Confessions of a Dork Lord

by Mike Johnston

  “Well, look here, you two”—Gorey gave Oggy’s parents a snarl—“the little grimmies did well, so I don’t see any sense in giving them a hard time.” The general looked down at me, and I nodded my approval. I knew he loved to threaten cruel and unusual punishments, so it was a big deal for him not to order us to be bathed in dragon barf or something like that. And he spoke with the strength of a commander. So Oggy’s mom didn’t dare disobey him. His parents turned and mumbled to each other. They looked pretty disappointed. His mom and dad must have thought the general would side with them, but they hadn’t been in the throne room when we found the scepter, so they’d missed out on Gorey’s newfound admiration for my leadership skills.

  They’d come here expecting the general to surprise us with some fearsome punishment, but it was Oggy’s parents who got the surprise. And Oggy had one more for them.

  “Dad, Mom,” he said, “this is about more than just the dragon and Wick. It’s time we had a talk. I’m not going to join the army when I get out of Nightshadows. I don’t want to smash things like an orc or fix the things the orcs smash like a goblin. I like monsters and other little critters”—he inclined his head toward the pixie in his pocket—“and I want to work at the Menagerie.”

  Oggy’s mom nearly choked on that one. “Son, you want to be a zookeeper?”

  Oggy gave his mom a firm nod, and I saw the determination in his eye. He was not backing down, not now. Like me, he’d escaped the frost giants, flown on the back of a dragon, and leapt across smoldering lava. He must have felt invulnerable. But his mom was an orc and a soldier. They were stubborn folk. She started to shake her head, but Gorey stepped in again.

  “When the grimmie’s done with his schooling, he’s welcome to join the Dark Lord’s Menagerie.* We always need help. Just last week, an orc had his leg chewed off by a manticore and the sphinx mistook our chef for his supper and ate him. That’s two in one month. Actually, three,” Gorey said. He went on about mangled limbs and missing heads, stuff like that.

  Oggy’s parents looked pretty worried, so I suggested Oggy stick to the little monsters, pixies and the like, the ones that were less likely to eat him. And that seemed to please everyone and generally settle the discussion. His parents grumbled a bit, but they couldn’t argue with the regent, so they just nodded their heads and bade us farewell. Oggy shot me a sideways glance as they left, and I caught the hint of a smile on his grim face.

  The door closed and I headed back to the feast table, but Gorey said he had official business to attend to, and he invited me to skip school for a day and join him, which was kind of a surprise. He’d never let me handle castle business in the past. Things really were changing for me. So we headed out for a day of work.

  We descended into the caverns beneath the Grimhold, down the steps, all the way to the dragon’s lair. Once there, Gorey planned to give Hal a commendation, which is basically a piece of parchment that says you did a good job. Unfortunately, the dragon was sleeping when we found him, so I just leaned the commendation on Hal’s nose. He’d see it when he woke up.

  Next, we searched for the ogres. We found Angry and About to Clobber You wandering around the Goblin Grotto. I’m pretty sure they were lost. Gorey also gave them a commendation. I don’t think they could read it, but they got the general idea. And only one of them tried to eat the thing.

  Finally, we set out to find the goblin queen, who had not yet left the castle. After Gorey returned to the Grimhold, he’d dismissed the grim folk and told them all to go home. The trolls had come out from under the arches, the ogre chieftain had lifted his club, and pretty much everyone else had shuffled out of the room. But the goblins had arrived with their own silverware and golden platters and a silken tent for their queen. They couldn’t exactly walk out the door and take the night ferry across the Gurgling Lake of Sulfur. They had at least a day’s worth of packing to do.

  We found the queen lounging on a portable throne of velvet, snacking on toad’s eyes while her minions packed. Gorey wasn’t the type to bother with pleasantries, so he just went ahead and told the Queen in Red that Storey had done a decent job and should probably get that promotion or whatever it was her daughter wanted.

  He said, “The goblin did well. She’s a good soldier, and she can actually lift that giant sword, so give her what she wants.” But the goblin queen must be really uptight, because she said she’d have to think about it. Then she went back to eating toad’s eyes.

  Gorey and I headed back to the tower. It was feast time, so we ate eel soup, and for the first time in my life, I actually enjoyed it. The soup reminded me of my parents and the brief time I’d spent with them. I knew they cared about me. And I hoped they’d seen what I did in the throne room and knew that I’d taken my first step toward a dark and terrible future.

  I wasn’t the Dark Lord, not yet. I hadn’t learned how to use my dad’s scepter or discovered the full extent of my power. I didn’t know if I’d be a weather warlock or a guy who made his enemies vanish into thin air. Heck, I didn’t even have an army of followers, but I’d turned a few heads. The grim folk thought differently about me now. I’d heard them whispering my name as they left the throne room, and it wasn’t because I’d been the butt of some joke.

  I’d found my magic, and I knew in my core that I had the power to step up and defend the grim folk against our foes, which was a good thing. The elves were still cutting their way through Hadrian’s Hedge. I needed to find my army of followers and march on the Chamber of Mystery, but for the first time in my life, I had the confidence to know I could do it. I mean, not tomorrow, but I was definitely in a better spot than I had been a few weeks ago. In the coming months, I’d have my work cut out for me. This was just the start of my story. But at least I knew I’d HAVE a story. I had a chance at gathering that army and becoming the next Dark Lord.

  With that in mind, I drew up my bearskin blanket, gathered the goose feathers, found a good pillow, and set a stout candle beside my bed. I lifted the first of the Dark Lord histories and placed it in my lap. For years I’d avoided the black leather tomes. I’d told myself they were long (which was true) and boring (which was also true). I’d said they had nothing to do with my dad and his magic, but that wasn’t the real reason why I hadn’t read those books.

  In truth, I was afraid to read the histories because I thought I’d never be in one. I didn’t believe I had it in me to be a Dark Lord. But I’d stood in front of the leaders of the grim folk and worked my magic. I knew I had the strength to rule over the grim folk. My mom and dad had confirmed it. So I put my fears aside and opened page one of the first book of the 712-volume, 1,011-year history of the Dark Lords, and I started to read.

  TOMBSDAY

  Today I returned to Nightshadows Central. After my adventure and the day I’d spent with Gorey, I’d hoped to take a few more days off from school and chores and pretty much anything else that required effort. More than ever, I needed to get Operation Dark Lord moving in the right direction. But Gorey said there was no need for “rest and relaxation” and that I should head “back to the front.” In other words, he sent me to class.

  In fact, he woke me up early. So I ended up waiting around in the courtyard before school, and it was there that I finally ran into Storey. She’d come to say her farewell. Storey was headed back to the Goblin Barrows of the West. I thought she’d be happy to go, but when she looked down at me, I caught sight of something unexpected: emotion. She looked miserable. And I’d never seen her look happy or sad or anything else. She always had what Gorey called the “thousand-mile stare,” the look of a warrior who’d seen it all.

  “So what’s with the long . . . I mean, longer face?” I said.

  Goblins always had long faces, so it was really hard to tell when they actually did have a long face, and I didn’t want to be insensitive.

  “She kicked me out of the Katsirluki. The queen said I’d pretty much blown it. And you
know what? She’s right. It was my fault the frost giants caught us. And that dragon rescued you from One Eye’s castle. I couldn’t do it. Also, I went along with your crazy plan to sneak into the Grimhold. She said that lava could have toasted not just us but a whole bunch of goblins.”

  I almost said, Tough luck. Storey was a warrior. She could take care of herself. Then I remembered that raft she’d made with the iron door and how she’d sort of saved my life. It was no small favor, so maybe I DID owe her something. Also, I thought about that sketchbook and the beautiful work I’d seen in it.

  “You know, Gorey has a whole army of orcs. He’s got orc captains and orc generals, but he doesn’t have anyone with your . . . skills. I could put in a good word for you, just in case you want to join the army of the Dark Lord. We need good soldiers. And you could pretty much give yourself any title you want.” She’d be the ONLY goblin in our ranks, so she’d be both the best and the worst of our goblin soldiers.

  In truth, I liked having her around, but I didn’t want to admit it, so I thought this would be a pretty good excuse to keep her in the castle. I hoped she’d accept, but she played it real cool and acted like she might not want the job.

  “I’ve got other offers,” she explained. But she didn’t list the “offers,” so I guessed they didn’t exist.

  “You know, there’s always been an opening for an art professor at Nightshadows Central. Seriously, no one’s ever applied for the job. You could be top goblin and teach a class on the side.”

  Storey wriggled her lips. I could tell she wanted to thank me. Heck, it was obvious she was overjoyed by my offers, but the goblin had too much pride to admit it.

  “So you’ll be sticking around—joining the army of the Dark Lord and practicing your art?” I asked. She rolled her eyes, shrugged a little, and tilted her head. It was Storey’s way of saying yes and thank you without saying anything at all. And it was probably the most emotion SHE had ever shown anyone.

  The bell rang, so I headed off to school. But she grabbed me by the shoulder and stuffed something into my hand before I could run off. It was a neatly rolled parchment. I wanted to thank her for the gift, but she was gone before I could open my mouth. When I did unroll it, I saw something amazing. It was a gorgeously inked rendering of . . . me.

  I was in the throne room of the frost giants, a tiny guy, standing up to the massive, mind-blowingly tall king of the frost giants. Honestly, I was about as tall as his toe. But I looked downright valiant. In fact, I looked at that little drawing, and I saw the future Dark Lord.

  WORMSDAY

  Today I actually DID sleep through school. I’d expected Gorey to tear into the room and rip off my bearskin, but he didn’t show. The general woke before dawn to drill his orcs. The troops blamed the Roaming Rash for their recent mistakes, but Gorey didn’t buy it. The sentries on the wall hadn’t been able to tell the difference between an army of silly statues and a full-blown invasion of the faire folk, and that angered the general. War was afoot. So he swore to drill and train the orcs until they could at least tell the difference between elves and rocks. Gorey thought the hedge could hold back the elves until the end of the year, but after that, all bets were off. When the enemy broke through the wall, the orcs would need to defend the castle.

  And I would have to do my part. I’d been so preoccupied with school and my quest that I’d never actually had a chance to finalize Operation Dark Lord. But today I found a bit of peace and quiet. I had time to think, so I focused on the operation. I did a lot of head scratching, and I think I made some progress. I’m not ready to put it in writing, but I came up with something that just might be the outline of a plan.

  I’ll save the details for another day.

  I got so caught up in my work that I almost forgot about the castle tour I had scheduled for the afternoon. I’d have skipped it, but when I looked out of my tower window, I saw that a huge group had gathered. So I left my room and went into the courtyard. All around me, there was a lot of chatter, and most of it was about how I’d ventured into the snow-covered mountains, faced the frost giants, tricked the orcs on the castle wall, and recovered the missing scepter.

  As it turned out, I was kind of famous. I had twenty or thirty goblins, two dozen ogres, three trolls, and one dragon on my tour.

  Their eyes all went wide when they caught sight of me. I really had earned some fame. They even clapped. I was about to greet them when some oaf shouldered his way through the group. Actually, he didn’t need to do a lot of shouldering. The goblins ran from him.

  Bob Ogreson—my old nemesis, as tall as he was dumb—had returned. He’d been in the throne room when I revealed the scepter. At the time, I’d expected him to pull some prank, but Bob had stayed curiously silent. Apparently, he’d waited to make his move. He must have spent a lot of effort planning this one, deciding how he would step on me, literally or figuratively. Either would do.

  Bob had a big, ogre-sized piece of parchment in his hand and some charcoal. He’d caused quite a commotion, and since school was out, the grimmies gathered around to see what was happening. Maybe they thought there would be a fight. Bob was tough. But by now I knew some high-level magic, so I might have a chance against him. Maybe I COULD make Bob vanish.*

  “Dork Lord . . . I mean Dark Lord or Heir to the Dark—whatever your name is . . . come over here!” he yelled, but there was a surprising lack of malevolence in his voice.

  Bob hadn’t come to assault me or to insult me, either. As it turned out, he was also fascinated by my attack on the frost giants’ castle. Even the smallest frost giants were three or four times the height of a full-grown ogre, so the story must have impressed him. Even my dad had never dared to confront One Eye. But I’d done it.

  Bob held up the roll of parchment and scribbled on it. A chorus of gasps bubbled up from the crowd as he jotted something at the bottom of the page and handed it to me. This time I was the one who gasped, and I felt a little silly for doing it.

  Bob had bumped me up a notch on the Castle Ogres’ Index of Muscle, Mayhem, and Magic. I was SECOND to last on the list. For his lame prank, Rats permanently occupied the bottom slot.

  As for me, I’d moved up in the grim world. And I think I’d just earned a follower.

  If I counted Bob and Storey, Hal and Oggy, I had four followers in total. Heck, I’d doubled my horde!

  It’s not exactly an army of grim followers, but it’s a start.

  About the Author

  As a child and a teen, MIKE JOHNSTON was an avid reader of science fiction and fantasy. And when he wasn’t reading, he was busy playing Dungeons & Dragons, which is basically still a lot of reading. He was the original Dork Lord, but was not yet ready to embrace that fate. Instead, he studied architecture and ancient history and worked as an architect in New York City and Los Angeles, but he never gave up on his dream of writing a book about a young Dark Lord. Confessions of a Dork Lord is his first novel for children. He lives with his wife and daughter in Los Angeles.

  About the Illustrator

  MARTA ALTÉS is the author and illustrator of many books for children, including the picture books My Grandpa, Little Monkey, and Five More Minutes. She received her MA in children’s book illustration at the Cambridge School of Art, and she lives in London.

  Learn more at martaltes.com

  or follow her on Instagram @martaltes

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  * Fickle means changing often, especially when it comes to your tastes, interests, or in Phil’s case, loyalties.

  * Gouts are what flame comes in. It’s classic Dark Lord vocabulary. Learn it!

  * Stentorian tones are the ONLY tones a Dark Lord speaks in. They’re loud and powerful.
Practice them if you have any grim ambitions.

  * No joke, we were both literally and figuratively frozen. I couldn’t have moved if I tried.

  * The haft is the handle of a sword. Gorey makes me learn this stuff.

  * Our Menagerie is like a zoo, but we don’t lock up the monsters. I hear that’s what the faire folk do, and it’s downright cruel if you ask me.

  * I couldn’t. If I had that ability, I’d have already used it. Bam. No Bob.

  * By the way, I didn’t invent these terms, and I don’t like them. No one does. Some of the funniest monsters I know are dragons—so why call them grim?

  * In case you didn’t know, this is the castle of the Dark Lord.

  * The children of the grim folk. What, have you been living under a rock?

  * In case you missed it, I’m talking about the journal you’re reading.

  * Sired is a fancy word for “fathered.” As a future Dark Lord, I feel it helps to know a bit of Dark Lord vocabulary, words like infernal and injurious, pernicious and pestilent.

  * Evidently, Dies Irae means “Day of Wrath” or “Judgment Day.” Had I known what her name meant, I probably would’ve been a bit more careful with my spell casting.