She began to shrink and dwindle, her skin colour becoming more healthy and human. At the same time, Dirk began to grow, his body changing into his Dark Lord form, huge horns sprouting from his head, his legs turning into great goat-hoofed tree trunks, black talons sprouting from his hands, skeletal bone bursting out all over his face.
The Essence of Evil was returning to its rightful home, the body of the Dark Lord. It didn’t really belong inside a thirteen-year-old schoolgirl from Sussex, even if she did make for a rather cool Vampire, had the Great Ring of Power, and once ruled over the Darklands as the Moon Queen. It belonged inside the Dark Lord, it was the Dark Lord.
Sooz was Sooz again, and she sat down suddenly, weak, wretched and exhausted. Chris ran over, knelt down beside her and put a hand around her shoulder. Dirk, meanwhile, stood up to his full Dark Lord height, leaned back his head and shouted.
‘I’M BACK! MWAH, HAH, HAH!’ The great laugh of the Dark Lord echoed around the cavern like thunder.
Sooz looked down at her hand. In it she held an Anathema Crystal. She looked at Chris, who nodded back at her. She raised her hand…
‘No, wait!’ said Dirk. ‘I’ve changed my mind, I want to be a Dark Lord after all!’
Sooz threw the crystal to the floor. It shattered into pieces, throwing up a cloud of iridescent diamond dust, engulfing all three of them. The Dark Lord stared down in horror.
‘AIEEE, I’ve outwitted myself!’ he howled as they all began to fall….
Dirk was sitting in his room, concentrating on the task at hand. He had a bag of wine gums, and he was injecting the black tears of the Lady Grieve into each one. There was a knock on the door.
Dirk frowned in irritation and muttered to himself, ‘Can’t these accursed humans leave me alone, even for a minute?’ Then he sighed, and said loudly, ‘Who is it?’
‘It’s me, Sooz!’ said a voice. Then she opened the door and walked in.
‘We need to talk,’ she said. She seemed rather nervous.
Dirk turned to face her. ‘What about? Everything’s good, isn’t it?’ he said.
‘About…you know, what happened,’ said Sooz, twisting a finger into her dyed black hair.
‘What?’ said Dirk.
‘You know…in that cave,’ said Sooz.
‘Yeah, you turned into a Vampire, it was “well cold”, as they say!’
‘Well cool! And no, not that bit – the other… the other bit!’ said Sooz.
Dirk frowned. ‘You sound like Chris. What are you on about?’
‘You know! The kiss, you moron! THE KISS!’ she said, stamping her foot.
‘Oh, that!’ said Dirk. ‘Um, yeah, whatever,’ he added, shrugging.
Sooz folded her arms and glared at Dirk. ‘Whatever? That’s all you’ve got to say about it? WHATEVER! Right, well, fine – I won’t mention it again then, eh?’ she snapped, before stomping off.
‘Ever!’ she added huffily over her shoulder as she swept out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
Dirk stared after her, a confused look on his face.
‘Humans!’ he muttered under his breath.
There was another knock at the door. ‘What now!’ said Dirk, and in came Christopher. He sat on the bed.
‘I was outside – I heard everything,’ said Chris.
‘Spying on me now, eh?’ said Dirk, watching a green wine gum turn slowly black as it was infused with the Tears of the Hag.
‘You know you said you loved Sooz, back in that cave?’ said Chris.
‘Yes,’ said Dirk.
‘Is it true?’ said Chris.
Dirk blinked for a moment, unsure, before saying, ‘Of course not!’
Chris frowned. Dirk had hesitated there for just that little bit too long. ‘But you cried, when you said it. Your eyes – you know, you really meant it.’
‘Oh, that!’ said Dirk looking at Chris. ‘That was just cave dust.’
‘What?’ said Chris, half horrified, half relieved.
‘Yeah, I rubbed dust into my eyes. Had to make it convincing, right?’ said Dirk, with a little mischievous grin on his face.
Chris laughed. ‘You little sneaker!’ he said.
‘Well, yes, indeed,’ said Dirk. ‘But don’t tell Sooz! Not ever, right?’
‘OK,’ said Chris. ‘I won’t.’
‘How is she, anyway?’ said Dirk, returning to his task of spiking wine gums.
‘She’s fine. Mostly, she’s just really, really embarrassed about it all. Being a Vampire and… everything.’
‘Why? She made for a great Vampire. Fantastic! And she got us the tears – it all worked out fine in the end,’ said Dirk. ‘What’s there to be embarrassed about?’
‘Well…you know, all that love stuff…and… that,’ said Chris.
Dirk turned back to Chris again. ‘Love stuff? What do you mean?’
Chris shrugged and looked away.
Dirk turned back to the wine gums. He shook his head. ‘Humans! I’ll never understand them! Well,’ continued Dirk, ‘they’re done, the Wine Gums of Doom are ready. Now I just have to make sure Hasdruban eats some. That psycho bloke, Dr Wings, got him hooked on them apparently, so shouldn’t be too hard.’
The next day, Dirk stood outside the headmaster’s study. Mrs Batelakes was with him – it was she who was ‘taking him to see the headmaster’ because he’d handed in homework that Skinrash the Goblin had done for him. Homework that was rude, disrespectful, gross etc etc, and had earned him this appointment with destiny.
It was the big face-off. Dirk knew what the headmaster had in store for him – a pit trap and a row of wooden stakes. But what Hasdruban didn’t know was that Dirk had rewired the trap to backfire. Maybe it would zap Hasdruban long enough so that Dirk could force a wine gum down his throat.
‘Well, we shall see who triumphs, won’t we?’ said Dirk, putting his fingers together in front of his chest. He was about to unleash a ‘Mwah, hah, hah!’ when he caught Mrs Batelakes glaring at him.
He smiled back at her. She looked away quickly and rapped on the door. It opened almost immediately. The headmaster stood there, dressed in his white suit and hat, long white beard and improbably bushy eyebrows. And dark glasses. With white frames.
‘Ah, Dr Hasdruban,’ said Mrs Batelakes, ‘I’ve got Dirk Lloyd here for the disciplinary hearing.’
‘Right, right,’ said Hasdruban. ‘I can take it from here, Mrs Batelakes,’ he went on breezily. ‘You may go!’
‘Umm…that’s not really…procedure…I should be there,’ stuttered Mrs Batelakes.
‘Don’t trouble yourself! I’ll deal with it, really, off you go, Mrs Batelakes,’ said Hasdruban.
Mrs Batelakes stuttered. ‘But…but…’
‘But nothing, Mrs Batelakes! I’m the headmaster here, and I’m telling you, I’ll deal with it, all right?’ said Hasdruban brusquely, his beard almost quivering with power.
‘Yes, headmaster,’ said Mrs Batelakes, cowed by his authority. White Wizards were like that. She looked down at Dirk, frowned, and then stepped away.
‘Come in…Dirk,’ said Hasdruban, stepping aside and gesturing at the seat in front of his oak desk.
Dirk smiled up at him. ‘Hello…headmaster,’ he said as he walked in, strode over and sat on the chair he knew to be a trap, confident that it would all blow up in the Wizard’s face.
Hasdruban smiled. He shut the door, stepped over to the great throne behind the desk, and sat down.
‘Well,’ said Hasdruban. ‘Here we are.’ His hand moved down to hover just below the desktop.
Dirk knew exactly where that hand was – ready to push the button that would tip his chair over and pitch him on to rows of sharpened wooden stakes in the pit below. Or so Hasdruban thought.
‘Indeed,’ said Dirk. ‘Wine gum? he said, putting a bag of them on the desk in front of the headmaster.
Hasdruban looked down at them. ‘Hah! You think I would accept a gift from the Evil One so easily? You must take me for a fool!’ he
said.
Dirk shrugged. He hadn’t expected that to work, of course, but worth a try. The electric shock ploy was a much better bet, anyway.
‘Well, headmaster,’ said Dirk, ‘I’d like to apologise for the quality of my homework; it was very rude and disrespectful to Mrs Batelakes.’
Dr Hasdruban threw back his head and laughed out loud. ‘Priceless, Dark One, priceless! I mean, who cares about Battleaxe, anyway, the dried-up old crone!’
‘Now, now,’ said Dirk, ‘you shouldn’t be rude about your teachers, should you, headmaster? She’ll have you up before one of those human employment tribunal things if you’re not careful!’
‘Indeed!’laughed Hasdruban heartily. ‘They’re mad here, aren’t they? All of them, mad as Goblins after too much sugar. Like that one of yours – what was it called? Skinrash or something? I presume it did the work for you?’
Dirk nodded.
‘Always one of your weaknesses, your minions. Orcs and Goblins – hopelessly unreliable!’ said Hasdruban.
‘Maybe. But then again, what about Orcs in tanks? Ever thought about that?’ said Dirk.
Hasdruban’s eyes narrowed. ‘I have indeed. That is why I can’t leave you alive here, don’t you see?’
‘Ah,’ said Dirk, finally beginning to understand why Hasdruban was so implacable in his pursuit – fear. Of course, they all feared the Dark Lord and his cunning, his evil genius.
Dirk put his fingers together and smiled. ‘It was all so much more straightforward back home, wasn’t it?’ he said.
‘Quite,’ nodded Hasdruban. ‘Here there’s just so much…stuff!’
The White Wizard and the Dark Lord fell silent. They stared at each for a few moments.
‘Well,’ said Hasdruban, ‘it’s been nice reminiscing, but I really must get on.’
Dirk nodded. ‘Indeed,’ he said, ‘I understand.’
Hasdruban gestured with his head. Dirk frowned, not understanding. Hasdruban jerked his head again, up at the corner of the room. Dirk looked over. In the top right-hand corner he could see something…a little red light blinking.
A CCTV camera! That meant…Hasdruban had seen everything…seen him creep in, plant the axe, sit in his chair – rewire the pit trap!!! He knew…
‘Nooo!’ cried Dirk, as Hasdruban hit the button, releasing the trap door. Desperately, Dirk tried to leap aside as the floor fell away beneath him, but it was too late! He began to fall.
Hasdruban crowed with delight.
At the last moment, Dirk was able to catch hold of an arm of the chair that was bolted to the trap door. He was hanging on by the skin of his teeth! He looked down. The wooden stakes were sharp and deadly – he could almost hear them begging him to jump down and say hello, to feel their sharp caress. Dirk clung to the chair. He looked up.
Hasdruban was standing at the edge of the pit, looking down at him. Dirk gulped. He could barely hold on – all Hasdruban had to do was kick him or poke him with the cane a few times, and he’d fall to his doom.
Dirk was defenceless.
Hasdruban clapped his hands together in glee. ‘Oh, joy, oh glory! How I’ve waited for this moment, how perfect it is! They’ll remember me as the greatest White Wizard of all time, the one who finally slew the Dark Lord!’
Dirk looked up at him, mind racing. He couldn’t think of a way out… This was it. The end. He was going to die after all.
Hasdruban leaned back against the desk, and folded his arms. ‘This is almost too much fun,’ he said, grinning like an idiot. ‘I can’t quite bring myself to finish it!’
Dirk’s grip began to loosen. He wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer.
‘You can’t blame me for wanting to savour this moment, now can you? Not after all these years!’ said Hasdruban.
Without thinking, Hasdruban reached over, picked up a wine gum and popped it into his mouth. He giggled and began to chew.
Suddenly his expression changed. The colour drained from his face. His head twitched, throwing his glasses off, revealing his dark, all-black eyes. He gave an inarticulate cry and put his hands up to his face. Black stuff began to trickle out between his fingers, running down his hands and staining the sleeves of his once immaculate white suit.
Dirk’s jaw dropped. He hadn’t expected it would be this radical!
‘What’s happening to me?’ cried the White Wizard, as he fell to his knees, hands and sleeves darkly stained, as if he’d dipped them into a vat of black ink.
Suddenly, Hasdruban’s hands fell away, revealing his eyes.
They were bright blue and thoroughly human.
‘Oh my! You poor, poor fellow!’ he said, as he reached down and pulled Dirk out of the pit. ‘There you are, my boy! How are you feeling?’
‘Much better, thanks!’ said Dirk. His plan had worked – Hasdruban had swallowed the tears, and they’d made him feel empathy, care about people, even him!
Dirk put his hands together and laughed.
‘Mwah, hah, hah!’
Dirk sat sprawled across the Throne of Skulls, in the Great Hall of Gloom in the Iron Tower of Despair, beyond the Plains of Desolation, in the Darklands. Except today the Great Hall wasn’t really that gloomy at all.
All the lamps had been lit, the statues on either side draped in happy, bright flags and banners, the vaulted ceiling hung with…disco lights. Yes, disco lights, all the way from Earth. Powered by a generator that throbbed and hummed behind the throne.
In the great hall, Goblins, Orcs and humans were dancing to the music of the most famous band in the Darklands – Soozie and the Nightwalkers (actually, currently the only band in the Darklands). They were playing in front of him, on the raised dais of the throne, Sooz on vocals, Gargon on lead guitar, Chris on bass and Rufino on drums. Agrash had been brought in as well – mostly he used a tambourine. But on one or two songs he came into his own – doing a Goblin rap, or Goblin hip hop, as he called it. And he was pretty good at it too. Called himself Aggy Z.
Dirk was idly stroking the feathers of Dave the Storm Crow, who was perched beside him on the arm of the throne. He was watching the whole show with indulgent amusement. Goblins danced like capering Imps, all elbows and knees, like little green, pot-bellied Morris dancers after drinking way too much coffee. Orcs shifted from foot to foot mostly, or occasionally jumped up and down like electrocuted punk rockers.
Or they’d play air guitar.
Skinrash, dressed in a white waiter’s suit, leaned over with a bottle in his hand. ‘Top-up of cola, sir?’ he said. Dirk waved him away.
It’d been a strange journey, getting here. The tears of the Lady Grieve had worked better than he had expected. Hasdruban had changed completely. He was more like a kindly old man now, filled with wisdom and compassion, rather than an implacable Wizard who would stop at nothing to achieve his goals.
The Light and the Dark had come to terms pretty quickly. Sooz and Dirk had sat down with Hasdruban and the White Witch (she was fine, doing well), and had thrashed out the details. Peace broke out everywhere! Soozville, the town she’d founded when she was Queen of the Darklands, was flourishing. Orcs, Goblins, humans and Elves were mostly trading rather than fighting. Sure, there was still trouble and stuff, but no full scale wars. Sooz, Dirk and Chris spent most of their time back on Earth, but they visited the Darklands regularly, at weekends, or in school holidays. They brought useful things to the Darklands and the Commonwealth. Medicine, advanced tools, new ways of growing food. They took back Orc and Goblin arts and crafts to Earth. They sold them to rich people who loved their strangeness, their pagan brutishness and their raw emotion. Also, a popular line in Goth clothing, all put together by Hans the Disembodied Valet1, as well as a growing line in Moonsilver jewellery.
They’d formed a company, Dark Lord Enterprises, headed up by Rufino. They’d had to train him up a bit, teach him to be a little more like a modern Earth person. But not too much – he had a kind of Olde Worlde charm about him that people loved.
Amazingly, Hasd
ruban had decided to stay on as headmaster of Whiteshields comprehensive. He was turning into a fine headmaster, kind and compassionate, but also firm, with an air of quiet authority. Occasionally he returned to the White Tower, but mostly he wanted to be ‘with his children, bless them all. Well, most of them, hah, hah!’ as he often said pointedly, looking at Dirk. But only in jest, of course.
Dirk grinned his evil grin, and settled back into his throne, enjoying the music.
Things were going really well…
1. See Dark Lord: A Fiend in Need. If you haven’t read it yet you are a fool, puny human.
Final and Last Epilogue (Honest)
In a lonely bedsit, in a rundown tower block in the cheap side of town, sat the old headmaster, Grousammer, hand on red-raw chin, staring at a bottle on his shelf. The bottle was full of a glistening black liquid he’d found in a puddle in a car park. What was it, and why did he want to drink it?
Slowly, his hand reached for the bottle…
Acknowledgements
This tome of sheer awesomeness couldn’t have been done without…well, ME!
Err…that’s it.
The Great Dirk.
The Author
Originally from a world beyond our own, Dirk Lloyd lives in the town of Whiteshields, in England, where he spends most of his time trying to get out of school and back home to his Iron Tower in the Darklands.
He has been a Dark Lord for more than a thousand years. Some of his achievements include: building the Iron Tower of Despair; raising vast armies of Orcs and Goblins; the waging of great wars; the destruction of many cities; the casting of mighty spells and enchantments; and excelling in English, Science and Maths classes at school.
Now he is a writer. Reviewers who adversely criticise his work may end up joining the others who have not been totally effusive with their praise. Join them in death, that is.
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