him another searching look. Ben felt hounded, trapped on all sides. The Institute were perilously close to discovering the secret of Elizabeth's Legacy. But they weren't going to get it out of him. Ben met the prince's stare with as much sincerity as he could muster.
> “There are many unanswered questions,” the prince said finally. “However, right now, with the dark elf threat, we cannot afford to waste any more time, so it will have to be addressed later. In the meantime, Ben, I order you to sleep for at least ten hours. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Ben said, attempting unsuccessfully to hide his relief.
Wren smiled. Draven did not.
— Chapter Twenty-Three —
Grandma's Memories
How did you get us off the hook?” Charlie asked.
Ben, Charlie, Natalie and Joshua sat in the Diplomacy conference room on a brisk Sunday morning. They had come in early, expecting the worst, only to be told at the door by a senior member that there would be no disciplinary action, and to continue with their apprenticeship as normal. Ben had spent a good hour searching for Aaron to impart the good news, but he was nowhere to be found.
Ben retold them everything that had happened in the throne room, including, most important of all, the prince's revelation.
“So, he knows,” Charlie said. “Or at least he knows some of it.”
“Some,” agreed Ben. “But only bits. For example, he doesn't know that Elizabeth's Armour is five separate pieces, and is to be used by each Guardian. He thinks the armour is intended for himself, though he admits he can't understand why he didn't inherit it.”
“You said he can feel the pull,” Joshua said. “Maybe he realises that it's dangerous.”
“Possibly,” Ben said. “At least he managed to resist it.”
“For now,” Charlie said. “But what about tomorrow? What about next week? I bet as the pressure builds, the pull will get stronger, especially with Draven bugging him about it. Will he be able to hold out? And if not, will he come for you, Ben?”
“Not if he thinks I don't have it,” Ben said. “Which I don't, by the way.”
He was thankful Joshua didn't give him a nudge about the sword. Perhaps he felt that after everything Ben had been thrown, he deserved a little respite.
“So, where does that leave us?” Natalie asked. “We have just over two weeks until our date on Vanishing Street. Once we are there, how easy will it be to get into Lord Samuel's house and get the shield?”
“It won't be easy at all,” Joshua said. “In fact, I have no idea what will be waiting for us.”
“Can we research it?” Ben asked.
“I have tried,” Joshua said. His face went just slightly red. “I would like to get Charlie's help, in case he can dig anything else up.”
It was the perfect opportunity to have a dig at Joshua for claiming he didn't need assistance, but Ben resisted the urge. Charlie nodded enthusiastically.
“Natalie and I have a lead with the sword that we're going to follow up tomorrow morning. Let's meet up after that,” Ben said.
It would be stretching things to say the four of them were starting to get on, but as they parted ways, Ben couldn't help noticing that Joshua's sniping seemed to be less frequent. But Ben wasn't naive – he knew that if the memory spell on Grandma produced nothing, their temporary peace would be shattered.
Ben spent the rest of the day trying to prepare Natalie for the memory spell. They spent hours in the Diplomacy Department, practising on magically formed creatures. They had chosen a level-four spell, as it had greater potential to dig deeper into the mind. But it was far harder to cast as well as being more dangerous, should anything go wrong. After two hours of solid work, Natalie slumped down, exhausted.
“I'm done,” she announced. “God, I need a shower; I'm sweating like Charlie.”
“You're doing great,” Ben said. “You don't want to do one more round? I feel we should try it again with me attempting to distract you, as the spell wavered just a fraction the last time we tried that.”
Natalie gave Ben an evil frown, but with great reluctance they put in another hour's work, before even Ben declared himself satisfied.
“You're going to nail it,” Ben said with a smile. “I bet you could take my grandma all the way back to her birth without a hitch.”
“Let's hope it doesn't come to that,” Natalie said.
It felt peculiar, going to sleep that night, knowing that the challenge ahead wasn't his, but Natalie's. As he lay in bed, he kept running over the memory spell she had been practising, wondering if there was anything more they could have worked on or any further refinements that might have helped. He fell asleep satisfied that they'd not missed anything, but at the same time unable to shake off the concern that they may not have done enough.
*
Another cup of tea?” Ben asked.
Natalie smiled. “No, I'm fine, thanks. I've had enough caffeine to last the whole day, and it's only ten o'clock.”
Ben busied himself in the kitchen and finished up the dishes from breakfast, while Natalie sat down, cup of tea in hand.
“I don't think your grandma knows I'm even here,” Natalie said, glancing into the lounge.
“That's the idea,” Ben said, scrubbing a dirty cup. “I purposefully had you come over at ten o'clock, as she often drifts off in front of the TV after the news. If we can catch her just before she dozes, that will make the spell that much more effective.”
Ben finished up the dishes and dried his hands, before turning to Natalie with an encouraging smile.
“Are you ready? Is there anything you want to go over one last time?”
Ben knew he was being uncommonly pedantic, almost bordering on neurotic, but he didn't care. This was their only lead to the sword, and if it went wrong, they would be at a dead end. The thought was inconceivable, and he'd kick himself if it was for lack of preparation.
“I'm ready,” Natalie said. “Shall we use the TV like we discussed?”
“Yeah, I think that would look cool.”
Ben and Natalie headed into the lounge. He knew it hardly mattered, but he kept the noise to a minimum anyway. His grandma was locked onto the TV. Her eyes already looked heavy, and Ben knew it wouldn't be long before she dozed off. They had to get her before that happened. Ben nodded to Natalie, who slipped her spellshooter silently from her holster. She stood directly behind Grandma's chair, leaving her with just one shot – to the back of Grandma's head, which jutted above the chair's back.
Ben watched silently as Natalie begun a routine he had witnessed dozens of times yesterday. She took three relaxing breaths, and then aimed the spellshooter, her finger resting lightly on the trigger. A large blue pellet started floating serenely down the orb. Ben watched in anticipation as the spell stopped, just for a moment, and then slipped into the barrel.
Natalie pulled the trigger.
A flash of light lit the room and a tiny speck of a spell hit, and entered Anne's head, illuminating her perm for a second.Anne's head immediately flopped back, resting on the top of the chair.
Ben grabbed the TV remote and quickly turned it off. Natalie sat herself down on the carpet, cross-legged, eyes shut, looking very much like she was performing yoga. Ben sat down silently next to her and turned his attention to the TV.
Nothing happened.
Ben felt a flicker of concern, until he saw a sudden flash of colour on the screen.
“Going back three years,” Natalie said. Her voice was soft, but focused. “Nothing. Going back five years. Nothing. Going back ten years.”
The TV flickered again, and Ben saw a flash of something and the picture came into focus. His grandma! She looked far younger, and was outside, tending the garden.
“Ten years, overshot,” Natalie said. “Going back eight years.”
Another visual appeared on the TV, one more familiar to Ben, of Anne watching TV, but she also had a crossword puzzle on her lap.
“Getting closer, I can feel it,” Natalie said, her voice rising a fraction with intensity.
The TV flickered and Ben's stomach gave an almighty leap. There, right on the TV, were his parents, playing with a young version of himself in thei
r garden. Ben stared in astonishment, momentarily forgetting what their objective was. To his dismay, the visual lasted only seconds, before flickering again.
The scenes continued to change with increasing frequency. Ben was transfixed by each one, as Natalie continued to narrow down the time to more exact units. Occasionally Ben would flick his gaze towards Natalie to make sure she was okay. Her forehead was gleaming with sweat, but he was reassured by the intensity and focus of her expression.
“I think I have it,” Natalie said with such exclamation that Ben jumped. He turned back to the TV so quickly his neck gave an almighty crack.
His parents were sitting in their lounge with his grandma, who was knitting. Ben himself was nowhere to be seen. There was an uncommonly serious expression on his parents’ faces that made Ben frown. This was it, he realised. Natalie had found it.
“We need to talk,” Greg said.
Greg had a comforting arm on Jane's leg, but was staring intently at Anne.
“We are talking,” Anne said. “Did you see that? Another gaffe by our PM. I'll try to contain my surprise.”
Greg grabbed the remote and turned the TV off.
Anne's head whipped round in a look of confusion. “What the—? What just happened?”
“I turned the TV off, Anne,” Greg said calmly.
“That was uncalled for,” Anne replied angrily. “Turn it back on.”
Greg retained his calm demeanour in the face of Anne's hostility. “Not until we are done talking.”
“Okay, well, get on with it,” Anne said impatiently, venting her frustration on her knitting; her hands moved furiously.
“Jane and I have some news,” Greg said. “Some of it you will probably have difficulty believing. It relates to our employment.”
Anne frowned. “You're not unemployed, are you? I had a feeling you might be, when I saw the pitiful car you recently downgraded to. Don't expect any handouts from me, Greg – my pension barely covers my expenses as it is, what with weekly bingo and the national lottery.”
“We're not unemployed,” Greg said. Jane was frowning with disapproval at Anne, but Greg kept his patience. “But we have deceived you about the nature of our employment, for your safety, as you will soon understand.”