The Shadowseeker - Victor Kloss Page 0,6

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