Royal Institute of Magic: The Shadowseeker (Book 2) (4 page)

The goblin whistled and, with a gentle jerk, the carriages started to trundle along, into the blackness of the tunnel.

Ben only relaxed once the dragon had accelerated to cruising speed, flying just below the tunnel's ceiling, and the invisible barrier had blocked out the screaming wind. He shared a relieved smile with Charlie, and settled down.

Ben's mind drifted to the Institute and the apprenticeship programme. He had absolutely no idea what it would entail. He had asked Natalie, but she had told him it was confidential. Ben was confident in his own abilities, but it was hard not to be slightly unnerved by the unknown. They had only spent a few days in the Unseen Kingdoms and at the Institute; they knew almost nothing about it. How much of a disadvantage would that be?

Beside him, Charlie wore an anxious frown, no doubt wondering the same thing, but perhaps for different reasons. The study – if there was much to be done – would hold no fear for Charlie, but what about the practical exercises? Ben smiled. Between the two of them they could produce the perfect apprentice.

The conductor's voice brought him out of his revere. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are approaching Taecia. We will be coming out of Dragon Flight momentarily. Have a pleasant day.”

The dragon slowed, and Ben's stomach squashed against the metal seat belt. The carriage wheels screeched as they touched the ground. There was a loud bang and the invisible barrier vanished, letting in the rushing air. Soon the dragon was cantering no faster than a horse. The tunnel started heading upwards and they exited into bright sunlight. The dragon came to a gentle halt at the station of Taecia, steam and tendrils of fire hissing from its nostrils.

They stepped out of the carriage onto the platform. It had only been two weeks since they were last here, but Ben felt dazzled all over again. The station itself didn't look too different from those at home, barring the dragons pulling the carriages and the obvious lack of anything electrical. There were a dozen platforms, with stairs on each of them leading to an overhead walkway and the station's exit. It was the people at the station that made Taecia so different. Ben saw pixies flying just above head height, squat dwarves with beards that swept the ground, and a few seven-feet trolls carved from rock.

Ben and Charlie were so busy looking at everyone that by the time they reached the station's exit, those who had joined them on the Dragonway were long gone.

“I guess nobody's meeting us here,” Charlie said.

Ben inhaled deeply, taking in the incredible sights and sounds. There were rows of timber-framed houses with lead windows, reminding him of the really old streets back home. The road was cobbled and filled with horses and other animals only found in fairy tales and video games.

“You were expecting an escort?” Ben asked, as they set off up the great hill that led to the Institute.

Charlie looked a little disappointed and mumbled something under his breath; Ben was fairly sure he heard the name Natalie but let it slide.

They made their way through a hodgepodge of winding lanes and crooked intersections, always taking the turn that would continue their course up the hill. Occasionally they had to watch out for horses and open-top antique cars, often driven erratically by a dwarf that Ben suspected had a little too much to drink. The buildings got bigger and the roads, such as they were, became wider as they neared the Institute at the crest of the hill. Trees and torch-lit lampposts started lining the cobbled path and they soon had a clear view of the stone wall that surrounded the Institute. The only way in was through a large open gate, guarded by two armed Institute members. Ben thought they might have to produce their ID cards, but the guards nodded at them when they approached and let them through, into an open courtyard consisting of manicured gardens, trimmed hedges and an elaborate water fountain.

Ben's excitement had been steadily building, but instead of rushing to the entrance, both Ben and Charlie stopped to admire the magnificent building before them. The Institute was a mansion as grand as any of the great historic houses in England. The white façade was criss-crossed with timber panels and leaded windows. Dozens of gables and balconies spanned the building, giving the building a majestic, yet cosy feel. A pair of mighty wooden doors stood at the entrance. Above them the words “Royal Institute of Magic” were etched and seemed to pulse with a warm, silver glow.

“You ready?” Ben asked, glancing over at Charlie.

Charlie was staring up at the Institute, looking a little daunted. “Kind of. I'm feeling nervous and excited at the same time. Is that possible?”

“Course it is,” Ben said, giving Charlie a friendly slap on the shoulder.

“What do we do once we get in? I mean, are we expected? What if nobody is there to help us?”

Ben grinned. “Let's find out, shall we?”

Together, they walked up to the doors of the Institute, pulled the grand iron door knob, and entered.

The sky-lit atrium looked every bit as magnificent as Ben remembered. There were exposed wooden beams everywhere. An old-fashioned staircase snaked its way up the building, leading to the open galleries above. In the centre of the lobby stood a magnificent statue of Queen Elizabeth.

“In or out? You can't just stand there,” an impatient voice said from behind.

Ben realised they were blocking the entrance. With an apology, they shuffled forwards into the lobby. As soon as Ben took his eyes off the magnificent architecture, he noticed something very different to his last visit. The place was buzzing. Institute members, adorned with diamonds of varying colours, went to and fro, up and down the stairs, and even into doors Ben had never noticed before, within the lobby itself.

“Now what?” Charlie asked, watching an elderly gentleman with three white diamonds talk animatedly to a couple of colleagues.

“We ask someone,” Ben said.

Charlie made a face. “Who? Everyone is walking a million miles an hour. I feel like we'd get our heads chopped off for stopping any of these people.”

“I'll do the asking,” Ben said, his eyes narrowing on a younger fellow with only one red star.

“Mr. Greenwood. Mr. Hornberger.”

Ben turned and saw a small, round figure marching towards them. It took Ben a moment to realise that it was a woman. She walked like a drill sergeant and even had a peculiar baton tucked under an arm. Her feet were so large they reminded him of a clown and they pounded the stone floor. Her only concessions to femininity were her ponytail that went all the way down her back and her long eyelashes, which looked out of place in a face so angular it could have been carved from rock. Above her shoulder were four white diamonds, marking her as a Scholar.

“Oh god, it's a female Mr. Bullins,” Charlie said anxiously, referring to their army-like sports teacher.

“Relax, Charlie.”

Ben took a step forwards to meet the lady. She barely came up to his shoulder, but there was an air of authority about her, from her posture to the slightly raised chin, making her size irrelevant.

“My name is Dagmar Borovich,” she said, thrusting a small hand out, which Ben took. Her grip threatened to stop the flow of blood to his fingers. Charlie winced and fervently massaged his hand back to life after his handshake.

“I am the Master of Apprentices. Welcome to the Institute. Please follow me,” she said. Her voice was serious but not unkind. She gave them both searching looks as she spoke, and Ben could tell he was being assessed. He matched her gaze, and was quietly pleased that Charlie did too. Dagmar gave a little nod and turned around, heading for the stairs.

“Walk by my side, please; I prefer to see my apprentices' faces when I speak to them,” Dagmar said, without turning round. There was no anger in her voice, but her no-nonsense tone reminded Ben of a number of school teachers.

Ben and Charlie exchanged looks, before joining Dagmar on either side.

“Where are we going?” Ben asked.

“To the Department of Apprentices,” Dagmar replied. Ben was pleased to note he wasn't reprimanded for asking questions. “We are going to drop your bags off and then head straight to the Initiation Test.”

Charlie made a noise. “I'm sorry – the what?”

“You are to be tested,” Dagmar said, matter-of-factly. “Before you start the apprenticeship programme, we need to establish if you are suitable.”

Ben noticed Charlie's face getting redder by the second, and not just from the exertion of climbing the stairs.

“What sort of test is it?” Ben asked, with forced nonchalance.

“Confidential,” Dagmar said.

Charlie gave Ben an anxious, almost panicky look. His eyes were wide and his mouth open, as if he'd seen a ghost.

“Dagmar, we—”

“Please call me Ms. Borovich.”

“Sorry. Ms. Borovich, we did not grow up knowing the Institute and the Unseen Kingdoms,” Charlie said. “Won't that put us at a considerable disadvantage?”

“The test is confidential,” Dagmar repeated evenly. “I cannot tell you anything about it. Please ask no more questions.”

Charlie mouthed something frantically to Ben. It was hard to make out, but he was pretty sure it was a string of curses someone like Dagmar would probably not appreciate.

They left the staircase upon reaching the first gallery and turned towards a set of double doors that read “Department of Apprentices”, engraved with a symbol of a tree. Dagmar pushed open both doors, despite their size and obvious weight, like a cowboy, minus the style and flair. They entered a corridor that, if Ben remembered correctly, ran all the way round the building, with doors popping up left and right along the way. The hallway was too narrow to walk comfortably three abreast, so Ben and Charlie lagged slightly behind. Dagmar stopped by a door, her leading foot giving a little stomp to emphasise the halt. The sign on the door said “Cloakroom”. Dagmar turned the handle and opened the door.

Ben stepped in cautiously. He had learnt from his last trip that you never knew what was behind each door no matter how innocent the sign.

This door was no exception.

The room was entirely constructed of stone, and Ben almost felt like he was back underground. Giant lanterns hung from the ceiling, illuminating an area not much wider than the tunnels they travelled in. Running left and right were lockers, constructed from single huge slabs of stone, with no visible handles. On each locker was a single green eye, as big as a watermelon, staring straight ahead without blinking.

“That's just creepy,” Charlie said softly.

“Mr. Greenwood, you go first,” Dagmar said. “Walk slowly down the room. When one of the eyes winks at you, stop and stand next to that locker.”

Ben took a deep breath and started walking. Immediately the green eyes came to life and focused on him. Having scores of giant eyes watching you was unnerving, despite the fact that they clearly weren't going anywhere. Ben was almost at the end of the room when one of the eyes winked at him. Ben stopped and turned. The eye was looking right at him; the others reverted back to their blank stares. Ben walked towards the eye cautiously. What was going on inside that huge green iris? Ben couldn't shake the thought that he was being inspected.

“Your turn, Mr. Hornberger,” Dagmar said, her voice echoing down the room.

Charlie toddled forwards even slower than Ben had. He stared at each eye with a mixture of anxiety and wonder, his mouth half open. Ben watched the eyes, waiting for the wink. There! Charlie had ended up at the adjacent locker to Ben.

“These eyes clearly have good taste,” Ben said.

“Or bad judgement. What do we do now?”

Charlie's question was answered by Dagmar, who marched down the room, her large shoes stomping the ground, making Ben's ears ring. She stopped right in front of Ben's locker and motioned him to join her. Then she spoke directly to the green eye.

“Phyliss, this is Mr. Ben Greenwood.” Dagmar switched her gaze to Ben. “Mr. Greenwood, this is Phyliss.”

The green eye gave another wink. Ben was clearly unable to shake hands. Should he reciprocate the blink? But Dagmar was already talking again.

“Phyliss is one of the lazier lockers, and naps three times a day, at 10am, 1pm and 3:30pm, normally for about an hour. So make sure you don't need anything then. If you do, I suggest trying to bribe her with candy, especially anything strawberry-flavoured. On the plus side, she is the strongest locker here; most lower-grade spells won't affect her, and certainly none that any apprentice could perform. So your bag is certainly safe with her. Any questions?”

Ben had plenty. “How do you know she is a girl?”

“Men have a blue eye. Now, I want you to ask Phyliss to open her door. Speak with authority, but make sure you are not too aggressive. Phyliss is one of the harder lockers to open.”

“Is there no password or phrase I should be saying?”

“She's not some secret door in a children's story,” Dagmar said.

Ben cleared his throat, which suddenly felt constricted. He had a fleeting thought:
what if this is some sort of preliminary test?
It would be highly embarrassing to fail before the actual test had even begun. Ben cast the thought aside and focused on the big green eye.

“Please open your door, Phyliss.”

The eyelid lowered slowly until it looked like Phyliss was again inspecting him. The green pigment swirled within its huge iris and the colour shifted slightly. Ben met the green-eyed stare without batting an eyelid.

The mighty stone door creaked and swung open slowly. The space inside was at least ten feet high, but only just deep enough to put his backpack in. Had he anything else he would have had to stack it on top.

“Your locker space increases with your position in the Institute,” Dagmar said, seeing Ben's look.

Ben placed his bag inside and then stepped back. “How do I shut the door?”

“By using your hands.”

“Fair enough.” He sized up the door; it looked as though it would need three men to move it. But when pushed, he found it surprisingly light and shut with a soft click. The green eye was now closed.