Mrs Purejoie blinked rapidly. ‘Yes, yes, I’m sure that’s it, Doctor Jack. I’m feeling much better now that I’ve taken them out.’
‘Yeah, just dirty lenses,’ said Dirk as if nothing had happened.
He put a hand to his chin, staring at Mrs Purejoie like she was a rat in a lab. It sounded like she’d had a vision of the Darklands. Maybe his Iron Tower, in fact, the Iron Tower of Despair. And little creatures…could they be his Goblin servitors? Interesting!
Breakfast continued with the usual inane chit chat about petty human concerns of day-to-day life that Dirk blanked out as he considered what had just happened. It had given him some ideas.
Afterwards, Dirk and Chris set off to school. It was a ten minute walk, one they did every day.
‘So,’ said Chris, ‘what have you been up to?’
‘Me? Nothing, nothing at all, what do you mean?’ said Dirk.
‘Don’t give me that – you nicked her lenses didn’t you? What did you do to them?’ demanded Christopher.
‘Eh? Nothing, nothing at all!’ spluttered Dirk.
‘Yeah, right. She’s my mum, you know, you can’t just experiment on her whenever you like!’ said Chris angrily.
‘And mine too, by the way! Foster mum, sure, but still,’ said Dirk.
‘You what? You’ve never cared about anything like that before – that makes me even more suspicious!’
‘Oh come on, I’m not that bad, I wouldn’t, I mean I didn’t! I didn’t do anything, it wasn’t me!’ said Dirk rather squirmingly.
Chris stopped. So did Dirk. Chris frowned, fingering his scar. ‘Hold on a minute, what do you mean, it wasn’t you? What wasn’t you?’
Dirk raised his eyes. ‘Well, it wasn’t me – on purpose, that is.’
‘Uh huh,’ said Chris. ‘Now we’re getting somewhere!’
Dirk sighed. ‘That spot, you know, that hurt so much…’ he said.
‘Yeah?’ said Chris.
‘Well, it was like…a Dark Lord spot, kind of thing,’ said Dirk.
‘What do you mean, “dark lord spot”?’ said Chris.
‘Umm…instead of pus, it was…a bit of…a bit of Essence of Evil,’ said Dirk hesitantly.
‘What?’ said Chris, aghast. ‘I thought it all came out when you fell to earth the last time, with the Anathema Crystal in the Dungeons of the Iron Tower! I scooped it all up when we got back.’
‘And hid it, I know, hid it away from me, as we all agreed, I know, I know,’ said Dirk.
‘If this is some kind of trick to get me to tell you where I hid it, it’s not going to work, Dirk! We can’t let you anywhere near the stuff, not after what happened last time,’ said Chris.
‘I know! And I agree, don’t tell me. But there must have a been a little left inside me this time. And it bubbled up to the surface, as it were. I squeezed it out, and then…well, I had to put it in something, didn’t I?’ said Dirk.
‘Ahhh, now I get it,’ said Chris. ‘So you put some Essence of Evil into my mum’s contact lenses case, and hid it in your room.’
Dirk nodded shamefully. Well, almost shamefully.
‘You total numpty, Dirk, that stuff’s really dangerous, how could you?’ said Chris.
‘I just wasn’t thinking…’ said Dirk. Chris shook his head despairingly.
‘I tried to fix it,’ continued Dirk. ‘Cleaned out her case – but you know what that stuff is like, some of it got must have got into her lenses, given her those weird visions – but that’s all, no harm done, just a one-time freaky vision!’
‘As far as we know,’ said Chris. Still, it did sound like no permanent harm had been done – she’d be able to get clean replacement lenses easily enough, after all, and the contaminated ones had been disposed of.
‘Not all bad, though,’ said Dirk, ‘as it’s given me an idea – I reckon she was seeing into the Darklands. Maybe I can try something similar, see what’s going on there, maybe even get a message through or something.’
‘Whoa,’ said Chris. ‘It’s dangerous stuff, especially for you. I think you should just hand it over to me, and I’ll hide it with the rest.’
‘No, no, I need to try this, Chris – it might lead to a new way to reach the Darklands. We can send Gargon and Rufino back, maybe even Hasdruban.’
Chris was unconvinced. ‘Really? Seems like a long shot if you ask me. Are you sure the Essence isn’t making you think weird?’ he said.
‘No, no, there really isn’t that much of it. It doesn’t feel like…you know, like it’s taking you over and that. But you’re right, it is a long shot, but long shots are all we’ve got at the moment,’ said Dirk.
Chris had to agree with that. ‘Well, it’s your call, I guess.’ After a moment, he added sarcastically, ‘After all, I’m just a worthless lackey, right?’
‘All the more reason why you shouldn’t have called me a numpty, by the way! I would have thought you’d have learned your lesson after the last time you tried that,’ said Dirk imperiously.
Christopher scowled angrily. Dirk, of course, simply strode on, oblivious, declaiming his genius, and how people should show him more respect, that he was a great Dark Lord, and how those who insulted him often ended up wearing pink underpants and getting covered in stinky goo.
Chris sighed. But then, nearby, he noticed a middle-aged man in walking boots, outdoor clothes and a backpack, poring over a map. He heard Dirk’s loud claims, and raised a surprised eyebrow. His face was so astonished, Chris couldn’t help himself and laughed out loud.
‘What?’ said Dirk. But then the rambler stepped forward.
‘Actually, lads, can you help me? I think I’m a bit lost. How do I get to St Mary’s Church, the one with the famous stained glass windows? Should be near here,’ said the man.
‘Of course,’ said Dirk. ‘Head down the road, turn right, go on a hundred yards, turn left into Castellani Road, and there it is.’
‘Oh, right, thanks!’ said the man, and off he went.
Dirk and Chris continued on. After a few moments, Chris pulled up short and said, ‘Hold on, that was totally wrong – you’ve sent him in the opposite direction to the church!’
Dirk stopped. ‘Oh yeah, so I did!’ he said, a look of surprise on his face.
‘But why?’ said Chris.
Dirk shrugged. ‘Dark Lord, I guess. Sometimes I just can’t help myself.”
That evening, after the inevitable detention, Dirk returned to his room and set to work. He reached for a small tin, a pirate tin he’d found in Chris’s room with a skull and crossbones on the lid. He’d hidden it behind a book called How to Conquer the Earth. A much read book, by the look of it. Dirk took the tin down, and gingerly opened it. Inside was a congealed blob of black stuff – Essence of Evil. Mrs Purejoie’s contact lenses had obviously been contaminated with it, enabling her to see into the Darklands.
Possibly. Dirk was going to find out whether that was true or not.
He reached for a pair of plastic glasses he’d got cheaply from an optician, with the lowest prescription setting you could get. Carefully, he coated the lenses with a thin layer of Essence of Evil. He watched, fascinated, as it seemed to soak into the glass, giving it a shadowy, greyish sheen. Gingerly, he raised them up and put them on. Everything went kind of grey. And quiet.
Then something appeared in the air in the middle of the room! A tiny black spot, shimmering like a black strobe. It began to grow and widen.
Dirk sat back, gripping the arms of his chair, transfixed. The spot grew bigger and bigger, until it was the size of a large window. Through the black hole shapes began to appear on the other side – a hill, a tall tower… Could it be…? Yes, it was the Iron Tower of Despair! Dirk concentrated and the vision moved in closer and closer. He could see the Gates of Doom and the annoying iron gargoyle heads that would never shut up. A couple of heads actually looked straight up at him, as if they could sense something was spying on them. Dirk willed the vision on, into the Tower, but he could not pass throu
gh the Gates of Doom. Of course, they were shielded with protective magics. He should have known, he’d put them there centuries ago. But then the great gates began to grind open.
‘Hail to the Regent Agrash, and General Skabber, Keeper of the Tower whilst the Dark Lord and his Lady are in Exile,’ screamed several of the gargoyle heads, and out walked Agrash Snotripper the Goblin, and Skabber Stormfart, the Orc Captain. Or General now, it seemed.
Dirk, excited by the sight of them, leaned forward and yelled, ‘Agrash, it’s me, Dirk, the Dark Lord!!!’ but they couldn’t hear him. They just walked on, talking to each other in low tones.
‘No, we mustn’t provoke them, Skabber,’ Agrash was saying, wiping the end of his improbably long nose with a stained handkerchief. ‘A raid is a really bad idea!’
‘Yeah, but the White Wiz ain’t at home! Now’s the time to give ’em a bloody nose,’ said Skabber, itching an armpit with a warty, black-nailed hand. Well, more like a claw really.
‘We’re still too weak, and we’ve got a kind of wary peace without the Dark Lord and the White Wizard here to stir things up – let’s not upset the boat, Skabber,’ said the Goblin.
The Orc frowned. ‘What boat?’ he said.
They walked on. Desperately, Dirk leaped to his feet, and tried to step through the hole, but it wouldn’t let him. He threw himself at the dark window, but all he did was bounce off to crash on to the floor in a heap, having bruised his shoulder. What were they thinking? Keep the peace? The fools! Now was their chance to storm the White Wizard’s stronghold!
There was a sudden knock on the door. ‘Are you all right, dear?’ said a voice from outside his room. Mrs Purejoie, on the prowl!
‘I’m fine,’ said Dirk, ‘everything’s fine,’ as he quickly ripped the glasses off his face. There was a popping sound and the dark window disappeared in a flash. Mrs Purejoie stuck her head around the door.
Dirk was sitting in his chair, one hand behind his back, hiding the glasses. Mrs Purejoie stared at him for a moment, wondering what he was up to. Probably best not to ask, she thought.
‘All right then – time for bed anyway. Pyjamas and clean teeth!’ she said, smiling at him sweetly.
Dirk raised his eyes. One minute he was gazing at the Iron Tower of Despair where his Goblin Chancellor and the Captain of his Orcish hordes were discussing battle strategy, the next he had to clean his teeth and put his pyjamas on.
Half an hour later, an excited Dirk was tucked up in bed. He’d had to endure a goodnight kiss and a hug, but that ghastly torture was over. For now, anyway. Dirk reached for his special glasses – ‘dark glasses’ had a whole new meaning for him! Or maybe he should call them his shades. Or Moonglasses? No, Shades. His Shadowshades.
Carefully he slipped them on. A vision of the Darklands appeared, his Iron Tower casting an ominous shadow across the plain as the sun set behind it. Dirk stared at it avidly. There must be a way of using this to his advantage.
Dave the Storm Crow gave a low caw as it flew into the room and landed on his shoulder. Dirk absently petted the glistening black bird, as he considered the scene before him. All was quiet in the Darklands.
Dave hopped on to the window into another world, and perched on the ledge between this world and that. It sat there staring at the great black tower with its glowing red eyes. It cawed as if in recognition.
Suddenly Dirk sat up in shocked amazement. How could Dave perch there? There shouldn’t be a ‘ledge’, nothing could pass through that hole, only sight and sound, surely – and one way only at that. Dirk darted forward for a closer look. Yes, Dave was halfway into the Darklands! Dirk reached forward but he couldn’t grab on to the ‘ledge’. For him there was no physical window, but it seemed there was for Dave the Storm Crow.
Of course, thought Dirk to himself. Dave was a Storm Crow – a Harbinger of Doom. And a harbinger was a kind of messenger or herald. It made sense that a Harbinger of Doom could travel between the planes much more easily than a human, or even a Dark Lord, for that was what Storm Crows were for. Dirk began thinking furiously. He could write a message to the Darklands, tell them he was alive and well, and that they should hold the fort whilst he worked out how he was going to get Gargon and Rufino home, and whether he should go with them or not. He could strap it to Dave’s leg, just like those messenger pigeons the humans used to use. Instruct Dave to take it to Agrash!
‘YESSSS!’ shouted Dirk, and he stood up, put his fingers together and laughed out loud.
‘MWAH, HAH, HAH!!!’
‘Oh, do be quiet and go to sleep, Dirk, really!’ said Mrs Purejoie sharply from outside his room.
The next day at school was an exceptionally dull day of interminable lessons,like wading through a treacle-sludge of liquid boredom. Last night he’d sent Dave to the Darklands with a message written on paper. He’d had to strap it to Dave’s leg with a rubber band – hopefully it got through OK. Dave had not returned yet – perhaps it would some time today but Dirk wouldn’t know until he’d got back to his room. With luck, Dave would be there, waiting for him. Or maybe Dave could only return when Dirk was wearing the Shadowshades.
All he had to do was get through the rest of the day at school to find out.
Luckily, he didn’t have detention tonight, which was a surprise, so he hurried home after school. He was all alone – Sooz and Chris were heading off together to the forest as usual, to teach Gargon and Rufino how to play drum and fish. No wait, drum and…what was it? Some kind of fish, he was sure of it! Oh yes – bass, that was it. Drum and sea bass. No, that wasn’t it. He couldn’t remember rightly – some kind or other of pitiful human music. Whatever it was, they were misguided fools. Gargon was the result of an unholy union ’twixt a Demon Lord and a Lich Queen – neither of which were noted for their musical talent, to put it mildly. Rufino was a sworn Paladin, a warrior through and through. There was virtually zero chance that they could be modern earth musicians; it was ridiculous. And because of it all, Dirk hardly saw Sooz or Chris. It was almost as if they were deliberately avoiding him. Not that he cared, of course, they could do what they liked. He frowned. He could feel his eyes filling up with… water, it was just water. Not tears. Dark Lords don’t cry! Must be some reaction to exhaust fumes or dust particles or something. Anyway, he had to get to his room, find out what was what. He wiped his eyes, opened up the door, called a brief ‘It’s me!’ to any Purejoies in the house, and ran up the stairs.
He rushed into his room – and there was Dave the Storm Crow, sitting on the perch just outside the window! Dave cawed a greeting, a sweet sound to Dirk’s ears, like a lost soul in hell. There was something strapped to the black bird’s leg – a little bottle with a message. Dirk reached for it…
…and there was a sudden knock on the door.
‘Noooo!’ spat Dirk angrily.
Whoever it was knocked again, loudly.
‘Hello Dirk, it’s me, Miss Cloy,’ said a voice from outside the door. Dirk raised his eyes. He’d once thought of Miss Cloy as the Commander of some kind of elite human special ops unit called the Social Services Legion. In fact, she was just a Social Worker. An annoying, meddling, interfering, do-gooding social worker. Dirk clenched his fists. And let out his anger, along with a long sigh. He composed himself, and went over to the door.
‘What is it?’ he said in his cutest little boy voice, as he opened the door and smiled sweetly up at Miss Cloy.
Miss Cloy took an involuntary step backwards. Dirk didn’t realise that what he thought of as his ‘sweet smile’ was no different from his normal smile, which most people called his ‘Hannibal Lecter’ grin. And as for his cute voice – that sounded like a child possessed by the devil in a horror film.
Miss Cloy stared at Dirk for a second or two. ‘I’d forgotten…’ was all she could get out.
Dirk made a face. He hadn’t got time for this. ‘Well, what is it, puny mortal?’ he said imperiously, giving up all pretence of childlike sweetness.
Miss Cloy pulled herself
together. ‘I’ve come to take you to your counselling therapy session, Dirk.’
‘Counselling! Now?’ said Dirk, surprised.
‘Yes, with Dr Wings and Professor Randle. You’ve been told about it. Several times. Your parents got a letter, so did you.’
Dirk blinked at her. ‘Ah yes, I vaguely recall some such nonsense,’ he said. ‘But why are you here?’
‘Well, because of your curfew tag. You’re not supposed to go anywhere but school and home. Except when accompanied by your designated adult. That’s me!’ said Miss Cloy.
‘By the Nine Hells, how insufferably tedious,’ said Dirk rudely.
‘Oh come now, Dirk, it’ll be like old times,’ said Miss Cloy breezily, trying to make the best of it, and taking him by the arm.
‘How dare you lay your hands on the Great Dirk!’ said Dirk unthinkingly. ‘Unhand me this instant, upstart human female!’
Miss Cloy blinked at him in astonishment. Then she let go, lifting her hand away theatrically. ‘All right, all right! You haven’t changed then, have you, Dirk?’
Actually, he had changed quite a bit, thought Dirk, but he didn’t know how to explain it or even where to begin, so he just shrugged.
Miss Cloy sighed. ‘Well, we have to go, and that’s that,’ she said.
Dirk made a face. There was no way out. ‘So be it,’ he said. ‘Come on then, let’s get it over with, Miss Cloy, as quick as possible!’
Miss Cloy led him to her car – a VW Beetle, which Dirk had once thought of as a kind of battle chariot, similar to the Battle Beetles of Borion he had once bred for his armies back home. In fact, it was just a car – he’d got used to those by now, as they were all over the place here on earth. Though for the life of him, Dirk couldn’t work out why they didn’t put rams on the front, scythes on the wheels, with added rocket launchers and machine guns. Maybe even a flamethrower on the back to deal with tailgaters. That would make driving fun!
Burn, tailgater, burn! Mwah, hah, hah! thought Dirk to himself – but it wasn’t entirely to himself. He’d ‘Mwah, hah, hahed’ out loud, and Miss Cloy was looking at him oddly.
Eternal Detention Page 4
