Royal Institute of Magic: Elizabeth's Legacy (31 page)

The barrel illuminated bright
blue, but the spell still resisted. Ben screamed with effort and for
a moment the pellet started floating down the orb. But before it
could make it into the barrel, it ran out of steam.

Ben stared at the Spellshooter in
desperation.

The dark elf lunged, aiming the
butt of his sword at Ben’s head. Ben side-stepped and threw the
Spellshooter at the elf with all the willpower and determination he
had used moments earlier. The Spellshooter hit the elf full in the
face and exploded. Ben was thrown one way, the dark elf the other.
Ben scrambled to his feet, but the dark elf remained on the grass in
a lifeless heap.

“Are you okay?”
Natalie asked anxiously.

Ben nodded, his eyes searching
the battlefield for another Spellshooter. There! He ran over and
picked it up.

“We can use these to help,”
he said.

“Are you mad?”
Charlie asked. “You want us to run up to a dark elf, shove a
Spellshooter in their face and then hope the resulting explosion
doesn’t kill us?”

Natalie nodded, her green eyes
anxious. “It’s too dangerous, Ben. Throwing a
Spellshooter can make the spells inside explode. It’s a miracle
you’re okay.”

Ben felt torn. He desperately
wanted to help. There was fighting everywhere, with several bodies
lying on the hill, as well as spells flying all over the place like a
fireworks display gone wrong.

A stray fireball sailed over
their heads.

“We’ve got to go!”
Natalie said, grabbing Ben by the arm.

Ben was about to argue when he
saw a flash of red in the distance. It came from a nearby hill. Ben
squinted, focusing on a clump of rocks near the top. There it was
again! It looked like a powerful torch being aimed at him.

Was someone up there?

“Ben!” Charlie’s
voice was frantic. “What are you doing? Let’s go!”

Ben didn’t take his eyes
off the hill. “Something is up there.”

They immediately stopped trying
to drag Ben away and looked.

“My parents,” Ben
said, his voice a whisper. As he spoke, he saw two unmistakable
silhouettes on top of the hill.

Charlie suddenly forgot all about
the battle. “Are you sure?”

Ben looked them both in the eye.
“I’m positive. Follow me.”

Ben knew running would attract
attention, so he resisted his natural instinct and maintained a
steady pace down the hill. Several times Ben saw a dark elf spot
them, but a Spellsword always cut them off. Gradually the sound of
battle receded and they found themselves alone at the base of the
hill.

“We made it,” Natalie
said, her face lighting up.

Charlie was looking back up the
hill. “I still feel like we’re going to be hit by a stray
spell.”

The battle was still raging, but
it was difficult to make out who was on top. Ben couldn’t see
Alex or Wren; he hoped they were okay.

“Now what?” Natalie
asked.

“Now we find my parents.”

Ben led them to the smaller hill
and into a cluster of trees at its base. The branches hid what was
left of twilight and they got their spell pouches out to help
illuminate their way. Ben kept looking up, searching for the clearing
at the top of the hill. His heart was thumping and sweat ran down his
forehead. Were his mum and dad still up there? His stomach gave a
lurch when he spotted the clearing and he raced the final stretch,
bursting through the tree line at a sprint.

He stopped, breathing hard, eyes
searching eagerly. There were a few scattered boulders much like the
last hill, but everything was smaller.

There was no sign of his parents.

Ben scrambled up to the boulders
and peered behind each of them.

“Where are they?”
Charlie asked. He and Natalie had entered the clearing and were
looking at him in confusion.

“They were here,” Ben
said with a note of desperation, still looking, unable to accept
defeat. Charlie and Natalie joined him, but there was little to
search except the boulders. After re-checking each one twice, they
went to the largest one and sat down disconsolately.

“They were here,” Ben
said softly.

“We believe you,”
Natalie said, and Charlie nodded.

“I can’t understand
why they keep running.”

Neither Charlie nor Natalie had a
suitable reply.

Ben’s eyes drifted to a
nearby boulder. His parents could have been sitting there less than
twenty minutes ago. There was a small stone on top of it that caught
his attention. Ben could have sworn the stone had been black a moment
ago, but now it seemed to have a dull green hue. He squinted. The
more he stared at the stone, the brighter it became.

“What’s that?”
Charlie asked. The stone was now giving off a green glow.

Hope surging, Ben sprung up and
ran over. It was a spell pouch. They stared at it in amazement. Ben
picked it up and held it close. He opened the drawstring. A small
green pellet stared back at him.

Ben exchanged excited looks with
Charlie, but Natalie wore a frown.

“Don’t touch the
pellet,” she said.

Ben and Charlie looked at her in
surprise. “Why not?”

“It could be booby-trapped.
Some pellets activate on touch.”

Ben’s free hand hovered
over the open pouch. “What are the odds of someone planting a
trap for us here? The dark elves were busy last I checked.”

The more Ben stared at the
pellet, the more he felt like taking it out. His hand started
trembling and, before he knew what he was doing, he had delved into
the pouch to pick it up.

There was a flash of blinding
light and the world disappeared into blackness. Ben was floating,
aware but without a body. His panic subsided as an image materialised
before him.

Another memory.

The colour and details were as
rich and perfect as before. He was in a sumptuously decorated hallway
with thick, red carpet, gold enamelling on the intricately carved
wooden panels and magnificent portraits lining both walls.

Ben knew right away this memory
wasn’t his. He was watching a scene unfold through someone
else’s eyes. Before he could work out whose it was, the memory
sucked him in and the world took over.

“Would you take a seat, Mr. Greenwood?” Lord Samuel asked with thinly
masked impatience. “Your pacing is most off-putting.”

“My apologies,” Michael said, but he made no motion to sit down.
“It is an old habit; I am used to being on my feet.”

Samuel made no attempt to hide his disgust, but the others didn’t seem
to care; Charlotte even smiled, momentarily wiping away her troubled
frown.

Charlotte’s
anxiety was evident among all the directors, bar Michael. They sat on
elegant chairs spaced generously against the wall, constantly
glancing towards Queen Elizabeth’s royal suite. Any moment now
her door was going to open.

Michael
could guess his fellow directors’ thoughts because he shared
most of them. Why had the Queen summoned them? Her visits to the
Institute were increasingly infrequent; she was no longer young and
the unrest back home kept her busy. Michael noticed Lord Samuel
licking his lips. No doubt he was wondering what all were – was
Queen Elizabeth going to resign her position as commander of the
Institute? If so, who would replace her?

For
Michael, the mystery of the meeting brought back fond memories of the
day he had discovered the Institute. Was that really ten years ago?
How times had changed. He had five green diamonds floating above his
shoulder, making him senior to those lords and barons who had made
his early Institute life so difficult. Now only a few, such as Lord
Samuel, didn’t treat him as an equal.

Michael’s
reminiscing was broken by the opening of the royal suite door. He
felt his fellow directors stiffen.

A
guard appeared. “Lord Samuel. Would you please come through?”

The
chair creaked under Lord Samuel’s bulk as he stood up. He was
clearly pleased that he had been called first and gave the others a
pompous nod before disappearing through the door.

The
minutes seemed to drag out and even Michael started to feel tense.
Finally, the door opened and Lord Samuel re-emerged, his face redder
than usual. He looked straight at Michael with a scowl of open
hostility, before stalking off. What was that about? The other
directors appeared equally baffled.

“Lady
Charlotte Rowe,” the guard said.

Charlotte
rose, her anxiety washed away by fierce determination. Michael gave
her an encouraging nod as she walked into the royal suite.

Time
passed just as slowly before Charlotte came out again. Unlike Samuel,
there was no anger, just a thoughtful expression as she left.

The
remaining directors came and went until Michael was left alone in the
hallway. He was surprised to find he felt slightly disappointed at
being last.

“Michael
James Greenwood,” the guard said.

Michael
approached the doorway and entered the royal suite, his heart beating
a little faster.

Queen
Elizabeth sat on a gilded chair at the centre of a spacious,
exquisitely furnished room. To her left was a display of her famous
armour in all its glory, the golden sword floating inches from the
ground. Michael smiled, remembering the first time he’d seen
the sword, at his entrance examination for the Institute. That had
been an interesting day.

Michael
bowed and the Queen beckoned him forward. There was nowhere to sit,
but he was more comfortable standing anyway.

The
Queen looked tired. She tried to conceal it, but Michael knew her too
well. Her auburn hair and pale face were as flawless as ever, but
there was a weariness in her eyes and her back wasn’t quite as
straight as usual.

“Michael
Greenwood.” Elizabeth let his name hang in the air. There was a
hint of a smile on her face. “After all these years I never
thanked you for repaying my faith.” Michael looked at her with
surprise and Elizabeth continued. “My advisers, Lord Samuel
among them, tried to dissuade me from promoting you, the baker’s
apprentice, and Charlotte to the Institute’s highest echelon.”

“Then
it seems as though I should be thanking you,” Michael said with
a bow. “However, if I may correct you on one point – I
was no longer a baker’s apprentice; I became fully qualified
several years ago.”

Elizabeth’s
smile wiped the weariness from her face. “That is why I like
you, Michael. You speak your mind, even to me.”

Michael
waited patiently for her to continue. This idle talk was clearly a
prelude, but he knew better than to press her.

Elizabeth
turned to her armour and her humour faded. “My armour is not
safe here.”

The
announcement caught Michael by surprise. “How can that be?
Surely there is no safer place than the Institute?”

“Safe
from the outside perhaps, but not from within.”

Michael
felt his stomach lurch. “You suspect treachery?”

“The
lure of power is an irresistible force.”

Michael
instinctively thought of Lord Samuel. Suddenly, the man’s
troubled face made more sense. What had the Queen said to him?

“My
armour must be kept safe for Suktar’s eventual return.”

“Suktar’s
return?” Michael said, a little too loudly. Then in a softer
voice. “I hoped he hadn’t survived after we defeated him
in Taecia.”

“We
may have routed his army, but Suktar got away. The High Council
warned me the Armour’s magic could not be fully harnessed by a
single individual. In my arrogance and greed I ignored them. There
were repercussions, especially to myself.”

The
Queen paused, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her hands
gripped the armrests, fighting a sudden tremble. When the Queen's
eyes reopened, Michael noticed a subtle gold tint to them.

“He
will return,” the Queen continued, calm once more. “It
may not be for decades or even centuries, but we must be ready when
he does.”

“What
is your plan, Your Majesty?” Michael asked, for she clearly had
one. That’s what this was all about.

“My
Armour shall never again be owned by one man or woman. It shall be
split amongst you and the four other directors.”

Michael
stared at Elizabeth’s Armour, allowing the magnitude of her
order to sink in. The story behind the forging of the Armour was one
of Queen Elizabeth’s most guarded secrets. Much was speculated,
but little was known about its power.

“The
Institute is not to know of my Armour’s fate. It must be kept
safe, handed down to your descendants, until Suktar returns.”

“I
am honoured,” Michael said, with a bow.

“Do
not be. I have burdened you with a great responsibility.”

“Will
your son not wonder why he isn't to inherit it?”

“I
will deal with my son,” Elizabeth said firmly. Yes, there was a
definite hint of gold in those brown eyes. “Henry of all people
must not know my Armour's fate. If he has even the slightest inkling
of its whereabouts, he will go mad searching for it. Should Henry don
the Armour, the consequences would be dire.”

Michael
very much wanted to know the reason behind such ominous portents, but
knew better than to ask. He turned his attention to the magnificent
suit of armour. Each piece had a specific purpose.

“What
am I to be entrusted with?”

“You
shall take the sword. It was crafted for the sole purpose of ending
Suktar’s life. That objective will fall on your bloodline.”

“May
I know which pieces the others will take?”

Elizabeth
thought for a moment. “I will tell you only this – Lord
Samuel has the shield. He must be at your side, protecting you
against Suktar’s mightiest blows. You two have the greatest
burdens.” Elizabeth sensed Michael’s unease. “I
know your opinion of him, but Lord Samuel’s courage cannot be
doubted. It is a trait I hope his family carries with them.”