The Silver Dwarf (Royal Institute of Magic, Book 4) (28 page)

“Don’t even think about it,” Charlie said, giving him a stern look.

“It’s just three hours,” Ben said. “What is there to lose? We might find my parents, and if we don’t, we leave. It’s that simple.”

“We don’t have three hours, Ben,” Charlie said, raising his voice. “Every minute we waste here, the dark elves could be closing in on Elander’s son. We
need to leave,
now
.”

Ben clenched his fists, and bit his lip in frustration. He hated to admit it, but Charlie was right. The brief flare of hope that had burned brightly for a
full minute was suddenly extinguished.

He turned back to Elander, who was looking at him closely. “Say hi to my parents for me.”

Elander gave his first and only smile. “I will. And if you manage to find my son, tell him I am sorry, and that he was right about everything. Tell him
that I will see him soon.”

Ben turned to a relieved Charlie. “You ready?”

A peculiar, haunting cry drowned out Charlie’s response. They turned and saw three tall, cloaked figures floating towards them, their feet never touching
the ground. Within their hoods was nothing but a pair of soulless white dots.

“Go!” Elander said firmly. “I will deal with this.”

Ben wanted to argue, but Elander was already walking purposefully towards the figures.

“Let’s get out of here,” Charlie said.

Ben cursed, and grabbed his brooch with both hands. He focused on home, and immediately the void seemed to shift. One of the ghostly figures gave another
haunting cry and managed to skirt round Elander, heading right for them. The void solidified, as his concentration on his body at home wavered. The demon
ghost sailed towards them, and lifted a hand. In it he carried a scythe that looked far more real than the ghost itself. Against all reason and instinct,
Ben closed his eyes, and focused again on his unconscious body – the feel of the sleeping bag, the pillow beneath his head, the cool air, and that awful
smell.

Ben felt his eyes roll to the back of his head, and blackness consumed him.

Ben rarely missed a day at the Institute, but the following morning he literally couldn’t get out of bed. The battering his body had taken in the void
transferred itself to his real body, and it was all he could do to stagger home with Natalie’s help. Going to the Institute was out of the question, as his
sorry state would surely have prompted unwanted questions. His desire to get back to the Unseen Kingdoms and find out how to get to Drinkmorr was
temporarily dulled by the bliss of being able to lie in bed all day. It felt like they had been in the void for weeks, even though it had been less than
twenty-four hours.

The cuts and bruises would take time to heal, but after twenty-four hours in bed, Ben felt well enough to return to the Institute. Charlie had also taken
time off; his parents had been shocked but not overly surprised when he told them his injuries had been the result of bullies at school.

Autumn was well and truly on its way, and though central Taecia was primarily a city of stone, the trees in the Institute gardens were starting to decorate
the grounds with golden leaves. A couple of first-grade apprentices fought a losing battle sweeping the leaves from the paths. Ben sucked in the cold,
fresh air. It had been only a few days, but somehow the Royal Institute of Magic looked even grander than usual, with its leaded windows, black-timbered
frames and multitude of gables, creating a mini mountain range. Ben spotted several Institute members standing on the many outside balconies, talking
amongst themselves, some even enjoying the morning sun.

Ben’s good mood was dulled slightly the moment he entered the Institute and felt the tension in the air. Despite the early hours, Institute members zipped
to and fro, with a sense of gravity that clearly came from the dark elf situation. During a short briefing after morning muster, Ben learnt that the dark
elves had not conquered any further land, but nor had the Institute reclaimed the areas in England they’d taken.

“I need to see the three of you in my office,” Dagmar said, as they headed out of muster.

Dagmar’s impassive face made it impossible for Ben to determine if they were going to be scolded or praised.

“I wonder what she wants,” Charlie muttered, as they walked over to stand outside her office.

Natalie was fiddling with the ends of her hair. “Maybe she wants an update.”

Ben waited impatiently; he was eager to begin planning their trip to Drinkmorr, but part of him was also curious about what Dagmar had to say. She never
spoke unless she had something meaningful to impart.

They didn’t have to wait long. As usual, the heavy clomping of Dagmar’s huge shoes preceded her appearance, and she marched right up to the door without
even glancing at them. With a flick of her hand, she motioned them to follow her into her office.

“We have a problem,” she said, matter-of-factly. “Draven has noticed that you are lagging behind in your third-grade apprenticeship, and he has started
asking questions.”

“What does he care?” Ben asked in surprise.

“Draven has taken an unusual interest in you, Ben, ever since you arrived. He asks me at least once a week how you are progressing.”

“What do you tell him?”

“I normally tell him to mind his own business,” Dagmar said. “However, he managed to get hold of your checklist and saw that you are behind in everything
except Spellsword.”

Ben ran a hand through his hair. “Great. What should we do?”

“Catch up,” Dagmar replied without hesitation. “I had a look at the checklist myself, and it’s not as bad as he makes out. If you put the hours in, you
could catch up within a week.”

Ben clenched his fist, trying to contain his growing frustration. “We don’t have a week. We’re trying to find the next Guardian, remember?”

If Dagmar sensed Ben’s anger, she didn’t show it, her hands remaining firmly clasped behind her back.

“What progress have you made?” she asked.

Charlie chimed in. “We know who we’re looking for, and we are fairly certain he lives in Drinkmorr.”

Dagmar gave an approving nod. “Good. That works perfectly. The foreigners’ entrance to Drinkmorr is open only on Thursdays and Sundays. It’s Monday now,
which gives you three days to burn the midnight oil to catch up.”

“Foreigners’ entrance?”

Charlie nodded. “I’ll explain later.”

“In the meantime, if Draven does approach you, Ben, just refer him to me,” Dagmar said.

She gave them a nod, and turned towards her desk, a sure indication that the meeting was over. But as they turned to leave, she spoke again.

“The dark elves are getting ever more dangerous, and we are running out of time. If you need any help with this Guardian, come and see me.”

“No pressure, then,” Charlie muttered, as they exited Dagmar’s office.

It was just past nine o’clock, and they found the common room unusually busy, with the majority of the conversation focused on the dark elves. There were
those who still seemed to think it all a game (such as Simon and his friends) and hoped they might be lucky enough to get drafted in as temporary
Spellswords to fight. Then there were the more sensible ones, who talked about what a dark elf invasion might mean for the Institute, the Unseen Kingdoms,
and even the wider world.

“We need to watch what we say here,” Ben said, as they eventually found a few chairs in their favourite corner.

Natalie started cleaning up the coffee table, her eyes on Charlie. “So, what is this foreigners’ entrance? I’ve heard of Drinkmorr obviously, but I haven’t
read much about it.”

“I haven’t heard of it at all,” Ben said, kicking his legs up onto the table and earning a frown from Natalie. “What sort of town is it?”

“It’s the only fully dwarf town in England,” Charlie said. He managed to keep his tone soft, but Ben could sense Charlie’s underlying excitement. “Unlike
Taecia, and much of the Unseen Kingdoms, it’s completely untouched by our culture. From what I’ve read, it sounds like the sort of fantasy town you read
about in books.”

“And what is the foreigners’ entrance?” Natalie asked again.

“Drinkmorr cannot be placed on an ordinary map. It can be accessed only by a portal. There are two – one for dwarves, which is always open, and the other
for foreigners, which, as Dagmar said, is open only on certain days.”

Ben removed his legs from the table and leaned forwards, elbows on knees. “Could we sneak in via the dwarf entrance? I really don’t want to wait three
days.”

“I doubt it. It’s well guarded, and even if we got through, security would be after us. Hardly ideal if we’re trying to find someone.”

“It’s a pain,” Natalie said. “But given that Draven seems to be obsessed with you and your progress, it might actually work out. We can all work on the
apprenticeship; I’m also behind.”

It took a bit of effort, but once they got rolling, the apprenticeship managed to divert most of their attention away from their trip to Drinkmorr. They
worked every day from nine in the morning for twelve hours, taking only small breaks to eat. Ben upgraded to a B3 spellshooter; Charlie became the fastest
person in the third grade to finish the Scholar checklist; Natalie caught the eye of several Diplomats interested in signing her up for the Department of
Diplomacy.

Despite the crazy schedule, everything went smoothly, until Wednesday during morning muster, the day before they were due to travel to Drinkmorr.

“Third-graders, stay behind,” Dagmar said, after calling muster. “The rest of you, dismissed.”

Ben eyed the twenty-four apprentices who stayed, their curiosity matching his own. He knew most of them pretty well now, and counted many of them as
friends, despite the time suck of being a Guardian.

“As some of you know, Roger Flintoff, your Chief Three, will be taking his third-grade exam shortly and hopefully moving into the fourth grade,” Dagmar
said, “which means you need to elect a new Chief Three.”

Ben immediately saw heads turn to Aaron, who gave a modest smile.

“Why don’t we just give the role to Aaron and spare everyone the bother?” Leslie said. She was a skinny, freckled girl with a mouth that often spoke before
the brain had time to stop it. Her pale skin turned red the moment she realised who she had spoken to. Dagmar gave her a cold stare, and Leslie promptly
lowered her eyes, mumbling an apology.

“For those unfamiliar with the rules, you must gain six votes within twenty-four hours to run for Chief. Those who succeed will then have a week to
campaign before a vote is held. That is all.”

There was an excited chatter as they left the muster room. Aaron was immediately accosted by several apprentices, and they were all talking about the same
thing.

"…you’re going to run, right?”

"…you’re going to smoke it.”

"…I bet no one else even gets six votes. You’ll win by default!”

Aaron rose both hands in a calming gesture. “Let’s not go overboard. I’m sure there will be several other nominations that I will have to overcome.”

Aaron gave a meaningful glance at Ben, who returned it with a shrug. He had no intention of running, but he wasn’t going to tell Aaron that. Thankfully,
Aaron and his entourage continued towards the grand staircase, and Ben took a right, into the common room. He collapsed onto a couch, along with Charlie
and Natalie.

“Is it just me or does anyone else find Aaron unbelievably arrogant?” Natalie asked, tugging her hair irritably.

“I just try to zone him out,” Charlie replied. “It’s hard, though; his voice has a way of penetrating your ear drums.”

Ben slouched back on the couch. “I’ll tell you one thing – unless this Chief gig comes with a bonus of a thousand pounds a week, I won’t be running.”

“What does a Chief Three do exactly?” Charlie asked.

“Quite a lot, actually,” Natalie said. “I was Chief One during my first grade. You have all the obvious stuff, like helping and looking out for your fellow
third-graders. You are also supposed to be the only person who can personally approach Dagmar, but we kind of make a mockery of that. Then there are the
bonus points on your record, which helps when the Institute decides whether or not to take you on as a full member.”

Ben gave an unimpressed shrug. “So, basically just more responsibility and work. Not really my thing.”

“There are some perks,” Natalie said. “But I’m not sure what they are for the Chief Three.”

“Well, I’ll pass,” Ben said.

“I’m not sure that will be that easy,” Charlie said.

“What do you mean?”

Charlie pointed at three apprentices coming their way, headed by Simon, with his mass of ginger hair and a gawking grin.

“Ben!” he said. “I’ve been looking for you. Good news, we’ve got your six votes already. You’re in!”

Ben sat up sharply. “What are you talking about? I don’t want to run for Chief Three.”

“Oh, I know,” Simon said, smiling. “That’s why I got the votes behind your back.”

To Ben’s surprise, his own outrage was not matched by Charlie and Natalie, who were both smiling with amusement.

“I don’t get it,” Ben said, running a hand through his ruffled hair. “Why me? If you’re into it, why don’t you get votes for yourself?”

“Me?” Simon said, pointing a finger at himself. “Are you serious? I wouldn’t have a chance against Aaron.”

“Aaron? Is that what this is all about?”

“Yes. You are the only person who has a hope of beating him. And the third grade will become a nightmare if Aaron becomes Chief Three, especially for me.”

“There has to be someone else,” Ben said. “What about Will?”

“Already asked him. He’s not allowed to run, as he’s expected to progress to the fourth grade soon.”

Ben struggled for words. He was flattered, yet his original sentiment towards running for Chief Three remained. “I don’t have a chance against Aaron
either. He’s Mr. Popular.”

“You will probably lose,” Simon admitted with a shrug. “But it’s not a certainty. We’ve done a survey. Many of those who Aaron hasn’t managed to capture
with his massive ego are on the fence, and there are a few who hate him almost as much as we do.”