Royal Institute of Magic: Elizabeth's Legacy (5 page)

The lift came to a gentle halt.

There was a soft ding and the
doors opened.

A stone corridor greeted them, lit by torches hanging from the walls.
It seemed to go on forever, the light and dancing shadows slowly
fading in the distance, ending in ominous blackness.

Ben and Charlie lifted their
shoulder straps and stumbled out of the lift. The doors closed behind
them and an instant later, they heard the lift depart.

Everything was silent except the
soft burning of the torches and each other’s breathing, which
sounded like two Darth Vaders – such was the echo.

Ben stood there, motionless,
seemingly hypnotised by the torches. Charlie did the exact opposite.
He started pacing back and forth, huffing and puffing like he’d
run a marathon.

“Deep breaths, Charlie,
deep
breaths,” he kept repeating.

Ben watched him for a moment,
torn between amusement and impatience.

“Whenever you’re
ready, I need your help to work out where we are and what’s
going on.”

Charlie kept his manic pacing.
“Where we are? That’s easy. We’re so far below the
Earth’s surface we should be dead – crushed by the
pressure or boiled to a crisp.”

Ben raised a hand. “It is
rather warm here, isn’t it?”

“Let’s try to ignore
the unexplained miracle of our continued existence,” Charlie
said, ploughing on at a million miles an hour. “What is this
place? How does it even exist? I have so many questions circling my
head I can’t think!”

Ben grabbed Charlie by the
shoulders and pinned him against the wall.

“Would a slap help?”

Charlie took a deep breath.
“You’re right, I’m sorry. I need to calm down.”

Ben released him and gave him a
pat on the shoulder.

“Let’s start at the
top with the most important issue:

why did the guards try to stop us
coming down here? Is this because the receptionist recognised my
surname?”

“Is that really the most
important issue? What about the fact that we’re trapped a mile
underneath the earth?” Charlie asked, already struggling to
stay calm.

“One thing at a time.”

Charlie took a deep breath. “The
receptionist must know your parents.”

Ben wished he could have asked
her, but it was too late now.

“What do you make of this
'Royal Institute of Magic’?” Ben asked.

“Normally an institute is
an organisation founded for particular work, such as education or
research,” Charlie said. “But an institute for magic?”

Ben nodded. “Magic tricks,
illusions achieved through the sleight of hand.”

Charlie gave him a quizzical
look. “Why would an institution like that build something like
this?”

“We’ll soon find
out.”

Their conversation was
interrupted by a noise from behind, making them both jump.

It was the soft ding of the lift.

They exchanged alarmed looks and
Ben cursed. Why had they dallied? They could flee down the corridor,
but they had no idea where they were going and almost anyone could
outrun Charlie. Ben grit his teeth. Whatever happened, they weren’t
going back, not when they’d got this far.

The lift opened, but it wasn’t
the guards.

A dozen men and women strode out,
chatting amongst themselves. Ben and Charlie flattened themselves
against the passageway as they walked by, giving the boys no more
than a passing glance.

“What happened to the
guards?” Charlie asked, once everyone had passed.

Ben was wondering the same thing.

“Let’s follow these
people before they get away.”

Charlie gave a longing look at
the open lift. With a puff of his cheeks he turned his back on the
quick way out and set off with Ben down the tunnel.

The stone passage had a vaulted
ceiling, creating a rounded tunnel like a miniature version of the
Underground. Occasionally the corridor turned and they would
momentarily lose sight of the people in front, but their echoing
voices were always present. Ben was so intent on following their
target that he was only dimly aware of Charlie’s frequent
remarks about the length and scope of the tunnel.

Eventually the group ahead
stopped and formed a queue down the tunnel. They had no choice but to
catch up and join the line.

“Try and act casual,”
said Ben.

Ben peered ahead and saw the
tunnel open up to a small room, which people were entering one at a
time. Just before the entrance was a slab of stone jutting from the
ceiling. On it the word “SECURITY” was engraved in Gothic
font. They were glowing, as if LEDs had been embedded into the
letters.

“If this leads to another
heart-attack-inducing, free-falling lift, I’m turning around,”
Charlie said.

The queue moved forward quickly
and before Ben knew it, he was next in line, standing at the
entrance.

The room was small and bare
except for a large woman who stood in the middle. Ben’s blue
eyes strayed past her to a peculiar stone archway that stood just in
front of the exit. It was black and engraved with silver hieroglyphs.
At the top was a large, green eye that looked so real Ben could have
sworn it blinked. He was so captivated by the eye it took a moment to
notice the sign next to him.

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.”

“We don’t have all
day, luv. Remove all electronics and step through,” the large
woman said, beckoning him impatiently with her hand.

Her order went in one ear and out
the other the moment he saw what she was wearing. Strapped to her
ample waist was a holster carrying the strangest-looking gun Ben had
ever seen. It was made of wood and the barrel was a gnarled, tapered
stick with no visible exit for bullets. On top of the handle sat a
glass orb, partially encased by delicately carved tendrils of wood.
Inside the orb were dozens of small, coloured pellets that floated
around like they were in water.

“Just because there’s
no queue behind you doesn’t mean you can stand there like a
lemon,” she said.

“Sorry,” Ben replied,
pulling himself together and giving her a sheepish smile. He slapped
his jeans, pulled out a mobile phone and looked at her quizzically.

“In the safe,” she
said, pointing a long, pink-nailed finger at the wall to Ben’s
left.

Ben saw nothing but stone. There
was clearly no safe anywhere. He walked to the wall anyway, examining
every crevice. When he got there he was forced to give the lady
another enquiring look.

She rolled her eyes and muttered
something under her breath. Walking over to him, she thrust her hand
out.

What did she want? Ben thought
fast. He delved into his pocket, past the peculiar piece of fabric,
and pulled out the ID card. She snatched it from him and inserted it
into a tiny gap in the wall. Ben could have spent an hour looking and
not seen it. It was the size of a card slot in an ATM machine.

There was a soft humming noise
and the stone in front of him faded away, revealing a small empty
cubicle within the wall.

He stared at the cubicle in
astonishment, thrusting an experimental hand inside.

“It’s for your phone,
not your hand, luv,” the lady said. “Phone in, card out,
today if possible.”

Ben did as she asked and the
stone faded back into existence.

“Step on through,”
the woman ordered.

Ben wanted to examine the
disappearing stone, but he could feel her growing irritation. He
walked to the exit, approaching the black arch slowly. To his
amazement, the green eye followed his progress. Underneath the arch,
the air appeared to be shimmering and beyond it everything looked out
of focus.

He could feel the large woman’s
eyes on him. His incompetence was arousing suspicion and he knew he
couldn’t afford to attract any more attention. If she stopped
to question him, they would be in trouble. Trying to ignore the eye,
he passed under the arch. His skin tingled and there was a moment of
resistance, then he was through and into the passage beyond.

A few moments later a bug-eyed
Charlie appeared.

“Ingenious,” Charlie
said, his voice brimming with excitement as they resumed their
journey. “That illusion with the stone was as good as I’ve
seen. I wonder where they hid the projector.”

For some reason Ben felt
disappointed at Charlie’s logical explanation.

“That archway was odd,
wasn’t it?”

Charlie shrugged, as if the
shimmering archway with the green eye was nothing compared to the
disappearing stone.

Ben wasn’t so easily
convinced. “What did you make of that warning about electronics
blowing up?”

“A silly joke,”
Charlie said, waving his hand. “You were right, by the way. The
magic refers to illusion and trickery. I’ve heard of other such
organisations, like the Magic Circle.”

Ben didn’t want to burst
Charlie’s bubble, but the idea of his parents spending endless
hours mastering crazy card tricks was unthinkable. And how much
trouble could one get into being in the magic business? It didn’t
add up.

Before he could argue the matter,
the sound of voices echoed down the tunnel. Lots of voices, too many
for a narrow tunnel, unless there was an almighty queue ahead. But
they could see nothing for the passage curved out of sight.

A rush of air threw Ben’s
tousled hair back and he exchanged a surprised look with Charlie.
There shouldn’t be any wind underground.

Ben hurried forward, ignoring
Charlie’s pleas of caution. With every step the noise grew –
voices, footsteps, even laughter. As he approached what must be the
final bend, Ben saw a sign hanging from the tunnel ceiling. He
recognised it instantly and stopped.

It was the London Underground
symbol: a red circle with a blue horizontal bar and the word
“Croydon” written on it.

He stared at it until Charlie
caught up. Neither of them said anything. They both knew Croydon had
no Underground station and if it did, it certainly wouldn’t be
this far below the Earth’s surface.

With overwhelming curiosity, Ben
rounded the final bend.

Despite
the sign, Ben didn’t believe they were about to enter Croydon
Underground Station. He assumed somebody had put up the symbol as a
joke, a memento or maybe even a tribute to the real Underground.

He assumed wrong.

It wasn’t the same as the
more familiar London Underground, but there was no denying this was a
station. The platform was half the usual length and the track only a
foot below the ground. A gentle glow came from the great vaulted
ceiling, casting ample light on the scene below.

The platform was buzzing with
people. Some were waiting at the edge of the platform, others sat
around circular wooden tables chatting. Several had drinks and food,
perhaps sourced from the small shops that hugged the back of the
platform. Ben spotted people wearing holsters with the strange toy
guns, but nobody was giving them a second glance.

Ben and Charlie stood together,
staring openly at everyone and everything. After a moment, Ben
realised something wasn’t right.

“Ben,” whispered
Charlie. He was watching the nearest table, looking slightly bemused.
“Look closely at the two on the left,” Charlie said
softly, pointing.

They were wearing elaborate
masks, giving them pointed ears, unnaturally high cheek bones and
big, slanted eyes. Their casual jeans and long-sleeve shirts were a
bizarre contrast to the facial get-up.

It wasn’t just them, Ben
realised. There were three on the next table with painted green faces
and several others walking round with similar costumes.

“They must be going to a
fancy dress party.”

“Why would they walk around
like that here though?” Charlie asked. “Check out that
guy on that table. If he ever came to our school, the bullies would
forget I ever existed.”

Ben’s reply died in his
throat. Standing near the platform’s edge was the most peculiar
man Ben had ever seen. He was less than three feet high and painted
green from head to toe. He had huge ears, a pointed nose and a
comically long chin. His pot belly was poorly concealed by a faded
green t-shirt. He was holding a tall sign that said “INFORMATION”.

“Do you see that?”
Ben asked.

Charlie’s dramatic gasp was
a “yes”.

Ben turned his attention to the
big sign. “Information – that’s just what we need.”

“Can we ask someone who
doesn’t look clinically insane?”

But Ben was already moving,
picking his way through the crowd along the platform edge.

The mask the little man wore was
extremely good, right down to the sharp, yellow teeth, but the effect
was ruined slightly by the chewing gum.

“Alright, lads,” the
little man said in a high-pitched voice. “What can I do for
ya?”

Obvious questions would arouse
too much suspicion, but Ben had to ask something.

“Where does this line go?”

“Northbound takes you into
London Victoria. Southbound takes you to Taecia. From there you can
pretty much get to any kingdom you choose.”

Ben attempted a casual nod of
understanding, trying to disguise the fact that he had no clue what
the man was talking about. He decided to take a calculated risk and
ask a more direct question.

“Can you tell me how to get
to the Institute?”

“You want the next train,
which arrives any minute now. Anything else?”

Ben thanked him, unable to think
of anything further to ask.

“Something wrong with your
gawking friend? He looks like he’s never seen a goblin before.”