The Last Guardian (Royal Institute of Magic, Book 5)

by Victor Kloss

  At first, Ben thought that evil Krobeg had missed, for he hadn't even looked where he was shooting. But a form began to materialise just a few paces away. A very familiar-looking form.

  Ben gaped in astonishment as evil Ben formed, right in front of his eyes.

  “You've got to be kidding,” he whispered.

  “I knew that was a bad idea,” Abigail said, looking wide-eyed at mirror Ben. “What should we do?”

  “Nothing,” Ben said firmly. “I don't want you fighting yourself. You won't win.”

  Evil Ben gave real Ben a wink and a smile that he had seen in the mirror countless times.

  “You ready?” evil Ben asked.

  Without waiting for an answer, evil Ben drew his spellshooter, and fired a spell into his hand, forming a sword. Then he attacked.

  Ben summoned his own sword just in time to block the first slice, a vicious cut to the neck. Evil Ben was fast, but Ben grit his teeth and matched his enemy step for step, blow for blow. He knew all evil Ben's moves, and was able to predict each attack. But on the flip side, Ben found it impossible to land his own blows. He launched a sizzling, fast-paced attack, but somehow evil Ben got to each thrust just in time, as if he knew where it was going. Which he probably did.

  Ben was beginning to tire, but so was evil Ben. To Ben's surprise, evil Ben took a step back and gave a little nod. A break? Ben frowned. A break from trying to kill each other? Ben didn't know what was going on, but he had seen evil Krobeg do it, and didn't object. He stepped back to catch his breath and wipe the sweat from his face. Dagmar and Abigail had joined him, while Joshua remained with Krobeg.

  “If you've got any bright ideas, I'd love to hear them,” Ben said, trying for a smile.

  “I'm thinking,” Dagmar said. “It is difficult. We can't attack without creating versions of ourselves who we cannot overcome. What does that mean?”

  “It means we're in trouble,” Ben said. “Especially me.”

  “No, Dagmar's right: it does mean something,” Abigail said, pursing her lips thoughtfully.

  But whatever Abigail was about to say was lost, as evil Ben came forwards, more cautiously this time. They circled each other, making occasional stabs. Ben tried to apportion a section of his mind to think about what Dagmar and Abigail had just said. He had to remind himself that this was a test, intended primarily for Krobeg, and that all tests can be passed. So how could you pass this test? Even if he threw everything into his attack, he knew that somehow evil Ben would just about repel it, and then launch a quick counter attack, as Ben had done so often in the past, which he would in turn fend off. And so it would go on.

  Even as he had the thought, evil Ben came forwards like a whirlwind, and Ben went on the defensive, back-pedalling like mad. But as close as evil Ben came to taking Ben's head off, he never felt in any real danger, because he knew where each attack would come from, and he met it with a solid clash of blades, before finally launching a counter attack, and pushing evil Ben away.

  Evil Ben gave another nod, and Ben was more than glad to step away for another break.

  Ben had time to cast a quick glance over at Krobeg and saw that little had changed – they were still caught in a deadlock, much like he and his doppelgänger.

  “Are you okay, Ben?” Abigail asked. She moved forwards and dabbed his shoulder. He hadn't even realised he was bleeding. One glance at evil Ben and he saw a similar wound in the opposite shoulder.

  “An unusual convention, these breaks,” Dagmar mused.

  “Do you think I should ignore them?” Ben asked. “I could keep on attacking, maybe that's the secret.”

  “I don't think so. You are still evenly matched; it would just result in you both deteriorating quicker. Yet I do believe these breaks somehow provide a clue to passing this test.”

  Ben glanced back at evil Ben, and found to his surprise that evil Ben was looking at him intently. Was he waiting for something? Ben got the distinct feeling that evil Ben was waiting for him to do something that might not be combat related. But whatever it was, Ben had clearly taken too long to do it, as evil Ben came forwards again and once more they clashed swords.

  Unlike Krobeg, who with the armour could recover almost fully with each rest and so go on indefinitely, Ben was starting to tire despite the breaks, which meant their fight would be over all the sooner. Ducking under a sweeping strike, Ben tried desperately to think while maintaining focus on the fight. He now had several pieces of the puzzle: the breaks; the fact that evil Ben seemed to expect something from him during those breaks; and finally, the knowledge that he couldn't possibly win through brute force.

  Ben froze as the realisation hit him.

  Evil Ben's sword bit into his arm, and he cried out loud, quickly bringing his guard back up. Thankfully, the searing pain was momentarily diminished by his sudden brainwave. What if he wasn't supposed to win the fight? What if combat wasn't the point at all, but quite the opposite? The more he thought about it, the more sense it made. The breastplate turned one into an almost invulnerable killing machine. There could be no real test in combat while wearing it. The real test would be to have the strength to take it off and perhaps even seek a peaceful resolution, despite the lure of the breastplate. Ben remembered quite vividly how eager Krobeg had been to get into combat whilst wearing the armour.

  First, though, he would need to try it out on his doppelgänger. He might not have the armour, but the same principles should still apply. Just the thought of refusing to fight, especially when charged upon, made him baulk, and he received another nick from evil Ben, as his concentration wavered. Ben made sure he defended resolutely until, once more, evil Ben signalled a retreat.

  This was it. Ben took a deep breath. Could he do this? If he was wrong, he was in big trouble – big, dead trouble. But the alternative was to keep fighting until one of them dropped, and that someone would most likely be him, as his mind kept on drifting, messing with his concentration.

  He had to give it a go, and he had to do it soon, before evil Ben decided to attack again.

  Ben extinguished his sword and, while staring right into the eyes of his doppelgänger, removed his spellshooter and placed it carefully on the floor.

  “Ben! What are you doing?” Abigail asked. He didn't need to look at her to feel the shock in her voice.

  “I think he might be on to something,” Dagmar said.

  Evil Ben continued to watch Ben, clearly intrigued. Ben felt tense, his hands itching to grab his spellshooter. This wasn't going to work, unless he calmed down, he realised. With a deep breath, and supreme force of will, he made himself forget about his spellshooter, his one form of attack, and stood straight, staring evil Ben right in the eye.

  Evil Ben smiled, then nodded, and gave a deep bow. With a flash of white light, evil Ben vanished.

  Ben almost collapsed with relief.

  “You did it!” Abigail said with a delighted clap.

  Dagmar gave one of her rare approving nods. “Very good, Ben. The test is about peace in spite of all, not combat. How very clever to give such a test to the Guardian of the Breastplate.”

  Ben would have liked to bathe in the compliment, but a shout from Krobeg made him turn. Incredibly, he was still fighting, though perhaps a little slower now. Ben waited until evil Krobeg backed away, and Krobeg stepped back to them, breathing heavily. He now had a nasty wound on his forehead and he was limping a bit.

  “How'd you do it?” Krobeg asked, as soon as he joined them.

  “You need to stop fighting,” Ben said immediately. “The test isn't about combat, but the ability to refuse its temptation, despite all impulse, desire and even apparent necessity.”

  “Stop fighting?” Krobeg said doubtfully. “I can't believe that's the solution. He'll just tear me to pieces.”

  “No. It worked for me.”

  Krobeg didn't look convinced.

  “Oh, and you'll need to take Elizabeth's Breastplate off.”

&
nbsp; “What?” Krobeg's hand went to his chest, and he shook his head. “No, I can't do that. I need the breastplate. I won't survive without it.”

  “You won't need it,” Ben said. “Once you determine without a doubt that you will not fight, and remove the breastplate, your doppelgänger will disappear.”

  Krobeg was shaking his head even before Ben had finished speaking. “No. I need the breastplate. It gives me strength. I need it.”

  There was a wild look in Krobeg's eyes that Ben didn't like.

  “Remove the breastplate, Krobeg,” Dagmar said in an authoritative voice Ben had heard so many times before. “It is clouding your mind.”

  “I cannot. I will not,” Krobeg said. He turned away from them to face his doppelgänger, who had been watching the scene closely – no doubt wondering if Krobeg was going to relinquish the armour and end the fight, Ben thought bitterly.

  Instead, the two of them clashed again, and Ben looked on helplessly as Krobeg gave and received several nasty blows, before returning to them looking ready to collapse.

  “Krobeg, you need to trust me,” Ben said.

  But Krobeg raised a hand and shook his head, claiming no interest.

  “Foolish dwarf,” Dagmar said with a flash of anger. “You're killing yourself, and you're going to jeopardise our whole mission. Remember our mission? We are the only ones who can stop the dark elves by removing their king. The fate of the kingdoms rests on our shoulders, and you're blowing it.”

  Krobeg turned to Dagmar, a torn look on his face. “The mission – that's right. But the armour—”

  “Take it off!” Abigail shouted with such force and conviction that Krobeg jumped.

  His eyes widened, and his face cleared. “Take it off.” He took a deep, heaving breath. “Take it off. Yes, I can do that – I think.”

  But time had run out. His doppelgänger was advancing, and Krobeg was forced to endure another round. Ben watched, tense, knowing that they both looked ready to collapse. Krobeg was clearly no longer focused on battle, and he took a nasty blow to the shoulder so that he could hardly use his axe. It was only time that saved him, with evil Krobeg retreating just as he looked certain to win, further reinforcing Ben's belief that he was on the right track. This was not about winning or losing in combat.

  Krobeg stumbled back, dragging his axe.

  “Off,” Dagmar snapped. “Get rid of your weapons, and remove the breastplate. Do it now, before it’s too late.”

  Krobeg dropped the axe and, with some difficulty, removed his jacket, revealing the breastplate beneath. His hands went to remove the straps, and he hesitated.

  “Krobeg,” Ben said. “Don't stop now. You're almost there.”

  Ben sensed a brief conflict and, for one horrible moment, Ben thought Krobeg was going to change his mind. But he shook his head, as if trying to rid himself of some evil thoughts, and undid each of the straps. With tender care, he then removed the breastplate, and placed it softly on the floor. He gave it one last longing look, before turning back to Ben.

  “Okay, now what?”

  “Now you have to decide that whatever happens, you're not going to fight. You have to show that you are willing to resolve conflict through peaceful means, not just bloodshed.”

  “What if he attacks me?” Krobeg asked.

  “You stand your ground, but do not attack back. If you do, or if you even think about doing so, you will fail,” Ben said.

  “So basically be a sitting duck – got it,” Krobeg said.

  “You'll be fine,” Ben assured him.

  Evil Krobeg was watching the scene with interest, but made no move to relinquish his own weapons. Ben frowned – his own doppelgänger had bowed and disappeared upon seeing Ben's submission. Why wasn't evil Krobeg doing the same?

  “You don't have any thoughts of combat lingering in your head, do you?” Ben asked.

  “No, they're all gone,” Krobeg said. Despite his weariness and injuries, he even managed a small smile. “It's quite refreshing actually. With the breastplate on, I couldn't stop thinking about fighting.”

  Evil Krobeg took a single step forwards.

  “Shouldn't he be disappearing, like your one did?” Abigail asked.

  “I'm not sure. This one is obviously different.”

  Krobeg maintained his smile, but it was starting to become strained. “Ben? He's coming forwards, and he's still armed.”

  So he was. Evil Krobeg was now walking back into combat, preparing for the next round of attack, grim-faced, battle axe in hand.

  “Stay where you are,” Ben ordered, holding a hand out. “It's a test.”

  “Are you sure?” Krobeg said, his voice breaking slightly. “My life is on the line here.”

  Ben watched in horror as evil Krobeg broke into a run and charged forwards, with a sudden terrifying cry.

  “Hold your position!” Ben screamed.

  Krobeg's eyes were like saucers, watching his doppelgänger charge at him, but he didn't move; he didn't even raise his arms when evil Krobeg raised his axe.

  In the fleeting moment before evil Krobeg struck, Ben had the horrible feeling that he'd got it all wrong. He raised his arms over his head, as if he were the one who needed protecting, and tried shouting for Krobeg to duck, to move, to do anything to avoid being sliced open. But his voice wouldn't function.

  Evil Krobeg jumped, swung his axe, and exploded in a flash of light.

  Ben stood there for a moment, gasping for breath. Joshua and Abigail did likewise, and even Dagmar looked put out, her face slightly pale.

  Only Krobeg remained calm. His eyes were shut, and he was taking deep breaths.

  “That was incredible,” Krobeg said.

  He opened his eyes, and Ben immediately saw a new Krobeg emerge. He looked calmer, more relaxed and at peace with himself. He glanced at the breastplate with a purse of the lips.

  “I guess I need to put that back on,” he said reluctantly.

  “Just while we're in this house,” Ben said. “As soon as we get outside, you can take it off.”

  Krobeg nodded. “I knew it was affecting me, but I never realised how much.”

  “You beat it, though,” Joshua said.

  “For now,” Krobeg agreed, lifting the breastplate up and slowly strapping it back on.

  Ben felt exhausted. The few chairs in the hall had long since been shattered, most likely in the fight between the Krobegs. So Ben sat himself down on the floor.

  Dagmar immediately approached him and raised her spellshooter. “Brace yourself.”

  Ben gasped as she fired a series of healing spells. They coursed through his body like ice, making him go rigid, as they worked on the cuts and bruises. After a painful few minutes, he felt a little better.

  “I've got a bit of food left,” Ben said. “Abigail, can you dish it out?”

  The five of them sat in a circle, and tucked into a rather meagre feast. Even though Ben received only half a ham sandwich and a few gulps of water, he felt a lot better for it.

  “I could use another ten of those sandwiches,” Krobeg admitted, patting his stomach.

  “I could use a bed,” Ben said, stretching his legs out.

  For the next ten minutes, they sat there resting. It was a wonderful feeling being able to relax, without the constant threat of danger lurking over your shoulder. Unsurprisingly, it was Joshua who started looking towards the two end doors of the hall first.

  “We should get going,” Joshua said. “Time is still against us, with the dark elves.”

  “What will we face next?” Abigail asked.

  “The shield, hopefully,” Ben said, reluctantly getting to his feet. “And whatever is guarding it.”

  Feeling a little refreshed from the food, drink and rest, they walked to the end of the hall, where Dagmar eyed up both doors, before choosing the one on the left.

  She put her hand on the door handle, and immediately recoiled with a gasp.

&nb
sp; “What is it?” Ben asked, the others chorusing in with variations of the same question.

  “There is a great deal of magic and power in the next room,” Dagmar said. “I can feel it the moment I connect the door to the room.”

  “The shield?” Joshua asked eagerly.

  Dagmar nodded. “Most likely.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully, her eyes flicking to Ben. “And something else – something I can’t quite place, but it has significant power.”

  “Could that be whatever is guarding the shield?” Abigail asked.

  “Possibly,” Dagmar said, though she didn't seem convinced.

  Ben smiled grimly. “Well, let's go find out, shall we?”

  Dagmar re-placed her hands on the door handle, and gently pushed it open.

  — Chapter Thirty-Eight —

  Elizabeth's Shield

  Ben followed Dagmar in, spellshooter drawn, the others right behind. After everything they had been through, Ben felt like he was prepared for anything, but the fear of the unknown was always unnerving, and yet he was too weary to get too worked up about it.

  The moment he entered this new, rectangular room, Ben knew they had come to the end of their journey. Weapons and pieces of armour covered nearly every space on the walls, bar a pair of large double doors across from them.

  Joshua surged past him, all thought of caution forgotten.

  “This is it!” he said, scouring the walls. “It must be here.”

  And it was.

  The shield wasn't hard to spot. It was the only piece of armour housed in a glass cabinet, occupying one of the smaller walls. The cabinet itself was a wonderful piece of craftsmanship: gold trimmed with jewels embedded along its frame. But it was the shield within that Ben and the others stared at. Just like the other pieces of Elizabeth's Armour, it was relatively simple, but stunningly crafted. It was a somewhat small, circular shield, with blue precious stones running round its rim.

  “It's beautiful,” Abigail said.