Royal Institute of Magic: The Shadowseeker (Book 2) (3 page)

Unlike the shoulder-length hair of most dark elves Ben had seen, this one was completely bald, with gold piercings in his nose, slanted ears, and both eyebrows. In one hand he held a sword, and in the other a purple ball of energy.

With a blank, almost bored expression, he rode out of the lift, hacked down the nearest Institute member, and blasted another against the wall. The dark elf dodged and swayed the incoming spells with an inhuman dexterity, and the panther's snapping jaws consumed any that came its way with only the faintest repercussions.

“Earth and air!” someone shouted.

The shape and form of the spells changed and the dark elf took a hit on the shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. Slowly the Institute closed in on the elf and his steed. In response, the elf raised his head so that he was staring at the ceiling. With a hideous choking sound, he opened his mouth and out came a dozen large purple-winged moths. They soared upwards and evolved, growing arms, legs, and faces that reminded Ben of hungry piranhas. There was a moment of stunned silence as the moths transformed into spear-wielding pixies; then came the sound of a dozen high-pitched war cries and the spears were hurled down. Ben ducked as one soared over his head. Spellshooters rose and blasts of ice shot into the air. Several pixies went down in a frozen heap. Having expended their spears, the remaining pixies dived down, their claw-like hands extended and gnashing teeth bared.

The attack on the dark elf had momentarily stalled as the Institute took on their new adversary, allowing the dark elf, still mounted on the panther, to step forwards. Blood seeped from the dark elf's shoulder, but he showed little sign of pain.

He was heading in Ben's direction, but it was impossible to tell if Ben was the intended target or if he was just in the elf's way.

“Ben!”

Ben turned so quickly his neck cracked. Charlie lay on the ground in a ferocious wrestling match with one of the pixies. Their hands were locked together and the pixie's sharp teeth were closing in on Charlie's neck. Ben dived onto the pixie, knocking him off Charlie and they landed heavily on the floor. The pixie flew back onto his feet, but Ben was ready, and when the pixie came at him, snarling and snapping, Ben launched a right hook into his jaw. The pixie reeled. A second hook and the pixie went down in a heap.

“Can we go now?” Charlie asked, getting to his feet, his eyes darting this way and that, looking for the next pixie that might dive bomb him. The gleeful shouts from the pixies were turning into howls of anger as they were taken down by the Institute. Ben picked up one of the spears littered on the floor and turned back to the dark elf. The panther and its rider were now less than ten feet away and closing with every step, despite the spells that came their way. Was it coming for him or just trying to get outside? Ben knew he just had to step aside to find out, but he didn't. He couldn't just let the dark elf escape without doing something. A rational part of him knew that any effort he made to stop it would be futile, but rationality was buried deep beneath a raw, almost suicidal, determination to act.

He stood firm, spear in hand, ignoring Charlie tugging at his arm, until the dark elf's sword was almost in reach. He tensed himself; he had one chance with the spear, but he had to get the timing exactly right. The dark elf flicked his blade forwards with inhuman speed and, before Ben could blink, he saw the hilt of the sword flying towards his temple.

A streak of silver lightning hammered into the dark elf's chest, followed by a glowing black cannon ball that struck the panther directly on the head, producing a sickening crunch. The dark elf flew back and crashed against the wall in a crumpled heap. The remaining pixies vanished with a pop. There was a stunned silence, broken only by heavy breathing and several groans of pain. Ben turned to the source of the spells.

Two men had entered the room side by side, both holding spellshooters. They stood out as the only ones walking, while the rest stood and stared. One was short and stout, with heavy eyebrows, a scruffy beard and a scar that ran along his chin. The other wore a Jedi-styled, blue, hooded cloak, and in his spare hand was a Starbucks that he sipped as he walked. He had bright eyes, wavy hair and lips that seemed creased in a permanent little smile. Both had five diamonds floating above their shoulders – the short one's were red; the cloaked one's, yellow.

Ben's emotions couldn't have contrasted greater as he looked at the two men. Draven, the stocky one, seemed to have a personal vendetta against his family and had been responsible for labelling his parents as traitors to the Institute. Alex, on the other hand, was a close friend of his parents and was one of the few Institute directors to stand up for them.

“Nice shot, Draven,” Alex said, taking another sip of his Starbucks.

“Nice?” Draven scoffed. “I just took out a deema in one shot. Do you know how tough they are?”

Alex gave a gentle roll of his eyes. “Let's not get cocky. The deema is but a distant relative of the forreck.”

“Anything related to the forreck is deadly,” Draven grunted. They had made it to the deema and Draven gave it a kick in the head and chest. The animal didn't move.

“What spell grade did you use?”

“Five,” Draven said, still looking at the beast. “You?”

“Five as well, just to be sure. That spell cost me a week's wages.”

They moved to the dark elf. This time Alex bent down to inspect, lifting the elf's head with rather more delicacy than Draven had done to the deema. When he got back up, Ben saw a flash of rare concern cross his face.

“Looks like a Shadowseeker,” Alex said, in a soft voice that Ben could only just hear. “I haven't seen one of them in a while.”

Draven's face was grim. “We'll have to summon the council.”

Alex stood up and Draven turned to face everyone; most were still staring at them.

“Alright, listen up!” Draven said. Ben had forgotten how deep and powerful his voice was. “I want all expert Spellswords and Wardens and any master Traders, Scholars or Diplomats with me. We're going to clean up this mess. The rest of you, get out – you'll just get in the way. We'll call you when the lift is back in service. I have half a dozen medics on their way for those who need help.”

Immediately diamonds started appearing over people's shoulders and members either gathered around Draven or left – some hobbling – through the revolving doors. Ben and Charlie made to go, but Alex caught their eyes.

“Morning, guys,” he said, looking at them both in turn. “Are you both okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Other than nearly being ripped to shreds by demon pixie,” Charlie said. “Is this normal for a morning commute to the Institute?”

Alex smiled. “It's not normally this exciting, but we've been having a bit of trouble with the dark elves lately.” His eyes lingered on Ben, but he added nothing further.

“What is a Shadowseeker?” Ben asked.

The same flash of concern Ben had seen moments earlier resurfaced. “Now isn't the time for a lesson in the dark elf special forces units. I'll explain when you get into the Institute, I promise.” He gave them both a friendly slap on the shoulder. “It's going to be an uncommonly interesting Monday morning, so I’d better be going. I'll see you both later.”

They watched him leave, and then Charlie turned to Ben.

“What shall we do while we wait?”

“Starbucks,” Ben said.

“I was hoping you'd say that.”

An hour passed before it was safe to travel. They left Starbucks and found a crowd of Institute members waiting for the lift. The dark elf attack was the topic on everyone's lips and both Ben and Charlie listened intently as they waited in line. Most seemed to agree that the dark elf was here to create havoc as part of their plan to distract the Institute while they continued their planned invasion on Fiorgan. Ben's ears perked up whenever he heard the word “Shadowseeker”, but short of being some sort of special dark elf, nobody seemed to know much about them.

Charlie groaned when they reached the front of the line and the lift opened before them. Ben felt a tinge of excitement as they stepped into the large cubicle. Facing them were rows of black leather seats, complete with arm- and headrests. Each seat had a padded bar that you could pull down over your chest and, once more, Ben was reminded of a roller-coaster ride.

“I hope this thing doesn't go as fast as last time,” Charlie said, as they picked two chairs in the centre and buckled up. The majority of the people kept talking as though the lift's speed was insignificant, though Ben did notice a few pale faces.

The lift closed and they started a slow descent. Ben gripped the armrests, waiting with growing anticipation for the sudden drop.

“It's a slow count to ten,” a gentleman to Ben's left said. “Once you know when it's going to happen, it's not so bad.”

“What are we on now?” Ben asked.

“Eight. Nine.”

“Oh god!” Charlie said, in a soft squeal.

“Ten.”

The lift plummeted and Ben gasped, his momentary alarm quickly turning into exhilaration. He just about resisted the urge to fling his arms into the air and whoop with delight – that might have looked slightly childish.

Unlike most roller-coasters, which last just seconds, the lift kept on dropping. Ben was almost getting used to the sensation and even Charlie had stopped groaning when the lift finally slowed and came to a gentle stop. The door opened with a soft ding.

A stone corridor greeted them, lit by torches hanging from the walls. Ben found himself grinning, remembering their astonishment the last time they had been here. Ben and Charlie joined the small throng of people walking two abreast along the passage.

They walked until they reached the small security chamber, where a small line had formed. When it was Ben's turn to enter, his eyes immediately went to the small sign that had so astonished him on his first visit.

“Warning:

“Electronics at serious risk of spontaneous combustion beyond this point. Please dispense with all such items before proceeding through the arch.

“Maximum penalty for smuggling science: £10,000 and three years in prison.”

A large lady beckoned him forwards and Ben approached the stone wall on the left. He quickly spotted the tiny slot between the stones that had so baffled him last time. He inserted his ID card and watched in fascination as the stone in front of him faded away, revealing a small empty cubicle within the wall. He put his phone in, removed the card, and the stone faded back into existence. Then it was through the archway embedded with the large green eye, which watched Ben closely as he passed underneath.

“You know what I can't understand?” Charlie asked, glancing back at the arch before they continued on their way. “How did the dark elf get through all this to make it to the lift? How did it even get onto the Dragonway? It's not like it was hard to spot – it was riding a huge panther thing.”

“I was wondering the same thing,” Ben said. “Do you remember Alex's reaction when he identified the dark elf?”

“As a Shadowseeker,” Charlie said, nodding. “I've never seen him that concerned, and we've seen him facing a few tight spots.”

“Maybe Natalie will know what a Shadowseeker is.”

“She doesn't.”

“What do you mean?” Ben asked, slowing down in surprise. “You've asked her?”

Charlie's sizeable cheeks reddened. “I emailed her when we were in Starbucks.”

“You have her email address?”

Charlie's words came out in a sudden rush. “She gave it to me before we left. I knew how difficult the apprenticeship was going to be, so I wanted to pick her brains and learn as much as possible. I know I should have told you, but somehow it never came up.”

Charlie was fiddling with one of his shirt buttons, his brow furrowed.

“That's great, Charlie,” Ben said, with a reassuring smile. “It makes sense to learn as much as possible.”

“You're not upset?”

“Of course not.”

Charlie's eyes narrowed. “Did she give you her email address too?”

“No, she didn't,” Ben said. He looked ahead, suddenly hoping to see the Croydon Dragonway station.

“So you haven't been in touch with her these last couple of weeks?”

Ben sighed. “We've texted each other a few times.”

“What?” Charlie's voice rose an octave. It echoed down the tunnel and several people looked round. Then in only a slightly softer voice, he said, “How did you get her number?”

“I asked her for it,” Ben said. “It's not a big deal. I don't have a fancy phone with email and my internet connection at home is useless, so I got her number instead.”

As he feared, Charlie suddenly looked like a deflated balloon.

It was time to play the white lie card.

“We only spoke once or twice,” Ben said. “Talking to her about the Institute just made me miss the place more.”

That seemed to do the trick. Charlie's face relaxed and he even managed an embarrassed smile. But whatever he was about to say was cut short by a sudden gust of wind. The London Underground symbol was hanging from the ceiling in front of them – a red circle with a blue horizontal bar, which had the word “Croydon” written on it.

Thoughts of Natalie vanished. They grinned at each other and rounded the corner.

“All aboard! Nonstop to Taecia. Hop to, ladies and gents, she's not going to hang around.”

The cry came from a pot-bellied goblin, who was waving people onto the Dragonway. Despite the warning of departure, Ben found it impossible not to stop and stare. A long dragon with scaly skin and stubby leathery wings sat on all fours, attached to a dozen bright red carriages. The half-doors were open, with passengers of all shapes and sizes getting on. Ben was reminded of the trams at theme parks, which took you from the car park to the entrance. Just like last time, there were three elves saddled on the back of the dragon's neck, each holding a harness.

“There – two empty seats,” Ben said, pointing to a carriage near the back. He was forced to cut in front of a couple of elderly men to claim the seats he had spotted. They crammed in, Ben giving the angry men an apologetic wave.