Eternal Detention

by Jamie Thomson

  ‘More fun, this way,’ said Dirk.

  ‘Right, I see,’ said Chris. ‘I’m just a worthless lackey, I get it.’

  ‘No, no, I didn’t mean it like that. Anyway, I never got the chance to tell you, what with everything going on,’ said Dirk.

  But Chris didn’t reply. In fact, he never said a word for the rest of the journey to school, despite Dirk’s attempts to start a conversation.

  Dirk’s arm was healing up nicely. Hasdruban hadn’t made his presence known for a few days now – no doubt he was planning something new, although in the meantime he had arranged for Dirk to be hit with a lot of extra homework. Sooz claimed her band was coming along well. She’d called them Soozie and the Nightwalkers. Gargon on lead guitar, Rufino on drums, Chris on bass and Sooz as lead singer. She’d asked Dirk to come and listen to them rehearse in the woods, but he wasn’t that interested. Anyway, he didn’t have much time, what with detentions and the homework and the rest.

  It was late afternoon and Dirk was walking down a deserted school corridor near the music room, a shedload of extra homework under one arm, getting ready to go home. Suddenly, he saw something that made him pull up short. Before him stood a figure dressed in black rags, with a ripped-up black lace veil over her face, and a kind of Gothic bridal headdress of black rags covered in wispy cobwebs on her head. Her feet were bare, but covered in black dirt. Long black tattered gloves covered her arms, and her hands ended in long black nails, like iron talons.

  ‘By the Dark Gods, ’tis the Lady Grieve!’ said Dirk to himself in amazed tones. What was she doing here?

  The Lady Grieve, or the Black Hag, as she was known, was an ancient witch-assassin who lived in the Darklands, the counterpart of the White Witch of Holy Vengeance – they were the deadliest of enemies, implacably opposed to each other, a vendetta that had lasted for hundreds of years. The Black Hag could be hired to kill people using her long, black nails, for they were covered in a horrible poison. Dirk, when he’d been the Dark Lord, had actually used her once or twice, but it was a long time ago. Summoning her was complicated and her payment was difficult to get.

  Dirk walked up to her excitedly. She was quite thoroughly evil and a true servant of the dark – maybe she’d be an ally or something, or perhaps she had been sent by Agrash to help him!

  ‘Greetings, Lady Grieve, it is I, the Dark Lord!’ said Dirk, forgetting that he was, of course, just a human boy.

  The Lady Grieve turned to look at him. She appeared surprised. Before she could say anything, Sooz marched out of the music room. She was wearing her full Moon Queen outfit, a black veil of her own, a long black dress with a silver threaded bodice, and a beautiful silvery tiara on her head – all finished off with big, chunky Goth boots.

  ‘Hi, Roanna,’ said Sooz, ‘great fancy dress outfit! What are you?’

  ‘Kind of a Goth witch, I guess, though Dirk called me…what was it you said, Dirk?’ said Roanna, for that is who she really was. Roanna Lynsey. A Goth friend of Sooz’s in fancy dress, and not the Black Hag at all. Of course!

  ‘Umm…nothing, my mistake,’ said Dirk, embarrassed.

  ‘But it was cool – the Lady Grief or something,’ said Roanna.

  ‘Heh, sounds good,’ said Sooz. ‘So, you’re ready for the Goth ball after school?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Roanna replied. ‘Your band is playing, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Sooz. ‘I can’t wait, you’re going to be blown away by our lead guitarist! You’re coming, right, Dirk?’

  But Dirk wasn’t paying attention. He was staring at the other end of the corridor. For standing there was Hasdruban himself. Dirk frowned. Hasdruban wasn’t looking at Dirk, his attention was fixed on Roanna Lynsey. Suddenly, Hasdruban grabbed his beard with both hands, shouted, ‘Eureka!’ and dashed away out of sight.

  ‘Dirk? Gargon will be there. Playing in public, pretending to be dressed in…’ Sooz paused, flicking a glance at Roanna. ‘I mean dressed in a monster suit. You know, for the first time,’ said Sooz. She tugged at his sleeve, trying to get Dirk’s attention but he was lost in a world of his own.

  Dirk stared down at the floor, thinking furiously. Hasdruban had recognised the Lady Grieve just as he had. Could he be thinking about hiring the real Black Hag? Surely not! The White Wizard, using the Black Hag? But then again, he would stop at nothing to destroy the Dark Lord, even if it meant consorting with evil – you know, fighting fire with fire and all that. If that was the case, maybe Dirk should get in first, hire her to bump off Hasdruban!

  ‘Oh, forget it then – come on, Roanna,’ said Sooz, shaking her head, and they both went on their way, leaving Dirk to his thoughts.

  Dirk was desperately trying to remember what he could about the Black Hag. She lived in a warren of caves, where she kept pictures of all her victims on the walls. From time to time, she would take a picture down, and cry over it, shedding black tears, grieving in some kind of twisted, sick parody of sorrow for her victims. That’s why they called her the Lady Grieve. She killed to grieve.

  Creepy!

  What was it you needed to hire the Black Hag? A picture of the victim drawn in their blood, a special gem of some kind. And something else, something to do with the unicorn. It was tricky for Dark Lords, that one, because to get a unicorn you need a maiden of pure heart. Not many maidens in the Darklands were pure of heart, that was for sure, and there weren’t any unicorns. Sooz was pure of heart, though, she could do it, assuming they could find a unicorn. Dirk looked up, but Sooz was long gone.

  Suddenly, Dirk realised something and a chill ran down his spine. A picture painted with the blood of the victim? Hasdruban had plenty of his blood from that episode in the woods, he was halfway there already! And he could get a unicorn – plenty of those in Arboretum, the City of the Elves in the Commonwealth of Good Folk, not to mention plenty of pure-hearted, do-gooding Elf maidens.

  Was this what he could expect next, an attack from the Black Hag? He’d better be on his guard then, for her talons were coated with a deadly poison. One scratch was usually fatal. Dirk had to get home, send a message to Agrash telling him to search the Dark Library for everything he could find about the Black Hag. He hurried home as fast as he could. The Black Hag was dangerous indeed.

  Back in his room, he tossed his homework on the desk, and summoned Dave the Storm Crow. As he did so, a long nose poked out of the cupboard and sniffed the air.

  ‘Is dat you, your Fantasticness?’ said Skinrash.

  ‘What? Oh yes, yes, it’s safe to come out, Skinrash,’ said Dirk, busily writing up a message to send to Agrash.

  ‘I’m starving, Master,’ said Skinrash. ‘Got sumfink to eat?’

  Dirk paused and raised his eyes. He’d forgotten to get food for Skinrash. Having a Goblin in your cupboard was a real pain!

  ‘Hold on, Skinrash,’ said Dirk.

  Dirk finished his message, tied it to the Crow’s leg, and then put on his Shadowshades. The window to the Darklands opened before him, and off went Dave, cawing loudly.

  Dirk took off his Shadowshades, and put them away. He looked over at the Goblin and sighed. He had masses of homework to do, but Skinrash really did need to be fed, so he set off for the corner shop.

  He returned some time later with dinner for Skinrash. Dirk knew a lot about Goblins, and he’d picked just the right kind of food. Skinrash tucked in noisily and appreciatively.

  ‘Fanx, your Gloryness, this is fantastic!’ he said between mouthfuls. Dirk looked down in mild disgust at his plate of tinned corned beef all mashed up with cat biscuits, brussel sprouts and custard.

  ‘Num, nummity num!’ mumbled the Goblin. Dirk shook his head and reached for his homework. A splat on the wall startled him. Skinrash had hurled a custard-covered sprout, and it had stuck to the wall, slowly dribbling down it.

  ‘Hur, hur, hur,’ chortled the Goblin. To be fair, throwing your food around was a sign of appreciation in Goblin culture, but still.

  ‘Stop that!’ hissed Dirk.
>
  ‘But this nosh in a can wiv yellow pus stuff is delish, your Uberness!’ said Skinrash.

  ‘Throwing your food around here will only get us both in trouble, so don’t do it!’ said Dirk.

  ‘Yes, your Strictness,’ muttered a crestfallen Skinrash. ‘When we goin’ home, my Lord? I hate it ’ere in ’oomanland! Not worth even these flash boots wot Agrash gave me.’

  Just then, Dirk’s DarkPhone rang. He looked at it in surprise. Hardly anyone had that number! He picked it up. Blood red letters appeared on its shadowy surface. ‘Sooz, Dark Mistress of the Tower and Queen of the Darklands’. Dirk frowned in irritation at that – he was the rightful ruler of the Darklands, not her!

  He picked up the phone and put it to his ear. Little bony hands reached out from the phone and grabbed his ear, clasping it to the phone. A long arm extended itself from the other side and grabbed his other ear, perfectly placing the phone in front of his mouth. Dirk put his hands down – it was hands-free, of course. He’d designed it that way.

  ‘Hi, Sooz,’ he said.

  ‘Hi, Dirk,’ said Sooz. ‘How’s your arm?’

  ‘Fine, aches a bit, but basically fine. I’ve had worse.’

  There was a pause, each unsure what to say next – things hadn’t been quite right between them ever since Dirk had used her as a human shield.

  ‘Well,’ said Dirk, ‘what do you want? I’ve got a mountain of homework that madman Hasdruban gave me.’

  ‘What do I want? I want you to come to the school concert, that’s what I want! Like you said you would,’ said Sooz.

  ‘Oh yeah,’ said Dirk, ‘I’d forgotten about that.’

  ‘How could you forget? Really, Dirk, what’s the matter with you? Gargon is playing. In front of loads of people, not to mention Rufino. You need to be there!’ said Sooz.

  Dirk tsked in irritation. ‘The headmaster tried to hack me to pieces with a sword, and now I’m pretty sure that he’s going to send one of the deadliest assassins known to Orc, Elf, Man or Beast after me! That’s what’s wrong with me, little Miss Rock Moon!’

  Sooz couldn’t help herself and giggled. ‘Rock moon?’

  ‘Errr. Rock…star, I mean. Rockstar,’ said Dirk. ‘You know…’

  ‘Yeah, I know. Anyway, maybe you’re right. Who is this assassin dude, anyway?’

  ‘The Black Hag. She’s got…well, I’ll tell you about it later, I’ve sent a message to Agrash to find out everything he can about her in the Dark Library.’

  ‘OK, and I’ll do everything I can to help. But she’s not coming tonight, right?’ said Sooz.

  ‘No, no, it’ll take a few days for Hasdruban to sort things out, I would think, at least,’ said Dirk.

  ‘Well, then, please, please come. I so want you to see us play – we’re not bad – in fact, Gargon is actually quite good, and I wrote the songs and everything!’

  ‘But I hate all that human music stuff, and I’ve got so much homework to do!’ said Dirk.

  Sooz paused for a moment, thinking. Then she said, ‘Don’t you think you’d better be there, in case something goes wrong? I mean, we’ll need your superior brain, and your leadership skills and that.’

  ‘Oh very clever, Sooz, very clever with the flattery! But I suppose you may be right,’ said Dirk, looking over at Skinrash, who was spilling cat biscuits and custard all over the floor.

  ‘Brill! Get down here as fast as you can, dude, we’re up in half an hour!’ With that she rang off.

  Dirk put the phone down. ‘Skinrash, you can read and write, yes?’

  ‘Oh yes, your Blackheartedness, I can! Not as brainy as me cousin Agrash, but still, pretty much a genius for a Goblin!’ said Skinrash.

  ‘Right then. I have to go – whilst I’m gone, you can do this homework here,’ said Dirk, pointing at the small pile of papers on his desk.

  Skinrash blinked up at him. ‘Homework? I can do that, your Evilness, no problem!’

  November 26th, 2013 Rip-out-their-hearts 26th

  Incredibly, Soozie and the Nightwalkers were a great success! Admittedly, it sounded like a bunch of Orcish blacksmiths accompanied by a trio of braying demon-donkeys to me, but the humans seemed to like it. Most of them were in ‘Goth’ fancy dress, which made me nostalgic for home, actually, so that was nice. And they really believed Gargon was a guy in a suit, just like that band Morti! Chris wore his leather Darklands gear, and Sooz looked great in full Goth regalia! One song Sooz wrote was a boy meets girl thing, except the girl was like a Vampire and the boy was a Dark Lord. I liked it! Well, those words I could actually hear at any rate.

  Dirk had just handed his homework in (well, Skinrash’s homework) and now he stood alone in the school corridor. It was break time, and everyone else was in the playground. Dirk, though, was deep in thought re-reading the message he’d got this morning from Agrash about the Black Hag. It seemed you needed a unicorn’s horn, a shadow opal, which was a rare gem found only in the Abyssal Gulfs, and the picture of the target painted in his blood as the price for the Black Hag’s services. There was no way Dirk could get any of those here on Earth. It would be hard enough even if he was in the Darklands. But Hasdruban could. He already had some of Dirk’s blood – and the chances were that he had the rest just sitting in one of his storerooms in the White Tower. For all Dirk knew, Hasdruban and the White Witch could travel back and forth from Earth to the Commonwealth of Good Folk virtually at will.

  Dirk had to assume the worst. He should expect a sudden poison attack from the Lady Grieve at some time in the next few days. The poison consisted of Black Oleander mixed with Nightshade and Hemlock tainted with some unknown evil, according to Agrash, although he was still researching it. The Lady Grieve herself was immune to it, though some scrolls and tomes in the Library claimed that only one other was immune – or at least somewhat resistant – to her poison and that was her counterpart, the White Witch of Holy Vengeance. Interesting, but not much help if they were working together against you, right?

  The Lady Grieve wasn’t exactly a dangerous fighter in the traditional sense, but she didn’t need to be. She used stealth and surprise and speed – all it took was one scratch, and you’d be paralysed, slowly dying, whilst she knelt over you, and ‘grieved’ for you. Horrible!

  No, what he needed was an antidote. Maybe he could send Dave the Crow to Agrash to get the ingredients in the Darklands, and bring them back to them… He could work on it in the chemistry lab, maybe find a cure. Yes, an antidote was the answer!

  Dirk looked up. There was Sooz, waving at him. Thank the Dark Gods they were back on speaking terms – she was in a much better mood after the concert had gone so well, and she seemed to have forgiven him for…well, using her as a shield sort of thing. Dirk grimaced at the thought of it. He waved back. It was time for science class with Batty Barnes.

  ‘Rat-a-tat-tat!’ sounded loudly on Dirk’s bedroom door. Quickly, he put away his Shadowshades, shooed Skinrash into the cupboard and went over to open it. Luckily, Dave the Storm Crow was away on a mission in the Darklands, so he didn’t need to worry about that.

  ‘Ah, the Lecter kid,’ said Dr Wings as Dirk swung the door open.

  ‘What the unprofessionally indiscreet Dr Wings really means is, of course, greetings to the young Dirk!’ said Professor Randle with false hilarity and a waspish glance at his colleague.

  Dirk sighed. A Wings and Randle therapy session, what a nightmare!

  ‘Greetings, inferior humans!’ said Dirk and he smiled up at them. They both blinked uncertainly.

  ‘Do you think we need another adult in the room?’ said Randle.

  Dr Wings hesitated for a moment. Then, ‘No, no, he’s just a kid. We’ll be fine. Won’t we?’

  Randle nodded, ‘Yes of course, of course. Now…shall we?’ he said, showing his partner into the room.

  They had chairs with them that they set up in the middle of the room. Dirk was forced to make himself comfortable, lying back on the bed as if on a psychiatrist’s couch.

&n
bsp; ‘Well, Dirk,’ said Randle, ‘we’ve heard a lot about you from the headmaster, Dr Hasdruban, and from your father, Dr Purejoie.’

  ‘Indeed,’ said Wings, leaning forward. ‘Wine gum?’ he said, holding out a bag.

  Dirk ignored the offer. ‘What has that fanatical old fool been saying about me?’ he said.

  Wings blinked at him. ‘What – your father or the headmaster?’

  ‘Hasdruban, of course!’ said Dirk crossly.

  Wings narrowed his eyes. Randle smiled broadly.

  ‘Oh, lots, lots indeed,’ said Randle.

  Wings tried to gloss over things. ‘Are you sure you won’t have a wine gum, Dirk? Dr Hasdruban has become very fond of them, you know. Very fond indeed!’ he said.

  ‘Yeah, developed quite a liking for them, just like Wings here,’ said Randle distastefully.

  ‘Really? Well, there’s no accounting for taste,’ said Dirk.

  ‘Anyway, we haven’t come here to talk about wine gums, now, have we, eh?’ said Randle.

  ‘No, no, of course not,’ said Wings, slipping the bag back into his pocket. ‘Dr Hasdruban tells us that you were found in the Science lab making a home-made gun.’

  ‘What?’ said Dirk. ‘That’s completely untrue!’ And it was untrue. Sure, Dirk probably could make a gun, but it was ridiculously risky. If he was caught…well, juvenile detention centre? Shipped off to a special school? Not to mention all the unwanted attention. He narrowed his eyes. So that was his game, eh? Spreading rumours and lies about him! Cunning old devil!

  ‘Come, come, Dirk, there’s no need to lie to us, we’re on your side, my boy,’ said Wings.

  ‘Tell us, Damien…I mean, Dirk! Tell us, why the gun? Are you angry about something? Would you like to tell us about it?’ said Randle.

  ‘Yeah, sure I’m angry – the headmaster is really the White Wizard and he’s out to kill me. See what he did to my arm? He hacked it open with a sword!’ said Dirk, holding out his bandaged arm.