“And he gave you the Great Ring! He chose you!” bellowed Gargon. He dropped to one knee. “Gargon swears fealty to the Dark Mistress, Queen of the Night, and betrothed of my dread lord! I serve you in the name of Dark Lord! I be your faithful servant, my Queen.”
Sooz stood there for a moment. Betrothed?
It wasn’t an engagement ring; it was Dirk’s Great Ring of Power! She wanted to tell him they weren’t “betrothed”—and they weren’t going to be either—but maybe that wouldn’t be such a good idea. If Gargon believed they were engaged, then maybe it was better left that way.
Anyway, the important thing was Gargon’s oath of loyalty. An oath of loyalty from a seven-foot demon who was going to be her faithful servant. How cool was that! A half smile lifted one side of her mouth. Now she wasn’t so vulnerable, so weak, so alone—a mere wisp of a girl marooned in a foreign land. Oh no, she had protection—and not just any old protection either, but a seven-foot winged and taloned … er … thingamajig. Called Gargon.
“So, what are you exactly, Gargon?”
“What do you mean, Dark Mistress?” graveled Gargon.
“You know, what kind of … well, thing are you?” she asked again.
“Ah … Gargon not know, my Queen. My master, the Dark Lord—”
“Dirk, his name’s Dirk,” interrupted Sooz.
“Dirk? His name is Dirk? Really? Are you sure, my Lady of the Dark?”
“Oh yes, that’s his real name. Dirk. Dirk Lloyd. Dirk the Dark Lord,” she said.
“D—Dirk. All right, er … my Queen. My master—Dirk—said I was … unique. That there is only one of my kind in all existence,” he replied. He seemed a bit sad at that thought, if a seven-foot, winged demon with smoky wisps coming out of his nostrils could look sad.
Sooz looked up at him.
“Hey, I’m loving those bat wings, Gargon,” she said, trying to cheer him up.
“Thank you, my Lady!”
That seemed to perk him up a bit. “So, what now, O my Dark Mistress?”
“Well, my Dread Lieutenant,” said Sooz, “I was heading to that pink tower over there.”
Gargon turned. “The Tower of my master, the Dark Lord, you mean?” he grated.
“The Tower of … The Iron Tower? The Iron Tower of Despair? But it’s pink. How can it be pink?” she said, confused.
“It was the White Wizard, my Lady. He painted it pink, all over. Pink.” Gargon shook his great craggy head in disgust.
“But why, Gargon. Why would he do that?” she asked.
“I don’t know, your Dark Majesty. Gargon not really understand. All Gargon know is that fairies and human children from Gam, the City of Men, visit Tower now. There are slides and rides and things.”
Sooz narrowed her eyes in thought. Propaganda? Was that it? It was a great way to discredit the memory of Dirk by turning his citadel of power into a pink-painted amusement park, that’s true. But on the other hand, why not destroy it? She shrugged. Anyway.
“So that’s the Iron Tower. Then this must be the Plains of Desolation,” said Sooz, almost to herself.
“Yes, my Lady. I have been hiding here, but never in same place for long. Try to avoid Eagle Riders and Paladins of Righteousness.”
Gargon looked up at the sky, fear etched all over his craggy, scaled face. “They look for Gargon, and if they find me, they kill me!”
“Couldn’t you … you know, surrender or something? They’re supposed to be the good guys—surely they wouldn’t kill you if you surrendered?” said Sooz.
Gargon shook his great bony head. “No, White Wizard say no prisoners. Darkness to be wiped out from the land once and for all. None can live!”
Sooz frowned. That didn’t sound right to her, didn’t sound right at all. A look of determination came over her face.
“We must go there, Gargon. I’d like to have a closer look. Maybe we can take the Tower back. Take it back for Dirk. Anyway, I need somewhere to hang out, get out of the cold. Can’t stay here forever, that’s for sure!”
“As you command, my Dark Mistress of Doom!” said Gargon, and a kind of grin split his hideous face. “It is good to have a Master once more! I mean Mistress. Gargon is happy!”
Sooz smiled up at the vast ugly demon. He was really sweet underneath it all, she thought.
Together they set off toward the Iron Tower of Pinkness … the twelve-year-old girl and the Demon of the Dark. As they walked, she speculated on the Tower. If she’d been one of those “normal” girls (as she called everyone who wasn’t a Goth) she’d love the Tower to be pink and fluffy, maybe with a little pink ribbon around the top. But Sooz was a Goth—pink was hideous. Repainting it black, that would be the answer. Black as night, the color an Iron Tower of Despair should be! She looked up at Gargon. Would he be any good as a painter and decorator, she wondered?
Snot, Potbellies, and Green Skin
“YIKES!” yelled Sooz at the top of her voice. A little man-shaped creature had suddenly stepped out from behind the gnarled trunk of a half-dead tree. It looked just like one of those ugly little Goblins she’d seen in films and books back home on earth, with green warty skin; large, dark eyes; a preposterously long nose; and big ears. He was dressed in tattered leather and had obviously seen better times. If a Goblin could ever be said to have seen better times, that is.
It was about her height and it had some kind of vaguely familiar insignia on its leather chest armor. At its side were a rusty old knife and a big leather pouch. But instead of attacking her, it ignored her. It looked up at the seven-foot demon by her side.
“Gargon, you’re alive! That is good news indeed,” squeaked the Goblin in a surprisingly high-pitched voice.
“Agrash! You made it too, I see,” said Gargon.
“I did. Me and a few others,” said the Goblin.
The Goblin waved, and from behind rocks and dead trees and bushes and holes in the ground about thirty warty, long-nosed green-skinned little Goblins emerged. They carried various weapons—rusty old saws, knives, spears, and billhooks, and were saying things like “Hey, it’s old Gargy!” or “Gargon lives!” and “Who’s that he’s got there?” or “Kidnapped some girl, has he?”
Sooz took a fearful step back. She didn’t like the look of this, not one bit. She was a girl from an ordinary school and now she was in a place called the Plains of Desolation, with thirty—well, thirty Goblins for heaven’s sake! She’d never met any Goblins before! Well, except for one or two weirdos at school, but that didn’t count. These were real Goblins. Did they eat people? Or was that Orcs? Orcs eat people in the Realm of Shadows, the game she played back home on earth, but that was a computer game. Real ones could be worse! Maybe they tortured people and then ate them! Or … or … She just didn’t know—that was the problem.
Agrash went on. “We’ve been hiding out here ever since the Battle. We weren’t sure what to do, or where to go, so we … so we didn’t do anything or go anywhere … Anyway, you’re a big boss, aren’t you, Gargon? You had the ear of the Dark Lord himself, you can tell us what to do, can’t you?”
“Me? Not me!” said Gargon, pointing at Sooz with a taloned hand.
Agrash’s green, warty brow knotted in puzzlement. He turned to look at Sooz as if noticing her for the first time. “Who’s this? Some girl you kidnapped? Ransom is it? No wait—insurance, I’ll bet! Some stinking paladin’s daughter, is that it? Keep her alive and they’ll leave you alone, that type of thing? She doesn’t look like a paladin’s daughter, I have to say!”
“No, no, she is friend,” said Gargon.
Sooz smiled weakly, trying to appear nonchalant and relaxed as if all this were perfectly normal.
“Fr— What did you say?” said Agrash. “Gargon, Hewer of Limbs, Lieutenant of the Tower of … He’s got a … a friend? A human friend? I don’t get it!”
Behind him, the Goblin pack formed up into a raggedy band, listening to the conversation with interest. They stared at Sooz avidly, black eyes unblinking, yellow
, catlike pupils fixed on her. Sooz shuddered. She was starting to get really scared.
“She is Dark Mistress now. Our master, the Dark Lord, he send her. While he is in exile,” grated Gargon.
“But … But she’s just a girl … A little human girl!” said Agrash.
Sooz began to stare at Agrash. She couldn’t help herself; his nose was beginning to fascinate her, even through her growing fear. How could that nose be real? It was so improbably long, sticking right out over the edge of his chin, and it constantly dripped with snot. Green, slimy snot. Agrash noticed she was staring, and put a hand up self-consciously to hide his nose.
“Hey, stop staring like that, it’s rude!” he said.
“But … but there’s just so much snot,” said Sooz, in fascinated disgust, without thinking.
“Yeah, that’s why they call him Agrash Snotripper,” said Gargon. At that, many of the Goblins began to laugh and giggle with curious little goblinish titters.
Agrash broke her chain of thought, wrenching her back to the Darklands, as he turned and shouted at the assembled Goblins, “Stop that laughing, you idiots! I’m the captain here! Me! I’m in charge! Why? Because I’m the only one here with a brain, the only one! Remember that, you green-bottomed, potbellied morons!”
Chastened, the Goblins hung their heads, the picture of guilty children, shifting from foot to foot to a chorus of “Yeah, sorry, Agrash,” “Yes, Cap’n,” “Sorry, sir,” and so on.
Sooz began to feel a little more confident about things. They weren’t complete savages—they could be controlled. And they were potbellied! Each one had a little round potbelly, on top of thin, knobby-kneed legs.
As Agrash turned back to face her, Sooz realized what the insignia on the armor of the Goblins was. It was Dirk’s Seal, the same pattern as on her Ring. These were Dirk’s Goblins. Of course! That made all the difference. Think! What would Dirk do?
She stepped forward. “Yes, I am your new Queen. The Dark Lord in Exile has appointed me as your ruler in his absence. You may call me … er … Dark Mistress,” she said.
Agrash looked up at Gargon. “Wait a minute, this ain’t right,” he said. “Look at her. Granted, she looks like a Nightwalker Vampire, but she’s obviously not. She’s just a kid, I tell you!”
Then Sooz held out her hand. The Great Ring bathed her in its unearthly, dark-bright brilliance, runes twisting and burning across its surface. Behind her the shadow of a Dread Queen of the Night flared up in all its majesty.
Agrash’s eyes widened in fear and awe and the company of Goblins took a step back, giving a collective gasp of astonishment.
“The Great Ring! Forgive me, I did not know!” said Agrash.
He dropped to one knee and bowed his head in submission to Sooz. Her heart leaped. First a huge … thingamajig … and now a pack of Goblins! Sure, she missed her mom and Dirk and she really, really wanted to go home, but this wasn’t so bad. In fact, it was almost fun! She decided to play things up to the hilt.
“Swear fealty to me, your Dark Mistress, your Dread Queen of the Night!” she said, in the most imperious and commanding tones she could muster. The Ring seemed to respond to her need, as it began to hum with power, radiating more of its dark light.
Agrash was cowed. “Yes, your Darkness, I swear allegiance to … umm …” He glanced up at her.
“To Sooz. Sooz, the Dark Queen,” she said, looking down at the kneeling Goblin, one hand on her hip, the other regally holding out her ring hand, the very picture of a haughty queen.
“I, Agrash, swear fealty to Sooz, the Dark Queen, and Mistress of the Night!” said Agrash, solemnly. He took Sooz’s hand and kissed the Ring … dribbling green snot all over her fingers in the process. Sooz tried not to let her disgust show, with limited success, as she looked up at the rest of the Goblins. She couldn’t help herself, and gagged a bit, but the Goblins didn’t notice. Or maybe they were used to that.
As one, they dropped to their knees and intoned, “We swear allegiance to Sooz, Dark Queen of the Night and Wielder of the Great Ring!” they said as Sooz tried to shake her hand clean.
She looked over at Gargon triumphantly. He looked back, and nodded, a wide smile cracking his hideous face in two, revealing huge, sulfurous fangs.
“Good work, my Lady,” he croaked.
“Thank you, my Dread Lieutenant,” she said with a grin of her own.
Then he rose to his feet, trying to change the subject. “So, Sooz, er, I mean my Dark Mistress, what’s the plan?” he said.
“Well, I thought we’d go to the Iron Tower, maybe see if we can take it back. Especially now that there are so many of us,” said Sooz.
Agrash frowned, glancing at Gargon. “Er … Thirty Goblins are really not that many, my Queen, not compared to Hasdruban’s army. It numbers in the thousands. Tens of thousands, in fact.”
“Oh,” said Sooz. But then she brightened and said, “But on the other hand, we have Gargon and … well, we’ve got the Great Ring, right?”
“That is true,” Agrash said, perking up a bit. “Yes, that is true, we have the Great Ring and a Dark Lor—Er … Lady. Yes, maybe we can build on that, put another Army of Darkness together.”
“Yeah, absolutely!” said Sooz, though privately she was kind of worried at that thought. Where was this going to end? Is it possible that she could end up commanding some kind of army of Orcs and Goblins? What would she do with that? She didn’t want to fight some kind of fantastical war in a strange land! All she really wanted to do was to go home to her mom, and see Dirk again. But what could she do?
“Well,” continued Agrash, oblivious to her concerns, “the Tower is currently pretty much unguarded. Just a bunch of disgusting fairies and stinky human tourists. It could be fun, we could surprise them and butcher them all! Hack ’em to bits!”
With that, the rest of the Goblins shouted aggressively, waving their weapons in the air. Several said things like, “Yeah, cut ’em down! Butcher them all! Blood! Battle! Gore! We love an unfair fight! Pair of fairy wings as trophies, yeah! Nothing like a massacre to make your day!” and so on.
Sooz grimaced. “Oh no, we can’t have that!” she said.
“What do you mean, my Dark Lady?” said Agrash, confused.
“We can’t have any killing!” said Sooz emphatically.
“Can’t have any … What are you saying, my Lady? I mean … You know, we’re Goblins, so …,” spluttered an astonished Agrash.
“There can’t be any killing! We’ll just scare them away. Those are my orders and that’s final,” said Sooz.
“But why? I don’t understand!” said Agrash.
“Yes,” said Gargon. “It’s not how we usually do things around here, my Lady.”
Sooz thought furiously for a moment, trying to come up with a good reason, other than … Well, other than just doing the right thing. You know, like not murdering people, even if they were annoying little pink fairies. She didn’t think “Doing the right thing” would go down well with this bunch. She didn’t want a rebellion on her hands—that would be a disaster. She frowned, uncertain. But then she had an idea.
“We mustn’t antagonize them too much. We are too weak. If we spare their lives and chase them away, we can fortify the Tower. Maybe negotiate a truce or some kind of peace if they don’t think we’re really dangerous. Otherwise we risk being destroyed. In retaliation. Do you see?”
“Yes … Of course, yes, it makes sense! It’ll give us time to build up our forces and then we can strike back with overwhelming force!” said Agrash.
“Dark Mistress is clever!” said Gargon approvingly.
“All right, onward, to the Tower,” said Sooz, relieved. “And remember, if anyone dies, then the … the killer will have to answer to me, the Dread Queen! And …”
She tried to think how Dirk would say it … “And my wrath shall be terrible. Great will be my anger, and terrible will be the punishment!”
“Yes, Mistress,” said Gargon, Agrash, and the Goblins, sub
missively.
Sooz smiled at that. This was going really well, she thought to herself. She wasn’t so scared anymore and she was in charge! Dirk would be so proud of her. And hopefully he’d be here soon to tell her. Surely he had to be trying to rescue her? Probably telling Chris what to do as well. At that thought, she laughed—what she thought of as her normal laugh, a kind of girlish giggle. But the Ring glowed, and amplified the sound so that it came out as a “Mwah, ha, ha!”
An Unexpected Visit
Dr. and Reverend Purejoie were Dirk’s foster parents. They’d taken him in, convinced he was a poor traumatized boy who’d made up all that stuff about Dark Lords and magic lands to hide the memory of something terrible that had happened to him. Today, their children—the foster boy, Dirk, and their son, Christopher—had started school again, and it was time for them to go to work. As Mrs. Purejoie opened the door she was surprised to find someone standing there. A strange figure, examining the doorbell in some detail. It was a woman dressed in an oddly outdated outfit, with a pale face and long white hair. Dr. Purejoie regained his composure first and said, “Yes, can we help you?”
The strange woman looked up at them, as if noticing them for the first time. She stared at them for a moment, saying nothing. Her eyes were such a light gray as to be almost silver.
“Yes?” said Mrs. Purejoie.
The strange woman simply handed them each a card. A black card with white writing on it. Mrs. Purejoie read it out loud.
“Greetings, Mr. and Mrs. Purejoie. I am your new nanny, as you requested, sent here by the High Council of the White Shields to look after your troublesome boy, Dirk.”
Mrs. Purejoie looked up, a puzzled expression on her face. “But we didn’t ask for a nanny. We don’t need one.” She turned to her husband, a quizzical expression on her face.
“No, no, I didn’t ask for one either, goodness no! There must be some mistake,” he said.
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