‘Educated? What do…? Actually, forget that. Whatever. Bad for him, good for us. You have to go and fight him, don’t you, Christopher? One on one. I’ll help you – together we can beat him!’ said Dirk, doing a kind of shadow boxing, but instead of pretending he was in a fist fight, he acted as though he was in a great magical duel, casting mighty spells.
‘Where is Sooz?’ said Christopher, ignoring Dirk. ‘I could do with her advice.’
‘I haven’t seen her,’ said Rufino.
Dirk shrugged. ‘Me neither,’ he said. ‘So, shall we ready an expedition? I can lead you a different way; we could bypass the army, find Grousammer and face him one on one!’
Chris shook his head. ‘There will be no violence. I will go to him and surrender myself in exchange for my mother and Dr Hasdruban’s freedom.’
‘What? Are you mad?’ shrieked Dirk.
‘My Lord, that is not wise,’ said Rufino. ‘Surely it would be better to fight him, defeat this evil scourge once and for all!’
‘No. I will not fight. There is only one path and that is the path of peace. It will be as I’ve said,’ said Chris with a faint, saintly smile. With that, he began to walk.
‘Hold on, where are you going?’ said Dirk.
‘To hand myself over to the enemy,’ said Chris.
Dirk put his hands up to his head. ‘No, no, no,’ he muttered, ‘this can’t be happening!’
Christopher walked slowly onward, his head held high, his hands clasped together in front of him, an expression of serene goodness on his face. He was on the road that led from the White Tower to the Darklands and he was going to give himself up in return for the freedom of his mother and his headmaster. He would martyr himself so that others might live. There could be no other way.
Rufino, Rosapina, Dirk and Bashar were waiting for him near the border. Slowly Christopher drew near.
Rosapina stepped forward. ‘With respect, your Holiness…’
Dirk made a face. They didn’t call Christopher the White Wizard any more, they called him the Holy One or the Sainted One. They addressed him as ‘your Holiness’ and with much more respect than they afforded to Dirk.
Bah, sickening!
‘With respect,’ repeated Rosapina, ‘we cannot allow you to go on and throw your life away like this!’
‘It will be as it will be,’ said Chris, barely slowing his pace.
‘But don’t you see, your loss would be a terrible blow to the people!’ said Rufino.
‘My loss? We would be gaining two other lives, just as worthy as mine. Is that worth the price?’ said Chris beatifically.
Dirk shook his head in despair. This was beyond wishy-washy bleeding heart do-gooder nonsense – this was far worse! What had he created?
‘Whatever, Chris,’ said Dirk, running up to Chris’s side. ‘You can’t just stroll in there like that. What’s to stop him from locking you up with the rest of them? I mean, he’s a Dark Lord – you can’t trust him.’
Christopher the Sainted One replied, ‘I will reason with him. Show him that honour and keeping your word are what define us, they make us what we are.’
‘Oh, come on,’ said Dirk, getting desperate now. ‘Grousammer? He’s not just any old Dark Lord, he’s a Dark Lord that was once a teacher. You can’t trust teachers, let alone Dark Lords! You know that!’
‘We shall see,’ said Christopher, walking onward.
Dirk shook his head in despair.
‘It’s no good, Dirk,’ said Rosapina. ‘We have to act.’ She waved Rufino and Bashar forward. ‘Seize him, carry him back to the tower, but do not harm him!’
‘Yes, my lady,’ said the Paladins.
‘Sorry, sorry, sorry,’ said Rufino as he marched up to Christopher, Bashar close behind, but Christopher simply ignored them.
‘All is love,’ he said softly and walked on. Rufino and Bashar tried to seize him. But as they drew near, their hands dropped to their sides. Peace fell across their faces. Love stayed their hands: it seemed like rough intent had turned to kindly compassion.
They looked back at Rosapina and shrugged. She moved in too, but nobody could touch Chris – all resolve seemed to fade to love at the last moment. His aura of gentle peace prevented any violence, no matter how well intentioned.
Dirk frowned. He wasn’t so strongly affected. He could try to restrain Chris. But on the other hand, Dirk was a thirteen-year-old boy. Chris was a ten-foot tall angel. Dirk didn’t have the strength, even if he could overcome the overwhelming urge to hug Christopher rather than to pin him down in an arm lock and carry him back to safety.
Christopher walked on. Dirk, Rosapina, Rufino and Bashar hung back.
‘What shall we do?’ said Bashar.
‘We can’t let him walk in there alone,’ said Dirk.
‘Indeed,’ said Rosapina. ‘But who will go with him?’
Rufino put his hand on Dirk’s shoulder. ‘We will go, won’t we, Dirk?’ he said.
Dirk looked up at him. Total madness! But… it was Christopher. And it was Dirk’s fault.
‘Of course, we have to, don’t we?’ Dirk said, and they set off after Christopher.
Rosapina and Bashar watched Chris, Rufino and Dirk continue down the road towards the Darklands.
‘They’re walking into almost certain death! There’s a horde of Goblins and Orcs in the way, not to mention an army of the undead,’ said Bashar.
‘Yet they will be walking with a living saint. Perhaps it will be enough,’ said Rosapina.
Christopher, Rufino and Dirk paced onward. They were drawing near to the borderlands, which gave on to the Plains of Desolation, where an army of Orcs, Goblins, ghouls, zombies and vampires waited for them…
‘Where is my Lady Sooz?’ said Rufino. ‘I would have liked to have said goodbye to her.’
‘Ummm…I don’t know, but it’s just as well, right? I’m glad Sooz isn’t here. I miss her, sure, but this is almost certainly a suicide mission,’ said Dirk.
‘Indeed! You’re right, it’s better she’s not here,’ said Rufino.
‘You do not have to accompany me,’ said Chris. ‘I would not hold it against you.’
‘We’re not leaving,’ said Dirk. ‘Aren’t you worried that you’re endangering us? By not turning back, you’re forcing us to go with you, expose ourselves to danger.’
‘Not at all. Love will prevail,’ said Christopher.
Rufino and Dirk exchanged looks. Was he a saint? Or was he just mad? ‘Almost certainly mad,’ Dirk muttered to himself.
They were approaching a series of tall poles. On top cameras whirred and trained their lenses on them – CCTV cameras from earth. The enemy knew they were coming now. Sure enough, after a short while, an Orc patrol turned up, running down the road towards them – twenty Orcs in caps and chainmail blazers, with short-ruler swords.
‘Grab ’em,’ said the lead Orc. ‘His nibs wants ’em alive!’
Rufino and Dirk pulled up short, Rufino reaching for his sword. But Christopher just walked on, forcing Dirk and Rufino to keep up with him.
The Orcs raced in, screaming and roaring, grinning ferociously. But as they drew near, their grins faded, their faces fell. They blinked up at Christopher as he smiled down at them. Swords were dropped from hands. Faces lit up with happy smiles – well, as far as an Orc’s smile could be described as happy. ‘Not angry’ might be a better description. Some of them simply sat down. Others bowed their heads as he passed.
‘Wow,’ said Dirk, ‘maybe this is going to work after all!’
‘Hard to credit, isn’t it?’ said Rufino. ‘He is indeed the Sainted One. He soothes the savage beast with peace and love.’
The three walked on. They began to draw near to the Plains of Desolation where the army was camped. Goblins and Orcs surrounded them, but every time they came within a certain distance of Christopher they paused. Their bloodcurdling shrieks and shouted threats turned to silence. Not a single Orc or Goblin tried to harm them. It was almost as if their
hearts had been filled with love and peace. They stood, heads bowed, or they kneeled respectfully. Some of the bigger, tougher Orcs tried their best to put in a boot or two, but they could not.
‘All is love,’ said Christopher as he walked on.
Rufino and Dirk followed in his wake, amazed.
Soon they came to the black pavilions. Ghouls, tall, thin and skeletal, with skin stretched tight over bony skulls and teeth like needles, waited for them, along with battalions of zombies. But the ghouls and zombies could not endure Christopher’s holy aura.
They simply fled, wailing.
The vampire lords remained inside their black velvet pavilions, unable to endure sunlight, let alone Chris’s aura. Presumably they would wait for night to try their mettle.
They walked on, right up to the training fields outside the Gates of Doom, the entrance to the Iron Tower of Despair. And there was Grousammer, the Headmaster of Doom, waiting for them, standing in his black robes and hat, swishing his cane. He was flanked by Skabber Stormfart on one side and Lady Grieve, the Black Hag, on the other. Behind him were Orcs, Goblins, zombies and ghouls.
The Black Hag stepped forward. ‘No further, not another step,’ she hissed, her iron-taloned fingernails dripping with venom.
Skabber and Rufino, though, nodded at each other. Once they’d been allies of a sort.
Christopher came to a halt.
‘What have we here?’ said Grousammer. ‘Dirk Lloyd, the naughtiest boy in school, Rufino, a disgraced prefect and a Paladin of questionable worth and…well, Christopher Purejoie, isn’t it? You’ve changed, boy, haven’t you?’
‘I have come to offer myself up to you in return for my mother and Dr Hasdruban,’ said Christopher without preamble.
‘Your mother? What are you talking about?’ said Grousammer.
Dirk gulped. This could be tricky!
‘You kidnapped her, and sent me this ransom note,’ said Chris, holding up the letter.
‘Oh, please, what are you talking about, boy? I don’t kidnap the parents of pupils! Who’s going to pay their fees?’
‘But then…who…’ said Christopher in confusion.
Rufino narrowed his eyes in suspicion, and glanced over at Dirk. ‘Did you…’ he mouthed.
‘No, no, of course not!’ said Dirk.
Rufino folded his arms. ‘If I find out that you—’
But the rest of his sentence was cut off by Chris. ‘Well, it seems someone has deceived me,’ he said, flicking a glance over at Dirk, ‘but I shall deal with that later. In the meantime, there is still one you hold against his will. I offer myself up to you in return for the release of Hasdruban, then,’ said Christopher, his voice loud and bell-like so all could hear.
Grousammer looked at Dirk, and then back at Chris. ‘I’m not interested in you, Christopher Purejoie! What would I do with some kind of sainted fool like you? Sure, you should be punished for walking on the quadrangle grass without permission,’ he said, pointing to the training grounds, ‘but really it’s hardly worth the bother. You’re nothing to me!’
Chris blinked in surprise.
‘Now that boy, there,’ said Grousammer, pointing at Dirk with his cane. ‘He’s a bad boy, oh yes,’ he went on, ruefully rubbing at his red, raw chin. ‘I want him, indeed I do. Hand him over to be dealt with properly and then I’ll give you Hasdruban!’
Dirk looked back at Grousammer defiantly, and grinned his evil grin. Grousammer, Dark Lord though he was, actually flinched, which pleased Dirk greatly.
‘Hand him over now!’ said the Headmaster of Doom.
‘I cannot command him, but if he wishes to give himself up, I will not stand in his way,’ said Christopher.
‘What? Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Dirk. ‘I’m not giving myself up!’
‘Why do you want him anyway? He’s just a boy,’ said Rufino.
‘Hah, he’s more than the naughtiest boy ever, we both know that. With him under my power I will reign supreme and then I can unleash my army of zomboys and schoolghouls…’
‘Zombies,’ said Dirk, ‘it’s pronounced zombies.’
Grousammer barely seemed to notice as he ranted. ‘And they will overrun your wretched Commonwealth and feed on your brains!’ said Grousammer. Then he sniggered, a sinister kind of ‘tee, hee, hee’ – Grousammer’s version of a Mwah, hah, hah, perhaps.
He went on, a proper Dark Lord monologue. ‘Don’t you see? I’m the first Dark Lord ever to forge an alliance with the Clans of the Undead. I will rule this world for ever! All these zomboys are mine!’
‘Yeah, whatever,’ said Dirk, ‘but it’s zombies, not zomboys.’
‘Silence, boy!’ said Grousammer, who then took a step forward and aimed a blow at Dirk with his cane. He slashed him painfully across the legs. Grousammer certainly wasn’t affected by Chris’s aura of peace and love, that’s for sure, thought Dirk as he grimaced in pain.
‘Leave my friend alone!’ said Christopher, sounding much more like the boy Christopher for the first time since he’d drunk of the essence. Finally, something was making him angry, thought Dirk to himself. He even felt kind of flattered that it was a threat to him personally that had set Chris off.
‘I will not!’ replied the Headmaster of Doom, stepping up to the Holy One and thrusting his chin into his face. ‘That boy is mine and I’m going to give him 666 of the best, and when he’s dead I’ll bring him back as a zomboy slave to serve me for all time!’
‘No you won’t, not ever!’ said Chris, angrily, and he raised his hands. Out burst a stream of silver energy, engulfing the Dark Lord Grousammer, who shrieked in pain. But then he pushed back, cutting at the clouds of glittering energy with his cane and dispersing them. His cane crackled with ebon power, gleaming like polished coal. He thwacked it down at Christopher but Chris pushed back, magical silver energy holding the cane in place.
They struggled like that, pushing back and forth, silver sparks and streaks of black magic spraying everywhere. Everyone around cowered back, unable to look at the sparks or to endure the black bolts.
‘Finally,’ said Dirk, ‘it’s actually working, a duel of wizards!’
‘This was your plan all along, wasn’t it, Dirk?’ said Rufino, shielding his face from the titanic struggle between the Holy One and the Headmaster of Doom.
‘Yes! Yes, it was! Isn’t it an exciting duel? The Light versus the Dark, Good versus Evil, battling for ever across the aeons! How magnificent!’ said Dirk. His face, bathed in a silver glow, looked quite mad.
‘And what if Christopher loses? What if he is slain?’ said Rufino angrily. ‘You should not play with people’s lives so!’
‘Oh no, don’t worry, Rufino, I’m an evil genius, sure, just not so much of the evil any more. I’ve got this covered,’ said Dirk and he reached into his pocket and drew out an Anathema Crystal.
‘Ah, I see!’ said Rufino with a grin.
‘Yup, I’ll soon have them back to normal and everything will be all right!’ said Dirk, putting a hand up to shield himself from the maelstrom, and trying to sneak his way closer to the duelling wizards.
Suddenly Dirk darted in and threw the crystal on to the ground, right in between Grousammer and Christopher, where it exploded in a flash of light. Dirk grinned his evil grin, readied his hands in front of him to give up a big ‘Mwah, hah, hah’ when…
Nothing happened.
Chris and Grousammer continued to struggle against each other, neither gaining the upper hand.
‘You foolish boy,’ shrieked Grousammer out of the corner of his mouth. ‘I set up counters to those tawdry baubles months ago! I’ve studied your history, read your diaries, your records in the Dark Library. I know everything about you, boy! You can’t outwit me – I am your headmaster!’
Dirk blinked up at him in surprise. He hadn’t been expecting that! But then Dirk narrowed his eyes. He had one more trick up his sleeve.
Grousammer hacked at Chris with his cane. Christopher exuded a silvery cloud that absorbed the f
orce of the cane like a pillow of energy. He pushed back, white lightning bursting from his fingertips, but Grousammer put his head down and his mortarboard hat expanded into a big black shield that absorbed the holy lightning. They struggled on.
Rufino, Skabber, the Black Hag and the zombies and ghouls stood there, open-mouthed in awed astonishment at the great battle.
Dirk wasn’t finished yet, though. He muttered the words of a spell under his breath – and his left arm came away just above the elbow. He was using the spell of the Sinister Hand, one that he had used many times before. It allowed him to send off his arm on its own, to do stuff. Dirk grimaced in pain, as his arm squirmed for a moment on its own. It needed direction! He started to concentrate, guiding his separated arm with soul power4.
His arm reached into Dirk’s pocket – and pulled out a false beard! Dirk’s arm scuttled over towards Grousammer. It tapped the Headmaster of Doom on the leg. Grousammer looked down… There was the disembodied arm, holding up his beard, his big red beard, the very one he used to wear back on earth before…
‘Aiiiiiiiieeeeeeee!’ screamed a terrified Grousammer.
You see, when Dirk first came to earth, he used the Sinister Hand spell to sneak his hand into Grousammer’s room and shave off his beard! Grousammer had had nightmares about it ever since. In fact, every day since, he shaved his chin two or three times just so he would never have a beard that could be shaved off by a disembodied hand again. That was why his chin was so red and raw…
‘The horror,’ howled Grousammer, ‘the horror, the horror!’ He wailed as he cowered back.
Christopher took advantage of Grousammer’s sudden terror, silver energy bursting from his hands, and closed in on the Headmaster of Doom. The Dark Headmaster fell to his knees, still staring in horror at the beard.
‘Now, help me now!’ screamed Grousammer at the top of his voice.
And down from the skies swooped Gargon, seven feet tall, winged, taloned, scaled and massively strong. He plucked up Dirk and his sinister arm – beard and all – and flew away with him!
Rufino gazed up in astonishment. The Black Hag cackled as Grousammer rose to his feet once more.
The Headmaster of Doom Page 6
