Chris said to Dirk, “So how are you going to open a portal between the worlds?”
“An interesting question,” said Dirk. “There is a standard kind of spell for this, but it obviously wouldn’t work here, so I’ve had to devise something entirely new. Do you remember my Cloak of Endless Night? Well, it’s covered in Blood Glyphs of Power. Now, these Glyphs are powered, well, by blood, obviously, but also by interplanar sources of magical energy from beyond the stars, from beyond space and time, in fact. So, even though the Glyphs don’t work here, the Cloak should still have a residual connection across the planes to the Darklands. I’ve written the new spell I’ve invented on a scroll, using the ancient runes of magic. All we have to do is seal the scroll, which means using my Ring of Power on the wax as the seal. The Ring that I gave Sooz.” As he said this, he glanced over at her expectantly.
She grabbed the Ring on her finger protectively. “But I don’t want to give up the Ring. I love it! It’s the best present anyone’s ever given me.”
Dirk looked a bit taken aback for a moment, as if he hadn’t expected her to care so much about it, or as if he’d expected her just to hand it over. Dirk thought for a moment. Hmm, he couldn’t really just ask for it back. That would be unforgivably rude. He had gifted it to her, after all. So he said, “No, no, you can keep the Ring. I just need you to use it to imprint my Great Seal on the wax, which will then be used to seal the magic scroll. We also need to get a small fire going, on which we burn various commonly available incenses and herbs. We lay the Cloak in the middle of the room, draw around it the symbol of the Five-Pointed Station of the Tetragram. I step onto the Cloak and then chant the spell, break the seal, and throw the scroll on the fire. The Cloak should dissolve into the very fabric of space and time itself, leaving an opening, a portal between the worlds for a brief moment, through which I can return home to the Darklands.”
“Sounds simple enough,” said Sal sarcastically. Then he asked, “What’s this Cloak anyway, and where’s it come from?”
“The Cloak of Endless Night and the Great Ring of Power are the only things that stayed with him when he fell to earth from the Darklands. Although they have lost their powers,” said Sooz, almost like a litany, as she held up the Ring to show Sal. “See,” she went on, “it has ancient runes carved on the inside.”
“Indeed,” agreed Dirk, “but for some reason my Helm of the Hosts of Hades, my Gauntlets of Ineluctable Destruction, and my Ebon Staff of Storms remained behind, or were perhaps sent to another plane entirely. Who knows?”
Sal shook his head disbelievingly. “You guys are nuts! Still, it’s creative, I’ll give you that. You really should put it in a computer game or a book or something. Hey, I’d even read it myself, and the last two books I read were The Hank Aaron Story and The Major League Almanac!”
There was a pregnant pause. Sooz and Chris expected a “You dare question me, I, the Dark Lord?” moment, but Dirk chose to acknowledge Sal’s comment as a compliment on his inventiveness rather than a judgment on his sanity. Dirk was learning to be diplomatic.
Dirk said, “Anyway, there is another problem. The location. We need a Pavilion of Dreams.”
“A what?” said Chris.
“A Pavilion of Dreams. Names are important in magic. Places are important. You need the correctly named building in which to perform this kind of ritual. A place where dreams are made real by magic. Any ideas, anyone?” asked Dirk.
There was silence for a moment.
Then Sooz tentatively said, “I don’t suppose we could build one somehow?”
“What? We’re only kids, for goodness’ sake,” said Sal.
“Why do people say ‘for goodness’ sake’?” replied Dirk. “What’s wrong with for evil’s sake, for evil’s sake? Anyway, it doesn’t matter—building one is an option and I’ve been thinking about that. There’s this spell I think would work even here, in this benighted place you ridiculous humans call earth. We could get the Skirrits of …”
“Wait a minute,” interjected Sal. “What about the Players Pavilion?”
“The Players …?” said Dirk, surprised by his suggestion, but also angered that he had dared to interrupt him. Just as he was about to launch into a tirade, Sal continued and what he said made Dirk forget his anger.
“Yeah, it’s a real pavilion—it’s got a sign over the door and everything.”
Dirk’s brow furrowed in thought. “Hmm, it might just do at that. It’s always been called the Players Pavilion, right? Never been renamed?”
“Never—always been called that from the day it was built. You can read all about its history on that plaque inside,” said Sal. “But, it’s always been used for baseball, nothing else. Well, sports anyway. No crazy magic spells or anything, that’s for sure!”
“That may not be a problem,” said Dirk. “Baseball is a highly ritualized activity in itself, full of dreams of glory and prowess. In fact, I think the Players Pavilion will do fine. Thank you, Sal Malik, you have done well.”
“A pleasure, my Lloyd of Dirkness,” said Sal, smiling.
Dirk nodded and said, “We need to do this when there’s no one else around.”
“We?” said Sal.
“Absolutely,” said Dirk. “I need my Inner Court, my closest attendants, my most trusted lieutenants to be there to help me.”
Sooz and Chris exchanged a look. Chris raised his eyes and sighed resignedly. “Of course we’ll be there.”
“As your friends,” added Sooz, though she didn’t look too happy about it. It was the thought of losing Dirk that really got to her. It wouldn’t happen though, she kept telling herself. The ritual wouldn’t work. There was no such thing as magic, so it couldn’t work, right?
Dirk looked over at Sal questioningly.
“Me? Oh all right, if you want,” Sal said. “But you’d better help me draw up the best lineup for that game against Santa Ana Prep. They’re best in the league, you know.”
“Of course, of course—don’t worry, the powers of their middle order batters are weak, and they lack skill in their bullpen. We can exploit these pitiful failings and crush them,” said Dirk. “Now, down to business, as you humans like to say. Next Monday is a holiday—there’ll be no one around then. We should perform the ritual in the pavilion at twelve noon, on Monday. The date and time is auspicious in terms of the Conjunction of the Stars, and Monday was originally called Moon Day—moons have always been important in spells of this nature, both for interplanar travel and for dreams.”
“That’s all fine,” said Chris, “but how are we going to get into the pavilion? It’ll be locked. In fact, the whole school will be closed.”
“Ah!” said Sal. “That’s not a problem. I’ve got a set of keys. Special privilege and all that!”
“Perfect,” said Dirk. “As for getting into the school—that’s not too much of a problem either. When I was drawing up my plans for conquering the school, using Winged Nightgaunts, a platoon of Orcish Raiders, and a Goblin Horde, I examined the perimeter in detail. At the rear of the school, near the garden, there is a section of the wall where the top has crumbled somewhat. We ought to be able to climb over that quite easily, using a few of those old wooden crates they have lying around that area. We can pile them up like steps.”
Dirk’s enthusiasm was infectious. They were all getting into it. Coming up with solutions was fun. In fact, the whole idea seemed like fun. It was as if they were mighty wizards, performing a great spell that would change the world—though it was more of a game for the others than it was for Dirk. For him, of course, it was quite real.
Sooz said excitedly, “I’ve got a little gas cooker thing! And one of those Sterno cans they use on camping trips. We can use that to heat up the incense, and to burn the scroll.”
“Excellent,” said Dirk. “We shall meet at the top of Greenfield Lane at the eleventh hour of the morning, on Moon Day. The Child of the Night will bring the Ring of Power and the ‘Unholy Flames of Calor’—don’t forge
t to bring some matches as well, Sooz!—the Sports Lord will bring the Keys to the Pavilion of Dreams. I shall bring the Scroll of the Portal between the Worlds and the Ritual Incense and Chris … Errr.”
Chris’s brow knitted in irritation.
“Umm,” spluttered Dirk. “Oh, of course, Chris can bring the wax. The sealing wax.”
“The wax. I get to bring the wax. Great—I’ll just bring a candle then?” complained Chris.
“Candle wax? Not really, it’s not ideal,” said Dirk.
“Actually, you can get sticks of wax in stationery stores. Little wax sealing kits with fake scrolls and stuff,” said Sooz. “You should probably get red.”
“Yes,” added Dirk. “Red is good. The Sealing Wax of Enchantments. That’s what we need, Chris. It’s very important, really.”
“Yeah, right.” Chris folded his arms and scowled. He wanted to be a general, not just the mouthpiece of the Dark Lord, and he wanted a better job than “keeper of waxy stuff.” Then he caught himself. He was worrying about a bunch of imaginary titles for positions that weren’t even real, for goodness’ sake. Or for evil’s sake, rather! He chuckled to himself. He was taking being a lieutenant of the Lloyd of Dirkness a little too seriously.
“Okay, count me in,” he said with a smile.
“Excellent!” said Dirk. “It is all settled then. Soon our plans shall come to full fruition!”
He threw back his head, putting his fingertips together in front of his chest, ready to give vent to his signature evil overlord’s laugh, but he was taken by surprise when the others laughed along with him, mimicking the sound with their hands held together in the same way.
A chorus of Mwah, ha, ha! echoed around the school corridors, followed by general laughter as Sal, Chris, and Sooz cracked up at their spontaneous joke. Dirk looked down at them and smiled indulgently. He wasn’t really sure what they were laughing about, but it seemed to make them happy, so why not? He needed them for the ritual.
Then the bell rang for the end of lunch, and they had to go to afternoon classes.
Later that evening, after supper, Dirk was sitting down with Chris in his room. They were playing a game called Fantasy Wars in multiplayer mode on the computer. This was a turn-based fantasy war game—Chris commanded the Human army, with Knights, Bowmen, Rangers, Eagle Riders, and various Heroes; Dirk commanded the Orcish army with Battle Orcs, Goblin archers, Trolls, Goblin airships, and so on.
Dirk had to put a lot of effort into getting Chris to play tonight. They’d already played this game on several occasions, and Dirk had utterly crushed Chris every time, so, understandably, Chris had gotten a bit bored with it all and was rather reluctant to play. But tonight, amazingly, Chris was getting the upper hand. And Chris was starting to get suspicious about it.
After one of his Royal Footmen units had stormed one of Dirk’s Orcish strongholds rather too easily, Chris suddenly turned on Dirk and said angrily, “What’s going on, Dirk? Are you deliberately letting me win?”
“Me? No, no! Of course not—I would never do that!” sputtered Dirk.
“Yes, you are,” said Chris. “It’s obvious. You’re playing like a total idiot, for goodness’ sake!”
“For evil’s sake, you must mean! And no, you’re just doing better than usual, really you are!” replied Dirk.
Chris threw the controls down in disgust. “Normally you’re so good at this game it’s like you were born to play it.”
“Well … well, yes,” said Dirk. “I was.”
There was an uncomfortable silence for a second or two. Then Chris said, “What are you up to? What is it you want?”
“Oh, nothing, nothing,” said Dirk airily.
“Come on, Dirk, I know you. What is it? Come on, out with it,” said Chris.
Dirk sighed. He had underestimated Chris. In fact, he realized that he often did so. There was much more to Chris than met the eye. Chris looked at him expectantly.
“Well?” he said.
“Well, all right then, if you insist. You know my Ring of Power?” said Dirk.
“The one you gave Sooz? What about it?” said Chris.
Dirk paused for a moment. “You know I said Sooz could keep it? Umm, well, I was just saying that to keep her happy. In fact, I need it back,” he said.
“Ah, I see! That’s what this is all about. And I suppose you want me to ask her for you, is that it?” said Chris.
Dirk made a face and said, “Umm, no, not exactly. It would really hurt her feelings to ask for it back.”
“Of course it would. She loves that ring!” replied Chris.
“Exactly. Instead, I want you to, er …” Dirk hesitated for a moment.
“Yes, what?” he said impatiently.
“I want you to steal it back for me,” said Dirk, looking away innocently, as if it was all perfectly normal, and nothing to worry about.
There was a silence. Chris was annoyed with Dirk for springing this on him. For another thing, he didn’t like the idea of stealing from Sooz. Dirk was putting him in a difficult position. Dirk was his friend—brother, even, if he was ever fully adopted—but Sooz was also his friend, and a good one too. And he liked her. A lot.
“You want me to steal it? Why?” said Chris rather tersely.
“I must have it back,” said Dirk. “I need it for the ritual, but more important I must have it back if I am to return to the Darklands. Without it, I will be much diminished. No more than a minor Warlock or a Black Magus. Without the Ring I have little or no chance of defeating Hasdruban the Pure.”
“Why did you give it to her in the first place then?!” asked Chris.
“It was rather rash of me. The Ring had lost all of its powers, as far as I could tell, so I had no use for it. But now it will be useful, whether it has power or not. Also, I liked her—she’s so dark and vampire-y. If there’s anyone in this ridiculous world of exams and hoodies who deserves to have it, it’s her. It just seemed the right thing to do at the time. But in hindsight, a mistake—I see that now,” said Dirk.
Chris paused for a moment, thinking, and then he asked, “Why can’t you steal it back? You could use the Sinister Hand spell you said still worked on earth. Why do you need me?”
“A fair question,” said Dirk, and he went on. “The Sinister Hand cannot handle relics of power. It would not be able to touch the Ring, and …”
“Oh, how convenient! More like there’s no such thing as spells or magic!” Chris snapped back.
Dirk looked hurt at that. Of all the people on earth who he really wanted to believe him, Chris was one of the most important.
Chris knew this, so he always tried to humor Dirk whenever he could, just out of kindness, really. Chris felt a wave of remorse at his thoughtless words. Dirk really seemed to believe all this stuff and it wasn’t really his fault that he did. In fact, sometimes Chris almost believed it too.
“Sorry,” said Chris. “Sorry.” Chris tried to think a bit like Dirk. He said, “Right then, the Sinister Hand is a minor magic, an enchantment that is not powerful enough to cope with the mighty sorceries that bind great relics like the Ring of Power, is that it?”
“Precisely!” said Dirk enthusiastically. “You’ve got it exactly, Chris! You’re learning—perhaps one day you will be able to take up the study of Wizardry!”
Chris smiled.
Then Dirk said, “But actually, there is another much more mundane reason I want you to steal the Ring. Opportunity. And swimming practice.”
“Swimming practice?” said Chris.
“Indeed,” replied Dirk. “You know Sooz goes swimming every Thursday night after school. And she goes straight from school, so she gives you her AngelBile bag to drop off at her place for her.”
“Yeah,” said Chris, not sure where this was going.
“And she can’t wear jewelry in the swimming pool, so she leaves it all in her bag—the rings, bracelets for ankle and wrist, the toe rings, earrings, everything … You see?”
“Ah, of course!
” said Chris. “The perfect opportunity!”
“Right,” said Dirk. “You don’t even have to do anything, as she’s just going to give you the Ring anyway. Later, she’ll ask about it, but you just deny everything, and she’ll just think she lost it before she put it in the bag. It’s so much easier than spells and stuff!”
There was another reason, of course, but Dirk wasn’t going to mention it to Chris. The other reason was that Dirk was always trying to get other people to do things for him. That was one of the things that made a Dark Lord a Dark Lord. What was the point of having lackeys, underlings, lickspittles, and minions if you didn’t get them to do things for you?! No, it was better that his lieutenant did it for him—that was how evil overlords got things done.
Chris shook his head admiringly. “You are smart, I’ll give you that, Dirk!” he said.
“So, you’ll do it then?” asked Dirk. “I need it in time for the ritual on Monday.”
Chris paused for a moment, thinking. Then he sighed, and said, “All right, I’ll do it, but I’m not going to steal for you ever again, Dirk, and that’s final!”
“Of course, of course,” said Dirk. “Never again. Never!”
Dirk was smiling broadly. He put his hands in front of his chest, joined them at the fingertips, and said, “The Ring shall soon be mine! Mwah, ha, ha!”
Chris had to laugh at that and the mood lightened. Later, when Dirk had gone to write in his diary, Chris stared at the ceiling in thought. One of the reasons why Sooz gave him the bag to take home for her was so that it couldn’t be stolen while she was swimming. She was putting her stuff into his hands for safekeeping. She trusted him. Today was a Monday—three days before her swimming practice. They had a week. He reached for his cell phone and called Sooz …
As Christopher called Sooz on his phone, Dirk sat at the table in his room, working on his diary. He’d been feeling relatively pleased with the way things were going, except for those accursed reports and the recurring nightmare that always featured some kind of white beast hunting him down. He’d found an odd newspaper story that was most intriguing, so he cut it up and pasted it into his diary. Could it be this that he was dreaming of?
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