Royal Institute of Magic: The Shadowseeker (Book 2) (13 page)

Charlie double-checked the lock and made sure nobody was hiding in the curtains before he was satisfied.

“So, what's up?” Ben asked.

“Emily,” Charlie replied, making Ben and especially Natalie give him confused looks. “She said her sister had granted family access to her locker. What if your parents have given each other access to their lockers? You would have access too.”

The thought produced a rush of hope, but it was swallowed quickly by rationality. “Even if I had access to their lockers, wouldn't the Institute have raided them already when they were looking for my parents?”

“Not necessarily,” Natalie said, with sudden interest. “The lockers for the top Institute members are extremely powerful. It wouldn't surprise me if nobody had managed to open them yet, not even the prince. And they would be the perfect storing place.”

They looked at each other. None of them spoke, but the hope and excitement were impossible to miss.

“We need to take a look. How difficult is it to get into their locker room?” Ben asked.

“I've never tried,” Natalie said. “It shouldn't be too hard, as long as the room isn't locked. The tricky bit is not attracting attention. Friday is the best day, as many of the Spellswords are on duty then and will not be at the Institute.”

“Friday it is, then,” Ben said.

“Also, it would be better if we did it late, after most members have gone home. Ideally no earlier than ten.”

Ben looked to Charlie, who nodded. “I'll tell my parents I'm sleeping at yours.”

“Great, we'll—”

Ben stopped mid-sentence, distracted by a small flutter of movement from the curtains.

“Did you see that?” Ben asked.

Both Charlie and Natalie nodded.

“A draught from the window?” Charlie said, raising his hand to feel for any movement in the air.

“I don't feel anything,” Natalie replied, her voice suddenly quiet.

The curtains were large, easily big enough to hide in.

“I checked them, remember?” Charlie said, his voice firm.

“Some things are difficult to see,” Natalie said.

They were all staring at the curtains, listening as well as looking for a sign of life. They heard nothing, except their own breathing, which somehow made it worse.

“There's an easy way to find out,” Ben said, breaking the trance that had befallen them. Ignoring protests from Charlie and Natalie, he walked up to the curtain and extended a hand, reaching for one of the ripples.

Something knocked Ben to the ground.

Natalie screamed. Ben saw something bulge in the curtain and then vanish. Seconds later they heard the door click behind them. Ben yanked his neck round but saw only the door shutting softly.

Ben's first instincts were to go after it, but by the time he'd gotten to his feet, he knew whatever they had faced would be long gone.

Natalie had a hand to her mouth and Charlie was taking furtive glances everywhere, as if it might still be in the room.

“Did anyone see it?” Ben asked. His heart was pumping and his words came out raggedly.

Both Charlie and Natalie shook their heads.

“Just a blur, but nothing more,” Charlie said. The look of fear had left him now they were sure it had gone.

“Was it the Shadowseeker?” Natalie asked.

Ben and Charlie exchanged glances.

“If it was, why was it spying on us? I thought it wanted to take me out.”

“If it's not the Shadowseeker, what else could it be?”

Ben was wondering exactly the same thing.

For the first time since they arrived at the Institute, the days started to drag. Both Ben and Charlie had their eyes firmly fixed on Friday, and their lack of focus elsewhere reflected in their study.

“A word, Mr. Greenwood and Mr. Hornberger,” Dagmar said one morning. They had been about to file out of muster to polish the grand staircase. Instead they approached Dagmar's desk. She was sitting down for once, making her look even smaller than usual. Ben couldn't help staring at her long, tightly wound ponytail and her long eyelashes – two important features that helped clarify her gender.

They stood silently for a full minute while Dagmar finished reading. Ben resisted the urge to clear his throat, knowing it would have catastrophic consequences.

“Your progress – or lack of it – has come to my attention when reviewing your handbook,” Dagmar said, finally looking up. “You were running a commendable pace until the last few days. What has happened?”

“Nothing, Ms. Borovich,” Ben said. “Everything is just getting more difficult.”

“I don't buy it,” Dagmar replied. “Your progress has been smooth among all departments. You, Ben, have excelled in Spellsword.” She turned her hawk-like eyes to Charlie. “And you, Charlie, have shown some aptitude in Scholar. But the last few days you have slowed. What changed?”

Ben cursed inwardly and prayed Charlie wouldn't give anything away. His cheeks flushed, but he shook his head, a little too vigorously, and said, “It's like Ben said. Everything is getting more difficult.”

Dagmar rose an eyebrow. “Are you aware of the make–break point?”

“No,” they answered in union.

“Fifty days. That is how long you have to complete the first grade of the apprenticeship if you wish to progress.”

“We've only been here seventeen,” Charlie said, doing the maths far quicker than Ben.

“Which means you're over a third of the way through.” She took the baton from her desk and patted it idly. “Your performances are watched closely during the apprenticeship. Even if you become a member, slow progression could mean not entering the department of your choice.”

Ben felt like he was back at school being lectured by the headmaster. The only difference was, this time he cared.

“We'll try harder,” Ben said with conviction.

“I'm sure you will,” Dagmar said. “However, in order to help you to keep up, you will now find daily targets for each department in your handbooks. Meet these, and you will be fine. Fall too far behind and you will find yourselves in trouble.”

Twenty minutes later, they had retrieved their handbooks from the lockers and were perusing through them in the common room.

“This is tough,” Ben said. “Look what I have to get through by Friday. I've got to talk a city goblin down by fifty percent in a trade deal and bargain for the release of a Creeten in the Kingdom of Ursla. I've no idea what a Creeten is and haven't the faintest idea where to find the Kingdom of Ursla.”

“You think you've got problems. They expect me to graduate to the third grade spell pellet. I'm closer to touching the moon than I am to making one of those cast properly.”

“We'll manage,” Ben said. He turned a page in his handbook and smiled. “Hey, guess what we're doing this afternoon?”

Charlie rubbed his cheeks and sighed. “Darn, I was hoping you'd forgotten about that.”

Ben stood up, his sudden invigoration sweeping away any lingering unpleasantness from Dagmar's conversation. “Come on, let's go.”

They climbed the staircase, Ben trying to pick up the pace, Charlie trying to slow it down.

“I hope there aren't too many people in there. There's something about being publicly humiliated that I'm not very fond of,” Charlie said.

They entered the Department of Spellswords and headed straight to a room marked “Sword Combat Training”.

Ben rubbed his hands and grinned. “You ready?”

“No – shall we come back later?”

Ben ignored the comment and opened the door. Inside, the space was open plan, the rooms partitioned by glass, giving them a look at the whole area in one sweeping glance. The room they had entered was a small lecture hall, with a whiteboard, a desk, and several rows of seats, all currently empty. To Ben's right were four square sparring rooms. Three were empty, but in the nearest was an apprentice battling a magically created soldier. The swordplay was quick and intricate, the soldier clearly skilled. But the apprentice, who had four stars above his shoulder, was no slouch, and matched him blow for blow. There was another figure in there with them, but he was just watching, arms folded. Ben noted the two green diamonds above his shoulder.

The figure looked up and spotted them. He gave a friendly wave and promptly left the glass room, completely unconcerned at leaving the apprentice alone with the magical soldier.

“Hello, hello!” the Spellsword said, with a broad smile.

Now that he approached, Ben saw that he was an elf. Unlike most elves he had seen, the Spellsword was dark skinned, with black hair that ran just past his shoulders.

“Welcome! I'm sorry, I was dealing with a student. My name is Zadaya. What are your names?”

Zadaya was clearly not fluent in English, yet unlike most people learning the language his accent was perfect, though his grammar was not.

“So, this is your first practical lesson – yes?” Zadaya said, after introductions were made. He had a youthful exuberance about him and Ben thought he couldn't have been more than twenty, though it was always hard to tell with elves.

“Yes, this is our first lesson,” Ben said.

“Good! I expect you want to get straight into the box and fight, eh?” Zadaya said, making an exaggerated sword fighting motion with his arms. “Not sit down and listen to Zadaya talk about boring things like posture, balance, and technique – am I right?”

“Yes,” Ben said, just as Charlie said, “No.”

“I'm perfectly happy to listen to a lecture,” Charlie said.

“Pah! Lecture is boring.” He motioned to them. “Come! Let us fight.”

Zadaya led a delighted Ben and a horrified Charlie into one of the glass boxes. Lining the back was a rack filled with all sorts of weapons and armour. Ben couldn't believe his luck. He had expected hours of lectures and rather dull practice sessions before they let him anywhere near a real combat scenario.

“Here are your weapons,” Zadaya said.

Ben's excitement took a little knock when he accepted the plain wooden sword Zadaya offered. He had been eyeing up the shiny red ones near the end of the rack.

“This is all you need,” Zadaya said. “It will be enough – trust me.”

“What are we facing?” Ben asked, testing the sword in his hand.

“More importantly, can we get hurt?” Charlie asked, with a look of anxiety.

“Do not worry. You will feel impact, but little pain,” Zadaya said. He grinned, showing a set of clean white teeth to rival Joshua's. “Ready for fight?”

“No,” Charlie said, his voice rising as panic started to set in. He was shifting left and right, looking as though he was ready to bolt. “What am I supposed to do with this?” Charlie asked, indicating the sword. “I haven't the faintest clue how to sword fight.”

“Do not worry, my friend,” Zadaya said. “Just do your best.”

Before Charlie could reply, Zadaya lifted his spellshooter and fired a pellet into the centre of the box.

Ben had been expecting a fairly straightforward opponent for their first fight – a child goblin or a clumsy swordsman perhaps. What he didn't expect was an old-fashioned broomstick, complete with slender arms and a brush of bristles for legs. It had no face, but it did have a small wooden sword in its right hand.

“What is that?” Ben asked.

“Isn't it obvious?” Charlie replied. Some of his anxiety had dissipated on seeing their opponent. “It's a magical sword-fighting broomstick.”

“Do not underestimate your enemy,” Zadaya said. “Now, fight!”

He fired another spell into the broomstick and it suddenly came to life, lifting its sword and turning this way and that, until it identified its opponents.

The broomstick shuffled forwards.

“What should we do?” Charlie said, holding his sword a little unsteadily.

“Surround it,” Ben said immediately.

That proved easier said than done. Every time Ben shifted to his left, the broomstick shuffled with surprising speed, managing to keep both Ben and Charlie in front of it.

It soon became clear the broomstick wasn't about to charge into them, and after a few minutes of careful dancing around the floor without a sword being swung, Ben started to lose patience.

“I'm going in,” he said. “Back me up if I'm in trouble.”

As soon as Ben approached, the broomstick turned his way. Ben swung his sword, aiming for the middle of the handle, hoping perhaps to snap it in half. The broomstick lifted its sword and blocked. Ben struck again, and again. Twice more the broomstick blocked, with what seemed like relative ease, though it was difficult to judge as it had no face. Ben was about to strike again when the broomstick launched a counterattack. Ben got his sword up just in time for the first two blows, but the third one rapped him on the shoulder, and he felt a dull sting. Before he knew it, he was backpedalling fast, frantically blocking and occasionally dodging.

“Charlie!”

Backup arrived just in time. Charlie came in from the side, sword swinging. The broomstick was forced to block its new attack, giving Ben a bit of breathing space. But he had no time to recover, for Charlie was instantly on the retreat, barely blocking each attack.

“A little help!” Charlie cried. “Ow!” The broomstick had caught him on the side.

Ben ran in to help, aiming for the broomstick's unprotected “back”. But somehow the broomstick spun and parried.

“Together!” Ben said.

From the corner of his eye Ben could see that Charlie was exhausted, but to his credit he launched himself at the broomstick with a cry. For a moment, Ben thought they were about to win; the broomstick was on the defensive and slowly shuffling backwards. It stumbled, and Charlie went in for the kill. But it turned out to be a feint, and the broomstick deflected Charlie's sword easily. With a surprisingly graceful pirouette, given that it was a broomstick, it spun and stabbed Charlie in the stomach. Then it was on to Ben, with renewed ferocity. Ben managed to block it twice before he too was stabbed.

A spell fired into the broomstick and it vanished in a puff of wood chips.

“You are both dead!” Zadaya said.

Ben was bent over, hands on knees, panting heavily. “I can't believe we lost to a broomstick.”