Dark Lord, School's Out

by Jamie Thomson

  “No, no,” said Sooz. “It’s my private chamber now. I live here.”

  There was another stunned silence on the other end.

  “Dirk? Are you there, Dirk?” said Sooz, grinning to herself.

  “What do you mean, you live there? What’s going on?” said Dirk.

  Sooz couldn’t help herself and she giggled triumphantly. “I’ve taken over, Dirk. I’m in charge!”

  “What … What? How is that possible?” said an astonished Dirk.

  “Well, the Orcs and Goblins are on my side now. So is Gargon. We took back the Iron Tower—without killing anyone, I might add—and now I’m the Dark Mistress of the Tower. The Moon Queen, in fact!”

  “By the Nine Netherworlds, Sooz, you have done well! Incredibly well! I am impressed, most impressed!” said Dirk.

  Sooz grinned, and jumped up and down excitedly for a second or two.

  “I even know how this Ring works. I can blast things with it!” she said excitedly.

  There was another silence on the other end. Dirk was beginning to feel rather uncomfortable about how things had turned out. It was great that Sooz was all right, but it was beginning to feel more and more like she’d taken his life over. And not only that, she was doing a really good job of it too. He was beginning to feel a tad jealous.

  “So, you’ve settled in then. In my house, with my Ring and my servants …”

  Sooz was about to snap back at him, but she got a hold of herself and said, “Actually, please let’s not argue, Dirk. I don’t want to be in charge here, or to live here. I want to come home. I want to see Mom. And you and Chris. That’s all. When can I come home?”

  That made Dirk feel a little better—perhaps she didn’t want to usurp his Throne after all. Dirk sighed. “I know, Sooz, I know. I’m working on it, but I can’t think of any way of getting you here, or me there. It’s hard enough just getting this phone to work.”

  “Oh no, don’t say that!” said Sooz.

  “I’m sorry, my Child of the Night, but those are the facts. We will have to make the best of things as they are, but I am working on it. If anyone can get you home, it is I, the Great Dirk!”

  Sooz smiled at that. “Well, thanks, Dirk. That’s nice, thank you.” After all, he had sorted out the mess with the sports pavilion. He’d find a way, she thought to herself.

  “Now, put Gargon on, I’d like to talk to him,” he added, kind of bossily.

  Sooz screwed her face up in annoyance at his tone—though it was typical Dirk once again. Then a little smile crooked up the corner of her mouth, she’d listen in, see how the conversation went. She flicked the speakerphone on. Heh, heh, perhaps some of Dirk’s dark cunning was rubbing off on her, she thought to herself.

  “All right, hold on, Dirk,” she said, as she opened the door and called Gargon over. He loitered in the doorway, unwilling to actually enter the Inner Sanctum. She held the phone up to him.

  Gargon stared at the little device in her hand, a confused expression on his face. Sooz shook it at him. “Take it, my Dread Lieutenant, take it!”

  Gingerly, the Hewer of Limbs stretched forth a taloned hand and took her phone. Dirk’s voice crackled, “Gargon is that you?” The great demon nearly dropped the phone in terror.

  Sooz raised her eyes. “Don’t worry, Gargon, it won’t harm you. Think of it as a Scrying Crystal, but instead of sight, all you get is sound. Go on, put it up to your ear.”

  Gargon sighed a great, sulfurous sigh and lifted the phone to the side of his massive, bony, scaly, fanged head and blinked in worry.

  “Gargon? It’s me, Dirk. Dirk the Dark Lord!” said Dirk, his voice tinny but loud.

  Gargon looked puzzled. “Doesn’t sound like you … Master?”

  “Yes, yes, it’s me, I’ve been cursed, put into the body of a puny human child by Hasdruban, may a thousand devil-worms gnaw his holy flesh!”

  “How do I know it’s really you, though, Master?” said Gargon.

  “By the Nine Netherworlds, of course it’s me! We built the Iron Tower—you remember you had to work fourteen nights in a row and afterward I rewarded you with a new belt for those shrunken heads!”

  Gargon looked away, a look of annoyance on his face. He put his hand over the phone and said, “It’s true, Gargon work like a dog, Dark Master sat on the Throne of Skulls doing nothing, and at the end of it Gargon gets a leather belt! Also, Gargon hate shrunken heads! They stink. Bah!”

  Gargon spoke into the phone. “Yes, Master, Gargon remembers. Gargon remembers very well. How are things, my Lord?”

  “Could be better, Gargon, could be better, but it’s good to hear your gravelly voice after all this time.”

  Gargon raised a demonic eyebrow. “Good to hear my … Are you all right, your Imperial Darkness?”

  “Yes, yes, I’m fine. Now listen Gargon, you must look after Sooz. You must protect her. She is very important to me.”

  A great beaming smile appeared on Sooz’s face when she heard this.

  “Ah, you mean she is useful, and must be protected, but when she has outlived her usefulness we can get rid of her, like the usual standing orders, my Dark Master?” said Gargon.

  “Yes, of course, what else, Gargon,” said Dirk without thinking.

  The smile on Sooz’s face drained away like sand through an hourglass. She scowled. The Ring on her finger began to pulsate with angry energy. It began to hum.

  “But Gargon doesn’t want to get rid of Dark Mistress; Gargon likes my Lady,” Gargon replied, a look of dismay on his scaly face.

  “What! You like … Gargon likes …” Dirk went quiet for a moment. It was all so incredible he could hardly believe it. Sooz had really shaken things up!

  Dirk continued, “No, no, you’re right, I didn’t really mean that, Gargon. We won’t get rid of her really. She is my … Umm, she is my friend … I mean a friend! A friend of the Dark, you understand? So, do whatever it takes to make sure she never gets hurt, got that Gargon?”

  “Yes, Master, I will,” said Gargon.

  Sooz was a little mollified at hearing this, but only a little, and she snatched the phone back from Gargon.

  “He’s sworn an oath to me, of course he’s going to look after me,” she said tersely, annoyed that Dirk still didn’t have the gumption to really acknowledge her as a friend.

  “What, like an oath of fealty?” said Dirk, amazed.

  “Yeah,” said Sooz, “so there! And what’s with that statue of a woman in your room? She looks pretty out of your league! What’s the matter with you, Dirk?”

  “Hey, don’t go there, Sooz, that’s my mom, Oksana, the Dark Mistress of the Underworld!” said Dirk. “All I’ve got left is that statue of her when she was young.”

  “Oh. Oh, sorry, Dirk, I just thought … Well, anyway, sorry,” she said. She’d never considered the possibility he had an actual mother. “I mean, she looks so … Well, like a Vampire or something.”

  “Well, she was a Vampire,” said Dirk. “The Vampire Queen of Sunless Keep.”

  “Riiight,” said Sooz. “Creepy! And what about that suit of armor, what’s that all about?”

  Dirk went quiet again. He didn’t want to tell her the truth—that his original form was that of a twelve-foot horned skeletal Lich Lord with great bony tusks, mighty horns, talons, and all the rest. He didn’t think that would go down well.

  “Umm … well, that’s …,” spluttered Dirk when Sooz suddenly interrupted him.

  “Dirk, the charge on my phone is getting low. Is there anywhere here I can charge it?”

  “What? No, of course not, Sooz, electricity hasn’t even been discovered let alone harnessed in the Darklands. We use magic instead.”

  “Then it’ll run out soon, we can’t talk for long,” she said.

  “No, you’re right, we’d best end this call then, use the phone for emergencies only—you won’t be able to call me, but you should be able to text me, which is better anyway as that uses much less power!” said Dirk.

&nbs
p; “All right, all right, well good-bye then Dirk, good-bye. So good to hear your voice! Say hello to Christopher!” she said.

  “Good-bye, Sooz, I shall call again soon—when I have more news. Hopefully of a rescue plan. Good-bye my little Child of the Night,” he said almost affectionately.

  The line went dead.

  Sooz began to cry. Beside her, a hulking demon leaned down and tenderly put his arm around the little girl’s shoulder. She leaned into him and sobbed.

  “There there, my Lady, there there,” said Gargon.

  Sooz suddenly started to cough and splutter.

  “Are you all right, my Queen?” he said.

  “Wow, those heads on your belt really do hum, don’t they, Gargon!”

  Part Three: Triumph and Despair

  Under Attack

  November Rip-out-their-Hearts 13

  I must say, I was surprised at how well Sooz has done in the Darklands.

  She is my friend, it is true, but perhaps she may also be my rival? Fortunately she seems intent on getting back to Earth rather than ruling in the Darklands, so perhaps I am getting overly concerned.

  Still, power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely, as the saying goes, and I should know. What if she decides she doesn’t want to give up all that power? I mean, I wouldn’t. In fact, if I were her, I’d get rid of me!

  No, no, I am thinking like my old self, not like Sooz. She is too sweet, too kind. Too weak! Isn’t she?

  It was late, and Dirk was getting into bed. His feet came up against something under the sheets, at the end of his bed. Puzzled, he reached down and felt around. He found something metallic. He pulled it out—a circular medallion, carved with the symbol of the Celestial Court of the Holy Ones.

  Obviously that fool Dumpsy Deary had put it there. Normally the Glyph of the Celestial Court of the Holy Ones would sear his feet like a branding iron. It was her revenge for the hand buzzer in the boot episode, no doubt.

  Dirk smiled to himself and lay back, resting his head on the pillow. And frowned. The pillow felt strange. He picked it up—and saw a bit of parchment underneath. Some runes had been written on it in blood.

  “Aha!” said Dirk to himself. “The Curse of the Runes of Death. Surely the foolish woman has figured out by now that such spells and magic will not work on this plane!”

  He scrunched up the note and threw it at the trash can—and missed. “Bah! Curse this puny human form,” he muttered as he plumped up his pillow. And frowned again—there was something inside the pillow too!

  He held it up and shook it—out came a flurry of white feathers. Except that each feather ended in a golden quill, so like real gold as to be almost indistinguishable, and the feathers were so bright and white they almost hurt his eyes. Imagine what they would have done to his Dark Lord eyes! The feathers had an unusual smell about them too, a surprisingly wholesome smell in fact. How odd! He picked one up—and laughed out loud. Of course! They were feathers of the Royal Griffin, a holy beast of almost pure goodness! Normally the smell would choke him so that he would be unable to say the words of the counter-spell to the Curse of the Runes of Death. He had to admit it was clever, it really was. Unfortunately, it had no chance of working here.

  Suddenly, the door swept open and Miss Deary burst into the room. She stared at Dirk, hoping to see him gasping out the last few breaths of his life. But all she saw was a laughing boy. Her face turned into an angry mask of rage.

  For a moment, Dirk thought she might physically attack him, which would have been a real problem, but instead she took out a piece of black paper, scribbled a note on it in white ink, and handed it to him.

  “I shall destroy you in the end, Evil One, for I am the White Witch of Holy Vengeance, and Holy Vengeance cannot be stopped!” said the note.

  Dirk’s jaw dropped. He knew he’d recognized her from somewhere. The White Witch of Holy Vengeance! Normally covered head to foot in white robes and lace and stuff, so he’d never seen her face. Now that he knew who she was, her gait, her smell, her air of sanctimonious righteousness seemed somehow familiar.

  This was serious. The White Witch was deadly to servants of the Dark, especially those who were unprepared. Though of course, Dirk wasn’t a servant of the Dark. He was the Dark, so it wasn’t that easy, but still!

  Dirk’s brow furrowed as he thought it through. Well, it would be serious if he were home in the Darklands. She’d be a serious threat there. But here, most of her powers were useless, just as his were …

  Dirk looked up from the note and grinned at her.

  “You cannot harm me, Frumpsy, you Witch!” he said, and grinned maniacally.

  She pursed her lips in frustration. She’d expected Dirk to be terrified by the revelation. Instead, he didn’t seem to care. Then her face fell and her shoulders slumped dejectedly. Everything she had done had failed. Completely. She turned and left, the very picture of defeat.

  Dirk thrust a boyish fist into the air in triumph and laughed. “Mwah, ha, ha!” But his moment of glorious victory was suddenly interrupted by a tinny scream of terror—it was his phone, telling him he’d got a text message.

  “By the Nine Netherworlds, it must be Sooz,” said Dirk, and he leaped out of bed and grabbed the phone. A message appeared in dripping red letters.

  Hsdrbn & Blk Slayr h8 me! They r allyz.

  Big army coming. Hlp! Sooz. xxx.

  Dirk’s eyes widened in horror. An alliance of the White Wizard and the Black Slayer? By the Nether Gods, taking back the Tower and painting it black was one thing, fighting the White Wizard and the Dark Slayer—that was something else entirely! Even he would have trouble with that one. Poor Sooz! He could hardly believe it though. The Black Slayer was truly evil; how could the White Wizard ally with him? But then again—the destruction of the Dark, no matter what the cost, that was Hasdruban all over. He’d ally with anyone to achieve that. For the greater good, so to speak.

  Dirk’s eyes narrowed. On the other hand, the Black Slayer had his weaknesses … He had to talk to Sooz.

  Dirk quickly punched in her number and lifted the phone to the side of his head. The little arms came out and grabbed his ear. Dirk smiled. He really liked the way it did that, it was so creepy and weird!

  It began to ring—and was picked up.

  “Hello, Dirk, is that you?” said a breathless Sooz.

  “Yes, it is I, Nightwalker!” he said.

  “Did you get my text?” said Sooz desperately.

  “Yes, I did and—” but before he could say anything more Sooz interrupted.

  “Dirk, what am I going to do? I’m scared! It’s an army and everything—RakRak said it was thousands of that Slayer dude’s Orcs and a bunch of humans, with Paladins of the White Shields, and Hasdruban himself! They’re gonna kill us all Dirk. They’re gonna kill me!” she wailed.

  Dirk blinked. That was serious. But not necessarily fatal.

  “Listen, Sooz,” said Dirk. “There is a way. If you can defeat the Black Slayer, his Orcs will probably desert him—in fact, they may come over to you. If you can swing that, you’ll have Hasdruban beat.”

  There was silence for a moment.

  “Are you still there, Sooz?” said Dirk.

  “Okay, how do I do that then, Dirk?” said Sooz. Her voice was calmer now that she’d got a hold of herself. She sounded strong, determined. Dirk shook his head in amazement. She was one special girl that Sooz, she really was. For a puny human that is.

  “Well, the Black Slayer has one weakness,” said Dirk.

  “Oh no! The battery’s almost dead. Hurry up, Dirk!”

  “Okay, Sooz, I can’t explain on the phone, it will take too long. You have to look it up in the Dark Library.”

  “The Library, but it’s huge isn’t it?”

  “You’ll find it in the ‘Employee Records’ section, under ‘Black Slayer’s Bane.’ Shouldn’t be hard to find,” said Dirk.

  “The … Well, all right, I’ll look there. Better go. Good-bye Dirk!” Th
e line went dead.

  Dirk sank back into the bed, thinking furiously, but there didn’t seem to be anything he could do. There was probably only enough power left in her phone to take one more short call, if that. If only there were a way of recharging Sooz’s phone. Or better still, getting back to the Darklands.

  There had to be a way, there had to be! He would work on it with all his evil genius, but in the meantime, Sooz was on her own—there was nothing he could do but hope. For now.

  To Battle!

  All right, come on, guys, we’re off!” said Sooz loudly as she strode out of her room and up to her Throne, a box labeled “Black Slayer’s Bane” under her arm. She had found it in the Dark Library, just as Dirk had said. What she’d read had been interesting, very interesting indeed. Turns out Dirk had never trusted the Black Slayer so he’d gotten some insurance, as it were.

  Around the Throne, waiting for her, stood her courtiers: Gargon, Agrash Snotripper, Skabber Stormfart, RakRak, and Rufino.

  “Off? Is it the heads? Are they humming again, my Lady?” said Gargon.

  “Wait a minute, do you mean the gargoyle heads at the gates or on the Throne? And they’re humming? What are they humming?” said Agrash confused.

  “No,” said Gargon, “the heads on my belt. They hum. Apparently. She say they hum,” he added, pointing at Sooz.

  Sooz laughed. “No, no! I mean we’re off, off to war!” she said, grinning. She was full of a strange, fateful joy, but she knew in her heart of hearts it was false gaiety and bluff. This could be the end of her, the end of them all in fact, but she wasn’t going to let that get her down!

  “What do you mean, Mistress?” said Agrash, who was looking very worried. “Don’t you mean we’re off to make a run for it? We’ve got to flee, surely!”

  “Definitely not, Mr. Snotnose! We’re going to fight!” she said.

  “Are you sure that is wise, my Lady?” said Rufino. “RakRak reports that the Black Slayer has re-formed the Legion of Merciless Mayhem and marches at the head of two thousand Orcs! Hasdruban is with him—he has a thousand stout men-at-arms, including one hundred of the White Shields—the best, most fanatic elite paladins in all the land!”